confessions of a southside catatonic chataholic

...Before, they couldn't relate to me, and now I'm like a god.'
~ Ruth Buzzi

Yes, that is a baby bottle that is shaped like a perky boob and yes, it has a place in this story ;) My nephews don't look at me like I'm a god all the time. Only when I fix the pc for them when it's misbehaving or on bad movie night Friday because, apparently, nobody knows a bad movie like I do. I'm still not sure whether or not I should be consider that a compliment.



More often than not the admiration goes the other way - my nephews keep me young, they keep me on my toes and at least three times a week I'm amazed by something they've said or done. But the amazement isn't always of the 'ohmygod aren't you so CLEVER' variety. No. 'Cause that would be simple, wouldn't it? That would make sense. Sometimes it's of the 'ohmygod I don't understand you, you little alien being' variety and, other times, it's more the 'what the hell were your parents smoking when they conceived you?!' kind. Today's post is of the latter. It's Tuesday and this is a 'my family & other animals post' or a 'things my family do that make me go WTF?' post ;) The subject of today's post is Mr. 13 or, as he's known on his birth certificate, Markhiem Elijah Williams.

Last month sometime my youngest sibling had her first baby. Having a baby in the house after so long is such an eye opener. Some things I'm having to re-learn like how uninterrupted sleep is a thing of the past and how I shouldn't forget the baby sitting in the carseat inside the house while backing down the driveway D'OH. Some things I never forgot like how to change a nappy and make a bottle and calm a baby all at the same time. My sister's recently moved to bottle feeding Remy (her milk dried up - I know, I know! Too much information. Deal with it! I had to) and it's nice because we can all help out now. She bought a bottle especially shaped like a breast - seriously, it's shaped exactly like a perky, fake, B-cup boob - and the teat is very realistic-nipple looking. Once again, TMI, but it was the debate of much laughter and discussion in our household. Discussion, I'm guessing, that Markie was able to hear because it's the only thing that can explain his actions below.

Markhiem and his younger brother Jaxin love the baby. They enjoy holding him, walking him up and down, interfering with the routine for bathtime and, most especially, they love to feed him his bottle. This particular conversation took place during one such session.

Markie: Can I feed Remy? I wanna feed Remy. Let me feed Remy!
Tosca: *sarcastic voice* Hey Mark, would you like to feed Remy?
Markie: Haha sarcasm! And you know what nana says about sarcasm...
Tosca: That I can kill you with it *hands over the bottle and the baby* Sit near where I can see you please *picks up a book - one ear tuned for the baby*

Markie pulls a chair up to within kicking distance and starts feeding the baby. After about 10 mins I realise that Remy has finished and is looking ready to bring up his wind and there's Markie, sitting there, rubbing the now empty bottle over his face (totally unhygienic by the way).

Tosca: Mark - what are you doing?
Markie: Rubbing the bottle on my face.
Tosca: Yeah I know. What I want to know is WHY?
Markie: Because I want to know something.
Tosca: Like...?!
Markie: I want to know what it feels like to have a boob on my face.
Tosca: *blinks* What? *bursts out laughing* Gimme that kid! And now go tell your mother what you were doing *bursts out laughing again*

Yeah, some mothers do 'ave 'em :) By the way, that wasn't what my mother said about sarcasm. She said, 'Tosca, sarcasm is the lowest form of humour.'