I could make yet another excuse as to why I haven't blogged lately. What is there to tell? We're moving, I have a baby, we're knee-deep in end-of-the-school-year shindigs. Playgroup ended with a potluck today at Squarefoot's house. Better at her place than mine, considering that, well, she has more square footage. Also, my quaint little home with it's charmingly petite rooms is overrun with half-filled boxes and socks.
Not half-filled socks, mind you. I don't want to think about what they'd be filled with. Hopefully feet that are attached to legs that are attached to a body. Er, a living body.
This post is getting increasingly morbid. I should probably switch gears.
It's my brain, you see. It no worky too good-like.
Last night, I drank entirely too much water. This was the start of a very long night. This was also after I bawled my face off to Geekster about how I'm tired of eating away my emotions and how I want to be alive to watch my children grow up and resent how I raised them. It's all part of the great circle of life, or at least parenting. Let's draw a pretty timeline, shall we?
The Maven spends her years eating cookies because her children drive her crazy and she's not allowed to get drunk anymore on account of being an alcoholic and she quit smoking 11 years ago and it would be stupid to start up again because she can think of much cooler ways to die.
The Maven's arms get big enough that she can use them as pontoons and start her own ferry business, carrying people across Africa's Zambezi river.
The Maven's blood pressure goes up, and not just because her ten-year-old decides it's perfectly fine to spill Cheerios all over the kitchen floor and not pick them up until you step on them, but because she's eating entirely too many cookies to curb her stress levels.
The Maven's body takes a long-awaited vacation, skiing up and down the sugary slopes of type 2 diabetes.
The Maven's heart decides it looks good in a fat suit, having built it from scratch ever so slowly since 1976.
The Maven gets sick from things she probably could have prevented if she could just stop dealing with things in a way that's slowly killing her in such a tasty, satisfying way. And besides, there are even cooler ways to die than becoming morbidly obese. Being eaten by crocodiles while ferrying people across the river, for example.
All that to say that I've decided to change the way I eat because I want to annoy and offend people with my blog posts for a very, very long time. Instead of eating cookies last night, I drank water in between my sobs and hugs from my Geekster. Have I mentioned lately how amazing he is? I know you're jealous. You can't have him, though. Not only is he a sweetheart, but he makes the big bucks. No one else could supply me with so many bonbons.
Or, erm, bottles of water now, I guess.
Ah yes, the water...Where was I?
After a late night of talking and coming to terms with yet more of my demons, I crawled into bed at nearly 1 A.M., drifting off quickly into a deep slumber.
Ever notice that when someone says they drifted off into a deep slumber, they're about to tell you how they were jarred out of it?
Just before 4 A.M., Spawnling stirred and tugged at my shirt. I provided the calorie-burning goodness that is breastmilk, only then realizing that I really, really needed to visit the little goddesses' room. I managed to get him to sleep after what seemed like an eternity, at least to my bladder, and winced my way into the bathroom. Then I flushed. Oops. This was apparently a bad idea.
Back in bed with my eyes closed now, just drifting off...
Yes, the 'slumber' word is about to be used again. Let's just skip that.
The pitter patter of little feet could be heard somewhere in the house. My demons may have been released, but my gremlins are very much still present. Gutsy came into the room looking for something to drink.
Wonderful Geekster got Gutsy some water (say that three times fast). Half-asleep Gutsy decided the water wasn't good enough because it wasn't in the right cup.
Daddy don't play that. We decided a long time ago that we will not cater to tantrums based on ridiculous demands, such as the right cup in the middle of the night. Nuh-uh. No way.
As a result of our excellent parenting, Gutsy never went back to sleep. In fact, neither did we. Sure, we drifted in an out, but Spawnling, Geekster and I ended up listening to the sounds of preschooler television and random chatter from a now wide-awake Gutsy, telling us all about what he was watching and what he wanted to do later in the day.
Who in their right mind gets up at 4 A.M. for the entire day? Who? WHO?!
I had a lot of coffee today. A lot of coffee.
My brain is fried and I'm eating carrots, yoghurt and drinking water. I'm also watching the Senators kick the crap out of the Ducks. GO SENS GO!!
Hockey is even better when you're tired. However, instead of writing an essay like I'm supposed to, I'm blogging and watching the game. No cookies and no motivation. Go me.
Not half-filled socks, mind you. I don't want to think about what they'd be filled with. Hopefully feet that are attached to legs that are attached to a body. Er, a living body.
This post is getting increasingly morbid. I should probably switch gears.
It's my brain, you see. It no worky too good-like.
Last night, I drank entirely too much water. This was the start of a very long night. This was also after I bawled my face off to Geekster about how I'm tired of eating away my emotions and how I want to be alive to watch my children grow up and resent how I raised them. It's all part of the great circle of life, or at least parenting. Let's draw a pretty timeline, shall we?
The Maven spends her years eating cookies because her children drive her crazy and she's not allowed to get drunk anymore on account of being an alcoholic and she quit smoking 11 years ago and it would be stupid to start up again because she can think of much cooler ways to die.
The Maven's arms get big enough that she can use them as pontoons and start her own ferry business, carrying people across Africa's Zambezi river.
The Maven's blood pressure goes up, and not just because her ten-year-old decides it's perfectly fine to spill Cheerios all over the kitchen floor and not pick them up until you step on them, but because she's eating entirely too many cookies to curb her stress levels.
The Maven's body takes a long-awaited vacation, skiing up and down the sugary slopes of type 2 diabetes.
The Maven's heart decides it looks good in a fat suit, having built it from scratch ever so slowly since 1976.
The Maven gets sick from things she probably could have prevented if she could just stop dealing with things in a way that's slowly killing her in such a tasty, satisfying way. And besides, there are even cooler ways to die than becoming morbidly obese. Being eaten by crocodiles while ferrying people across the river, for example.
All that to say that I've decided to change the way I eat because I want to annoy and offend people with my blog posts for a very, very long time. Instead of eating cookies last night, I drank water in between my sobs and hugs from my Geekster. Have I mentioned lately how amazing he is? I know you're jealous. You can't have him, though. Not only is he a sweetheart, but he makes the big bucks. No one else could supply me with so many bonbons.
Or, erm, bottles of water now, I guess.
Ah yes, the water...Where was I?
After a late night of talking and coming to terms with yet more of my demons, I crawled into bed at nearly 1 A.M., drifting off quickly into a deep slumber.
Ever notice that when someone says they drifted off into a deep slumber, they're about to tell you how they were jarred out of it?
Just before 4 A.M., Spawnling stirred and tugged at my shirt. I provided the calorie-burning goodness that is breastmilk, only then realizing that I really, really needed to visit the little goddesses' room. I managed to get him to sleep after what seemed like an eternity, at least to my bladder, and winced my way into the bathroom. Then I flushed. Oops. This was apparently a bad idea.
Back in bed with my eyes closed now, just drifting off...
Yes, the 'slumber' word is about to be used again. Let's just skip that.
The pitter patter of little feet could be heard somewhere in the house. My demons may have been released, but my gremlins are very much still present. Gutsy came into the room looking for something to drink.
Wonderful Geekster got Gutsy some water (say that three times fast). Half-asleep Gutsy decided the water wasn't good enough because it wasn't in the right cup.
Daddy don't play that. We decided a long time ago that we will not cater to tantrums based on ridiculous demands, such as the right cup in the middle of the night. Nuh-uh. No way.
As a result of our excellent parenting, Gutsy never went back to sleep. In fact, neither did we. Sure, we drifted in an out, but Spawnling, Geekster and I ended up listening to the sounds of preschooler television and random chatter from a now wide-awake Gutsy, telling us all about what he was watching and what he wanted to do later in the day.
Who in their right mind gets up at 4 A.M. for the entire day? Who? WHO?!
I had a lot of coffee today. A lot of coffee.
My brain is fried and I'm eating carrots, yoghurt and drinking water. I'm also watching the Senators kick the crap out of the Ducks. GO SENS GO!!
Hockey is even better when you're tired. However, instead of writing an essay like I'm supposed to, I'm blogging and watching the game. No cookies and no motivation. Go me.