Cloth Diapers Part II

You can find Cloth Diapers Part I here!

In the first post I discussed prefolds, snappis, and covers. Today's post is all about Pocket Diapers with a little bit of All in Ones. Pocket diapers consist of a waterproof outer cover and a microfiber pocket.This is the outside of a Bum Genius pocket diaper I bought used on Diaper Swappers. Note the Velcro tabs at the bottom and strip across the top, these are just like disposable diapers in that you can adjust how loose or tight you close them.

The snaps in three rows along the upper half are to adjust the rise of the diaper. This diaper can be used on babies from six to thirty-five pounds. This means that if you have a baby and a toddler in diapers they can both use the same pocket diapers. Not at the same time, dumb ass!

You stuff the diaper with either a prefold or a microfiber/fleece insert. Inserts are included when you buy a pocket diaper. You can stuff them with more or less depending on how heavy a wetter your baby is and what time of day that you use them. Notice how the microfiber is white, even though at least two babies have totally shit their brains out all over it.

This is a microfiber insert. I prefer to use prefolds inside pocket diapers because I'm a fan of cotton, but these are in the drawer just in case I run out of everything else.

This is the front of the diaper, snapped to the smallest rise. This is how the diaper would look on a newborn baby, Velcro tabs close to each other and snaps closed. Notice how funky the Velcro is getting? It is clean, (I pulled it out of the washer for the pics) but is collecting fuzz balls. It's one of the ways you can tell that this is a used pocket diaper.

The back of the pocket diaper. They come in a array of cute colors and patterns for boys and girls if you're into that proper gender coloring thing.

 

There are pros and cons to pocket diapers. First, it is nice when you only have to put one item on your baby, just like disposables. This is really helpful if you have a wiggly toddler that hates diaper changes. If you have a person changing your baby's diaper that doesn't like the minor difficulty of a prefold and cover, a pre-stuffed pocket diaper is just as easy as a disposable. One thing that I don't like as much is the laundry aspect. I wash my covers with normal laundry (unless they are covered in feces) and air dry them. This helps the elastic on the legs to last longer. Pocket diapers should be washed with the rest of the diapers because minimally they are saturated with urine, and possibly skid marked all to fuck. This means that they take a beating, which isn't great for the elastic and Velcro components.

I recently purchased some Bum Genius pocket diapers on Diaper Swappers. Diaper Swappers is a great place to buy and sell used diapers. I wanted pocket diapers because the first early morning diaper change is hard on my stupid, pain-filled hands. I have five pocket diapers and use them for that purpose. The rest of the day my hands are minimally pissed off and I can do the prefold + cover diaper change. Bum Genius One Size pocket diapers are $17.95 at Jillian's Drawers plus shipping and handling. I paid $35 for four of them at Diaper Swappers. Keep in mind, Diaper Swappers is similar to buying a used book on Amazon.. You might not always get what you wanted. One of the pocket diapers I received had some issues with the Velcro closure, but overall I was fairly happy.

The last type of cloth diaper for today is All In One diapers, known as AIO's. They are exactly what they sound like, a cloth diaper that is one piece. No pockets, no prefolds, just like a disposable except...not. This is super easy for anyone to use because there are no moving parts. This is the most expensive of the three types that I have covered, but worth it if ease of use is your primary goal. However, the drawback is in the washing. Imagine wadding up all your bed sheets and washing them wrapped in each other, after peeing all over the inner sheet. How difficult do you think it would be to get them clean? How about drying those pee sheets, still balled up together? That's the problem with all in one diapers. I don't have any, and I have no wish to get them. If anyone has a good experience or super secret washing technique for them let me know in the comments.

Next post on Cloth Diapers will cover the details like washing and total cost, as well as accessories. And just to let you know, I have not received any compensation for this post. I just love me some cloth diapers, yo.

Chickens, Questions Answered

I am hoping to change up some things around these musty old parts, and Mondays is my first step. I am going to post each Monday about a specific topic, then respond to questions and comments in a separate post if needed. By specific topic I mean something that is at least somewhat educational. I'm thinking of cloth diapers, being earth friendly, how to best club baby harp seals, etc. If you have a topic that you would like me to address in my particular (peculiar?) style, leave a comment or drop me an email. I am really trying hard to respond in a more timely fashion to emails. I am also setting aside time to blog, because this shit doesn't fucking write itself, yo.

First, Karen and Parkingathome told me that they had trouble commenting on the Chicken post. I'm not sure what was going on, but I will be leave Blogger software behind as of this weekend (cross your fingers). They will no longer support me storing my shit elsewhere and then using them for publishing and whatnot, aka FTPing it. I respect their decision, and I'm glad to be making the change to something bigger and better. Or failing miserably and crying when all my shit gets lost. Whatever. Change is good and necessary.

Sis B wants to know how often chickens lay eggs. This depends on the breed and season. A great laying breed will lay seven days a week spring through fall, and then four to five days a week in a mild winter. You can artificially light your coop during the winter to keep up production, but this has drawbacks. Hens have a finite number of eggs in their lady bits, and when they are done laying that is it. If you push them to lay more eggs during a year, they will lay for fewer seasons total. There isn't a natural way to go around this limit. If this is hurting your brain, think about it this way.

Henrietta The Chicken has 20 eggs in her Lady Bits. She can lay in the following manner:

• 1 egg per year for 20 years
• 5 eggs per year for 4 years
• 10 eggs per year for 2 years

You pick whichever works best for you and your chicken. And yes, I just blogged a math word problem. I'm sorry, it is how my brain works. For my purpose, I don't need a certain amount of eggs. Eggs are a side benefit of having chickens. For breeds that aren't primarily for laying, the amount of eggs is fewer. Table breeds are bigger, lay fewer eggs, and meant for...your table. NOM NOM NOM.

Jenni wants to know about chicken shit. Well, chickens shit a lot. This is why the chickens have their own fenced in area. However, chicken shit is easy to clean up if you let it dry (think of hard dog poop) or use a hose on it. A little ater disintegrates it, which doesn't happen with dog poop. If you don't touch it until it is completely dry, it doesn't smell and you can rake it up and throw it away. DO NOT mess with mushy chicken shit by hand. WHOA the stink if you step on it. Just leave it alone. You can also use it in compost or as fertilizer if you know what you are doing. Chicken rakes up the poop in the fences area once a week as well as cleans up the coop. Chickens avoid shitting in their nest area. Good girls!


Audrey wants to know everything. Right now we are getting 12-14 eggs a week because Buttercup just began to lay for the first time. Oreo isn't laying or it would be 17 or so eggs per week. When you get to that number, start finding people to give eggs to or get creative in the kitchen. Chickens will only lay one egg per day maximum. This is what it looks like when an egg is laid. *Caution: this is an up close and personal view of hen lady bits.*  **Edited To Add: Parkingathome is forever scarred by this video and will never eat eggs again. Her husband says: "It looks like a mouth! It's talking to me! It looks like Santa Claus with hair all over his face!"**  We live in the suburbs, and chickens are relatively quiet. They make quiet clucking sounds and only get noisy when they lay an egg or get really startled.

Each chicken has their own voice, so you can tell who laid an egg by their song. When you have a bunch of hens together (more than I have currently) and an egg is laid, all the hens join in to celebrate the egg laying. This can get loud and when it happens for every egg laid, annoying. However, with my hens right now only Beck sings when she lays. Buttercup may start singing, but that is still only two songs a day. Much less annoying than that yappy assed dog next door that barks when the grass grows too fast. Audrey also wants to know about coops, but I don't have a good picture of our coop and it's dark outside. Backyard Chickens is a good resource for chicken coop designs, as is My Pet Chicken. We made our own, but someday I want something like one of these from My Pet Chicken:

The top one is $1060, also known as A Lot Of Fucking Money For A Hen House but so cute and comes in many stylish colors! The bottom one is only $495!! and comes with a run (place for chickens to roam without getting shit everywhere or eaten by your damn yappy dog). It also has different color options and is In Stock Now!

So! Tired of chickens yet? I think I need a nap and an omelet. If you have additional chicken questions, comment or email me. By the way, I am not receiving any compensation for this post. I'm just sharing a bit of what I've learned and some things that I covet.

Chickens, Fact and Fiction

When I tell people that I have chickens, the reactions range in a predictable manner:

• Awesome! Chickens! Fresh eggs!
• I didn't know you lived on a farm.
• Ew. I don't like birds.
• Why the fuck do you have chickens?

We have chickens because Chicken (the boy, not the fowl)did a state report on Rhode Island in fifth grade. He learned that the state bird is the Rhode Island Red, a chicken. I'm not sure why the state bird is a chicken, but whatever! Chicken loves birds with a fiery passion. Currently he wants to either be a chef or an ornithologist. Chicken asked if we could have our own chickens, but we were renting a house at that point so I said no. I told him that when we owned our own house he could have a chicken.

Which brings us to our  chickens! fact! and fiction! One of my favorite chicken fallacies is that free range, organic chickens are vegetarians. They are only fed the finest grains! No dirty meat for our egg layers! Well my friends, chickens are omnivores in my opinion. They may not eat meat as a primary food source, but they will eat anything that moves. This includes crickets, worms, and bees if they can catch them. It's not the smartest thing to attempt to eat a bee that is buzzing by, but I will never accuse chickens of being particularly smart.

Before I had chickens, I thought brown eggs equaled more wholesome, organic type eggs. You know what brown eggs mean? Brown(ish) chickens. It's like this: brown people have brown babies. White people have white babies. It's the same deal with chickens. And yes, this is a general rule and I know that not all people have babies that are their exact color. Look at Michael Jackson's children...or maybe forget that example.

Moving on, I'd like to introduce you to Beck, a Rhode Island Red. She is named after Beck the musician. Chicken's theory is that she is a mellow, laid back bird so she should be named appropriately. Beck lays brownish eggs.

These eggs belong to Beck and Buttercup. Both of the birds were purchased from a local feed store at less than one week old for about $3.50. They begin laying eggs at four to six months old. Some breeds are known for laying many eggs (6-7 a week) almost year round, like the Rhode Island Red. Others take a break during winter. Just like dogs, some breeds are more friendly than others. I'm not a big fan of birds in general as pets because I am not fond of beaks crunching down on my flesh, but chickens are super friendly. They also warn you (like dogs) if they are going to peck. They don't do it just because they are fuckers, like some birds.

This is Buttercup. She's the biggest bird we have, but currently she is laying eggs smaller than Beck. We think her eggs might increase in size as she matures. As the youngest, Buttercup is at the bottom of the pecking order. She keeps out of Beck and Oreo's way or they will peck at her. She isn't used to her size yet, so watching her run away from them is hilarious. Think of a super gangly teenaged bird and you have Buttercup.

This is Buttercup and Oreo. If you follow me on Twitter, you might have noticed that Oreo spent a night in my shower. She was having some intestinal issues so we needed a place away from the other birds to watch her. I'm never doing that again. Oh. MY. GAWD. THE MESS! So much fun to have another thing to scrub. Like I don't deal with feces enough on a daily basis.

Chickens are easy to clean up after, Chicken (the boy) cleans their area and coop once a week and it takes him about a half an hour. He feeds and waters them daily. They are allowed to roam the whole yard on a limited basis, and spend most of their time in their fenced in area. Their eggs are much tastier than store bought eggs, and they are low maintenance pets if you have the room for them. You don't have to walk them or groom them, but you do get to hold them and pet them. I <3 chickens.

Next Monday's topic will be part II of Cloth Diapers!

Fucking Babies, Man

Right after Egg was born, TB and I discussed having another baby as soon as humanly possible. Because babies are yummy and awesome and we were both high on baby fumes. When we came down a few months later, we realized that although we loved the shit out of Egg, we were fucking tired. Straight on the heels of that realization, we used our legendary math skills to determine a few bumming facts:

• Chicken is 12 years and 3 months older than Egg
• When Chicken is 18 and in his freshman year of college Egg will be in first grade. Or kindergarten. Whatever. It's late and I'm tired.
• It is likely that Chicken will no longer live in our home full time during his college years and he better get the fuck outta dodge after he graduates.
• We are basically raising two only children, or as close as one can get and not actually have two only children. Which is impossible, technically.
• We don't want Egg to grow up without a sibling that is nearish to his age.

This means we need to have another baby. We talked about it and thought that two plus years was a good space between kids, hypothetically. We did not want a fall birthday. This meant that we would want to get pregnant late spring or early summer. Which sounded great on paper, but the two of us were terrified and not ready in the least. And of a month and a half ago, my body wasn't even fertile. See: breastfeeding around the clock and no ovulation.

With my first visit from Aunt Flo, it looked like things could happen in a few months. And my only thought was, "FUCK NO." I'm not ready. TB isn't ready. And then I got an awesome haircut and some good advice that we really needed to hear but were too fucking stupid to figure out on our own: You shouldn't have Baby B to make Baby A happy. Or in my hair stylist's world: "Don't get another puppy as a playmate for the puppy you already own. You might end up resenting the poor thing. Get a puppy because you want one, and for no other reason." How is it that advice from someone that has three different colors in her hair (like blue!) and no children woke us the fuck up?

But it did. I love babies. I love Egg and Chicken. Some day I might want another baby. That day might be too late for my aging reproductive system, but I am okay with that reality. Right now, my husband spends at least four hours driving to and from work every day. He gets up at 3:30am five days a week. I'm still getting up at least twice every night to nurse Egg. Parenting a teenager has its own challenges, and we are both stretched to capacity. So we're waiting until the thought of having another baby sounds wonderful to us. I hope it's not too late, but I know that now is too early. What do you think? What has worked for your family (if you have one)? What about your hypothetical family? I want to know! Does this sound stupid? Why are all three cats staring at me? Damn. It's 11 o' clock. I'm going to bed.

Crashing For the Motherfucking WIN

When you’re an adult and you wish to take a class at your local community college you are required to have a pulse and take an assessment exam. When you’re still in high school, you have to jump through fourteen flaming hoops in order to take one fucking class. When you aren't yet in high school, you might be subjected to an interview with a dean that likes to hear himself talk and reams of paperwork. Well, more like a few forms, a letter from his counselor, and a signature from his principal. But still! Annoying! A waste of my precious time when I could better utilize it by blogging or picking my ass. And let's face it, some days it is hard to tell the difference between the two.

I don't talk about Chicken's scholastic endeavors very much on Sam's Stories. I guess it is hard for me to navigate the subject without sounding terribly boastful. Julia is one of the few people that does a really good job of talking in glowing terms about her children without making the majority of people feel stabby, and she still gets flack over it on occasion. However, (you knew there would be a however, didn't you) Chicken achieved something recently that has left me positively bursting with pride. But first, we need to go back to 7th grade. Not YOU in seventh grade, Chicken in seventh grade. Last school year, to be exact.

Chicken went to a charter school last year and we all had high hopes that he would be challenged by the curriculum. While he learned quite a few good things, his math teacher was abysmal. The teacher taught multiple levels of math in each class, and none of them very well. This isn't to say that it is a bad way to teach, just that he sucked. At all of it. I volunteered in the class when I was pregnant with Egg, and the students that I helped were fucking ecstatic that I could teach them something.

For the first part of the school year Chicken did nothing but worksheets. As in, there was no teaching. He would grab a packet of worksheets, complete them, and then go for another packet. That was it. When he couldn't understand something I helped him. Then school implemented a software program for mathematics called ALEKS, and he used ALEKS until June. From the ALEKS website, "A student who shows a high level of mastery of an ALEKS course will be successful in the actual course she is taking." But Chicken wasn't taking a course outside of ALEKS. And when he tired of Algebra I, he requested to start Algebra II. He then decided that he'd like to take Geometry instead.

The version of the story that I got was: He finished Algebra I, started Algebra II, changed his mind and then did 85% of Geometry I before the year ended. What was I doing at the time that all this changing and switching was happening?

Meet seven day old Egg. So I was a little preoccupied, and my kid ended up with an incomplete education in Algebra I. Which I found out about in November when he took the assessment test at the community college.

Holy fuck this post is getting excessively long. Should I do a part II or just slog through it? Fuck it. Let's continue! Chicken changed schools for eighth grade (the current school year) and I was in a bit of a quandary. You see, I thought he had completed Algebra I and 85% of Geometry I. The middle school math offerings did not go beyond Geometry I and I didn't want him to sit in class for a year to learn the last 15%. I decided to teach him the Geometry myself and have him take Algebra II at the local community college. After jumping through the aforementioned flaming hoops Chicken was allowed to take a class.

However, while Chicken tested high enough to be eligible for Freshman English Comp 101 (so proud!), he only tested into Intermediate Algebra. We were assuming he would test into College Algebra, AKA Algebra II. This is when I found out that he had not completed Algebra I. Oops. This is where I digress for two seconds: What kind of teacher allows their student to say, "I am tired of Algebra I, I'd like to take Algebra II, oh never mind how about Geometry I," and never consults the parent? Yes, I was not on the ball, but see Figure 1 above. (We're calling the picture figure one now, by the way)

Moving on, Chicken is now set to take Intermediate Algebra. Except for the fact that 9th graders have the lowest registration priority of any incoming student. They allow goldfish to register before them, for fuck's sake. So you can imagine what it is like to register an 8th grader. All the classes were full, the wait lists were full, and we were fucked. Except, I don't like being fucked out of something I worked really hard to achieve for my kid. So I picked a class that worked with Chicken's schedule and dropped him off on the first day with instructions not to give up and leave class.

Throughout the wait for the professor (he got there early) and during the break I texted with Chicken. I encouraged him to stay the course. The professor announced that all students attempting to crash would not succeed, that any students that had not paid tuition would not get into the class, and other such statements. I told Chicken to ignore him. The second class meeting was two days later, and only a handful of crashers were still attempting to take the class. The professor made another announcement about not accepting crashers and more students left the classroom.

At the beginning of break the teacher called up any wait list or crashing students left in the room. There were four including Chicken. He had them each pick a number between 1 and 1000. Chicken was closest and he got the only spot left in the class. You totally fucking rock, my son. It has been three or four weeks and he is getting an A in the class. More importantly, he is enjoying himself. He actually gets out of class excited and tells me what he learned! I am so proud of my Chicken.

*If you follow me on Twitter, you might have noticed a photo of the math we were doing today. Oh matrices, what a pain in the ass long way of solving a system of equations. (I post a lot of impromptu pics on Twitter, in case you're the curious/nosy type.)

Reason #46 That I Don't Eat Wheat

Somehow I managed to get a haircut all by myself today, send a package to a bloggy friend, AND catch up on Anne's blog. Then, I decided that I needed to blog a particular story for her, in hopes that she won't feel so alone in her plight of peeing with small children in public toilets. In addition, my aforementioned bloggy friend needs some laughter at my expense. Also, I am nasty and I like to share.

Recently I went on a wheat binge. I do this every 3-6 months until my body screams no more wheat and then I stop eating wheat for another six months. I increase the amount of magnesium I take when I eat wheat or I would never shit ever again. The problem is that my body hates wheat and too much magnesium and sometimes there is a critical failure.

This time the failure was complicated by two things: Walgreens and Egg. You see, I needed to use the restroom in a very urgent way. I was four miles from home. I had Egg with me. As I strode desperately into the store I might have misjudged the feeling of gas for something a little more sinister. And possibly totally fucking shit myself.

I got into the bathroom and realized that I had to hold Egg while violently emptying my bowels because there was no fucking way I was going to put him on the ground. As I undid my belt and jeans and pulled everything down I realized that I had a little problem. Here is where you need to avert your eyes if you are at all squeamish. Really, it is very bad. I shit on my feminine napkin. Shit of a supremely muddy nature. On my pad. For some reason this was even worse than just shitting in my underwear, although I thought the cleanup would be a breeze. Just throw it away! Finish pooping! It's all good!

Now, remember that I am holding Egg on my lap. Figure in the fact that shitting on one's pad while furiously speed walking through Walgreen's really makes for a um....mess? So much of a mess that while attempting to clean up my general ass region I smeared shit on THREE out of five fingers on my right hand in three different wiping attempts. While trying to hold Egg and not let him touch the toilet paper, the ground, my fingers, or anything else.

Have you ever walked into a toilet stall and wondered how the holy fuck someone got shit on the toilet seat? You think that shitting is a straightforward event that does not involve stray fecal matter? Well, dear readers, I now know how that shit happens, although I cleaned up my mess before I left. Egg and I went straight home and we both bathed before doing anything else that day. For those of you that say, "I don't know how you can not eat wheat," this should answer any and all questions. I am positive that this was the second worst shitting mah pants episode of my whole entire life.

Birthday, Bitches!

Egg turned ONE!! on January 20, 2010. On February 13th we had a party. The kitchen was complete, the back yard was awesome, the weather was perfect, and we all had a great fucking time. Here are some pics to tide you over until I post again.

Look at our forehead furrows. You think we are related?

The island in our kitchen, which I turned into a cupcake extravaganza. The cake was two layers with butter cream frosting. I made it all by myself because I am awesome. I'm not a cake maker so I am super proud that it doesn't look like a three year old retarded monkey made it. The birthday boy bib was a Christmas gift from Crazy Neighbor Lady.

Dude. Look at that motherfucking back splash. I KICKED ASS, yo.

The island! We did a different color Corian on the island than on the kitchen counters. Do not look at TB's Star Wars Lego collection up high! DO.NOT.LOOK. Avert your eyes, dammit. This is only part of it. The rest is on the other side of the kitchen up high.

TB in front of the television compromise. He wanted a big assed tv. I wanted new counters in the kitchen. WIN-WIN!!

Egg's girlfriend. The party kicked so much ass that she accidentally left her pants at my house.

 

Chicken and his best girl friend.

My adorable baby sharing cake with his daddy.

Egg sharing cake with Mama!

So cute! NOM NOM NOM!

Egg opened all of his presents. Tearing off the wrapping paper, he handed me a piece and continued until he was finished. He pulled every piece of tissue paper out of each gift bag, and pulled out the gifts. It was crazy. I've never seen a one year old do that shit. Notice the wardrobe change? Someone got cake ALL over so he got a quick bath and change into his Batman shirt that daddy loves.

TB and his friend Michael discussing their Droids, aka Geeks in their natural habitat. The room behind them is Egg's. For those of you that are Twitter inclined, they are also known as @xyrth and @michael_saul.

Egg got this play structure from TB's dad for Christmas and his birthday. TB and I (well mostly TB) worked our asses off to get it put together in time for the party. We had to stain every piece of wood and then put it together. In the background (if you squint) you can see the bushes we just planted and a Fuji apple tree in the corner. Our backyard was barren when we moved in and now there is GRASS! and BUSH! and TREES! and FUN THINGS!

Smack My Bitch Up!

Have you ever wondered, "What does Sam hear when her phone rings?" Well, now you know:

This is the first in a series of music posts that are coming soon! The video is banned* in many places, so I don't expect the link to work for very long. Enjoy it while you can.

*I may or may not condone any actions depicted in this video.

Mah Dirty Bewbies

I yelled at my husband tonight because I am a douche bag*. I am seriously frustrated at just about everything for no apparent good reason. It's probably just the hormones. We need to talk about breastfeeding before I cut someone. Egg is still nursing up a fucking storm, yo*. I finally got my first postpartum period less than two weeks ago. That's right, bitches. Just a few days shy of a whole year of no ragging*. I'm damn happy about that, let me fucking tell you. What that means for those of you that haven't nursed in every possible location in southern California for a year is that Egg is still getting 95% of his daily caloric intake from mah bewbies. And yes, I do realize that for some people,*  nursing full time does not stop their Aunt Flo from visiting. I got lucky, I admit it. On the other hand, I am at the point where I would like for Egg to eat some damn food already. Food that does not come from mah nipples.

My goal in breastfeeding was to nurse until Egg's first birthday. After that I wanted to continue if Egg and I still wanted it. I did not expect to pass Egg's first birthday (Jan. 20) still nursing around the clock, literally. A good night is when Egg wakes up every 3 hours to nurse. I don't even want to talk about a bad night. But the thing is, I don't really mind getting up and feeding him. It takes about ten minutes, he goes right back to sleep and so do I. I still take naps with him in the morning to make up for the loss and generally I am doing okay. A big part of my ability to get up every night is based on how Egg is during the day.

My kid is awesome. He has the best disposition EVAR. People comment everywhere we go on how happy and friendly he is, they surmise that he is a "good" baby. And damn he really is just that. He's happy and chillin' and starting to become funny and totally goofy. It makes it easy to get up at night when your baby is just so damn wonderful all day long. He will crawl off to his room, grab a few books and read to himself. I can see him from the living room, but he is content. By himself. In his room. It has taken Chicken THIRTEEN MOTHERFUCKING YEARS to get to that point. Not that I'm comparing them or anything. *smirks*

Now, I offer Egg food. He got over pureed baby food rather quickly and only eats regular food. Sometimes he will eat a decent amount of food. Sometimes he chews it, seems to enjoy it, and then spits it out. Other times he just isn't interested. If I was so inclined, I suppose I could forcibly wean Egg and the ensuing hunger would push him to eat more and then sleep better with a tummy filled with steak and potatoes. However, I am not really interested in pushing him to eat food on my time line.

If he wants to nurse then I'm going to let him nurse. If that means that I get up every three hours all night long, then that's what I do. I will offer him food and let him go at his own pace. I'll enjoy his sunny personality all day long. Here's what I need from you: any and all suggestions related to nursing, sleep, and food with the following exceptions: I'm not going to let him cry it out at night, I'm not going to wean him before he is ready. I waited so long for Egg and I know that in a heartbeat he'll be a teenager, rolling his eyes at me. (I mean I REALLY know that for a fact.)

I don't mind the getting up at night. I'm just so fucking over people telling me that if he ate more food then he would sleep. Maybe he would, but I'm not going to force it on him. And maybe he wouldn't. Some babies sleep through the night at six weeks old and I bet they aren't eating steak and potatoes for dinner. Or maybe they are and that's what I'm doing wrong. What the fuck do I know?

*I'm looking at you, The New Girl. Not that you're a douche bag. You know what I'm talking about, yo.

And The Winner Is...

Missed teh contest? Go here for the pooper scooper! Well, the poop post is not complete, but the drawing and WINNAR!! is finally here! I chose to label cookies and have Egg draw one of them from the milk jug*. Totally random! Egg can't even read! Also, Egg did not read any of the poo stories, so he was not swayed by your crappy comments. Pun intended! I'm silly today! Wheeee!

I labeled all of them, and decided that in case a sticky note fell off, the cookie drawn would determine the winner. So the cookie names are as follows:

• Yellow = Redneck Diva
• Blue = Parkingathome
• Red = Jenni
• Green = Anon (who contacted me privately about his/her comment)
  

Here Egg is contemplating the work at hand.

The milk jug has been mixed and is ready for drawing!

 He pulls out Redneck Diva but NO COOKIE!! It does not count!!

He goes back in for another draw...

And...the YELLOW COOKIE!! Redneck Diva is the WINNARRRRR!! Kristen, contact me with your official mailing address! (We'll pretend that I don't already have it, okay?)

*Thanks to Crazy Neighbor Lady for the toy! It was a Christmas present for Egg and is so cute. MOOOO!