making sick beats, by WitchIsWhichStitch on Etsy
This bedtime thing has been in full swing for two weeks now and it’s already paying off. How, you ask? Are my undereye circles gone? Am I filled with a renewed sense of vim and vigour? Do I leap out of bed every morning, eager to greet a new day?
No. Gross. Absolutely not. What the hell is vim and vigour anyway?
I still loathe bedtimes 80% of the time, and I think I will always loathe waking up. BUT, I must say, once I am in bed disgustingly early, and once I wake up, also disgustingly early, I love it. I do. Getting there is a battle, but I’ll be honest, it pays off. BUT, this isn’t a bedtime post. This is a post about how bedtime saved my ass (and my sheets, at least temporarily) the other night.
Gather ’round, children, for a real horror story, mom-style.
I lie to children now, apparently, so that’s a good thing to know about myself.
(It wasn’t even my child. why does that make it worse, somehow?)
Life has felt full lately, full to bursting. It’s the slowly growing sense of things picking up and shifting, inertia lifting.
After a slowwwww, hibernating, coming-back-to-life beginning to the year, I get the feeling that I’m going to be welcoming 2016 with some serious momentum behind me. That said, it’s a definite shift. I am still taking care of Olive full-time, but I have also been working as much as I can. It’s busy, and hectic, and I write so much that I burned the ‘m’ key right off my laptop and until my replacement key arrives and I somehow decipher how to install it, I have to copy an m from somewhere else and then ctrl-v it into the word. Capitals pose a particular problem. As does my mother-effing NAmE!
Sorry. I digress.
Life has changed pretty drastically in the last few months, so I thought it would be kind of fun (?) to give a mostly accurate rundown of what our days are like lately.
Get comfy, this is going to be loooong.
I have five siblings. We are all congregating at our cottage in Bobcaygeon, Ontario on Saturday. The past six weeks has been a haze of “Reply All” emails trying to coordinate arrival times, cars, meals, and sleeping arrangements. A week ago the emails escalated into the only thing my brother hates more than Apple products…the Group Text. Behold, this morning’s exchange – begun after Hilary sent out a meal schedule.
This is an actual conversation I had with Olive last week. The entire thing was conducted while I was in the bedroom and she was yelling at me from the living room. Enjoy.
(“Tooting” is basically the only baby talk word I have ever used. Please forgive me.)
Olive: Mummy did you hear that noise?
Me: No – what was it?
Olive: Did you toot?
Me: No – did you hear something that sounded like tooting?
Me: Did you hear something that sounded like tooting?
Me: Oh…OK then.
Olive: Did I toot?
Me: …I don’t know…did you?
Olive: No! I didn’t!
Me: OK…so why are you asking?
Olive: Why I am asking? What I am asking?
Me: Asking who tooted.
Olive: Who tooted? Who tooted?!
Me: I don’t know!
Me: I said I don’t know!
Olive: It wasn’t you?
Me: Nope. Did you hear something that sounded like tooting? Why are you asking about this?
Olive: I don’t know!
Me: *laughing* OK then!
Olive: You didn’t toot?
Me: NO! I didn’t toot! You didn’t toot! No one tooted!
Olive: So what did make that noise?
Me: What noise?
Me: What noise?
Olive: WHAT noise?
Me: The noise that sounded like a toot!
Olive: You TOOTED?