Good days and bad days

With Isaac, we have good days and bad days.  And for the last couple of months, it has been predominately bad days.  Screaming, whiny, clingy, screaming (did I say that already?) bad days.  To the point that our being here may have convinced Rachel never to have children.

Yeah, we have that effect on people.  And we are willing to loan out our services if you have any teenagers you would like to convince not to have (unprotected) teen sex.

Anyway, if you are a parent or other sympathetic adult, you may be feeling badly for me right now.  However, to be completely fair, I should provide a prospective from the other side.  So here it is:

10 Things My Mom Does to Make Me Mad by Isaac Miller
1. Change my diaper.  And she does it several times a day.  If it makes me this mad, STOP doing it!
2. Not change my diaper soon enough.  C'mon people.  The service is horrible around here.  If I have to sit in my own urine for more than 30 seconds, someone is going to hear about it.
3. Bathe me.  It's like she has a problem with my natural odor that I have been working on for a couple of days.  What happened to loving that "new baby smell"?
4. Take me out of the bath.  Warm water with tub toys to put in my mouth or the shockingly cold air - which would you choose?
5. Feed me properly.  There is a pattern, or a rhythm if you will, to how I like my bites of food.  For lunch today, it was chicken-chicken-chicken-strawberry-strawberry-chicken-strawberry-strawberry-chicken-chicken-(water)-chicken-chicken-chicken-strawberry-(water)-etc.  How hard can that be?  And she acts all put out when I throw food on the floor to let her know she got it wrong.  I just don't get it.
6. Pick me up. I can move on my own.
7. Put me down. I love being carried.
8. Not let me suck on the grocery cart.  Hello!  If I wasn't supposed to suck on the handle, they wouldn't have put it where my mouth can reach!
9. Put away the pots and pans.  It just makes it more work for me to get them out again.
10. Make me sleep in my own bed.  Seriously, if I sleep by myself, there is no one to kick in the crotch or gouge the eyeballs out of in the middle of the night, and where's the fun in that?