Christmas Day Steam of Consciousness

It's Christmas Day. My house looks like a My Little Pony bomb went off in here. It's the last Christmas where there's only one kid to please. Well that's not true, next year the baby will only be six months old so I guess they'll still be pretty easily amused. I'll just take all the empty boxes from Kid #1's toys and give them to Kid #2 to play with. So very efficient! Right now, for coming up with that plan, some of you are thinking I'm really mean and some are thinking I'm a fucking genius. You're all correct.

I haven't updated here in nearly three weeks. Dudes. The pregnancy fatigue. It's awful! I'm not sure if it's worse this time around of if I just feel it more because I didn't have another kid to look after last time. Never take the opportunity to nap for granted, people! Anyway, because of the long, long silence I've decided to just type whatever pops into my head for 10 minutes. If you're wondering how much of this you're going to have to endure, I started four minutes ago.

The pregnancy books say I can't feel the baby move yet. The pregnancy books lie. At night when things are very quiet and still I feel little bumps, like a goldfish bumping into the side of the bowl as it swims. I've seen this little critter doing backflips on an ultrasound screen, so I know he/she is a live one. I was thrilled. The ultrasound tech, who needed to take precise measurements, was less impressed. Speaking of he/she, the question we're being asked most often is whether or not we're going to find out the sex when we can. The answer is hell yes! Some express disappointment, "Oh, you don't want to wait for a surprise?" 1. I loathe and despise surprises; 2. It's not going to be much of a surprise, I'm expecting to hear boy or girl. If I find out it's a kangaroo THAT will be a surprise.

It occurs to me that I'm no longer a very good typist. That's a human failing I'm going to learn to live with. Merry Christmas everyone!

Sleeping like a baby

Whoever coined the phrase "sleeping like a baby" clearly did not have a baby. Babies sleep like shit, and so do their parents. But the parents of three year olds? Other than an earlier than desired wake up time once in a while, we often get to sleep like... I don't know, pick something that sleeps better than babies, i.e., any other creature on the planet. You get spoiled. That wonderful dreamland gives you a false sense of security, like this is how your life is going to be, forever and ever. Amen.

And then one day you go pick up your kid at daycare and she's sitting on the lap of one of the teachers, looking like one sad, sick little girl. You immediately make the call to go straight to the walk-in clinic where an ear infection is diagnosed. The doctor looks at you as though you're neglectful when you mention that said kid said her ear was hurting on Saturday but you decided to take a "wait and see" approach because there was no fever, leading you to believe it was the congestion of a cold leading to her discomfort. This same doctor looked at you like a hypochondriac last time you were there with the child and a sore ear, and scolded you saying you shouldn't bring her in unless there's a fever. There's just no pleasing that bitch. You want to tell her to take her condescension and shove it, but think better of it because you don't have the prescription in hand. What kind of example would that set for the child anyway?

A week goes by, the child recovers but the excitement of a long weekend further disrupts what you now laughingly call the sleep schedule. You look back wistfully at that time, lo one week and a few days ago, when you knew what it was like to have an uninterrupted night's sleep that did not abruptly end at the ass crack of dawn with a plaintive call for mommy. Then someone at work offhandedly mentions that they "slept like a baby" on the weekend, and you launch into a tirade remarkably similar to the one above, leaving them with a rather bewildered expression. "Sleeping like a baby," you mutter as you walk away. "What a crock of shit THAT is."

The one where she gives free writing a try

15 minutes of whatever comes to mind for me? Man, that could be dangerous! I presume that's supposed to mean no filter, but I just don't think the world is ready for me with no filter.

Christmas Day is over, but it will carry on for at least three more days as we finish off the holiday visits. We're not a religious household, so I'm not quite sure about the messaging here for The Parasite. Christmas means you show up at a bunch of different people's houses and get presents! That can't be right... I'm sure I'll come up with something more clever by the time she gets around to asking the question. Maybe she won't? Kids are good at just rolling with things. Especially when presents are involved.

In a couple of weeks I'm going on my first Girls' Weekend away since I became a mom. No husbands, no kids, just some fun in the sun. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm also dreading being so far away from my baby. I know she's nearly three, but she'll always be MY baby. It'll be a great bonding experience for her and for The Husband. She's been on a real "Mommy do it" kick for the last few weeks and it's getting impractical. For example, last weekend I was upstairs folding laundry, The Husband was in the kitchen making breakfast. She came UPSTAIRS to ask me to get her a drink. From the kitchen. *sigh* These phases are normal and it will be Daddy's turn soon enough, but I'm kind of hoping a few days on their own will hurry things along a little.

Wow. Five minutes to go. Who knew a time period so short could seem so long? Of course, we're up for the day so that 15 minutes has actually been broken up into several chunks of a few minutes each, but I have been keeping track of how long I have been going at each interval. Maybe that's cheating? I dunno. I can't remember the last time I had 15 uninterrupted minutes, but I imagine it was before April 2009. I may sound like I'm complaining about it, but I'm really not. Watching this kid crouch down like a jaguar along with Dora is worth all the interruptions in the world.

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #32 - 15 Minute Free Write.  For more info about GBE,  click here. 

Stream of Consciousness: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

I've seen a few of the stream of consciousness posts. The deal is you're supposed to set a timer and write for five minutes, no editing, just go. But I write stuff for a living in my day job. I... can't turn off the inner editor. This is my best shot.

I have had the theme for National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation stuck in my head for two days now. Surely it's some kind of sign. Are distant relatives going to show up on my doorstep with an obnoxious dog this year? Will my tree catch fire? Will a large icicle from our eavestrough careen through our super yuppie neighbour's window? Because we DO have a couple rather like Julia Louis-Dreyfuss and whatever the guy who played her husband's name was two doors down.

Someone will get drunk (let's face it, probably me) someone will cry over dinner (probably The Parasite) and someone will probably completely blow their stack. You might think that'll be The Husband, but no, me again! Wow, it's hard to focus for five minutes. Also, I'm a really lousy typist. How many words a minute is this? 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 - TIME'S UP!