I just had my first baby about a week ago, and I’m completely exhausted and miserable as my baby is the unbelievably needy type that starts screaming the moment I take my breast out of her mouth and doesn’t stop for an hour. No, literally. She usually even sleeps in my lap, and if I put her on the bed, she wakes up after five minutes at the latest.

My mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and father-in-law make a surprise visit. They offer to make food, and I’m happy since we haven’t had time or energy to make proper delicious food for a while. I’m actually so happy and tired I’m almost crying, telling everyone I’m so hungry. 

When the food is done and served on our terrace table, my baby wakes up and wants to breastfeed (yet again).

Me: “Start without me. I’ll be back after I take care of [Baby].”

After twenty minutes, I manage to get her to sleep, and, hoping that she sleeps for more than five minutes, I make my way to the table and find out that my in-laws and my husband have eaten everything. There’s literally nothing edible on the table anymore. I just sit there feeling stupid, while my husband is smiling.

Mother-In-Law: “Don’t worry about the dishes! We’ll load them into the dishwasher later.”

After they leave, I talk to my husband.

Me: “I haven’t had anything to eat for the last twelve hours. I’m sad I didn’t get any of the food earlier.”

Husband: “It was just food.”

Yeah, tell that to a new mother that has had two hours of sleep every night for a week and hasn’t eaten regularly since then because of breastfeeding for roughly sixteen hours a day and holding a baby for twenty-three hours a day.

Now, years later, I can confirm that my needy baby has grown into an equally needy child. And no, I still haven’t completely forgiven anyone involved (excluding the baby).

My dad is a Boomer, born in 1946, but is a very progressive, open-minded person — probably because Nana would’ve smacked the stupid out of him, otherwise. His only Boomer-mentality sticking point is the “Just get a better job!” argument. My older sister and I have tried to explain that it’s just not as easy now as it was when he was our age, with little success.

Not too long ago, we were having a discussion about the topic, and my patience finally wore out as I was trying to explain how different his time versus ours is after hearing for the umpteenth time that he put himself through college making pizzas.

Dad: “All I’m saying is, back in my day—”

Me: *Exploding in frustration* “Back in your day, cough syrup was literally whiskey with opium, and soda had cocaine in it, you dinosaur!”

Dad: *Blinking in surprise* “I’ve got no response to that.”

Me: “Well, good!” *Turns and leaves*

Fortunately, though not necessarily as a result of this discussion, Dad’s finally come around to understand our point of view!

My grandmother can be pretty stubborn sometimes, and she can get worried about a lot of things. When her daughter, my mom, was just a kid — around seven years old, I think — she was worried because my mom was “too thin” and did not eat a lot of meat.

She went to the village doctor, who checked her weight.

Doctor: “Your daughter is fine; she’s in good health.”

Grandmother: “But she’s too thin!”

Doctor: “Okay, well, there’s a specialist from [Big City far away] coming into [Big City close to their village]. You can try going to see him.”

And that’s what she did. She managed to get an appointment and went to see this specialist. I can’t remember if he was a pediatrician or a nutritionist. He did some exams and came to the same conclusion as the doctor.

Specialist: “Your daughter is fine; she’s in good health.”

Grandmother: “But she’s too thin!”

Specialist: “Why does that bother you so much? Are you planning on selling her by weight?”

With that, my grandmother finally understood that she’d gone a little bit too far and stopped going to doctors for that. She sometimes tells this story, laughing about her stubbornness and the witty response of the doctor.

I am notoriously bad with directions. My dad and I are planning on meeting in the town where we live; I am walking from my house and he is walking from his.

Me: “Where will I meet you?”

Dad: “You know the tackle shop?”

I’m a woman in my twenties with absolutely zero interest in fishing.

Me: “Why would I know where the tackle shop is?”

Dad: “You know the nail bar?”

I can’t express how little I care about nail décor.

Me: “Why would I know where the nail bar is?”

Mum: “You know the church?”

Me: “Which one?”

Mum: “The church of England in the middle of town.”

Me: “Uh…”

Eventually, Dad gets out Google Maps and points to a landmark.

Dad: “I’ll meet you here at 3:45.”

Me: “Oh, the fountain? Why didn’t you lead with that?”

Dad: “I didn’t think you’d know there was a fountain in town.”

Me: “But a tackle shop is essential knowledge?!”

Fortunately, I found him easily enough!

My teenage daughter and I are at a Renaissance Festival listening to a musician. I say something to my daughter and she punches me in the arm.

Wife: “What did you hit Dad for?”

Daughter: “Tell her.”

Me: “I just said I knew that musician. During periods of civil disorder, he breaks into businesses and steals stuff.”

Wife: “…”

Me: “He’s a luter.”

Wife: “Hit him again.”