You know the type. The one who is constantly over correcting people, giving semi-dirty looks to someone who isn't doing something for your kid the way that you would be doing it. Someone who is constantly making lists and schedules and making sure I appear to be raising the most uptight baby on the planet. I never wanted to be a parent that was so rigid, if you looked at my baby, you doubted if he was able to sit on his own, or if the stick up his ass was holding him up.
Why am I bringing this up, you ask? Well, here is what happened and please, please, please tell me if you think I am going a tad bit overboard.
So my parents are in town this weekend to see The Baby. We have a super fun time when they visit. Lucky for me, my parents are actually more scheduled than The Baby is, so their trip is predictable, but fun.
Every Friday, after they arrive, we always go to Truluck's. It is this amazing seafood restaurant with the world's best happy hour. The food is amazing and the drinks are also great. So great, in fact, that I am pretty sure just setting a Cosmo by a breathalyzer would set it off. It was on their last trip that my mam learned that The Baby likes to take little naps in the booth while we eat. Throw a blanket down and instant crib. He loves it as much I love their carrot cake. We are all winners!
Then, Saturday, we hit a breakfast spot and then dinner at this little I-Talian place around the corner where my dad will proceed to order the veal and talk about how it is the best veal he has ever eaten, while we rehash how inexpensive the meal was. Good times.
Well, today, we decide to mix things up and take advantage of the amazing weather. October and November are God's way of paying the citizens of Houston back for suffering through the summer months. So we head to a great park.
We start strolling around the park and looking at this and that. We pass the yoga class that is going on that my parents accidentally talk a little too loud around causing a few people to break from their fancy-schmancy yoga poses and wonder where the noise is coming from.
Strolling, strolling, strolling and there is a vendor making little mini-doughnuts. By the way, I don't know why the gal is churching it up, they are funnel cakes pure and simple. But that is neither here nor there. So my dad, having just polished off an omelette, ordered a 1/2 dozen. Followed by another dozen and a half so the doughnut gal "doesn't have to make change." Naturally. (I really can't give him too much crap. They were delish).
So while I am taking pics of The Baby looking super cute in his little halloween outfit, I find myself actually having to say the words:
"Um, Husband...maybe we shouldn't be feeding our baby a doughnut".
And you know what he says??
"Whaaaaa? He is a mini-me. His digestive system is just like mine, just smaller. I will just give him smaller bites. He can take it."
Really?? Our (almost) 5 month old can handle a bite of a powdered, fried doughnut???? He has never eaten anything that didn't require me to mix it with water before consumption.
So, now, because I said something....because I thought it wasn't the best idea to give The Baby a piece of fried, doughy carbs topped with artificial sugar, I am all of a sudden "Super Freaky Mom".
If I am wrong, please tell me....but I know where most of you live.