Beer Gut

So yesterday afternoon my mother-in-law was in a minor car accident that could've been serious. (The driver ran a red light without breaking and flew directly into the driver's side door of her car). What if it had been serious? Would I have to delete my sh*t talking posts and pretend that she was the MIL from heaven? Probably not. I would probably finally take the higher road, though, and admit that perhaps she did only wanted the best for J & myself.

But I once again struggled w that higher road today, as I received from her in the mail (from 5 miles away) an article about the benefits of breast feeding. Then a handwritten note on the importance of baby names. I didn't read the article- dude, I'm alive. I KNOW the benefits of breast feeding and also the importance of not naming your baby "Heavyn." I showed J the article & we had a good laugh. I love angering people by telling them that I feel like breast feeding is for monkeys. I explained to J that I might need to inform his mother of this.

I received this letter on my way out the door to tour our first daycare. It was CRAZY. First of all, this wretched music was BLASTING throughout. "RAIN RAIN GO AWAY"- to the tune of "1-2 freddie's coming for you." The walls were replete with cross-eyed depictions of Disney characters. J saw a woman pick up a pacifier off the floor and put it into a child's mouth. And I saw a baby sleeping on his stomach in his crib. Afterwards we swapped observations through tears of laughter. It seemed fine, though. I don't think the pacifier-floor thing is *that* big a deal. I mean, kids need exposure to germs to build up antibodies, right? I'm fairly certain wee Emerson will live another day. J disagrees. The stomach sleeping however? That concerns me. I'm terrified of SIDS.

The lady told me she would've have never known that I was expecting. I'm still concerned that this is a phantom pregnancy. But then J reminds me of my new beer gut. Something is growing in there. And it ain't beer. Dude, I miss beer.