- I keep calling the pediatrician “the vet”.
- I am completely freaked out by the baby monitor. Thank you Paranormal Activity 2 and 3 and my a$$hat husband and sister who insist on taking me to see scary movies despite the fact that the It’s a Small World ride at Disneyland used to freak me out as a child.
Correction: It still does.
I’m just not cut out for terror. I recently came to the realization that in the event of the Zombie Apocalypse, I’d totally give up and seek a zombie out and have it kill me. Because delaying the inevitable death-by-zombie is just a whole lot of effort for a person who is already afraid of their own reflection in a mirror at night and sometimes leaps into bed (just in case a monster is lurking underneath). Obviously, if I am already terrified of completely irrational things, I'd be a hopeless mess in the event of justified fear.
- I didn’t know I was supposed to be sanitizing Banner’s bottles until a month ago. Granted, back then, I was nursing a whole lot more (and pumping less) and it isn’t like you can sanitize your boob. Heck, I don’t even wash the area with soap because it dries out the nipple. But, still: Motherhood FAIL. If I was looking for someone to blame (which I’m not because this is totally the result of my own stupid ignorance), I’d point fingers at the hospital because they were the ones who told me to simply wash everything in warm soapy water and dry thoroughly before reusing.
To be fair, though, Banner survived. In fact, his first health issue only started after I started sanitizing everything. Coincidence? Maybe.