Greetings, blog readers. It is just slightly after 11pm on Sunday and I have a somewhat bitchy Spawnling on my lap.
What's that? You think it's impossible for a newborn to be bitchy? Come again? You think it's downright rude and unmotherly for me to refer to my child as bitchy? Well, allow me to elaborate: Newborns are little people, are they not? And by 'little people' I don't mean the politically-correct-but-not-really-anymore-but-maybe-still-because-TLC-uses-it term for people born with dwarfism. I mean it in the literal sense (although I suppose both ways are literal...). Babies are little - or small - people. People get bitchy. Thus, why can't a newborn be bitchy? And have you spent any evenings with the Horned Wonder? Bitchy. Have you met his mother (that would be me, in case there's any confusion)? Beet-chay.
I rest my case.
Not only can recently arrived human citizens be bitchy, but near-four-year-olds can have incredily evil and sweet thoughts within moments of each other. Case in point: Gutsy hits his brother in the side of the face with a pretend sword (I would like to mention that I didn't purchase said sword, but that also it wouldn't matter, as young males will turn even cotton balls into weapons if given a chance). We then settle in to view Ghostbusters II - Intrepid's new favourite movie - and watch as Dana Barrett is locked in a cell of sorts, looking on helplessly as her baby is about to become the new spawn of evil (highly unrealistic, as I am the proud mother of the only three spawns of evil). Gutsy turns to Geekster and says 'Dad, someone should buy that lady a present because she misses her baby. It would make her feel better.'
Good on you, Gutsy. Nothing cures a mother's ache for her child, but some bling doesn't hurt. I bet if your future wife is blue because you have to put little Gutsy Jr. in daycare, buying her a new diamond Rolex will make her worry a bit less about how circle time is going.
It's been a busy weekend. Friday night involved my regularly scheduled 12 step meeting, followed by a visit with Lushgurl and Devilchild. They gave me pizza and played with my baby while I did a poor job of explaining how a blog works. But you know, she has one now and she posts to it. Once you read it, you'll understand that all my friends are deranged and that's how we relate to each other so well. It's a beautiful thing.
This sparked a domino effect with frightening consequences. I started a blog out of sheer boredom and in hopes of *snicker* becoming a real live writer who makes real live money one day. Jobthingy, being the amazing and incredibly bored friend that she is, started to read this trash and comment to it. Then Impossible Mom and, eventually, Lushgurl started their own blogs, leaving Jobthingy in an absolute tizzy because she couldn't comment to their blogs because she's not a blogspot member.
Have you ever worked in a call center? Well, I have, but it was way, way before blogs. I only lasted six months. The reason? There were no blogs. I don't know how someone can answer the same stupid questions all day, every day, without mindless junk to read and comment on. Blogs were created for people who work mundane jobs, like I once did and like Jobthingy does now. So while she was thrilled at having two new blogs to read, it drove her batty not to be able to waste yet more time and comment on them.
Thus, Jobthingy started her own blog. Naturally, I'm afraid, but I must read. You must read, too.
Wow, that was a lot of crap to go through just to explain that two of my friends have new blogs. You know you're a new mom with nothing to talk about when...
The bitchiness has subsided. My baby really likes his Neglect-o-Matic (read: Gutsy's old car seat turned bouncy chair), it seems. I only put him in it when I'm trying to type and he gets fussy. That's maybe once a day if we're lucky and it appears to be a special treat because of it. He's watching the screen intently, sucking happily on his pacifier and hugging his blanket. He's way too cute to be mine, you know.
Oh, and last night we slept from - get this - midnight until 8:30am. And he slept happily in the restaurant while we had brunch, then through most of our Walmart trip to get Gutsy some winter boots (not surprisingly, I wait until the first significant snowfall to think about getting my children ready for winter). I love this boy. I shall keep him even though he pukes on me a lot.
Anyway, I've neglected my three-week-old long enough. Time to find some awful Sunday night, made-for-television movie and settle into the recliner for the evening. Tomorrow morning I shall check out everyone's posts from this weekend. Is it sad that I'm looking forward to it?
What's that? You think it's impossible for a newborn to be bitchy? Come again? You think it's downright rude and unmotherly for me to refer to my child as bitchy? Well, allow me to elaborate: Newborns are little people, are they not? And by 'little people' I don't mean the politically-correct-but-not-really-anymore-but-maybe-still-because-TLC-uses-it term for people born with dwarfism. I mean it in the literal sense (although I suppose both ways are literal...). Babies are little - or small - people. People get bitchy. Thus, why can't a newborn be bitchy? And have you spent any evenings with the Horned Wonder? Bitchy. Have you met his mother (that would be me, in case there's any confusion)? Beet-chay.
I rest my case.
Not only can recently arrived human citizens be bitchy, but near-four-year-olds can have incredily evil and sweet thoughts within moments of each other. Case in point: Gutsy hits his brother in the side of the face with a pretend sword (I would like to mention that I didn't purchase said sword, but that also it wouldn't matter, as young males will turn even cotton balls into weapons if given a chance). We then settle in to view Ghostbusters II - Intrepid's new favourite movie - and watch as Dana Barrett is locked in a cell of sorts, looking on helplessly as her baby is about to become the new spawn of evil (highly unrealistic, as I am the proud mother of the only three spawns of evil). Gutsy turns to Geekster and says 'Dad, someone should buy that lady a present because she misses her baby. It would make her feel better.'
Good on you, Gutsy. Nothing cures a mother's ache for her child, but some bling doesn't hurt. I bet if your future wife is blue because you have to put little Gutsy Jr. in daycare, buying her a new diamond Rolex will make her worry a bit less about how circle time is going.
It's been a busy weekend. Friday night involved my regularly scheduled 12 step meeting, followed by a visit with Lushgurl and Devilchild. They gave me pizza and played with my baby while I did a poor job of explaining how a blog works. But you know, she has one now and she posts to it. Once you read it, you'll understand that all my friends are deranged and that's how we relate to each other so well. It's a beautiful thing.
This sparked a domino effect with frightening consequences. I started a blog out of sheer boredom and in hopes of *snicker* becoming a real live writer who makes real live money one day. Jobthingy, being the amazing and incredibly bored friend that she is, started to read this trash and comment to it. Then Impossible Mom and, eventually, Lushgurl started their own blogs, leaving Jobthingy in an absolute tizzy because she couldn't comment to their blogs because she's not a blogspot member.
Have you ever worked in a call center? Well, I have, but it was way, way before blogs. I only lasted six months. The reason? There were no blogs. I don't know how someone can answer the same stupid questions all day, every day, without mindless junk to read and comment on. Blogs were created for people who work mundane jobs, like I once did and like Jobthingy does now. So while she was thrilled at having two new blogs to read, it drove her batty not to be able to waste yet more time and comment on them.
Thus, Jobthingy started her own blog. Naturally, I'm afraid, but I must read. You must read, too.
Wow, that was a lot of crap to go through just to explain that two of my friends have new blogs. You know you're a new mom with nothing to talk about when...
The bitchiness has subsided. My baby really likes his Neglect-o-Matic (read: Gutsy's old car seat turned bouncy chair), it seems. I only put him in it when I'm trying to type and he gets fussy. That's maybe once a day if we're lucky and it appears to be a special treat because of it. He's watching the screen intently, sucking happily on his pacifier and hugging his blanket. He's way too cute to be mine, you know.
Oh, and last night we slept from - get this - midnight until 8:30am. And he slept happily in the restaurant while we had brunch, then through most of our Walmart trip to get Gutsy some winter boots (not surprisingly, I wait until the first significant snowfall to think about getting my children ready for winter). I love this boy. I shall keep him even though he pukes on me a lot.
Anyway, I've neglected my three-week-old long enough. Time to find some awful Sunday night, made-for-television movie and settle into the recliner for the evening. Tomorrow morning I shall check out everyone's posts from this weekend. Is it sad that I'm looking forward to it?