Guest Post: Weaning, The Only Part of Motherhood That Came Naturally To Me

My friend and fellow writer, Erica Heinsman, wrote this beautiful piece on her experiences with breastfeeding and weaning.  Erica runs I’m Totally Faking It. You may remember her from her guest post Thou Shalt Not Judge The Pregnant Woman. I met and grew to love Erica while playing coed touch football with her when I lived in greater DC. She’s a smart, funny woman raising two adorable babes with her lovely husband. Like her Facebook page and follow her on Twitter @imtotllyfakngit. You’ll love her WTF Wednesdays and probably develop a Mom Crush on her.

Weaning, The Only Part of Motherhood That Came Naturally To Me
 
When I began the adventure into motherhood there were very few things I was sure about. One thing I knew I wanted was to breastfeed my baby. There were health benefits for him, and health benefits for me, including the promises from moms before me that the caloric burn that would aid in dropping the baby weight (which turns out doesn't happen for everyone, especially when you need to eat more than normal to keep your production up). 

Breastfeeding was not the beautiful and natural bonding activity I had read about. It was hard. I had a hard time producing a decent supply for him; a prior breast reduction left me with a lot of scar tissue and less milk ducts than I was born with. My cesarean with subsequent pain meds also didn't help us any. With the aid of a lactation consultant I was able to produce enough milk to keep him exclusively breastfed. Our regime for the first month involved nursing, pumping immediately after and then syringe feeding the baby with the pumped milk. I also had to swap out the potent pain meds for some tylenol, because even though the hospital told me it wouldn't happen, he was clearly getting knocked out when he would nurse as the medication was making its way into my supply. 

I went back to work when he was only 10 weeks old. We really had only started having success breastfeeding a few weeks prior, so I was determined to keep my supply going while I was at work. This was not easy. My designated pumping spot was the office cafe, so I had to be sure I pumped before anyone started their lunch break, and couldn't pump again until after everyone had finished. On top of that, the door didn't have a lock, so I had to put a rolling cart in front of it to keep people from just walking in and seeing my nipples being distorted by the milking machine. Combine that with the fact that before or after I pumped, I got dirty looks about my time away from my desk (it's okay for smokers, not for breastfeeders), my supply was starting to take a dive. In order to keep up with the demand the baby had, I made sure I was also pumping after he went to bed, before I went to bed, and before I left for work in the morning. 

Fast forward a few months, baby was 7 months old and I left that job and got one with more flexibility. It was also around this time that I was fed up with still holding onto an extra 20lbs of baby weight. I decided to rejoin Weight Watchers (for what is probably the 5th time in my life) and drop some of it. I really thought I could balance cutting calories and keeping my milk supply up...I was delusional. Even though I was focused on eating healthy, nutrient filled food, the drop in calorie intake took its toll on my production. At this point baby was eating some mashed veggies, so I didn't think it was much of an issue. Then we went for his 9 month checkup, and when the nurse weighed him twice after checking his chart I knew, he hadn't gained any weight since his 8 month appointment. 

We were 9 months in, I had overcome so many hurdles, I was tired of the struggle, and I wanted my body back to myself. Though we knew that formula was full of crap we didn't particularly want in our child's system, my husband and I agreed that it was time to ween our little man. 

Our plan of action was pretty simple, I would nurse in the morning before breakfast, and then again before bed. Because little man was very interested in our food, we made sure we always had mashed veggies available for meal times, and then bottles would be formula. We did have a small stash of breastmilk in the freezer, but instead of using it all before moving to formula we decided to ration it so it would last longer. 

With baby 10 months old now, my job was sending me for a week long training in California. It was at this point that I went cold turkey on breastfeeding. The hubby and I figured it would probably be easiest to go cold turkey when I wasn't going to be around, so it's not like we were depriving him of nursing, it wasn't an option without me there. I was a little concerned that I would be dealing with with the pain of engorgement, or leaking out in front of my new colleagues, but it turns out my body was ready to be done. I didn't have any suffering at all, my boobs went back to normal status within the week. 

I know there are a lot of moms that are sad when they are done nursing their little ones. I was sad too, but only a little bit. I was sad that this meant that he was growing up, and sad that this was the first time in his life he didn't need me for nourishment. In all honesty, I was mostly relieved to be done with it. I no longer had to schedule my life around feeding schedules, or hook my boobs up to a pump to be milked like a cow. I was free to function as individual again, not always having a person or machine latched on to me. 
I'm glad that I breastfed for as long as I did, and I'm proud of myself for working as hard as I did in order to do it for so long... and I saved us a crap-ton of money, because formula is not cheap. 

Erica is a native Buffalonian (Go Bills!) now living just outside of Washington, DC in Silver Spring, MD. She’s a working mom and wife attempting to make it through the day without crying or murdering someone.  Her basic life necessities are Amazon Prime, screw top wine, coffee, and her DVR. If she’s not drinking and/or online shopping, she’s probably at the playground giving the stink eye to parents who look too well dressed to be at the playground.

Source: BachelorsDegreeCenter.org

9 Tips for 9 Months

After reflecting on my pregnancy, I’ve compiled 9 tips to help you get through your 9 months of pregnancy as happy and healthy as possible. My suggestions come from my personal experience as a first time mom and my doctorate in child development.

In general, you’ll notice that my recommendations are based on a foundation of evolutionary theory, which guides the field of child development. Basically, I tried to avoid anything that wasn’t around during our development into Homo sapiens. My remedies were also chosen based on how long humans have been using them during pregnancy without incidence. Thus, you’ll notice lots of natural, homeopathic, and Eastern medicine advice.

When the natural, time and evolution tested treatments didn’t work, my Western medicine choices were ones that had been used the longest by preggos without incidence. My Western medicine choices, however, were kept to a minimum in terms of frequency and dosage (again, because of evolution and lack of experimental research due to ethics). I also avoided modern medical interventions as much as humanly possible during the first trimester because of the bajillion prenatal sensitive/critical periods. You'll find this advice timely given the mixed evidence surrounding using Zofran off-label for pregnancy sickness combined with the fact that pregnancy sickness is usually worst during the most vulnerable period for prenatal development.

Prenatal sensitive/critical periods.

1. Nausea: I was nauseated constantly from weeks 5 through 14 of my pregnancy. Despite the nausea, I expertly handled the situation and NEVER threw up.  My expertise was gained in college and graduate school via extensive experience with hangovers. Given that the first trimester of pregnancy basically felt like a 14-week hangover, I had that situation on lock-down. Here’s what worked for me:  

-Try to keep a little food in your tummy at all times. Protein (although probably absolutely disgusting to you early in pregnancy) helped knock my nausea level down a few notches. It didn’t make the nausea disappear, but it made it so I could at least shower and get some work done. I basically ate only eggs, mangos, and watermelon for the first three months.

-Get some food in your belly before you even get out of bed. My husband, God bless him, made me a plate of eggs and mangos and put them next to my pillow every day. I simply opened my swollen pregnant eyelids, ate, and waddled out of bed. 

-As long as I had a ginger candy or gum in my mouth, I didn’t feel like I was going to upchuck.

2. Get a Recliner: A comfortable recliner (preferably in front of a TV) will alleviate heartburn, leg swelling, crazy pregnancy snoring, and the discomfort associated with carrying a watermelon on your bladder. You will sleep here, nurse here, and hold fussy baby who won’t go the eff to sleep here. Thus, invest in a good one that will hold up through marathon breastfeeding sessions, rocking your newborn to sleep five times a day, and sick babies who will sleep only if snuggled on your neck. I particularly urge you to get a recliner that is free of stain-repellants and flame-retardants. Neither of these chemicals has received the amount or type of research that make me able to say whether they are safe for humans, let alone pregnant women and fetuses. More importantly, there’s a growing body of solidly conducted research that shows flame-retardants are detrimental for human development and human health. I had a hard time finding a company that made recliners without flame-retardants. You should have an easier time now that IKEA, Crate and Barrel, Room & Board, Pottery Barn, West Elm, La-Z-Boy, and Wal-Mart have stopped adding flame-retardants to their furniture. Make sure you check the label, which should indicate whether flame-retardants were added. If the tag doesn’t indicate as such, it’s from 2014 or earlier and likely has flame-retardants.

3. Supplements: You already know to take prenatal vitamins. You should also take fish oil that is certified free of toxins and contains as much DHA and EPA as you can find. If your vitamin D levels haven’t been checked, do it. You are probably low and should supplement.

4. Maternity Clothes: Only God knows why, but those who make maternity clothes have not sized the clothes so you can say to yourself, “I’m a medium not pregnant, so I should buy medium-sized maternity clothes.” I’m 100% positive that maternity clothes manufacturers take non-pregnant, regularly shaped mannequins and simply make the tummy of the garment more forgiving.  This means that your fat ass, thunder thighs, trunk legs, sausage arms, and porn star boobs will not fit into maternity clothes that the same “size” as your non-pregnant clothes. I got so frustrated that I decided not to buy maternity clothes. I simply bought XL winter leggings from American Apparel and wore my wrap dresses like blouses and my husband’s shirts. Eventually, however, I did find a maternity clothing company I liked. Pink Blush Maternity makes adorable pregnancy and nursing clothes that are affordable and mostly made in the USA. They also do a much better job of sizing clothes to accommodate your expanding overall size without making you feel like a walrus. The clothes also don’t really look very “maternity” and I still sometimes wear them because they are cute.

5. Massages: Get as many massages as you can afford. Not only do they alleviate swelling, pain, discomfort, and cortisol, they also have been shown to reduce the likelihood that your have a fussy, difficult, or irritable newborn.

6. Swelling: The recliner will help with swelling by elevating your feet. Exercise will help get fluids moving. Changing positions and moving around will also help. I highly recommend not taking long car trips (longer than 30 minutes). Every time I was in the car longer than 30 minutes, my ankles and feet had pitting edema (see picture). Most importantly, however, DRINK WATER! Drink at least a gallon a day.

Pitting edema resultant from a 1.5 hour car ride.

7. Weight Gain: I gained 60 pounds because I ate all the food and exercised 5(?) times. It was my first pregnancy and it took fertility treatments and 20 months to get me pregnant so I was going to enjoy it and do whatever I felt like. I also spent most of my free time justifying this behavior by finding people who assured me that they lost all 9,764 pounds of baby weight by breastfeeding. THIS DID NOT HAPPEN, PEOPLE. I lost 20 quick pounds after giving birth. Breastfeeding took off 15 pounds. The other 25 pounds I had to lose the hard way, which I called, “Don’t eat anything!” because that’s what it feels like and exercising more. Fifteen months after giving birth, I still have 10 pounds to lose. Looking back, I wish I’d stuffed myself with vegetables and treated myself with fruit instead of three pints of ice cream in one week and several instances of eating 6 donuts in one sitting. I wish I’d exercised more too. I share my regrets with you because I want to be perfectly honest, not because I’m trying to scare or shame you into eating better and exercising more. In the long term, however, eating better and exercising would have made my postpartum weight struggle and related body image issues a little easier.

8. People Are Rude: They will also annoy the shit out of you. They do not mean to annoy or offend you. They are trying to be nice, complimentary, or simply have an interaction with an adorably pregnant life-giving goddess. Except, sometimes people talk to you because they are unconsciously trying to make themselves feel better by judging you and your choices. These people need to be shut down. You need to come up with a way of handling them. My go-to way of getting people to leave me alone was to tell them with a super serious face and slight confusion: “I’m not pregnant.”

9. Opposite Reactions/Symptoms: Almost everything that happens to you during pregnancy could be the opposite of what people tell you to expect. For example, you could be STARVING the entire pregnancy or you could have no appetite at all. You could sleep all the time or you could have terrible insomnia. Your acne might disappear or it could become life threatening. You could be constipated or you could have the runs. This point also relates back to my 8^th point that people are rude. You will inevitably say something that is happening to you, like you have already gained 35 pounds at 6 months, and someone will take the opportunity to tell you that she gained only 17 pounds while pregnant and left the hospital in jeans she wore before she was pregnant (SHUT UP, MOM!). People can be terrible at recognizing others’ needs for understanding and empathy, and what they do instead is use the opportunity to take the interaction over and make it all about them. These people were raised by parents who ignored their emotional needs and used leather belts to discipline them. Perhaps your pity for these people will keep you from slashing their tires.

Bonus Tip #10 (because by the time you are past your due date, you have entered your 10^th month of pregnancy): When you are close to your due date, people will start asking you, “When are they going to induce you?” or “How long will they let you go?” These people should be murdered because they have forgotten that YOU are in charge of that decision. Just because your doctor keeps pressuring you to induce doesn’t mean you have to consent to it. You have the right to refuse medical interventions. These questions chip away at your autonomy and sense of agency. Feel free to tear into people who ask this question by telling them in no uncertain terms that this is your body and you will make that decision. Letting them know the error of their ways will make you feel better and more in charge. It will also serve as a PSA that will help change the culture of treating pregnant women like incompetent idiots. With regards to the fetus, the fetus is also yours and you are in charge of making decisions in his or her best interest. You are smart, capable, and the person who loves your fetus the most—remember this when you feel shamed, bullied, and ridiculed.

Reader Q: My Baby Thinks Throwing Toys on the Floor is Hilarious

How do I stop the vicious cycle of my baby throwing things on the ground and me picking them up times infinity because my baby thinks its hilarious? She cries when I don’t give it back.

 The answer to this one is pretty simple: Stop returning the items she throws on the ground. I understand that she cries when you don’t give it back, but so what? Have you ever done something that resulted in things not coming up in your favor and then felt sad or frustrated? What am I thinking? Of course you have—you are a parent. My point is that your baby crying isn’t a problem. It’s actually a completely normal and healthy reaction to frustration. Sometimes you have to learn lessons the hard way. Eventually, your baby will learn that throwing things on the floor means they are on the floor, but I suspect you already know this and your real concern is the baby’s crying. As such, I’m going to spend my time talking about the baby’s crying. Perhaps you are concerned that by not giving the toy back you are being insensitive to your baby’s signals. As long as you are not mean about not giving the toy back and do so as kindly and empathically as possible, you are not being insensitive.

This brings me to a critically important component of this situation. Being sensitive does not mean giving in to your child. In fact, being a pushover can be just as bad as being a bully or being cold and unsympathetic. Being sensitive means kindly explaining to your child: (a) the toy is on the floor,  (b) you aren’t going to pick it up, and (c) you understand that she is upset. You could also explain kindly how to fix the situation. Insensitive responses would be coldly ignoring the baby’s crying, teasing the baby, and telling the baby to stop crying (e.g., “Get over it,” “Hush!” or “Stop it.”).  This recommendation is simply based on the general advice that you need to teach your child that feelings are okay to have, they are normal, and they are manageable. The insensitive approach teaches your baby that emotions are not okay and they are scary.

You didn’t mention how old your baby is, but given my knowledge of babies, I’m guessing you have a toddler. Toddlers are COMPLETELY capable of learning associations between events. They can learn that throwing things on the ground either: (a) results in a hilarious game or (b) results in not having access to that object. I know for a fact that your baby is capable of learning because she has invented a hilarious throwing game. Given that you seem frustrated by this game, the only way out is to stop returning the object with kindness.

Another possibility is that you want your kid to learn that throwing is not okay. If that’s your goal, you may have to add a very brief (roughly a minute) time-out for your toddler when she throws objects. Kindly inform your toddler that throwing is not allowed and will result in time-outs. Do not give time outs for emotions, but rather, give time outs for misbehaving. Again, your toddler is completely capable of learning this boundary.  I recently had a similar situation in which my knowledge of kids collided head on with having an actual toddler. Frankie kept playing in the dog bowl and he thought that the resultant “No, no, no!” and subsequent chase away from the dog bowl was hilarious. After four time-outs within 18 hours, he quit playing in the dog bowl. In fact, four months later, he sometimes slowly walks by the dog bowl and shakes his head no. We did the same thing with outlets with the same outcome. #Winning

I want to take a moment to talk about the possibility that baby’s cries make you anxious or uncomfortable. If your parents responded to your cries with harsh demands that your crying cease or they coldly ignored most of your cries, then there is a strong possibility that babies crying makes your heart rate increase and panic start to set in.  If this is true, your parents taught you that crying is not okay, that it is scary, and it is unmanageable, which makes you anxious when baby cries. To override your anxious response, when the baby starts to cry, recognize your feelings of anxiety and discomfort, take a deep breath from your tummy (It’s really important that you breathe correctly, so read this to be sure.). Keep taking deep belly breaths until you can kindly respond to the baby. If you give the baby the thrown object upon the baby's cries, you are reinforcing yourself for playing the throwing game because you giving the toy back makes the baby stop crying which makes your anxiety attenuate. This game that you have learned also needs to stop, and unfortunately, it’s the harder game to win because it took years for you to get like that. It’s critically important that you deal with these issues, and I recommend consulting a good therapist who has a solid understanding of attachment theory to help you work through how your childhood is shaping your responses to your baby.

Another Open Letter to Alma College

Dear Alma College:

 

Recently, I expressed my opinion on Carson’s visit to Alma College. I’ve received several responses on the issue. Most have been supportive and encouraging. A few have been the voice of opposition. With one exception, my detractors have been men my father’s age who have expressed in one way or another that I should be a good little girl and keep my mouth shut—that’s never going to happen. I will not sit silently as I receive hate mail meant to terrorize me. I’m not going to be silenced like Alma College silenced its LGBTQIA and feminist Scots when they allowed Dr. Benjamin Carson to speak.

I treasure free speech and open dialogue. The College’s handling of Carson’s visit did not, in any way, encourage free speech and open dialogue. In fact, the situation actively discouraged it. Specifically, we were all forbidden to talk about Carson’s politics, including Carson himself. By having Carson speak, yet forbidding open dialogue to comply with FEC rules, the College became a wet blanket on the First Amendment. In other words, by having Carson speak under such restrictions, the College censored it’s own students, faculty, and staff. Censorship is not something I stand for as a professor. Censorship only prevents our students and future leaders from becoming thoughtful, analytical, and critical thinkers capable of making their own decisions and articulating their positions.

It’s worth taking a quick detour here to note that neither Carson nor the College held up their ends of the bargain. Carson did not hold up his end of this deal when he rallied the crowd with the clearly political statement that marriage is between a man and a woman. In addition, Alma College also faulted by allowing political questions at the end of the talk. The situation gave neither side justice.  

The College further became an impediment to our First Amendment rights when students were required to go to Carson’s talk. Not only did this situation serve as a roadblock to students exercising their right to free speech by boycotting the talk, it also created a situation in which many Scots were made to feel less than human. By making Carson’s talk a course requirement, LGBTQIA and feminist students were, in effect, forced to sit in a room and listen to a man say that marriage is between a man and a woman, yet they were forbidden from speaking out or questioning such a position.  To add insult to injury, these students also had to witness an auditorium full of people give Carson a standing ovation in response to his dehumanizing statement. As a developmental psychologist, I will tell you in no uncertain terms that these types of situations directly contribute to feelings of alienation and thoughts of suicide. As such, it is this choice that the College made that saddens me most and it is this situation in particular that led me to write my first open letter to Alma College demanding an apology and reparation. My position has not changed. The College should apologize for the hurt that it caused its LGBTQIA and feminist Scots, and a genuine effort to repair the relationships that it damaged is in order.

In closing, I’ll speak directly to my new “fan club.” You can threaten me, degrade me, attack my qualifications, and tattle on me all you want, but you will not bully me into submission. You might even be successful in your attempts to get me fired, but you will not rob me of my right to speak up when LGBTQIA and feminist Scots have been dehumanized and censored.

Sincerely,

Dr. Brandi Stupica

Assistant Professor of Psychology

Alma College

An Open Letter to Alma College

Dear Alma College:

Dr. Benjamin Carson’s visit to the College is over, and I’ve survived, but not without some bumps and bruises. His visit at the invitation of the College has left me feeling violated and abused.  My colleagues and I asked you politely several times (here and here, for example) not to provide a platform for a man who makes daily headlines for his hateful comments about the LGBTQIA community and feminists. You ignored us. You proudly and publicly invited him to campus. Somehow, you managed to escalate the hurt even further by cordially inviting me to lunch with Dr. Carson, hosted by Alma College’s Diversity and Inclusion Office.

My invitation to Dr. Carson’s lunch is a funny story: At first I accepted the invitation because I thought the Diversity and Inclusion Office was hosting a lunch about Dr. Carson’s visit. I thought, surely, that there was no way that the office in charge of promoting equality on campus would host a lunch with Dr. Carson. I sincerely thought the lunch (if it were about Dr. Carson’s visit) was the College’s way of trying to make amends for the wave of hurt and insult that followed on the tide of Dr. Carson’s visit. The day of the lunch, however, and much to my horror, I realized that the lunch was with Dr. Carson. I quickly rescinded my acceptance of the invitation after I realized my mistake because I choose not socialize with or give my precious time and resources away to people who publicly and brazenly spew hate for the people and the causes I love.

Before I start talking about my mistakes, however, let me first discuss the College’s mistakes. The College hosted Dr. Carson under the guise that we value tolerating opinions that are diverse from our own. In doing so, you stood on the throat of inclusion. You’ve left many of us feeling dismissed and disenfranchised. Your cowardly “fix” to the situation (i.e., demoting Dr. Carson from Honor’s Day speaker to a mere guest speaker and facilitating a Diversity Dialogue) was simply a dressed up way of “negotiating with terrorists” who adore a man threatening, with his run for political office, the livelihood and well-being of the LBGTQIA community and people who strive for the end of sexism and gender inequality. The College should have been brave and refused to dedicate time socializing with a person who hates homosexuality and feminism. You should have rescinded your invitation and taught our students a valuable lesson: The First Amendment does, indeed, guarantee everyone freedom of speech, but this freedom does not guarantee free speech without consequences. Sometimes the consequences of being a public bully are that people don’t want to hang out with you and they don’t invite you to come over and play (or in this case pay you to speak to their students). Instead, you punted and it landed on the noses of your LGBTQIA and feminist Scots.

Somehow, you made the situation infinitely worse, yet again, when some students were required to attend his talk as part of a course requirement. I understand that “Due to FEC rules Dr. Carson will be unable to discuss any political matters during his time here on Alma's campus, but will be happy to chat about his rich legacy as an accomplished neurosurgeon, author, and philanthropist” (Direct quote from my invitation to lunch with Carson). Your “compromise” didn’t make the situation any better. In fact, it merely added to the cowardice of the College’s reaction. Perhaps you need to read what you did in black and white: You invited someone with an apparent agenda to marginalize gay and feminist Scots and decided it would be okay as long as everyone promised not to bring up the pink elephant in the room. Shame on you.

Now, let me talk about my role in this disaster. I should have been more persistent and vocal. I should have organized a day without women. I should have rallied people to boycott the talk. Instead, I was passive. I was complicit. I’ve let my students down, especially those who may see me as a role model. Students, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I realize that many of you were hurt by Carson’s visit and I feel responsible because I should have done more. I should have protected you. I’ve learned my lesson about being complicit and quiet. I’ll never again stand on the sidelines while the College invites a bully to campus.

The damage is done, and I’m in my office licking my wounds. So, what’s to be done now? First, a public apology is in order. You’ve hurt many Scots with your actions. You should say you are sorry. Next, you should make it right. I suggest one way to make amends is to state publicly and in no uncertain terms that Alma College is an ally to the LGBTQIA community, that we support marriage equality, and that we’re feminist (Yes, you have to use the f-word.). Don’t use euphemisms in your statement like you’ve done in the past. Although I believe that you never intended to hurt anyone, good intentions and doing the right thing are different. It’s not too late to do the right thing.

Sincerely,

Dr. Brandi Stupica

Assistant Professor of Psychology

Alma College

Fellow Professors: I’m Sick and It’s Your Fault

I’m writing this post through watery eyes while I sit sniffling on a bus with 28 of my colleagues heading to a meeting with the Board of Trustees. I’m mad, and I’m mad at you. I’m mad at you because you’re the reason I’m sick. I’m not mad at the dozens of sick students I’ve had in class this past week who got me sick. I’m not mad at the students, because it’s not the students’ fault. It’s your fault I’m sick, because you’ve created and perpetuated a culture that makes students feel like they have to come to class when they are sick.

You got me sick, because you get annoyed with your students when they’re sick. You whine when they miss your exams due to illness and you have to schedule a make-up exam. You’re put out by your students’ petty sniffles and sneezes. You have restrictive attendance policies that make students nervous about missing class. Some of your attendance policies make it clear that you think your students will take any opportunity to lie to you about their health and skip every class possible. Even if you don’t say it out-right, your students know you are vexed by their illnesses, so the students bend to the point of breaking in response to your annoyance and come to class sick. I’ve seen students sneeze and violently cough all over stacks of exams before they continue passing the stack to the end of the row—for this I blame you. These policies, both explicit and implicit, and the resultant student behavior are sick and need to change.

As a developmental psychologist, I question what we’re teaching our students and future workers about the importance of their own health. We should be teaching them that their well-being is their first priority—or at least more important than showing up on quiz day. Instead, we are teaching our students how to navigate the Protestant work ethic that so many of us eschewed by going into academia. We pride ourselves as inspiring change and progress, yet we act like The Establishment with our arcane attendance policies. We’re teaching them to prioritize someone else’s agenda over their own. We’re teaching them to go to work sick and save their sick days for vacation rather than demanding more annual leave from their employers. We’re teaching them to suffer. We’re punishing them for taking time to be well. Our inflexibility with our students’ illnesses is subjecting them to unnecessary stress, which is probably making them sicker.

Almost all of the major diseases that millions of Americans suffer from have been linked to stress. In other words, stress is killing us. The culture that we are creating in our colleges and universities is one that teaches students to be stressed out and sick. We’re setting them up for increased rates of depression, anxiety, heart disease, autoimmune disorders, insomnia, diabetes, obesity, asthma, gastrointestinal disorders, and Alzheimer’s disease. We’re accelerating their rate of aging and sending them to early graves all because we implicitly expect them never to get sick and never inconvenience us by asking to take a make-up exam.

Please join me in my crusade to reduce our dependence on tissues and cold medicine by letting our students be sick in the comfort of their messy dorm rooms. Let’s start seeing them as innately motivated to learn like Piaget and Vygotsky before me and believing them when they say they’re ill. Together we can change our attendance policies to reflect our true values rather than reflecting how easily annoyed we are when our students ask for accommodations.

First Time Mom Google Searches

Being a first time mom is hard and confusing. I have a PhD in developmental psychology and I'm often baffled. Thankfully, Google facilitates, without judgement, my research attempts aimed at filling the voids of knowledge on child development left unfulfilled by my graduate training. Below, you'll see the highlights of my Google searches during my first 10 months of motherhood.

-Newborn breathing sounds like a pig

-Number of poops breastfed newborn

-Baby scrotum bright red

-Baby boy yeast infection

-How long until milk comes in

-Newborn won’t nap

-Free white noise

-Free vacuum sound

-How to get newborn to sleep

-Why breast milk poop smells like vinegar

-Why breast milk poop is green

-What are the chunks in breast milk poop

-Baby hates tummy time

-Teething ages

-Teething baby won’t sleep

-How long teething lasts

-Age to start sleep training

-Baby’s butthole smells like cheese

-Baby breath doesn’t stink

-When kids breath starts to stink

-Can you die of sleep deprivation?

-Sleep training

-Cry it out

-Cry it out okay

-Cry it out bad

-No tears sleep training method

-How much coffee when breastfeeding

-Post partum depression

-Antidepressant breastfeeding

-Teething diarrhea

-Teething diaper rash

-Teething slight fever

-Whole raisins in poop

My Revisions to Buzzfeed's "28 Genius Hacks Every Lazy Parent Needs To Know"

There’s a Buzzfeed article on “28 Genius Hacks Every Lazy Parent Needs To Know” that’s taking its course through social media right now. I know because my husband asked me if I had seen it. Even though nobody asked me what I thought about the article, I’m going to let you know anyway (You’re welcome!). Why? Well, for some of these hacks, I can give you even lazier hacks. Most importantly, however, one of the hacks is a terrible fucking idea that could result in your child dying, and some others are bad ideas for the long-term development of your kids. In fact, the real reason I’m writing this blog is to make sure you NEVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES DO THE FOLLOWING…

1. DO NOT FUCKING DO THIS, PEOPLE.

The caption reads, “You can also MacGyver your own outlet covers with Band-Aids.”

Buzzfeed's #4 “hack” made me 100% positive that the person who wrote this has never been in charge of keeping an infant alive. The first thing the kid is going to do is pick those fucking Band-Aids off the outlet. Then, the kid is going to play with the outlet. If the kid is my son, he will try to lick the outlet. Also, do not “hack” around getting actual outlet covers by putting any other tape-like material over the outlet. Kids will just keep picking until it comes off. There is no hack for outlets. Go to the goddamn store and buy outlet covers or replace all of your outlets with tamper-proof outlets. Never take a lazy hack approach to your child’s access to electrical outlets.

2. Buzzfeed’s #6 hack is to cut your kid’s pancake with a pizza cutter. My lazier hack is to just give your kid the fecking pancake. If your kid is old enough to eat pancakes, your kid can eat the pancake in a way that is developmentally appropriate. Specifically, if you give your infant a pancake, the babe can use his or her hands. If you want your toddler or preschooler to practice using utensils, give the kid a plastic knife and fork. If your pancakes are too chewy to eat without using a real knife, stop making your family eat your gross pancakes. Most importantly, this pizza cutter hack could result in your child refusing to eat pancakes unless you cut it up like pizza. You do not want this “quirk” to develop; you want to foster your child’s independence and adaptability. Cutting up your kids’ pancakes with a pizza cutter does not accomplish this task.

3. Buzzfeed’s #12 hack is to leave your kids at home while you shoe shop for them with an outline of their feet. #SorryNotSorry: I can’t support “hacks” that leave your child side-lined from daily life. You’re also probably going to buy the wrong-sized shoes. I totally empathize that taking kids out in public is a lot like taking animals in public, but if you do not take the animals kids in public, you are not socializing them, which is crucial for making sure your kids eventually stop acting like wild animals and start acting like modern humans. My unsolicited advice is to take your kids with you to as many things as your mental health can accommodate. If shoe-shopping is where you draw the line, fine, but maybe you should see a therapist and get your family into counseling because that’s a weird line to draw, which screams to me that there are other deeper issues that need to be addressed.

4.  Buzzfeed’s #14 hack is to use a lint roller to pick up glitter. My hack is to immediately impose a ban on all glitter products in the house. Let them play with glitter at the sitter’s or daycare or school. Tell them you’re allergic to glitter. Wait, what….lie to my kids? Yes. Have you ever tried to clean up glitter? Lie to them. You start to tear up anytime there’s glitter introduced into the house anyway—you may as well pretend it’s because you’re allergic.

5. Buzzfeed’s #15 hack is to use a straw to remove a strawberry’s stem. My hack: leave the stem on your strawberries. Let your kids learn to eat around the stem if they think they’re gross.

6. Buzzfeed hack #19 suggests that you can punish your kids without having to listen to them whine by taking away their chargers instead of taking away their electronics. This hack leaves me absolutely confused. Your kids are still going to bitch and moan that you took their chargers. They aren’t going to have a look of growing fear in their eyes as their charger dies—they’re going to figure out how to get another charger, thus hacking around your “hack.” I get that disciplining your children sucks really hard, but there is no hack around it. Set a firm limit, state the consequences for crossing the line, follow through. The hack seems to be about preventing your kids from acting like assholes when you follow through with your established consequences. There is no hack for this. In fact, your kids’ emotional reactions to punishment are healthy and normal. There is nothing you need to do about that. If you’re feeling kind, you can recognize and empathize with your child’s feelings. Otherwise, their emotions are their own so let them have them. Nobody ever said that your kids are going to take punishments with a smile. They’re going to be upset, which is fine. They’ll get over it.

7. Buzzfeed hack # 24 suggests you clean toys by putting them in the dishwasher. My hack: stop washing your kids’ toys unless there is puke, blood, or poop on the toys. Washing your kids toys robs them of the opportunity to build their immune systems and prevent allergies.

My New Friend, Paxil: A Story of Postpartum Depression

The day before my baby turned 9 months old I told my husband that I was going to text my midwife and ask her to prescribe me an antidepressant because I had postpartum depression (PPD). He was immensely understanding and empathic. He didn’t take the opportunity to say, “I knew it.” He was simply with me in my moment of realization and pain. He’s the main reason that the months of increasing PPD symptoms leading up to that moment hadn’t been allowed to affect our baby to any discernible degree. He had always been there to take over when I became overwhelmed and needed to regroup. He always knew when to step in.

I’m not a clinician or a psychotherapist, but I am a developmental psychologist with more knowledge on psychological disorders than your average bear, so I found myself wondering how I could have gone nearly five months without realizing that I had PPD. I was disappointed in myself for not realizing I had PPD given that I had struggled with depression since adolescence. I should have seen the symptoms. I knew I was at a greater risk for developing PPD because of my history of depression.

As I waited for my midwife to text back, I thought back to my previous bouts of depression and realized it was these previous depressive episodes that had thrown me off the trail for sniffing out my PPD. The set of symptoms I had with previous bouts were different than my current struggle with PPD. My previous depressive episodes left me in bed all day. I would sleep up to 20 hours per day waking only to eat and use the bathroom. I ate a little less than I probably should have. When I was out of bed, I spent my time crying and watching depressing television. I socially isolated myself.

My PPD symptoms were nearly entirely different from these pre-baby depressive episodes. I had raging insomnia. I was ravenously eating 4,000 to 6,000 calories per day (Thanks to the miracles of breastfeeding, however, I was slowly loosing about a pound of the baby weight each week.). I was irritable. I felt constantly overwhelmed. I couldn’t manage to help around the house. I had a low-grade, chronic, generalized feeling of anxiety. When I was alone, I found myself ruminating on frustrating and depressing things that had happened in my life. I couldn’t focus. I found myself unable to enjoy just about everything that I loved. I couldn’t talk to my husband like I used to. I didn’t want to go to work. I couldn’t muster the energy to exercise. I couldn’t read more than a few pages of a book. The only thing I enjoyed was my baby, but as the symptoms grew, it was more and more of a struggle to delight in him. This was my breaking moment. My PPD was starting to threaten my relationship with my baby, so I reached out for help.

Another reason it took me so long to see PPD coming was that the symptoms didn’t come all at once and they started off as mild, growing over time. My insomnia started out in August as not being able to go back to sleep after the 4am feeding. By December, I was getting only 2-4 hours of broken sleep per day. My anxiety started off mildly too but had grown to the point that I had a few panic attacks by Thanksgiving. I had lots of good days without symptoms, but the good days became fewer and fewer, and the bad days became more frequent. The day I realized I had PPD I was starting what I knew was going to be my third bad day in a row. Bad days never lasted more than a day and a half prior to that. When my midwife called to talk to me, she said the anxiety is the most common symptom she sees in moms with PPD.

I also found it difficult to distinguish first-time momma struggles from PPD. It was easy for me to brush off a bad day by attributing my symptoms to fluctuating hormones. Babies are stressful, so it seemed plausible that I would be more stressed out and overwhelmed. My baby is a terrible sleeper so clearly I wasn’t going to get much sleep. Transitioning back to work is hard according to the Internet. Teething can be a nightmare said the baby books. I was making 24-48 ounces of milk every day, so of course I was going to be hungrier than normal. The morning I realized I had PPD, I looked at my husband holding our baby while I took my vitamins and asked myself why I didn’t feel as joyful as my two favorite guys seemed. Then, it all added up: changes in appetite, changes in sleep, inability to concentrate, rumination, irritability, no energy, anhedonia, feeling withdrawn. If someone else would have told me that’s how they felt, I would have told them to see a doctor for depression. It only took one look at this page to confirm my suspicion. I have PPD.  

The day that I took my first Paxil, I stopped binge eating. I ate three normal sized meals and a small snack. I no longer craved carbs and sugar. Two days later, my anxiety was replaced by a feeling of peace. That day I also emptied the dishwasher and did two loads of laundry for the first time in five months. Five days later, my insomnia subsided. Now, I’m just the sleepy momma of a baby who wakes multiple times a night to nurse. A week after taking my first Paxil, I've exercised three times and lost as many pounds of baby weight. The most important transformation, however, has been my relationships. I don’t snap at my husband. I don’t freak out over stupid stuff. I’m calm and peaceful. My relationship with my baby has gone from good to amazing. I no longer find it a struggle to be present. It’s so much easier for me to delight in him. He also seems to delight in me more. He’s never smiled and giggled so much. Before I started Paxil, I sometimes had to fake it. Now, it’s natural. I’m looking forward to going back to work after Christmas break.

I’m not going to beat myself up over having PPD or for not recognizing I had it sooner. I’m going to forgive myself for the times I couldn’t be present for my baby. He seems to have already forgiven me anyway. I’m going to be thankful that I realized I have PPD when I did, rather than later. I’m going to be proud that I was strong enough to ask for help as soon as I realized I needed it. I’m going to celebrate my new start.

Five Elf on the Shelf Hacks to Make your Life Easier

1. Do not purchase an Elf.

2. Do not ask to be gifted an elf.

3. Tell other people NOT to give you an elf.

4. If someone gets you an elf, re-gift it to someone you hate.

5. If you have an elf, kill it.

Lilly White: Breaking the Boundaries of Gender Stereotypes

In my Developmental Psychology class, I have my students create children's literature that breaks gender stereotypes because children who are less sexist have better developmental outcomes and one way to help kids become less sexist is to expose them to media that portrays both sexes more diversely. The problem comes when you try to find media that doesn't reinforce gender stereotypes. Thus, my students and I have become part of the solution by creating children's literature that portrays both sexes in non-traditional ways. This post is my favorite story from this semester, so I'm rewarding my hard-working and creative students by making them astonishingly famous by publishing their retelling of Snow White on my wildly popular blog.

Lilly White

by 

Tessa Rademacher, Issac Pohlman, Nikki Deel, and Ashley Thornton

Once upon a time, there was a valiant woman named Lilly White. While walking through the town, Lilly grabbed the daily newspaper and noticed something interesting. “The Prince is Missing!” the headline read. Lilly continued to read the article. Lilly discovered that the queen was holding a competition: Whoever found the Prince first would win a great reward.

Intrigued, Lilly decided to enter this competition. In preparation, she headed to the gym to lift. She sharpened her two trusty swords and prepared her noble steed. She grabbed her PowerBars® and whey protein shakes and ventured off into the night.

At dawn, Lilly found her stash of PowerBars® low and decided to find a place to rest. While wandering around for several minutes, she found a small, tidy cottage with a wonderful garden and elaborate landscaping. Curious, Lilly knocked on the door.

After knocking, a small voice greeted her, “Who’s there?”

“A local townsperson on a quest to save the Prince. I am in need of PowerBars® and more water for my protein shakes.”

The door slowly opened, revealing a small man wearing scrubs. “Oh, Dear! You look exhausted and parched. Come in. I need to check your blood pressure and get you rested up.”

Lilly contemplated and decided to accept the invitation.

Upon entering the cottage, Lilly was greeted by six other little people. The smallest one jumped up and yelled, “A guest! A guest! So exciting!”

The scrub-wearing little person led her into the living room to a hot tub. “Go ahead, Dearie. Go on in and I’ll go get my equipment. Gosh, those nails look awful!”

Lilly casually looked down at her nails, confused, then, at the rest of the little people. The smallest one, again, yelled, “It’s so exciting to have a guest here! My name is Peppy!”

Peppy began to point around the room. “And that’s Nurse who let you in. And that’s Sleazy, Ditzy, Sappy, Crampy, and Crabby! Would you like a back rub?”

Lilly, overwhelmed by the peppiness, considered the offer. “Uh…I do have an itch on my back. I just lifted yesterday and I’m so swole I literally can’t even reach it.”

“Of course!” Peppy began to scratch Lilly’s back.

Soon, Nurse returned with a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope. During her examination, Lilly felt cramps in her stomach. “That darn whey protein,” she thought to herself.

One of the little people interrupted her gassy thoughts. “So…like…what are you doing?” Ditzy asked, twirling his hair.

Lilly, enjoying her back scratch and hot tub time, proudly said, “I’m on a quest to find the missing prince.”

Sappy, a love-struck looking man, swooned, “Oh! True love’s quest!”

Sleazy, a midriff-showing, leather pants-wearing little person, seductively walked up to the hot tub, switching his hips side-to-side, and began to rub Lilly’s toned delts. “You don’t have to go so soon, ya know. You can stay here in my room,” he said with a slightly perverse wink directed toward Lilly.

Crampy, a rather whiny little person, kept repeating himself: “I have a migraine. Can we dim the lights? I’m starting to get my knee pains again too.”

Crabby, a little person with resting bitch face, rolled his eyes. “Why the heck would you care about true love with hair like that?” as he smacked his chewing gum.

“Now, now everyone,” Nurse began. “Look, she needs her clothes washed, a fresh meal prepared, and plenty of rest.”

“I feel a hot flash coming on,” Crampy complained.

“Oooo, I’ll make her a fresh meal,” Sleazy said in a sultry voice as he waltzed off into the kitchen.

“I’ll start the laundry! Nothing says true love like fresh laundry!” Sappy exclaimed.

While the little people took care of Lilly’s needs, she set out on an evening walk through the woods. The sun was beginning to set when she heard sobbing coming from behind a big oak tree. She drew her sword ready to battle and tiptoed toward the tree. She sprung around, taking the mysterious creature by surprise, only to find a full-grown man on the ground in the fetal position, rocking and sobbing. Lilly rolled her eyes and, with as much sincerity as she could muster, said, “Um…hi. Are you okay? You look a little…sad.”

The man looked up at her and replied, “NO! NO! I’m NOT okay! Is your mom the meanest person ever! The answer is NO because mine is! What am I going to do?”

Lilly let that rant sink in before replying, “Well, I’m sure it isn’t that bad. I think you should suck it up a little.”

“SUCK IT UP? You want me to just SUCK IT UP? You try having the Queen as your mom always on your back about your missing brother. It’s too much for one guy to handle. I just can’t even. Literally, I can’t even,” replied the man.

Putting two and two together, Lilly realized this sobbing, pathetic man was the brother to the missing prince. This was Prince Prissy. “Great,” she thought, another basket case for me to handle.

“Funny you should mention it,” Lilly said, “I’ve made it my own personal quest to find your missing brother. I love a good competition. I guess…if you have to…you can join me if you agree to a few conditions. One, don’t talk. Two, basically leave everything to me and just know if it comes down to it, I will leave you behind.”

Like a deer in headlights, Prince Prissy nodded his head, got up, and followed Lilly to the cottage. They gathered their things along with food prepared by the little people and set out at dawn in search of the prince. 

Many days passed before Lilly and Prince Prissy came across a tall tower. Leaving Prince Prissy in a meadow to pick flowers, Lilly started to do a little reconnaissance. Only a few minutes into her recon mission, she heard Prince Prissy shriek. “Darn it,” she thought, “This is exactly why I didn’t need this clingy, basket case to be my problem. Reluctantly, she went to see what mess he had gotten himself into.

She found the prince standing with a woman, when they both turned to look at her. “My word” the lady exclaimed, “you can’t do anything for yourself can you?” the lady directed  toward the prince. “You needed this brute to do what you couldn’t handle.”

“But Mah-um,” Prince Prissy exclaimed, “you don’t understand!”

All of a sudden, a faint voice from the top of the tower called down, “Hey! Hey! I’m up here! Mom’s gone mad! Get me down!”

The Queen, filled with rage, turned into a ferocious dragon.

“Oh, great,” Lilly said, knowing she was the only one brave enough to slay the dragon and save both princes.

Lilly drew both her swords, looked the Dragon Queen in the eye and said, “Say hello to my two mighty pythons!” flexing both of her biceps. Like a boss, Lilly took down the dragon with a single strike of her sword.

“You’re amazing!” the prince from the tower called, “I’m forever in your debt.”

“But, um, how do I get down from here?” The prince asked.

“Jump!” Lilly instructed, “I’ll catch you. Don’t you trust me? Don’t be so needy.”

“Funny you should mention it. Needy is actually my name. Prince Needy, that is,” the prince replied.

“For goodness sake, just jump.” Lilly demanded. Reluctantly, the prince followed her orders and jumped from the tower into Lilly’s strong arms.

“Is it just me, or is this love at first sight? Lilly, I’ve fallen for you. Like, literally,” the prince swooned.

“Yeah, about that. I’m sure you’re a nice fella. It’s not you. It’s me. I think I’ll be going now. Good luck without your Mom and Prince Prissy.”

Lilly gave a friendly wave and headed off seeking a new adventure.

And they all never lived together. Ever.

The End.

Using Pets to Prep for Parenthood in 77 Simple Steps

Many well-intentioned people get pets because they think it’s going to prepare them for parenthood. I was one of them. The problem isn’t so much that pets can’t prepare you for being a parent. Rather, it’s more of a problem of how most people parent their pets that ill-prepares them for parenting humans.  I don’t want to poo all over your dreams, so I’m going to give you some practical advice on how exactly pets can prepare you to rear children.

1. Get at least one dog and one cat.  If you want a bigger family, add more of either type of pet. This will simulate having children of different personalities, motivations, and capabilities. Bonus points if they fight like cats and dogs. Pun intended.

2. Smear the cat’s ass with chunky peanut butter (This will be important later).

3. Put a diaper on the cat.

4. Put the cat in a onesie, pants, socks, and a hat.

5. Take the dog out to go potty. Bring the cat with you. You can’t leave kids unattended! The dog says he doesn’t have to poop. He swears.

6. Time to dress the dog. He needs a shirt, pants, socks, and shoes.

7. The dog is insisting, “I do it myself!” so you have to let your dog at least try to lace his own shoes.

8. Get frustrated and try to tie your dog’s shoes. He goes catatonic and refuses to wear shoes. You’re running late.

9. Find the cat! Where the eff did the cat run off to while you were wrestling your dog into shoes!?!

10. The cat has knocked the fish bowl over and is trying to eat the fish. Remove the fish from your cat’s paws.

11. Your dog’s goldfish is dead.  You dog saw the whole thing and is whimpering for you to make the fish all better with big sad puppy-dog eyes (again, pun intended). Put the dead goldfish back into the bowl. Refill the water. Lie to the dog and tell him the goldfish is just sleeping. Text your spouse, “Come home with a goldfish that is an EXACT replica of Bubbles. ONLY AN EXACT REPLICA WILL SUFFICE.”

12. Bathe and change the cat who is covered in goldfish sewage (You haven’t changed the goldfish’s water in 3 months. How has that goldfish survived up until now?!).

13. Oh, gross. There’s chunky peanut butter all over the cat’s ass. Don’t act disgusted or upset. You don’t want to scar your cat for life. Paste a smile on and start scraping the peanut butter off of the cat.

14. Bathe the cat.

15. While you are trying to get the cat into the bath, your dog has stripped naked and hopped into the tub.

16. Bathe the cat and the dog.

17. The dog pooped in the tub.

18. Pull the wet, sudsy cat and dog out of the tub before the turd touches either.

19. Get the fish net, fish out the turd, and flush it while holding a wet, screaming, sudsy cat.

20. Put the cat and dog in the bath in a different bathroom and finish bathing.

21. Redress the cat and the dog. While you were dressing the dog, the cat unrolled all the toilet paper and ate an undetermined amount of it.

22. The cat and the dog are hungry. Make the dog an organic bento box with fresh vegetables and homemade hummus while you breastfeed the cat.

23. Leave the mess for your spouse to clean up.

24. Put the cat and the dog into their respective car seats. Pull out of the garage and start your exciting day trip to the beach!

25. Alternate playing dogs barking Christmas carols and cats meowing Disney hits.

26. Stop at the store to pick up some essentials.

27. The dog has fallen asleep. The cat has thrown up all over himself. Clean up the cat. The cat eating toilet paper has made this task a bit easier! Wake up the dog and put him, now grumpy, into the cart.

28. Put the cat into the cart. The dog doesn’t want to share his leg hole with the cat. He spends the whole shopping trip crying. The cat scratches him. He tantrums while you’re in the sunblock aisle.

29. Check out. Do not let your dog eat any of the candy. Do not let your cat knock any of the candy off the shelves.

30. Pay for the candy your dog ate. Apologize for your cat knocking off all of the candy on the shelves.

31. Get back into the car. Turn on static so your dog and cat take a nap on the way to the beach.

32. Listen to static the WHOLE GODDAMNED DRIVE.

33. You’ve made it to the beach! Now, park. The dog and cat are still asleep. Sit in the car still listening to static waiting for the dog and cat to wake up.

34. They’re awake! Put your kids into the stroller. Stuff the stroller with your blanket, beach bag and towels. Carry the cooler and umbrella. Do not hit anyone while walking to the beach.

35. Apologize for hitting someone with the umbrella, another for hitting her with the cooler, and an elderly couple for running into them with your stroller. Find a spot and get comfortable.

36. Spray the dog with sunblock. Do not let him run into the water. You'll be judged harshly if your child is leashed so you have to let your dog be free range.

37. Put the thick, pasty baby sunblock on the cat. Sorry, there is no spray sunblock for babies.

38. Take the dog and cat to the water. Make sure the dog doesn’t drown while keeping the cat out of the water. The cat will scream if touched by water. The dog will scream if removed from it.

39. Lunch time. Finally! Breastfeed the cat while making sure that absolutely nobody knows that you are feeding your cat with your boobs. At the same time, make sure the dog sits still and eats his organic veggie-wrap pinwheels you made him.

40. The dog’s done eating. He's eaten only the wrap of the pinwheels. The cat’s not done eating. Continue breastfeeding the cat while making sure that the dog doesn’t go over to other people and beg for food and attention.

41. The cat’s asleep. Entertain the dog making sure not to wake the cat.

42. The dog has to go potty. The cat’s still asleep. While you are looking for the closest bathroom, your dog pees on the blanket. Cover it with sand.

43. The cat’s awake. Time to take one more dip into the water. Repeat 36-38.

44. Time to go home! Gather up your things. Repeat 34.

45. Your dog is crying. He wants to walk. Let him out. Proceed to continue your walk to the car stopping to look at every. single. tiny. little. thing. at one-tenth of the pace that you would normally walk.

46. Apologize to everyone who walks past you for being so slow and for hitting them with the umbrella/cooler/stroller.

47. Put the dog and cat in their respective car seats. They want snacks. Give the dog cereal puffs and tell him to share with the cat.

48. Pull into the drive. Your partner is home! The dog wants to go see your partner. Let him out. He runs inside. Phew! One less kid to wrestle.

49. Get the cat out of the car. The dog has shared his cereal puffs by what appears to be, first, chewing them himself and, then, smearing the resulting paste all over the cat’s face and hair. Carry your crusty cat into the house. Leave the crap in the car. Your partner will have to take care of that.

50. You walk in just in time to see your spouse pulling out the new goldfish and giving it to your dog. You try to stop him but you can’t. It’s happening too fast. The dog is running gleefully to put his new fish in with Bubbles.

51. Your dog is screaming, “BUBBLES IS DEAD! HE IS NOT SLEEPING!” Snot bubbles (again, hahaha, so punny) have appeared.

52. Tell your dog you are sorry that Bubbles is dead. Begin planning a funeral for his dead goldfish. He wants to invite Nanny and Poppy to the funeral.

53. Nanny and Poppy arrive. Within 7 seconds of entering the house, Nanny has said 11 passive-aggressive things about your housekeeping, laundry, and parenting.

54. Swallow the blood trickling from your tongue which you have been biting. See 53, above.

55. Have a goldfish funeral.

56. The dog insists that Nanny and Poppy stay for dinner. You’re supposed to eat after you have funerals, he says. Make a mental note to Google your dog’s precocious knowledge of funeral practices.

57. Hand over the parenting duties to your spouse and Nanny and Poppy while you make a three-course, post goldfish funeral dinner.

58. The dog won’t eat any of the food you made because Nanny gave him a bag of candy from her purse.

59. Nanny and Poppy go home!

60. Start the bedtime routine. Baths all-around. It’s your spouse’s turn to take over!

61. Go to the bathroom before you drink the glass of wine you poured yourself to celebrate Nanny and Poppy’s departure. 

62. Forget that the cat “used” all the toilet paper in your bathroom. Wait on the toilet until your spouse is done bathing the pets so you can ask for a roll of toilet paper.

63. Your naked, wet dog brings you a roll of toilet paper.

64. The dog comments that your tummy looks like a fat donut. He wants to pretend to eat it. Hurry him out so you can finish your bathroom "break."

65. Look longingly at the glass of wine on the counter as you walk through the kitchen on your way upstairs with your naked, wet, wriggling dog.

66. Trade pets with the spouse so that the dog can be read “Goodnight Moon” fifty-eleven times.

67. Breastfeed the cat in the dark nursery listening to the gentle, soothing sound of white noise. Do not look at your phone. The cat does not care that you are bored. You must sit there in the dark and like it.

68. Forty-five minutes later, emerge from the nursery having successfully nursed the cat to sleep.

69. The dog is still being read bedtime stories. Try to sneak past without being noticed.

70. You were noticed. Squish into the dog’s bed with your spouse and read “Goodnight Moon” four more times.

71. Leave. Close the door. Walk downstairs. Reach for your glass of wine…

72. The dog is thirsty. The dog is yelling for a glass of water. Send your spouse to give the dog water.

73. The yelling has woken the cat. Put down your wine and repeat 67.

74. Repeat 67 every 2 hours.

75. After the 4 am feeding when you can’t go back to sleep, yet your spouse is sleeping peacefully, Google “Sleep training” and "Child obsessed with death" while finally having your forgotten glass of wine until the 4am feeding.

76. Wake up at 6am with a hungry cat and a dog who is crying because he peed the bed.

77. Repeat steps 1-76 for 18 years in various venues and rotating characters with other insane situations that you never imagined possible.