The truth about pets, babies, and YOU.

Are you one of those people who adore your animals and let your child adore them too?

Even if you're not, YOU can benefit from this infoblogercial (so I made up a word, not the point here) about pets and babysitting.

Are you a babywearing, baby attachment kind of parent?  Dogs are great for you.  They respond to the child's every noise and lick them clean of their own vomit.  It's really kind of a win/win situation.  Not to mention, your baby probably likes the dog better than you already.

Case in point. Bonus: This dog can put a baby to sleep.

Are you a cry-it-out sort of parent?  Cats are what you want.  They are the master of disdain and can teach your child to potty in the litter box.  You heard me.  No more diapers.  Train them early.  Plus a cat can listen to a child screaming all night without "giving in."  If you're intending on going overnight for a little fun time with your husband, hire a cat.  You'll have a new baby by morning.

Bonus:  Your kid will learn to read early.  Cats have a thing about grammar and education.

Not to mention, pets are far cheaper than nannies or babysitters.  Feed them a treat or two and they'll be yours to love forever.  At least around dinner time.  Or breakfast.  Or when you're sitting in the bathroom trying to get a load out.  And when you really want to hoard those brownies, you can just brightly say, "Oh, Mr. Nibbles can take care of that!" as you sneak away with warm, gooey, delicious chocolate wonderfulness.  How awesome is that?  Sitters on demand!

Just remember to keep the toilet lid closed when you're done in the bathroom... You're doing cats all over the world a favor.

In which teeth are evil and chocolate reigns supreme.

My child's new favorite game is sitting on my lap and watching my monitor.  He also loves to bang on the keyboard.  I'm fairly certain this is a sign that he's going to grow up and create new fantastic technology and become richer than Bill Gates could ever dream of.

In other news, I've learned one new fact of life.  Teeth are evil.

You may not think much of this, as you chew on your hamburger or nibble away at a delicious, buttery corn on the cob.  It might be a vague thought as that nagging little cavity spasms in pain as you get halfway through your bag of Skittles.  It's kind of on your mind when you're pregnant with your first kid and think, "Man, everyone says the teething is the worst."  But you don't have a clue.

L.J. doesn't even have a hint of pearly bits on his gums.  While this makes me happy (toothless baby grin is my favorite way to wake up in the morning), it also makes me feel this nasty little sense of dread.  Like, how much longer do I have to put up with this?!

He screams.  He shrieks.  He flails about.  He acts as though I am killing him when I try to coax him to nurse a little longer.  He chews on anything he can get in his mouth, and some things he can't.  He won't sleep.  He's too tired to sleep.  So go to sleep, you little bastard angel.  You'll feel better when you wake up!  But does he listen?  Of course not.  Because babies know everything.  Which is why we're miserable.

However, in the midst of this agony (in reality, this is nothing compared to "real" teething when cutting teeth, or so I hear) he has had some wonderful changes.  He can now hold his bottle by his little baby hands.  He constantly shouts/yells/mumbles/squeals "Mamamama dadadadadada babababababa", which is his new favorite sound.  He can latch onto a nipple from about 10 feet away with unerring precision.  And he's just plain gosh darned cute.

Motherhood.  Gotta love and hate it.  If you want to survive it, just grab a pan full of brownies.  It'll get you through at least a few hours.  And no, you don't feed it to the baby.  What a waste that would be... You don't think moms and grandmothers bake cookies for the kids, do you?

Why is he wearing a hat indoors, while naked, playing in his jumparoo? Um. Because he wanted to. Obviously.

Babies have favorites, too.

There are days I feel like I'm the most important person in my son's life.  And then there are days I feel completely disposable.

When I come home from work, I come home to a fussy baby.  Actually, I don't generally see the fussiness; the moment I walk through the door L.J. goes from screaming, shrieking banshee to tame housecat.  He'll play in his jumper, sit on Daddy or Mommy and watch TV, suck on his toes, talk to his best friend (that would be the ceiling fan), giggle at the dog, and do his best to either smack or scratch anything in reach.  He pulls the cat's tail and the dog's whiskers.  He laughs.  He naps.  He's wonderful.  This is the evidence my husband gives me to say that I'm my son's favorite person.

On the other hand, that little booger sees Daddy and lights up like Independence Day fireworks.  He giggles, laughs hysterically, and talks.  He doesn't laugh for Mommy... Only Daddy gets that part of him!  He'll shriek with joy just by seeing Daddy walk by.  There's a special bond they have, that I don't have.  It makes me a little jealous to hear L.J. laugh hysterically because Daddy tickles him on the changing table.  I'm lucky just to get a big smile out of him when I do that!  In fact, most of the time what I get is excited wiggling and fist-chomping.  Not that it isn't adorable, because it is, but come on.  I'm Mommy.  Babies should laugh for their mothers.

Babies discriminate.  That's all there is to it.  And I'm pretty sure they know what they're doing.  They're playing Mom and Dad against each other for the maximum amount of love.  It's in their ooey-gooey cuteness.  It's just how they're made.  It's evil.  It's adorable.  It's working.

Honestly, watching the two of them makes me tear up with joy.  There's nothing more amazing than watching my husband be a father to our son.  And there's certainly nothing that makes me happier than watching my family, day after day.

It's all worth it.

Laughing for Daddy.