We’re riding in the truck and looking at the sleeping Bean. I pipe up with…

I wonder what she’s going to sound like.

What do you mean?

Her voice. I wonder what kind of voice she’ll have. I hope it’s not annoying.

Oh, no. She’ll sound musical. Not all whiny and shit. God, no. Not whiny.

Hell, no! I’d have to give her a tracheotomy and a voice box buzzer thingy. I need to go to medical school!

At this point I put my hand up to my throat and robotically said, “Hello, daddy!”. Sweety spit his soda out and said that I won at being disturbing for the day.

Go, me.

speak up!

I realized this morning that I go back to work next week. I don’t know why, but I’d been thinking I had two more weeks. This sucks balls. Runny, herpes infested donkey balls. Geez, just typing that makes me cry.

I’m hoping that I’m one of those people who likes to work and have a family. I can’t personally name any off the top of my head but I swear – I’ve heard some women say that they needed to go right back to work after having a baby because they didn’t like being at home.

Right now I don’t feel that way but maybe I will get to work and go, “Damn, I am so glad to be here!” I hope so.

The main thing I’m sad about it not being with Bean during the day. I love playing with her and feeding her and all of that good stuff. Sniffing her…Man, I love to sniff her and stare at her. I’d like to put her in a giant paper sack and huff her.

I’m also worried about what I’ll be coming home to every day. Being home, I’ve kind of been able to keep the house from looking like a pig sty and keep everyone in order. I’m imagining coming home at 8 p.m. to a crying baby, a wreck of a house, dirty dishes everywhere, homework to help with and a stressed out Sweety. He has done nothing to indicate that this is how things will be but we’ve never had a tiny human to tend to.

I’m also worried that I’m not going to be able to pump enough milk during the day to feed her. I have been hoarding milk the past week or so to give me a headstart. Of course, my tits have done nothing to indicate that they might not put out but I like to worry.

I’m also concerned that a tiny asteroid will hit the neighbor’s house while I’m at work and annihilate Bean. (Just kidding. I think.)

To get me and Bean used to being separated, this week I’ve been taking her over to the neighbor’s house for a few hours in the morning and even though I don’t go back to work until next Thursday, the plan is to take her over there all day on Monday and Tuesday as a dry run. Sweety thinks I am going to lose my shit the first day that I’m away from her and thinks I’d prefer to do it alone instead of at work. He told me to, “Go watch a movie..visit someone…out to eat…whatever and come home at 8 p.m.” I will need to find a suitable place to do these things where I can plug in a breast pump. Maybe I’ll just hide in the bedroom and not come out until 8 p.m.

This is a sign that Oliver is not the same psychotic dog we rescued from the shelter two years ago. He is a broken man. But, a very good boy.

In his eyes I think I see a silent plea for help.

speak up!

That blurry little foot?

It really does have five toes even though you can’t see them. She was also busy fist-pumping like she belongs on Jersey Shore.

Bean is a Fidgeter Extraordinaire. Sometimes her arms and legs are windmilling so fast that I think she’s going to launch like a hummingbird. When she’s eating and tired, she will kick the hell out of her legs. She’ll kick so much that she almost squirms off of the Milk Bar. The other night I did her a favor and held her foot and wiggled it for her while she ate. She promptly passed out.

Speaking of passing out!

She’s started really sleeping through the night! *knock on wood* The past two nights she’s been tucked into bed by 10 or so and slept right through until 7 or 8 the next morning! The first night, I woke up around 4 because my boobs were full of milk and hurting so while I pumped milk (I’m building up the stockpile for when I go back to work.) I cried because she’s growing so fast. The second night I didn’t cry but I laid awake after pumping and listened to her sleep.

I think she’s going to have Sweety’s sleep habits. She talks to herself a lot on top of being twitchy.

Sweety lost his damned mind the other night. I thought he was awake when he said, “You know what? You’re a dick.” I asked why, thinking it was because I was sitting in the bed while playing with my phone and the light was disturbing him. “You just are. And you know what? I’m going to TALK REALLY LOUD AND WAKE THE BABY UP! GUESS WHO WON’T HAVE TO GET UP AND TAKE CARE OF HER? NOT ME!” I told him that I would punch him in his jug head on my way to pick her up if he woke her and he shut up. The next morning when I said something to him I could tell that he felt bad and he kept apologizing. I told him that it was okay, that I really thought he was awake. So, how fucked up is it that I thought he was awake being a giant asshole and didn’t blink an eye at it? He’s been super great in helping me with the baby and I thought that maybe he’d just reached his limit or something.

Night before last, I was playing on my phone in the dark when he pipes up with, “Suck my dick and punch me in the face.” I asked him to repeat himself and he did. (For the record, I did not and I did not.) One night he woke up while eating a bowl of cereal and last night he got up and gorged on Oreos – he later woke up choking on Oreo puke. I’m going to start tying him to the bed.

speak up!

I was busy brushing my teeth this weekend, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sweety come into the bathroom with Bean. He’s telling me to hurry and look at them but it takes me a minute to turn around.

As you may (or may not) know, we like to give things voices around here. The dogs all have their own voices and talk to us regularly. Even Chi Chi. Due to her freeze-dried nature, her voice is rather raspy. Like she’s been smoking for 50 years. Having a voice naturally extends to Bean. We talk for her and sometimes even wobble her bottom jaw to enhance her “speaking” abilities.

Now people, we are some sick fuckers here. Most humor is highly inappropriate and totally tasteless. This was no exception.

I swing around to see Bean sitting in the crook of Sweety’s arm and she is grasping in her right hand an untwisted coathanger.

Hey, baby! What are you doing?!

I wanted to show you this.

What is that?

When I was inside of you there was a sister with me but I evicted her with this coathanger.

At that point, all I could do was turn around and carefully inspect the sink faucet because sometimes I run out of words and this was one of those times. Sweety is cackling his ass off because if one of us can render the other speechless then something has been accomplished.

I finally found some words.

Dude. The first time I really see my baby hold something? It’s a fucking twisted coathanger and she’s making a joke about aborting her roommate? Damn. Just…damn.

And then I couldn’t help it – I laughed.

speak up!