Farting Contest

This weekend, Brent and I were on our own for three nights. Yes, we have had a night nurse all this time. And yes, we are supremely broke because of it. And finally, yes, it has been worth every penny.

At first I was really hesitant about the night nurse. I can barely stand having visitors for longer than a few hours, I could hardly imagine what it would be like to have complete strangers in my home every night for weeks. I am strangely private and anti-social when it comes to having guests in my home. I can't explain IT, but I am really protective of my privacy. So I was worried about this whole night nurse thing.

What I hadn't taken into account was the sheer necessity of sleep. I have realized that getting up in the middle of the night multiple times is so hard that I would probably let Osama bin Laden take care of the boys if it meant six uninterrupted hours of shut eye. And thankfully, the night nurse and her minions (she has a team of five women who come) have been much less invasive than I expected. There have certainly been a few bumps in the road - the main caregiver and I almost came to blows one night when she told me to stop using Desitin for diaper rash, advice that was diametrically opposite of my pediatrician's guidance. She was very strident on this issue (and continues to be) much to my irritation. It didn't help that she decided to tell me her views on the matter by coming into my bedroom without knocking, while I was pumping. Feeling very vulnerable and intruded upon, not to mention topless and in full Elsie the Cow mode, I promptly kicked her out and told her when we wanted her opinion we would ask for it. But other than that little episode, it has gone very well.

We are coming to the end of our time with her, however, and so this past weekend, Brent and I did without nighttime assistance for three nights. Man, it was tough! But, luckily, Brent got up with me to feed the boys at all the feedings and we made it through relatively unscathed other than being utterly exhausted. The only interesting thing that happened during one of those bleary eyed feedings was that Judah let one of his normal, ridiculously loud, farts rip. Brent, being quite the gaseous individual himself, looked straight down at Judah and let a fart go too, and said, "Oh yeah, top that." Judah looked up at Brent, and no lie, farted TWICE. It was hilarious. And believe me, very little is hilarious at 4:14 a.m. Clearly, Judah is his father's son, through and through.