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donditiples's blog - subscribe Being a parent is tough. If you just want a wonderful little creature to love...go get a puppy.

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And, oh the masterpiece that carver did carve! So enraptured was Atch at his son's newfound artistic ability, he applauded him loudly on the bottom with the wide end of a thick leather belt....
Distinctive, huh? No other baby is named Ogbai . Believe me, I've googled it up (so babies Apple, Suri, Pilot Inspektor, Kal-el, Shiloh Nouvel, ad nauseum – go eat your hearts out)....
Help! Screeched my tortured inner novice cook. Taking a deep breath of clean air away from the fumes, I dove in and took hold of the pan's handle....
Going back and forth for the gazillionth time carrying clothes and shoes and pillows and sheets...how can three people accumulate so much stuff in five years?...
Self-preservation aside, if there was any head-bashing to be done, mine would be the one with a dent the size of Mindanao....
You'd think he was born along with several other litter-mates. What do you think I am, little guy? A sow?...
I look at my older son, with his suddenly huge feet, his hard scabby knees, large ackward fingers, the flare of his booger-filled nostrils – and suddently I am overcome with a mild case of ... distaste? A mild case. But still. Oh the guilt!...
What a waste of time, I thought rather ungratefully. I wanted to be cuddled and waited upon. I wanted an affirmation of his undying love in the face of my newly wrung-out body....
In my day, mothers held babies up to the first morning light and loaded the kids with a good dose of Scott's Emulsion. The doctor kept away for damn sure....
9:17PM Delivery room. Pitifully whine to student nurse if I could hold his hand. Human touch and all that. He nods yes and I mash his hand to a pulp....
...I would picture the whole household speeding posthaste to the hospital, where amid the ruckus of pumping out the children's tummies, my husband, my sister-in-law and her husband would be glaring at me, the guilty perpetrator of it all......
We need to save us from ourselves and this harried lifestyle we have imposed on our son. We need to allow him to be himself and to let him know that he is wonderful, brilliant, creative, compassionate and marvelous....
I took one look at Woog's face and tried not to laugh. His eyes were gleaming with a kind of horrified fascination normally reserved for say, freshly squashed roadkill frog, or his Wawa (grandmother) taking off her dentures......
People describe giving birth as having one foot in the grave...one mother wants it over and done with......
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