Verbal Regurgitation Syndrome

When will I learn to keep my mouth shut? This is an illness with me; I call it verbal regurgitation syndrome. I cannot stop myself.

My son called today and chatted on about the kids and life. Then he said, “We got a wading pool. Hayden and Isabel love being in the water.”

I said, “What about Jaeda? I bet she loves it too.”

Rusty aka James, very condescendingly, explain that she was two months old and she couldn’t go in the wading pool. He went on to say, that at her age, you have to be extremely cautious.

I am so sorry son that I compared today’s babies with Nazism and the superior race.

I am inept when it comes to babies. I treated all of mine as mini human beings when in fact they are not. They come with instructions manuals from birth to adulthood. Every child, at the same age does the same thing and eat the same foods. I did not even know they had first food, second food, third food, and toddler food. My kids had to learn how to chew because they were eating mash potatoes, mashed veggies, and knawing on carrot sticks before they were one years old. I am sure all them ate a bug or two before they were toddlers because I had them on the ground, rolling around, and touching everything. No matter how fast I was to keep everything from going into their mouths I am sure I missed something.

Scott has his first tick at the age of 1 month. I could have been turned in for Child Abuse and Neglect.

The first opportunity to throw all three of my children in the water I took it. If it wasn’t the wading pool, it was the lake. Bath time consist of placing a towel in the tub, running water, and laying them down. I can understand why this isn’t practiced anymore because babies don’t get dirty in this day and age.

I used no special soaps for their clothes. Their diapers were rinsed in the toilet, taken to the scrub board, and then placed in a pail. When I accumulated enough diapers, they went into the wringer washer. This was a marvelous contraption. The only part that I didn’t like about it was the wringer. Itty-bitty baby socks and clothing would go through the wringer along with my fingers and a hand. I surprised that my fingers are not permanently flat or have some type of nerve damage. Then everything was taken out to the clothesline.

I don’t know how my children survived.

I am going to stop here before I go into a lecture on sheep. I am sorry James aka Rusty for my comment. You are right, times have changed, scientific research has been done on babies, and I am antiquated in my ideas on how to raise a child in today’s standards. I am proud of all you and Nicole have done with Isabel, and you two are great parents. Just ignore your old mom when I get on one of my toots.

I will keep my mouth shut. I will. I really will.

Believe me.