Tag Archives: TV

What GIJoe Taught Me About Breastfeeding

I’ve asked everyone about babies.

  • Was your baby late or early?
  • During labor, how many times did your wife threaten to kill you? Obviously, she didn’t kill you, but did you receive other injuries?
  • How long was your labor?
  • Is it possible for you to birth the baby for me?

A coworker had a baby…without drugs. Because her experience was just a couple months ago, she couldn’t say, “You’ll forget all about the pain,” because she was still dealing with the aftermath…stitches, bleeding…other stuff I don’t want to think about.

Coworker: My labor lasted about 5 hours. It was pretty short.

My Thoughts: This woman is a god. I must do everything exactly as she did.

And you know what she said has been the most painful part of her new baby?

Not the drug-free delivery. The breastfeeding.

Someone else may have immediately thought, “Bullshit.” But me, I want to be optimistic and believe that I’ll barely feel anything while delivering.

So I focused on the breastfeeding pain.

Coworker: Someone told me to prepare myself for breastfeeding I should slam my nipples in a door. I don’t think that’s far off.

Thoughtsy: ::horrified look::

This will be my baby: “I’m going to whip your breasts into shape.”

And suddenly, ignorance seemed so much better than preparation.

Then I went all GIJoe: Knowing is half the battle.

I know ALL about breastfeeding.

So I went to a breastfeeding class. Because according to the 50/50 GIJoe logic, attending a class meant only one of my breasts would hurt.

And you know what I found out?

Breastfeeding will only hurt this much. Just a little bit.

Sure, you’re going to be sore at first, but if breastfeeding is painful, you’re doing it wrong.

That means only one thing: I’m now worried about labor pains again.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I recommend doing a couple of shots and becoming 100% sh*t-effaced. Then you wake up in the morning going, ‘Ooh, my head… but hey, the baby’s here!’”—BluzDude


Are You Crapping Me?

Captain’s Log, Star Date December 12, 2013.

It’s been 13 days since Kiefer left for his business trip. He should return today.

But…if he doesn’t…I don’t know…how much longer I’ll survive on my own.

I’ve seen things…no woman should have to see. I’m done things…no pregnant woman should have to do. ::shudder::

It all started with laryngitis. Laryngitis that’s still not gone because it’s impossible to rest my voice when I’m the only person around to stop Ozzy Pups from stealing socks (Drop it!).

Then there was all of that snow.

But now, things have just gotten progressively harder.

Boo and his friend hung out at the house for a couple hours before basketball practice. Boo’s friend used the bathroom…and he…clogged the toilet in MY bathroom, not the kids’ bathroom.

Of course, I didn’t discover the clog until I was already doing the pee-pee dance. I had two options:

  1. Use the kids’ bathroom upstairs…which is never a good idea.
  2. Unclog the toilet myself.

Since I’ve never actually plunged a toilet, and because a pregnant woman with a heightened sense of smell should never have to plunge a toilet that’s been clogged by a kid that’s not even hers, I choose Option #3:

Call Dad to unclog the toilet while I ran Boo and his friend to practice.

I’ve decided to head off future bathroom problems by placing a woman figure on my bathroom door.

If Kiefer isn’t home this afternoon, this may be my last entry. Please send reinforcements…and extra bathrooms.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I agree…that’s classic protective behavior. Ozzy is putting himself between you and potential frosty danger, just like a Secret Service man. You should get him a little earpiece and some shades.”—BluzDude


The Sound of Music’s Favorite Things: A Copper Kettle? Seriously?

Last night as I flipped through the TV channels, I almost stopped on Piranhaconda. Almost.

Surely Michael Madsen from Reservoir Dogs wouldn’t lead me astray, right?

Well, I don’t know why I came here tonight….

You got a little something behind your ear. Sit still and lemme get that for you.

After reading that Piranhaconda was a sequel to Sharktopus, I decided I really should watch the movies in order and ended up watching The Sound of Music instead.

Here’s what I learned from the movie:

  • A doe is a female deer.
  • Carrie Underwood, bless her heart, can sing beautifully, but she can’t act.
  • Austrians don’t eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Just jam sandwiches.
  • Singing loudly drowns out thunder.
  • “I smoke a big cigar” is probably code for something dirty.
  • Hills don’t just have eyes, they’re alive.
  • Some people don’t like festive wrapping paper. They prefer brown paper packages tied up with strings.
  • Vampire Bill Compton can sing.

    When you open your mouth to sing, please don’t sound like Pierce Brosnan in Mamma Mia. Please….

Most importantly, I learned Maria and I have very different favorite things. Who the heck likes copper kettles? I’m totally with her on the crisp apple strudels though.

My song would go something like, “Sprinkles on Pop-Tarts and icing on cupcakes….”

What are your favorite things?


Pete the Penguin Shark Dives

Today I’m continuing Pete the Penguin’s story….

WARNING: I know these next pictures are going to be particularly disturbing. The pictures are real. Kiefer really went shark diving. I know it looks extremely realistic, but I swear I photoshopped in the pictures of Pete the Penguin. No animals were harmed.

Dear Thoughtsy,

I’m shark diving today. I decided to take our new pet Pete the Penguin with me. Don’t worry; I dressed him weather appropriately.

Look how much fun Pete and I are having! It’s like we’re starring in an episode of Shark Week. The sharks here are so nice. They’re really more like the sharks from Finding Nemo: “Fish are Friends, Not Food.”

Shark diving is 100% safe.

Wish you were here!

Love, Kiefer

To Whom It May Concern:

I regret to inform you that there was an accident. I’m ok, but Pete…Pete didn’t make it. I turned my back for just one second, and he was gone. Just one second. I don’t understand how this could have happened. I didn’t even hear the Jaws theme.

…I have a confession. Pete’s death wasn’t an accident. The shark rattled the cage, and I panicked. The whole thing’s a blur, but apparently I shouted, “Take the penguin instead! I can’t die yet! I haven’t even proposed to Thoughtsykins yet!” before tossing Pete out of the cage and into the Great White’s massive jaws.

I swear this is not a reflection of my parenting skills. Our future children have nothing to fear. Nor is it a reflection of petsitting abilities. I promise to take excellent care of Esme.

Please don’t hate me.

Love, Kiefer

Let’s hope that Kiefer is more responsible with the baby than he was with Pete the Penguin.

Last time Kiefer and I were in Tampa, we’re sure we saw Pete at the aquarium. Hopefully, we’ll see him again this year.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I don’t know — Pete’s cute, but he looks like he’s planning something. Like, you’d get him home, and he’d wear the butler suit and serve you drinks, but then you’d wake up the next morning and find that Pete and all your jewelry are gone.”—Laura


Casper the Not-Water-Conservation-Friendly Ghost

Remember how I told you our new house was haunted? I’ve been waivering  on whether or not I believe it.

A friend’s exhusband and their children who lived in the house relayed to us that the most common place for stuff to happen was in the bathroom (and Boo’s closet). Apparently, one of the favorite things for the spirit to do is turn on the sink faucet.

Riiiiiiight….

The day after she told us that Kiefer took Ozzy for a walk and I picked up our dinner. When I came back, Kiefer and Ozzy were still gone, but I heard something in the bathroom. The water in the sink was running.

What the….

So now all I’m picturing is something scary standing over the baby’s crib, like this:

Yellow-eyed demons eat babies…

And we all know what yellow-eyed demons do to baby mamas.

Death by ceiling fire…

It’s been nice knowing all of you. Please use the comments to call dibs on my personal belongings.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I still catch the Husband occasionally saying to his friends, ‘Yeah I’m going to go hang out with my girlfriend…I mean wife. I’m going with my wife. I don’t have a girlfriend. Just a wife. Yeah….”—LauraLord


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