quinn = stuey?

i work nights as a labor and delivery nurse and i really do love it.  i love being a mom more and would probably quit if i won the lottery, but i do love my job.  i also love the comradery that happens at night and the filter-free banter that goes on somewhere between 3am and 5am.  no topic is off-limits and no person is safe.  the other night the nurses and docs found me as their target.  hilarity ensued.  they believe me to be super-crunchy, whole-foods-eating, deodorant-free, earth-mother.  this is a stretch to some degree.  the topic at hand was the fact that i am nursing my son quinn (now a strapping young boy of 1) and how i wear him in the moby and how i make all of his food...blah, blah, blah.  

nurse:  you are going to wear him in the moby forever.

me:  probably.

nurse:  you'll carry him to class in it.  he'll be like "mom, seriously, you can put me down and i can walk."

me:  his legs will be dragging behind me cause he'll be taller than me but i will still carry him around like that.

nurse: how long are you going to breastfeed him?

me:  til his wedding day probably.  use breastmilk instead of champagne for the toast.

nurse:  he's going to be like stuey on the family guy.  his muscles will be all atrophied from you carrying him around but his head will be huge because he'll be a genius from all the breastfeeding.