Sickness

I can look at almost any stroller and tell you its make, model and colorway (which in layman's terms, means pattern name).

When presented with the name of a car seat, I can probably tell you it's weight and height limits and why or why not it's a good choice for your child.

And I can look at your baby's outfit and tell you what store it's from. If it's Gymboree, I might even be able to name the line it's from.

And herein lies my sickness.

It is just not normal to know this much useless baby crap. I suppose perhaps it's not useless as people really do need to know that their 23 pound, 31 inch long son can't ride in that Graco Snugride any longer. But boy does he look cute in his Tropical Turtle romper.

Rey always says I should figure out a way to capitalize on my knowledge. He's just trying to figure out a way to make a buck off me, I'm sure. It's his way of saying he's sick of supporting me all these years so I could raise his children and clean his house. (I would add "cook his meals" but of course, I don't do that.)

Do you think I really want to be like this? No! But I can't help it. It's ingrained in me and I can't escape it. My children are getting older and much of this useless information is becoming more and more useless to me.

So next time you're watching a movie with me, don't be alarmed if I exclaim "Chicco Cortina stroller in the Adventure Colorway!"

Cause I am working hard on deprogramming myself.