Another afternoon has devolved into me wasting time watching TV while the washing machine hums behind me. I’m preparing myself and hubby by making sure the household chores are finished before baby’s arrival. But, I’m sure I get more television watched than cleaning done, in all honesty – but I believe it is the thought that counts, yes? We are actually, however slowly, getting the odd jobs done. The closets have been cleaned out and organized, the furniture has been rearranged and arranged once again, and room after room is getting the once over with the sanitizer and the elbow grease. Little by little, I’m putting a lot of old me away to make room for the little one who will need their own…
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I have learned there is such a thing as too much honesty. If you decided to go to Lamaze classes, which is beaten into you as being paramount in importance, then you hear me all too well. If the goal of those classes is to calm and collect you, then I’m obviously the odd one out. I felt calm learning the breathing, I felt happy when Hubby learned about massage techniques and I was even peaceful during the video of the screaming, writhing birthing woman. Somehow, the idea of labour pain doesn’t unnerve me. My mother never coddled me if I fell or scratched a knee. She would say, “You’re OK chicky,” and I’d say “Yeah, I’m OK.” That kind of upbringing combined with…
Most members of my clan would say at this juncture that 2012 has been a cursed year. There must have been a crack in the sky and rather than the open hand reaching down, as Bowie would say, there was a tight fist that punched, pummelled and pounded relentlessly. We still don’t know if the attack is really over of course; remember we are only six months into the year. I feel as though stress has broken out and spread like an oceanic oil spill all over my life. And just like the environmental clean-ups that follow a natural disaster like the tragic and life-suffocating oil spill, you know that after it is all said and done that the affected ecosystem is never, ever…
Dear readers, I may have new information on how little nasty baby came to be. Now to settle the stomachs of my kin, no this is not a blog about sexy stuff in fact it is a blog about pretty much the opposite of all that. I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to The Disgustingtons. I recently headed up to the interior to visit my parents and to peruse Vernon’s yearly chaotic craft extravaganza the appropriately named “Creative Chaos,” because of the sheer magnitude of people. People with babies. People with babies and strollers. People with babies and strollers, zero manners or group-setting etiquette. T’was a delightful weekend back in my hometown of nineteen years, but by the time I hit…
