I've lactated through my entire wardrobe in three days.
Two of my biggest emotional crutches abandoned me on Wednesday. My mother returned home and Sanjaya was voted off American Idol. Who do I have left?
My toddler seems to love her new little sister but shows signs of emotional trauma. She no longer allows her favorite stuffed animal in her crib and throws him away in disgust when I try and reconcile them.
My brother in law, a pharmaceutical representative, is eagerly anticipating my onset of post-partum depression so I can go on his featured anti-depressant drug, Lexapro. Sorry, Cannon, I'm not shaking babies yet.
I got food poisoning and was unable to stand up straight for 24 hours.
I'm hopelessly off balance after going from being bottom-heavy to top-heavy in under 4 days and find myself veering into walls.
My gigantic baby is too big for the $40 worth of Newborn size diapers I bought her but on principle I'm making her wear them anyway and have to change her soggy bum every hour.
My toddler grimly insists on nursing the baby.
These wild post-partum hormones are making me laugh anyway.