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Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Lies Baby Sleep Experts Tell


Around 3 months, your baby will develop a nap schedule.
(True; my baby naps whenever he's so absolutely exhausted from fighting a nap, he just passes out.)

Your baby will take 3 1-2 hour naps a day.
(If by "3" you mean "5," and "1-2 hours," you mean "30-40 minutes." Except when you have visitors who have heard stories about your non-napping baby, at which point, he will sleep for 3 solid hours.)

Putting your baby down drowsy but awake will help him learn to fall asleep on his own.
(It will also help you learn just how much fussing and crying you can tolerate before caving and rocking him or nursing him to sleep like you always do.)

When your baby starts breaking out of his swaddle, it's time to stop swaddling.
(It sure is . . . if you want to watch him slap himself awake repeatedly. Alternately, it's time to wrap him up tighter.)

Baby should nap in his crib, not a car seat, bouncy seat or swing. 
(At this point, I don't care if he wants to sleep on the hood of the car . . . )

At 4-6 months, most babies can sleep through the night without feeding, so try to soothe your baby back to sleep instead of nursing him.
(We do this. I soothe him by . . . nursing him.)


Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Weight Loss Plan for New Moms


Follow these steps and watch that baby weight melt away!

1. Get a total of 5 hours sleep, punctuated with hour-long nursing/feeding sessions. This will render you completely incapable of preparing any kind of hearty, nutritious breakfast--your last bit of brain power will be used to operate the coffee machine. Pour a bowl of cereal.

2. Sit down with your bowl of cereal and vat of coffee. Take 2 bites. Baby starts fussing. Pick baby up and attempt to eat with one hand. 3 more bites. Baby starts wailing. Get up and change baby. Return to breakfast, which is now a bowl of mush and vat of ice-cold coffee. Dump cereal in the trash, reheat coffee. 

3. Repeat step 2 for every other meal you might attempt to eat during the day (replacing the cereal with equally convenient, insufficient foods: sandwiches, Lean Cuisines, etc.). 

4. Consider trying to eat something while baby is napping, but fall asleep on the couch before you can pry open a can of tuna.

5. Voila! Baby weight just falls off.


Friday, January 4, 2013

People Say the Darndest Things


And by "darndest," I mean rudest, most inconsiderate things--especially when you're pregnant. 

A good rule of thumb is, if you wouldn't say it to a non-gestating woman, don't say it to one who is. 

No one follows this rule, of course. Instead, people seem to think it's open season on pregnant women--you can say whatever damn fool thing enters your brain and it's somehow totally acceptable, because pregnant women are public property.

Or something. 

And what's worse, pregnant women are supposed to accept--nay, welcome!--this fool commentary. God forbid you respond with anything other than a smile and vigorous nod. It's not just that you have 2 brain cells to rub together and realize you're being insulted/reprimanded/patronized. No, you must be Hormonal.

Screw that. 

I invite you, instead, to utilize my patented* Moron Response System--3 levels of responses, depending on whom you're speaking with.

Level 1: Polite Redirection.
This is the level you're going to use when speaking with your grandmother, or that elderly lady you keep running into at the doctor's office who wants you to know how good you have it, not raising 8 kids through the depression. You don't want to start something with grandma, you just want to change the subject--fortunately the elderly love to talk about themselves--and then rant about her later to your husband. It goes something like this:

Rude nitwit: OH MY GOD, you are enormous!
You: It's true, I've gained a bit of weight, but my doctor assures me it's healthy. How's that skin growth doing?

Level 2: Direct Confrontation.
You're not taking these comments lying down. You're not ready to up the rude ante yet, but you're going to let rude nitwit know these comments aren't appropriate.

Rude nitwit: OH MY GOD, you are enormous!
You: Would you say that if I weren't pregnant? Comments about anyone's appearance really aren't appropriate in the workplace.

Level 3: Evil Grin.
More acceptable the further along in pregnancy you get. Also directly correlated with just how obnoxious this particular rude nitwit is.

It. Is. On.

Rude nitwit: OH MY GOD, you are enormous!
You: Yes, I'm growing another human being. What's your excuse?


Let's practice a few more, shall we?

Rude nitwit: You look exhausted; better sleep now before the baby comes!

Level 1 response: Yes, back pain has been keeping me up at night. How's your insomnia?
Level 2: I'm sure I don't look my best, but as exhausted as I am, I still know better than to insult a pregnant woman.
Level 3: You look like shit, too; too bad you don't have a gestating baby to blame it on!


Rude nitwit: You must really be looking forward to your baby vacation--I mean, "maternity leave."

Level 1 response: I'm sure those diapers will keep me plenty busy; let's plan a real vacation for the summer!
Level 2: Taking care of a baby is no vacation--if you're concerned about your workload, I suggest you speak with the boss.
Level 3: I'll probably still get more work done than you do--do you think the boss realized your laptop shorted out because you drool while you nap? 


If all else fails, burst into tears. Nothing is scarier than a crying, pregnant woman.


*Or not.
 

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Dressing: A Handbook for Pregnant Gals


Step 1: Wake up with completely unfounded suspicion that pre-maternity clothes still fit. Dash to closet in fit of joy, and try on various items that clearly do not fit, up to and including “fat” jeans.

Step 2: Cry.

Step 3: Glare at maternity clothes.

Step 4: Decide belly band is the solution. Wiggle into pre-maternity pants again, with band jammed on top to hold them up.

Step 5: Wander about completing morning routine, stopping every 5 seconds to adjust belly band and non-fitting pants.

Step 6: Stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the complete uselessness of belly band; struggle through breakfast with waistband puddling into lap.

Step 7: Glare at husband when he comments that your clothes "look . . . odd." Remind him that this entire situation is HIS FAULT.

Step 8: Admit defeat. Return to closet.

Step 9: Glare at maternity clothes some more. 

Step 10: Keep glaring.

Step 11: Realize you're going to be late for work. Consider quitting altogether.

Step 12: Put on same black dress pants and empire waist maternity button-down you've been wearing every day since the beginning of time. 

Step 13: Count number of weeks until you can reasonably hope to fit into your "real" clothes again.

Step 14: Final glare at maternity clothes.


Ta-da! And it only took 2.5 hours!