I spoke to my friend Kari this morning, and I have some intel:
She's on to us! The jig is up! The moose has flown to Guadalajara, and he's taken a left turn at San Juan!
Her baby is almost three months old, and she already knows about the baby cover-up. How they are no fun and actually very, very boring and sometimes mean and how there is no way that a normal, intelligent person can actually endure the torture of the first few months without completely losing her shit at least once a day. She is even onto the trick where the babies disrupt brain frequencies with their cries in order to infiltrate our minds and then suck the scrambled goo out through our ears while we "sleep."
Any minute now, she's going to figure out the thing about the diaper genie.
Worse, she knows about The Lie.
This can't go any further. She can't be allowed to tell others about how we lure unsuspecting women with maternal cravings into believing all of that hoo-ha about babies being creatures made entirely of cute and life-affirming and awesome. She can't be allowed to spread the word about this. I mean, they are awesome, but some people just won't understand about the brain-sucking, and how it makes us all better and more perfect mommies...they will just be creeped out. They may even demand that the babies desist. WE CANNOT HAVE THIS!
This is a wily one. We hooked her, and now we have to keep her, ladies...but we have to watch her closely.
She likely to start talking to other moms, which could be bad. They could begin to network with other intelligent women, and support each other through this horrible phase-even treat her to an occasional restorative glass of wine-and then we're screwed! SCREWED!
We can't let them mobilize!
We have to keep this contained, and let the baby-unit complete the brain sucking! If we can keep her quarantined until phase one is complete, she will be one of us. Whatever you do, don't let her know that she's right about the dirty looks the baby gives her! Tell her that it's gas! They always believe that one!
Pretty soon, none of that will matter. Phase two: Smooshy and Cooing will begin soon, and she'll be talking about wanting another one!
MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!
Thanks, I just relived M2's first year. Not much squooshiness, just both of us crying. I was convinced something was wrong with her, all the while I looked like the she demon from hell Texas version, dragging her to the doctor every other 30 minutes and demanding they 'fix her'. Sidenote; 13 years ago, her pediatrician was a HOTTIE (he is now an older HOTTIE) and I most days we went during that first year my hair looked like I ratted it up on purpose, makeup probably on one eye (on a good day) and formula stains on my chosen 'outfit'. So, when I came out of the FUNK called the first year, I always made it a point to look ROCKIN every time I took her in for checkups etc. I have always wanted to ask him if he thought I was CRAZEEEEE as a lune, but haven't had the nerve. Cause he would say hell yes.
ReplyDeleteSO, moral of my story is: I stopped at ONE. And the previous message is exactly why
Hope all is well, sorry I've been MIA, I'm on the computer and road so much with the new job, the blog world got shoved to the edge of my world.
now you tell me?
ReplyDeletemao-s
Bj: werd to you, motha. I'm betting that the pediatricians see a lot of us crazies. I'm kind of glad that Wendy's is this older Indian guy-like someone's comforting grandfather. NO need to feel like a hot mess whilst gibbering about her eating habits.
ReplyDeleteM: They like to downplay this in the What-to-Expect books. Or we all like to cling to the hope that we will be among the imaginary folk that just handle it with grace. Trust me, unless you have a lobotomy between now and then, this will be you.
Never fear, though...it passes.
yes. you should.
ReplyDelete