Wednesday, 4 December 2013

Remember When I Used To Blog? Me Neither.

Oh blogging.

I remember you well. I used to have things to say. I observed shit, you know. Nothing escaped me. NOTHING. But now...oh, but now. These days a thought will cross my mind and I'll think, "Hey I should blog about that!" Then I stare at my computer, contemplate devoting precious free-time (courtesy of nap-time) to formulating coherent sentences, then think screw it and lie on the couch and read.

So why am blogging now? I have nothing to say at the moment. Seriously, nothing. However, I have a burst of energy and plenty of free-time because it's 12:30 a.m. and I made a very poor decision at 9:30 p.m. involving my advent tea calendar, a strong cup of Darjeeling tea, and a decadent spoonful of Nutella. What the fuck was I thinking? Not about the spoonful of Nutella--naturally--but rather that cup of Darjeeling tea. I couldn't resist it, though. My advent tea calendar is the best thing ever, and so far I've enjoyed three wonderful days of different surprise teas. However, they are admittedly supposed to be enjoyed in the morning...not a half hour before bedtime.

Le sigh.

So I'm rattling about the house like a ghost of Christmas past, irritated that I can't fall asleep, but enjoying the warm glow of the twinkle lights that hang in our windows and fill the living room with a soft amber radiance. In case you can't tell, that means we have decorated the apartment for Christmas.

We did this on Sunday, which upon reflection was a jam-packed day. In the morning we bundled up our LB in all her winter gear and braved the frigid cold (it was -1...I realise...I'm the wimpiest) and went up to our village's Christmas market. We looked at the craft booths, chugged some mulled wine that was extra warm--read, naughty--courtesy of that shot of schnapps, ate some churros, and bought LB a massive helium balloon that was shaped like a horse. She loved it.

Remember when life was so simple that an inflated piece of plastic was the stuff dreams were made of?

After LB napped we busted out our two bins of Christmas decorations and set about making our place feel cheery while we sipped hot chocolate that was spiked with Bailey's. 'Tis the season!

(To find any way to put booze in anything.)

LB wasn't that into the Christmas decorating, and instead every time we set something out she went and grabbed it and tried to put it back in the bin. Toddlers, man: they are hardwired for organisation.

"I will take it out, then put it back in again. Out, but then back in. Out...BUT THEN BACK IN SERIOUSLY DON'T EVEN TRY TO STOP ME THIS MUST GO BACK IN THE BOX."

Dan is hoping that she continues to feel this keenly about putting things away for years to come. He insists it's her Swiss genes shining through. He's blaming the screaming on her Canadian genes, though. Because oh yeah...she is still a screamer.

This is not looking like a phase, but rather....I THINK THIS IS HOW SHE IS.

Hold me.

On Monday we went to Ikea with a friend, and LB was babbling away in her highchair while she ate her tomato pasta and some of my Swedish meatballs. However, I was chatting with my friend and LB decided she wasn't getting the attention that was required for this fascinating tale she was telling me about Babble-on (GET IT) so she just let one rip. One loud, ear shattering, piercing, PAY ATTENTION TO ME RIGHT NOW DAMN YOU ALL, scream. My friend (who has a two year old) stopped mid-sentence, looked at me, and said, "You're screwed. That's a big personality in a little body." Then she laughed and laughed in a "glad it's you and not me" kind of way.

We know.

Oh, we know.

Yet, and pardon me while I get quite mother-ish and cliché, she's a wonder. I know I probably should be trying to figure out how to curb the screaming, but it's just fascinating for me to watch her turning into a little person and realise that right now, this day, today, if she screams everyone will stop and pay attention to her. Which is all she wants.

Also, and this has nothing to do with anything, she calls me Mimi and it's the cutest. She is of course saying 'Mommy' but she draws it out like, "Mmii-mmii." She also says: Daddy, What's that?, Uppy (when she wants up), and she can moo like a cow and do the "EE-I-EE-I-O" course to Old MacDonald Had A Farm.

Yes, it's fair to say we are quite smitten and firmly believe she is the most amazing baby on the planet, ever, in the history of babies.

Which is just as it should be.

However, all that said, she is also the most exhausting person around, which is why I'm so annoyed (yet also amazed) at the power of that cup of Darjeeling, because most days I feel like you could drip caffeine through a central line and I wouldn't be 100% awake.

Yet here I am...AT 12:46 A.M. WIDE AWAKE.

Take note, anyone who needs to be awake: Darjeeling tea will get the job done.

Effectively.


 

1 comment:

T said...

Haha, I hate the feeling that I'm gambling every time I have something with caffeine in it! Glad to see you're around still, I definitely understand how you feel about not being able to think coherently these days. I can imagine it doesn't get much easier as they get older and need more attention. Miss you Caitie!