Right about when the clinic physician helped me up off the floor, after she confirmed I was pregnant, so began the nine months of these unforgettable comments: “You will sacrifice more than you ever thought was possible.” “This will not only change your life but your perspective more so.” “Get ready to make decisions you never thought you’d make.” All of these side comments left me defiant. Me? Change? Right. I will find a way to stay me, stay the course of my dreams; this is not going to change me. I won’t let this define me. That was the mantra playing in my head while everyone else around me spouted off endless repetitious renditions of the above comments. You see, for me change…
Posts by khuyghebaert
Well, if reminding myself was not sufficient then my email was going to start helping. I recently received mail berating me for paying for a service I was not actively using … Hello Blog! I’ve missed you, you quietly ass-pummeling emotionally-tolling-if-left-un-updated thing, you! I don’t exactly know where writer-me went, but I’ll break it down for you – it is like when Jonah started crawling someone mixed his sweet personality with vile piss and vinegar, filled him to the brim with sugar laced with LSD, while giving me no new tools to tackle motherhood now that I was technically the mother of a toddler. Fuck me “Toddlers” do a lot more than toddle. The last few months have not just “flown by” … they’ve…
It strikes me as funny that every time I walk into a restaurant with hubby, baby, diaper bag and wet naps, I always feel like I’m walking into a great battle. My aim toward the enemy line with my arsenal of weapons in hand only too aware that I am one of many that will likely be the first to fall. You will have to excuse me, I just watched “The Patriot” on television with the Hubby the other day, and being Canadian we did the only thing we know how to do: politely mock the American-way of retelling supposed “American History” you know, in our own way, over a cup and saucer with a few biscuits and a serviette. But the truth is,…
Well, we are officially four days into this goddamn heat wave and I have miraculously managed to not hog-tie the kid or worse, maim him. After all I can’t blame global warming, the sun, or the position of our apartment – which receives no air or breeze at all, ever – on the mini Huygh. Therefore, I can’t in good conscience do anything to him as he wails in this 30 degree weather because he and I are two peas in one seriously boiling pod. At the very least I understand his frustration and that quells my rage – lucky for him. Now, I know complaining about 30 degree heat waves isn’t going to sit well with all my readers because many of you…
To give you an accurate idea of what state my house is in, I’ll tell you that as I write this I can detect the smell of baby poop wafting around. I have neglected to throw out a dirty diaper and left it to warm in the summer sun on our dining room table. Yes, this is the dedication I have to the craft of writing. I knew it was now or never, so poop and its potent nostril attack strategy be damed. It is time to blog! I’ve just put our son down to nap and it brought to mind a story for your enjoyment. It is an account on our recent battles with sleep and getting our son to stop disrespecting this,…
In truth it has been difficult to blog recently. I’d love to use my usual excuse, the every-popular, “How can I write, I have a screaming, pooping ankle biter running around!” But, the truth is, I could find time during the baby’s naps or on the (few and far between) evenings when Hubby is home. There is nothing I enjoy more than sticking him with the baby as I say “Your sperm and stupidity made this, now parent damn you.” He never complains, in fact he usually smiles and says to a wriggling Jo in his arms, “Ah, hello my son, your mom is crazy. Let’s continue your education, say … Yo-da. Yo-Daaaa.” At this point once Jeff is distracted with trying to get…
Our son Jonah started crawling at the beginning of month nine. He was tentative about it for thirty seconds, cried two or three times when he fell or bumped his head, however; cut to a week later he was this motoring, crawling, climbing mini shit storm. And, here I thought it would be a slow development taking months and months – ah no. No, no no no. No. He is no longer a blissfully stationary infant. He is a toddler who thinks he’s a man destined to be an explorer. My son does what he wants, when he wants to and he will crawl over you to get to the dog food any day of the week. Feet in your face? Yes. Uses your…
