Why Won't This Baby Sleep Through The Night?

Is it because I said I knew the trick to getting babies to sleep through the night? Is it because I naively and knowingly gave advice at baby showers everywhere?

All right, already. I'm sorry I ever said it.

I've learned my lesson.

I'll never claim to know anything ever again.

Now sleep, already, would ya?

"Why Are You Throwing Away My Picture?"

This is my least favourite question in the whole world.

And the silver medal for least favourite question goes to...

"Where's My ________[e.g. brown puppy with the white spot that I won at the fair two years ago and have never ever mentioned or played with and looks like all of the other stuffed puppies in this house]?"

I always answer with a vague, "Hhmmm, I don't know where it could be or how it got in the garbage." But I believe there will be a day of reckoning where I will have to own that they all went to Salvation Army and the trash as soon as I could possibly sneak them out of the house.

I think that will be a bad day for me.

Why, Oh Why, Did I Open That Jar of Nutella?

I knew it was a bad idea!

And why did Superstore have that stupid deal where you have to buy two to get the good price?!

And why did I fall for it!?!

Were All Those Comments Just to Prove

That I Have a Readership of Six?

What's That About?

I have an irrational, disproportionate discomfort with being the last person to comment or ask a question before the end of a class.

In high school and college I would start watching the clock at about ten minutes before the class ended, and no matter how badly I wanted to clarify something, add my insight or answer a question that seemed to be stumping everybody else, I wouldn't let myself do it. Because it might be the last comment of the class. Gasp! And oh dear if it turns out that the question I asked 16 minutes before class ended winds up being the last question. Uugghh! Now I go through this same clock-watching exercise in Sunday School and Relief Society. Thank goodness I wear a watch.

This morning as I suggested a brilliant name for my cousin's fish on her blog, I realized that I kind of have the opposite thing going on for me in cyberspace. If I'm not the first to comment, I pretty much won't do it.

I think it might boil down to the pressure of having to be clever. I can't cope with it. (It's why I'm grateful to have a blog readership of four.)

If I ask the last question it will be what echoes in everyone's brains as they walk out of class. Like saving your bacon for the last bite so you walk away from the table with a bacon-flavored tongue (yumm), but in a bad way. If I comment when others have already typed their witty, loving, insightful words, well... I guess I just won't.

What does this say about my personality? Maybe I should work on this? Well, add it to the list.

If I Don't Know How To Do It, Is There Any Chance My Kids Will Learn?

to put away their clothes when they take them off

to play the piano

to chew quietly

to dance in public

to make their beds in the morning

to put on makeup

to exercise more than twice a year

to be proactive, not reactive

to laugh when it all falls apart

If It Comes Out Looking The Same Way It Did Going In

How Does He Get Any Nutrition Out Of It At All?