Remember that scene in Mean Girls where Cady has total “word vomit” and just can’t stop talking about Regina George? “I was a woman possessed. I spent about 80 percent of my time talking about Regina. And the other 20 percent of the time, I was praying for someone else to bring her up so I could talk about her more,” Cady confesses.
I found myself in a similar situation the other day, except I was talking about actual vomit. In fact, I was asking my friend—for the third time that week—how much spit-up was normal and if she thought my 4-month-old child might have a puke problem.
As I was discussing the amount and consistency of the liquid coming out of my baby’s mouth (It’s about a teaspoon...or maybe it’s more like a tablespoon?), I could see my friend’s eyes glaze over. I could practically hear what she was thinking. Didn’t we talk about this like two days ago? Dear God, how much longer can she talk about her baby’s bodily fluids?
I was doing it. That thing pre-baby me had sworn I would never do. I was boring people to death by talking about my kid. And the worst part of it all is that my son is still young enough for me to remember exactly how tedious it is to be on the receiving end of the “my kid this, my kid that” conversation.