A lot of what people say about baby activity is extremely ridiculous.
I would laugh at them, except I say the same things as everyone else.
Here's a short dictionary.
Cradle cap=extreme baby dandruff. Anyone got the Selson Blue?
Drool=spit. Sure, it's cuter coming out of those little bee-stung lips, but it's the same stuff that baseball players hock onto the pitcher's mound. (Sans chewing tobacco, at least for my baby).
Feed=eat. I'm okay with "I'm going to feed her," but "she's feeding" or "her eleven am feed" gives me the heebie jeebies (even though I say it occasionally). It makes the baby sound like the velociraptor from Jurassic Park. As in, "Ahhhh! The baby is feeding on the entrails of that raccoon!"
Fussing=whining, baby style. Okay, before all of the other super-crunchy parents get on my case, I know the baby isn't trying to manipulate me, can't actually whine, and is only trying to get her needs met, yada yada yada. But gosh, the tone of fussing is a whine. It's at the same frequency as chalk on blackboards.
Going down=going to sleep. Sounds like a plane crash. Actually, maybe that's accurate.
Nursing=breastfeeding. I don't know if this one is actually funny, but it is odd that we have all of these people called "nurses" running around that have nothing to do with mother's milk. Which begs the question--did they, at one time, actually, well, nurse?
Putting her down=Trying to make the child go to sleep. Sounds dangerously like euthanasia. Maybe that's because some parents consider large doses of morphine for a fussy child. See fussy, above.
Spit up=puked-up curdled breastmilk. Surprising puked up curdled breastmilk. Come on, people, let's call a spade a spade.
Tinkle=pee. I don't say this one, but I have fond memories of a neighbor friend's mom always asking their toddler if she needed to tinkle. Sounds like the child has a jingle bell stuck up her hoo-hoo.
So there you go. Babies are kind of gross little creatures, and we try to gloss over it all to make them seem cute. Or to not scare the part of the population that hasn't had kids yet.
Anyway, I gotta go. Lucy's fussy, so it must be time for her 1 pm feed. Today's menu: dead armadillo*. Then we'll be dashing through the snow to her baby potty so she can tinkle.
*Sometime, I have to tell you guys about my claim to fame: mentioning dead armadillo on a very bad Kenny Rogers space cowboy music video. No joke!