A word of advice...

I had to nurse Little Guy in the breastfeeding room of the Naval Hospital the other day. (All is still not well with my lady parts, I'm afraid, so we have twice-a-week appointments there.) And, like the other few times I've had to use that room, I met another Nosy Nelly friendly mother who had advice for me.

Here's the thing: I don't mind free advice. In fact, some of the tactics that work best with our fussy/colicky/gassy/tortured devil spawn son came from other parents. (And even a few non-parents, like Pammy!) I'm all about soaking up as much knowledge as possible, so spit it at me, I say.

But, please, please, please, for the love of God, don't patronize me by pretending to be my baby speaking to me. This has to be that ring of hell that Dante forgot to mention: Listening to a middle-aged woman use baby talk as a passive aggressive method for making you feel lousy about yourself.  "Awwww, mommy, if you'd paweeeeze just hit my back harder, I'm sure I wouldn't be so fussy wussy."

Listen, lady, besides already explaining to you that my baby burped better on my knee -- and yes, I understand he was screaming bloody murder at the time and not exactly giving me a vote of confidence -- but your advice is not any more appealing coming in a wittle bittle impression of an itty bitty baaaaaby. Speak like a normal adult human being and then I won't have to second guess your own parenting abilities.

And if your baby hasn't experienced digestive pains like these, please step to the side. Unless you've been down this path, which included at least one 3-hour screaming session for a single fart, you really can't know what it's like to try seventeen different burping positions before finding the one that works for your baby. Saying, "I always burped my kids like that and they never had any problems," does not, in fact, make you knowledgeable on the subject.

Also annoying: That Little Guy has seen four different pediatricians who all insist his digestive issues are completely within the normal spectrum, but every mother who has heard him scream through a bowel movement insists "that's not right." Can't someone meet me in the middle here?!