"Hey, everyone! Spawnling here, filling in for my mommy, the glorious Maven of Mayhem. She's a little busy right now, reorganizing canned goods and finding it strangely soothing to do so.
Did you know she picked that name before I was born? She was pregnant at the time and doing daycare. Remember when she thought that was chaotic? What a silly mommy!
Remember when she used to complain about not sleeping because she was hugely pregnant and unable to turn over without requiring the help of several Greenpeace oceanographers? For the record, she slept much better then than she did, say, last night, when I woke up at midnight and fought tooth and nail to stay awake until about 3am. Then I decided I would demand a breast in my screaming hole, refuse it by - you guessed it - screaming, try to jab a pacifier in there instead, turn my head sharply which would launch said pacifier out, scream some more and then almost pass out... just... just nearly there... mom would start to close her eyes and think happy thoughts for four or five seconds... all would be quiet... and I would start all over again.
Until 7am.
Mommy loves me so much that she didn't have any homicidal thoughts. That, folks, is incredible parenting. I'm happy to have helped her acquire such a high level of tolerance for irrational overtired baby behaviour.
She's tried to blog since we got back from visiting the in-laws on Sunday night. She really gave it her best, I swear. It's just that sometimes I like to remind her that I'm not just a pretty face. I have feelings. Emotions. Likes and dislikes.
I like making mommy's friend Angela take 40 pictures just to get me to smile in two of them.
I don't like long car rides when I'm - you guessed it again - overtired and rudely awakened by a loud Tim Hortons drive-through speaker an hour into the trip. It makes me cry.
A lot.
Like, say, for two hours.
And no matter what mommy does, nothing calms down a screaming Spawn who is displeased at being strapped so barbarically into a plastic object facing backwards in a vehicle going at high speeds. Mommy can sing the entire Moulin Rouge soundtrack, half of a Red Hot Chili Peppers CD and every lullabye she can come up with. She can stop the van, cuddle me, feed me, feed me again, change my now spit-upon clothing and feed me pieces of Timbits out of sheer desperation. I will continue exercising my right to vocalization until I pass out half an hour from our destination.
Anyway, mommy didn't feel much like blogging on Sunday. On Monday I was constipated (read: Timbits. Stupid parental unit with her poor nutritional judgment in high stress situations). I didn't like being put down and I don't like being ignored for a computer screen. I will instead attempt to pull the keys off Lapzilla. Ergo, no blogging.
Today I was rather kind and dozed on the couch while mommy and Mrs. Wailing had a visit. They talked about me; I just know it. They spoke of my strained bowel movements and my insistence on using my outdoor voice in a small, confined space on Sunday. So when it came time to leave I decided it was payback time.
She doesn't call me Spawnling because I'm easy-going.
I tag-teamed her today with my ever-defiant brother, Gutsy. He's teaching me the ropes when it comes to getting what I want. Apparently if I just keep being loud she can't handle it and caves. What are big brothers for if not to teach you what works?
But do you know what really does it?This smile.
This beautiful, sweet, innocent smile.
I can really pull it off, can't I?
It makes her heart melt.
If you look closely, you can see The Maven wrapped tightly around my finger.
Spawnling: 1
The Maven: 0
Sucker."
