Read Online Trust Me, I'm Dr Ozzy by Ozzy Osbourne - Free Book Online

Sharon,” I said. “Are you absolutely sure you know what you’re doing?”
    “Of course I do!” she replied.
    Needless to say, it was a fucking disaster. Peace on earth? It would have been more peaceful if we’d gone to Tripoli. Could the kids get along with each other for more than five seconds? Not on your life . If it wasn’t one, it was the other. All I could hear were slammed doors, houseplants being thrown across the room, and people screaming at each other. It was so bad at one point, I almost fell off the wagon and had a beer. Finally, on Christmas day, I got up, went downstairs, and said to everyone, “Look: all I want for Christmas is for you to get on, even if you have to fake it— just for ONE fucking day !”
    Everyone nodded, hung their heads, and agreed to calm down. It lasted three hours. Then they were back at it again, worse than before. It broke my heart, to be honest with you—and it broke Sharon’s heart, too. I was just so disappointed, y’know? But you can only do so much with your kids, then you’ve just got to let ’em get on with it. The thing is, everyone wants the perfect family—but it doesn’t exist. We all dream of our cozy little domestic get-togethers, where everyone says how much they love each other, everyone remembers the good times, and no-one gets angry or jealous or has any issues. As Dr. Ozzy, I’ve come to realise that all families are made up of human beings, and human beings are by their very nature messy and emotional and full of all kinds of fears and insecurities. If that sounds familiar to you, I recommend you read on, ’cos this chapter takes you through just about every issue you’re ever likely to face with your own flesh and blood, all the way from the womb to the nursing home.

I: BASIC PARENTING

    Dear Dr. Ozzy:
    My husband and I are trying to have a second baby, and we’d love it to be a girl. Is there anything we can do in the bedroom department to skew the odds in our favour?
    Pamela, London
    I’ve heard lots of whacky theories about “gender swaying” over the years: do it standing on your head for a boy; keep your left sock on for a girl; drink lemon juice for a boy; cranberry juice for a girl… etc., etc. It’s all bollocks if you ask me, and the bottom line is, even if you want a girl and you get a boy, you ain’t gonna love him any less. And there’s something to be said for the surprise. When Sharon and I had our son, Jack, we had no idea what sex he was, ’cos he was lying in a funny position when they did the sonogram. In fact, we were convinced he was gonna be a girl, ’cos we had two daughters already, so when he popped out with a full set of tackle, our jaws hit the floor. If you want more certainty, a fertility clinic might be able to help—you can probably order a kid with purple hair and glow-in-the-dark eyes, never mind a girl—but if I were you, I’d stop worrying. The only thing that really matters is that your little one is healthy.

    Dear Dr. Ozzy:
    My wife’s pregnant, and every time we leave the house, I get paranoid that her “waters” might break. What does this mean, anyway? Would I have to deliver the baby myself?
    Jason, Cardiff
    From what I understand—which ain’t very much—babies grow inside a little watery sac thing, and when that bursts, the kid’s ready to pop out. That’s what it means when a pregnant woman’s “water breaks.” But there’s no need to get all paranoid about it: even if it happens in public, it doesn’t mean you have to deliver your son with a toilet plunger and wooden spoon, or whatever it is you’re imagining. All you need to do is drive your missus to the nearest hospital, sharpish. In fact, that’s exactly what I had to do when my first daughter, Jessica, was born. The only problem was, I didn’t know how to drive, and I’d been drinking all day. Apart from that, it was easy.

    Dear Dr. Ozzy:
    My three-year-old son keeps being hit/kicked/bitten by the son of one of my