It’s been one of those days. Baby has grown over an inch in a week and for some reason, he is just not happy today. Sparky is out with him right now in the carrier getting some much needed air so that I could get some quiet.
Now for a random walk through my brain.
I have had an on-going headache for the last week or so. I finally remembered that I could take Tylenol only to find the lone Tylenol product in the house for adults was in the form of suppositories. Yeah. The headache was that bad.
I overheard Sparky call someone “Love” when he answered the phone yesterday. I waited politely until he got off (the phone) to give him the third degree, Massana style. You know to quietly and calmly ask why he was calling some ho slut bitch “Love” on the phone when I could barely get any fucking sleep and I’m so sick of that facebook Mafia Wars he plays and oh my god, how did he find time to call some other woman Love when I need him around the fucking house. Turns out it wasn’t “Love”, but Olaf. Yeah. I had to eat that one.
I have a new destructive habit. Not new, but since pregnancy. I cannot get enough Wint-O-Green lifesavers or ice. I’m chewing my tooth enamel off, but I just can’t stop. I found a crack dealer Wint-O-Green supplier here in Germany and when I ordered FIVE bags of the Wint-O, they sent me an extra bag free like a good crack dealer should. They are going to make so much money off of me.
I have, in the meantime, shot my wad at the local McDonald’s asking for extra ice. They won’t do it anymore, citing, I kid you not, hygienic reasons. It’s not hygienic to give me extra ice in my cola light. As pissed as I am about it, I’m mostly sad because they had the good chewing ice, little pellets of coldness that had a good cold to softness ratio that only an ice chewer can appreciate.
Note to self: Don’t make triple decadence brownies, say they’re for Sparky and then leave them on the counter. Less than 24 hours later they’re gone and Sparky doesn’t like chocolate. Who ate THE ENTIRE PAN ’cause it sure as hell wasn’t me?
Enter Kung Pao Cat aka Ollie. He’s about to become Chinese food. We, Sparky and I, are now completely trained to wake up at 4 am by the sound of paws on the dresser pull. Cling clang and one of us is up to “protect the sleeping baby” and feeding said Sichuan entree. I have tried spraying the little fucker with water, but he seems to enjoy that, even so much as walking up to me, mid spray and licking from the bottle. After his meal, he comes back to the bedroom, sits on my head and washes his unmentionables. I wish I could blame the brownies on KPC, but sadly, I cannot.
We have tried locking him out of the bedroom, locking him in the laundry room or Max’s room, but his wails are just as piercing as Max’s and it doesn’t work for long. He opens doors or he throws himself so hard against the walls that he changes his molecular composition and phases through them. I swear that cat has opposable thumbs.
Speaking of cats: Scrunchy, after three weeks of collar wearing which translates into three weeks of not being able to lick any part of himself which translates into one smelly cat, has finally lost the collar. It was sadly amusing to watch him walk into door jambs and walls because he wasn’t used to the width of the collar.
I am a mean, mean lady.
He spent 5 hours doing his laundry the moment the collar was tossed. Then he spent the next 19 hours sitting morosely on the Boppy as he had discovered that not only did we take his testicles long ago, but now his penis was gone too. No more slurp, slurp in the middle of the night.
My dad and brother have finally bought their plane tickets. As of October 1st, they’ll be here in Krautland. I can’t wait. They are going to be muling some serious shit this time. I’m talking Splenda AND Crystal Light. Perhaps an exersaucer as I cannot find one here in this damn country. Sure, I can find walkers galore, but not an exersaucer to save my life. I’m sure if it had some sort of homeopathic property I could find it in every corner apotheke.
Hey Graco, just say that your Baby Einstein exersaucer has that Bachblueten crap in it, add a little water and bam, a whole new market.
Jeff, I have finally figured out, is pretty serious about his current girlfriend whom I have never met. I asked for her e-mail address and he gave it to me, just like that.
I was floored.
He never allows me contact his girlfriends unless it is court-ordered and supervised. I don’t know why, I’m always very nice and cordial. It might have to do with my simple observation that his previous girlfriend was over 21 and still drinking pink wine, but I was very nice about it.
It might have been the time I asked one of his girlfriends if her mother knew she was out that late (she was a bit on the young side). Or it could have been the no purple nail polish rule – he should not date women who wore purple nail polish. I wanted to make the no Aquanet rule too, but that might have been taking it too far.
Anyway, she seems way cool and Jeff is very happy. So I’m happy for him. He totally deserves to be as happy as all us other married people. Ha.
And that, my friends brings my free time to an end. Max is gently calling me.
“Mother. Oh Mother, please pick me up as soon as you’ve finished with whatever important task you are about. I can wait patiently for you here in the nest that I’m too big for but refuse to sleep anywhere else except next to your boobies.”
I know that’s what he means by his hysterical screams. Moms know these sorts of things. I believe its the brain damage from lack of sleep or the ear damage from the screaming or a combination of both, like the powerful cleaning combination ammonia and bleach.
And the coloured girls go:
Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo…