Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Thursday, November 23, 2006
My mom had just gone out and purchased an artificial Christmas tree. It has all the latest bells and whistles, pre-lit with 6 billion "warm" white LED lights which is this year’s model and to boot the tree is a slim fit. About the only thing that will be slim this holiday. Anyway, she was telling me that my dad and she had to put up the tree immediately as she wanted to be sure the lights were all working and that it was indeed a "slim" tree. She was told that the store policy was 14 days for a return and being that this was only the second week of November it left her no choice but to perform an early test launch. She said that the tree was beautiful and a snap to put up only 20 minutes start to finish. This made me laugh as I started to have random flashback images of Christmas past.
Some families made the picking out of a tree a real family event, a joyful celebration, a cherished tradition. I picture them with their clothes laid out the night before...little Johnny may have even slept in his. The family would awake that crisp and sunny Saturday and hop in the station wagon for a drive into the country where they would come upon their beloved tree farm. Oh the children would shout for joy, "we're here, we're here" and mom and dad would join hands and embrace the glory. They would hop out of the wagon and make there way up to a barn that had been transformed into Christmas in 1920's. Inside would be an old wood burning fire, the smell of fresh pine and cider in the air. Around would be little hand made decorations and bake goods for sale. That wee family would stroll arm in arm out back to a field where the most perfect trees grew. Just then a flurry of snow and a warm light in the distance...hark our tree. The family running up to the tree, "this is it kids", dad would proclaim and the good sir would cut it down and wrap it up. Everyone piles back into the wagon, with cider in hand and a glow in there hearts.
Beautiful isn't it....cut to real life and I don't mean to insult anyone who for them this story is reality. You are just getting better drugs and counselling then my family got. Kudos’ to you!
The story "Christmas Vacation", with Chevy Chase was more my style. The houses that we grew up in typically had a space that would accommodate a fairly large tree. I say houses because we moved like we were in witness protection, but that is another blog.
As fair as most of the memories go, dad brought home a large real tree, it was lit and decorated to the tits and not much out of the ordinary. That is until silver shadow. That was the name of a street we lived on. I will remember that tree trimming for the rest of my life.
Please note the following is based on a true story, the content may seem truer than life, but rest assured it is strictly fact.
It was a week before Christmas I think I was 15. We had been talking about when and where we were going to get a tree. We were living in a multi levelled town home where the dining room looked over the living room in an open concept style. All thought the ceilings were 29 feet in the living room the actual footage was small. My dad who had been into the festive egg nog states that he will go get a tree. 3 hours later he returns with the mother of all trees. It would have been excessive for a shopping mall let alone our living room. Although he has never admitted it, I am convinced that my dad when to a tree lot and being from the great white north was disgusted by what they considered to be a tree and I am sure he was shocked that he was expected to "buy" one of God's trees, so he went for a little stroll and cut down his own tree. My mother's face when he arrived home with this wild tree, I will never forget. It hung 6 feet off each end of the minivan! The fight started then. My mother wanted to know, where he got a tree that size, where the hell he thought he was going to put a tree that size and what the hell was he thinking. There were 14 steps up from the foyer to the living room and I remember watching my father pull this damn tree up the stairs and it just kept on coming. When he reached the living room the top of the tree was still in the foyer. He dropped that tree in the middle of the living room/stairwell and I know I did a lot of drugs, but that was the biggest fucking Christmas tree I'd seen outside of Nathan Phillips Square. I just stood there Gob smacked as my father enlisted my help in standing up this tree. For the size of it, it was not terribly heavy and as we stood it up I understood why. Clearly my father had picked this sucker out in the pitch of night. There were holes in the tree that would house small families, not to mention the odd nest that my father proclaimed to be old and abandoned. I remember my mother standing there with her mouth wide open, it seemed like forever before she said something. Maybe she was looking for the right words, or reasoning for marrying the festive little man that stood before her then it happened. "For fuck sakes Tom, Jesus Christ. It has holes; there are holes in the tree. And how the fuck does anyone get the angle on top of that fucking situation"? My mom is the cutest little thing ever, all 4 feet 10 inches of her! I knew then it would be a Christmas to remember. My father had asked me to hold the truck of the tree as we were standing it up and I was still holding it when he let go and walked over to see it from my mom's perspective. "Well it's a little tall but I will trim it and the holes will fill in once I untie it and let her settle".
Yep, this thing was still tied up and the fresh sap was adhering my arm to it. My dad walking down the stairs on the way to the garage asks where we keep the tree stand. My mother is following him assuring him that we do not own a tree stand that will house a tree of that size. I can hear them bickering all the way down the stairs and out the house! I waited a few minutes and then began to get the impression that they were not returning. After an hour my brother appears, let’s not get into the look on his 9 year old face. I ask him where mom and dad are. He says, "They had a fight. Dad is tearing the garage apart and mom is at the neighbour’s house having "egg nog".
So I am stuck to the fucking tree, which is getting heavy. I send my brother out for help and soon my dad returns. He lifts the tree into a 20 litre paint bucket and fills it with water and rocks. Of course when he starts to untie the tree it turns out to be too wide and tree starts to tip. So there was some trimming and then the tree was secured to the wall at two points using heavy gauge wire. After a few more festive egg nogs, my dad decided to tackle my mother’s issue with the tree being too tall for her angel and to shut her up lopped off the top of the tree!
Yep, it took about 1000 large lights, decorations the size of grapefruit and a Christmas table cloth for a tree skirt, and so what if we could only sit on one section of an L couch, in the end she really sparkled on Christmas morning!
I believe we have had an artificial tree and dad has given up the egg nog since then so now we can all sit back and have a good laugh at our Griswald's family Christmas.
Happy tree shopping!
Sunday, November 12, 2006
This is a plead to all mothers...Please let your little boys be little boys. Please allow them to flick boogies at each other, run wild through mud, make forts out of anything they can get their hands on and give them a pack of gum once in a while.
Today hubby and I are driving along in our automobile, just having a nice family drive along the lakeshore. Every once in a while I notice hubby checking himself in the rear view mirror. The first couple of times I didn't think much of it. I figured that he maybe checking baby or his teeth. When I finally asked, "what is wrong"? He replies, "What, nothing I am just checking my mouth".
We continued to drive along when out of my peripheral vision I see something drop down his front and he quickly picks it up and places it back in his mouth. I think I may have been in mid story telling and let it pass, but I know I saw it at that time. Then it happens again and I turn to look and stop talking. He is quickly trying to get his gum back into his mouth.
Me: what the hell
Me: Is this your first time?
Hubby: What, first time with what?
Me: GUM! Is this your first time with gum?
Hubby: ha. aha ha...no.
It drops out again onto his lap. He picks it up and throws it into his mouth and as I turn to look out my window and shake my head in complete disbelief that I have married this idiot, I hear this hork from the back of his throat. He is now choking on the God damn gum.
Me: Are you fucking kidding me
Hubby: aha...haha...ha, you heard that? I was trying to not choke...more laughter.
Me: Seriously, what the hell are you doing?
Hubby: I am trying to make my gum really long...cut to image of my dumbass driver looking in his rear view at the gum on his tongue, saying not very long yet.
Me: What has your mother done to you.
Please Baby girl could handle a piece of gum better and she only has 2 teeth. By 32, one should be able to chew gum and drive. Moreover, one should be able to lengthen a piece of gum over a half inch for Christ sake. I could rope one down to my tits and manage to keep it in my mouth.
I cannot wait for this week when he takes a day off and I find him eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a fort in our living room.
Clearly I am a mother of 2!
As one ages you tend to look back on your childhood and recall times of joy, the silly things that you did with the family. The traditions you had at the holiday and the many little quirks that made your family what it was.
I really enjoy baking. I find it challenging, satisfying and therapeutic. Since my Nana (dad's mom) has passed I find when I am baking and using her recipes I am able to be close to her again. I credit both my grandmothers for my love of baking, but that is where the similarities end and the quirks begin.
Recently I was making buttertarts at my aunts home in Winnipeg and I was reminded of the times I would bake with my other grandmother, my mom's mom who for a lack of better words was a complete whack job! When you are living your childhood things just seem normal, that is until you are old enough to compare yourself and your experiences with the outside world and realize maybe not so much with the normal.
I am the oldest of three children, my sister is 4 years and my brother is 6 years younger then myself. My sibling and I would often bake with the whack job, as she lived with us. We'd make wonderful goodies like jam filled cookies, muffins and cakes and have a grand time doing it.
We would all be off playing when you'd hear whack job shout out, "Who wants to bake...run and get your panties"! We would drop everything, jump up and in giggles of excitement cry, "I do, I do"! We would run down the hall as fast as our tiny legs would take us. At the oldest I would have been 8 or 9. Most kids would be tearing of towards the kitchen, but we were rushing off to our bedrooms. We would scramble into our rooms, pull open our dresser drawers and grab ourselves a crisp pair of white cotton panties and then tear off to the kitchen where whack job was eagerly waiting. She would start getting the baking items ready, my brother and sister would pull up chairs to kneel on and all together we would stand at the counter, wide eyed bubbling enthusiasm with our panties on our heads!
Yep, panties on our heads...Quirky! Whack job had a strict set of regulations when it came to working in the kitchen.
- Hands must be washed with warm water and lots of soap. Remember in between fingers, back and front, and under your nails.
- All dishes, surfaces and accessories must be clean before starting. We do not bake or cook in a dirty kitchen.
- No hair touching, playing with your mouth, nose picking, coughing, sneezing, scratching or taste testing will be allowed.
- Panties must be worn on heads at all times.
I do agree and practice all 1 through 3 as an adult, however long gone our the days where my ass and head are the same size!
Rule #4 was to prevent our hair from coming into contact with the baking. I agree that hair belongs no where in the kitchen and what a turn off to find hair in your food, but is a pair of panties really the solution? What the hell is wrong with a pony tail or tie our hair in a bun. I don't think my brother even had hair. At worst case scenario...a shower cap.
I am thinking about what experiences my grandmother may have had that drove her to force panties onto our heads. Perhaps she had eaten hair infested girl guide cookies and associated children with hairy baking. Ate muffins made for a church bazaar by rapidly balding children? I don't know the answers, but I see flaws in the panties theory.
- Panties...Hello even though they are washed they do live in the dirty bits region. And I never recall her checking to see if we actually got clean panties, I just know I did.
- Did she ever notice the two leg holes, not really ideal for optimum coverage. I remember my sister's head with her short hair sticking out through the leg holes. She looked like a troll doll at a frat party.
- Now my brother if he were 2 he would have had to been wearing plastic training pants and I don't recall seeing that...so my sisters panties? How psychologically damaging is that! No wonder the he hates sweets as an adult.
So I lived life thinking that I was normal, that everyone doing their Christmas baking was wearing panties on their heads. I was wrong eh? No one else did that? Anyone?
I always wondered why Julia Childs never had panties on her head. Imagine the confusion and bewilderment surrounding chef hats...who wears panties like that, so starchy.
So it's no wonder I am the way I am. There was really no way I could have turned out right. I haven't been tagged yet with what makes me weird, but this one would fall in the top 5 I am sure.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
I remind you that the act of marrying Mark was one of great humanitarian proportions. I took one for the team, protected my weaker sister, gave mothers around the world a better night sleep knowing that Mark, A.K.A Loaf, Boner, Big Fingers and Dumbass was off the market!
So ladies I made the choice and a small personal scarfice so that you and your daughters good live a better life. I am a pleaser, a doer, and sucker for a challange, but I sleep well knowing two things, at home he is my bitch and wears a skirt and I have a "favour" in my pocket...(tap the side of your nose)
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
(my boss reads).
I will try however to make more of an effort to keep you all abreast...I said breast! Yep, not a lot of adult stimulation around here.
First off my feet look great! Pregnancy sucks when your only body part you can be proud of is your feet and they looked like potatoes with nubs on the end.
Secondly...I love being a mom. I love it all and will be back on the baby making train before you know it.
I really had no idea of what being a parent was going to entail. I knew about the pooh and the puke, but I wasn't perpared for the insane love that you have for your child. It is just amazing.
Here is an update on baby girls progress.
- She is 5 months now...ick closer to going back to work.
- We have had 2 rounds of shots and she took it like a champ, just a little lip quiver.
- She was 15lbs, 5ozs at her last visit at the end of August so I bet is she around the 18lbs mark. Keep in mind that she was almost 10lbs at birth.
- Foods we like are rice cereal, peas, green beans, squash, sweet potato and pears
- Not so much for the applesauce, peach(causes a whole body twitch) and carrots
- Toys we like are the mobile, her crinkle bear, teething ring, jumper, mirrors and the dog
- Toys that scare the living crap out of us....the new extreme tickle me elmo (thanks memere)
- Milestone: smiling, laughing, cooing, chatter, reaching, rolling over, sitting alone for a few minutes, pulling herself to sit up, sleeping through the night, almost ready to cut teeth, and starting to cry when mom leaves the room (goodtimes)
Little thumb sucking to get you through your day.
Not so much for the tickle me elmo...he scares me too. 50 bucks well spent.
Lounging at the cottage.
Who said a happy meal wasn't fun for adults too.
Totally jeaslous of everyones new Skins!!!!!!!
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
In the last week however I have had some alarming swelling. I read about woman having swollen feet, but I don't think I clearly understood it. I was at the doctors last Monday and things were fine, my blood pressure is perfect and all is well so why the sudden swelling. It is minus 10 and I am wearing flip flops to outside.
Dearest hubby feels it is from eating crap when he was away, and although I agree it was proably not the best choices I don't beleive it is causing this problem. Besides it has been exceptionally bad this week and I have not eaten any crap.
So I was wondering who would like to rub my cankles and man hands. Come on...some of you committed to this friendship.
Really I use to have nice feet.........
Friday, February 17, 2006
That is actually baby's foot at it's eye.
Baby yawning...looks less frightening in motion. Notice it has my big mouth.
I think Babe looks like hubby here.
And finally babe with chubby cheeks and it's fist in the eye.
I of course am over the moon that I got to see their little face. Not clear determination of gender so that is still a surprise.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
First off I love that you are one of my secret fans, I always thought that you never really liked me. I am glad I was wrong. Mama tells me that you are excited about my babes...I am available anytime for a belly rub.
I tried to get your mom to sneak Honey in her handbag to pool last night, but it was a disappointing no go. Here is a thought for her birthday...a grandma tote.
Yesterday a had a strange encounter in the ladies washroom. I was the only one in there and chose to use the last stall. As I am about to flush a woman comes in and goes into the stall next to me but doesn't lock the door, odd. I continue to pull up my pants and as I flush and open the door I find her standing outside my stall. She pushes by me and locks the door. Literately the toilet water was still yellow and flushing...What the hell! Clearly this woman is a turd burglar. Technically a turd burglar is a person who knocks on your stall door while you are on the toilet, but it will do for this situation just fine. Correct me if I am wrong, but there are 3 other stalls not in use. Why mine, why the pushing...freaks!
I really hate public washrooms and hate how this place is so cheap as to not give us our own restroom. It's dirty, run down and people steal toilet paper and soap. I 've been in my hubbies work washrooms, I know the truth about corporate facilities...not for profit washrooms suck.
- Grease leaking from the hydraulic, down the back of the entry door
- Smell of sewage
- Old school vinyl tiles which I am sure are asbestos and are covered in grime
- Four office grey metal stalls which have grime and black finger prints all over them
- Toilets are definitely a hovercraft situation
- Industrial toilet paper roll dispenser in hopes of deterring TP thieves
- Half ply see through, spit through toilet paper that you must use with caution. The slightly bit of moisture cause it to disintegrate, sending your finger right thought it and causing serious damage
- The wall tiles are rose and green and filthy
- We have three sinks, 2 in which do not drain and almost all have hair in them
- 2 Soap dispensers filled with mysterious blue slime, usually both empty
- The walls are rose and the door, radiator are forest green...Special
- finally the ceiling is a drop ceiling with the square inserts. They are badly water stained and for almost a year now we have been missing at least one if not two, due to a water leak which may or may not have been fixed
My hubbies facilities
- Greeted by a cleaner as she is leaving the restroom
- Large floor pots with silk flowers
- Smell of soaps and cleaning products
- 2 floor to ceiling private washroom stalls
- Marble like if not Marble tiling on the floor and I believe the wall. If not, the wall was nicely painted or papered
- 3 more regular stalls ...Clean and suitable for human use
- Sinks with up to date fixtures, no hair balls and nice counter tops
- Lighting that you would find in your home or a hotel
- More plants, some hand cream and real soap from the dispenser
- They even have hand sanitizer pumps
Clearly something is wrong here. I try to hold it until late afternoon when I know it will be my only time in there.
So there you have it...a little something to keep you going.
Enjoy your week off next week.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Mornings have never been my favourite event of the day, but this is more true than ever. First off I can hardly believe that I need to pee again. Secondly due to baby's position I am unable to roll over without great discomfort. This morning was a particularly bright one for me.
I opened my wee eyes and turned off the alarm. Then struggled painfully to roll over like a beached baby beluga, while my hubby just lay there and watch his breakfast television. I am finally over and trying to focus on the traffic report when our cat smudgie jumps up onto the bed and is slowly walking up to my head area. Really nothing pisses me off more in the morning than the cats or so I thought. The meowing, the loud purring and the complete violation of my personal space.
Smudgie is now trying to squeeze her fat body between hubby and I, rubbing her ass on my arm. As hubby gets up she takes off and leaves what appears to be a lump of shit on my forearm. I most passed out!
Me: Son of a bitch, oh God (squealing)
DH: What, what
Me: Look at my damn arm, that God damn cat left a cling-on on my arm.
DH: After assessing the situation as I must be lying or something, he is now buckled over in hysterics
Me: (Gagging and trying to not to throw up as I struggle to roll over and get out of bed.) "GET ME SOMETHING TO WIPE THIS"! (my arm in the air)
DH: Not moving, just laughing and holding his damn belly. "Oh God to funny, Oh God".
Me: Seriously babe I will throw up.
DH: struggles to get some TP and comes back still unable to catch his breath.
Me: Nice morning!
So I am in the shower vigorously scrubbing my arm as I think, nobody should have to wake up this way. I am in a no better situation than a homeless guy waking up to a dog peeing on him. It's wrong. Who walks away from a litter with a cling on. Better yet who wipes it on the person that provides you a home and food.
Bottom line...Cat for Sale!
Monday, January 30, 2006
My brother and his wife had our newest little family member baby boy.
He is weighting 8lbs 11oz and 20.5 inches long. He is the cutest little thing ever, all naked and red and he looks a lot like his older sister.
Mom is doing well after a long and trying labour. She said yesterday that there is nothing she can say at this time about the labour that wouldn't upset me, so we'll talk in April.I can say that looking at that little guy made our pregnancy very real. I was overwhelmed that not even 6 hours prior this baby was in a woman. It was incredible to look at him and know that I am growing the same little joy. I am also not so sure how it managed to come out at that size, but I guess it did.
Just wanted to share our news and brighten up an otherwise dull Monday.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Ahh remember the excitement, the planning of where to go, what hot place would be the perfect occasion for that special midnight kiss. Buying the perfect little (that's right use to be little) black dress and strappy shoes. Spending hours doing our hair and make up so that everything was just perfect.
Showing up to a hotel buffet breakfast the next morning in that little black dress wearing a hint of smudged mascara being mistaken for an escort girl, had it been any other morning. Sitting at a table slowly sipping the best cup of coffee you think you've ever had while you stare silently across at friends who also think they just might die.
Surprisingly enough I don't miss it. Married, 30 and over 6 months preggers I was perfectly content to get together with friends for a night of laughs.
I was thrilled when we were invited to our dear friend's Linda and Rob's home for a night of eating and good company. I would like to thank you both for a wonderful evening and opening your home up to us once again. We had a wonderful time and the basement a.k.a your pride and joy is absolutely beautiful...Wonderful job well done!
Now we, Mark and I were not the only guests invited. There were many friends there to mingle with. Linda even graciously opened her home to the neighbours...Ironically enough she choose, "be kinder to stupid people", as a resolution. I think that you are already accomplishing that obstacle nicely.
So during the night I cannot help but notice that my hubby who is what I like to refer to as a stale twinkie (crusty exterior with a sweet soft filling) is flirting with this girl at the party. Normally he is not what I would call a social butterfly. He usually just sits back and takes it all in until he says we are leaving. Anyway, I catch him winking at her and she'd smile and sweetly wink back. She'd offer him chips and they'd make eyes at each other. Now I can't blame him for being drawn to her, I couldn't take my eyes off her the whole time. She was beautiful, an absolute doll. It was getting late for her and she was getting on past her bedtime. She starts making the rounds saying bye to everyone, when she gets to Mark. She climbs up on his lap and gives him a big hug.
Colleen and Neil your Little One is a darling!
For those reading hubby's posts, he has mentioned some of his desires with regards to our baby and fears about being a dad. I know that he would love a boy. I know that he is going to love this baby no matter what, but I see him with my niece and Hannah and my heart melts.
We were at my aunt and uncle's over Christmas and my cousin and his wife came over with their daughter. My cousin was pointing around to all of us telling his daughter our names and who we were to her. He gets to Mark and Madison (my niece) stands up and says, "Oh this is uncie Mark. I love this guy". He may not know it but he is the best with kids and the little girls always flock to him. I am sure he would be just as wonderful with a little boy and a dream come true, but if this baby is a girl. It will be daddy's girl forever.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
I actually have a little free time and thought I would drop a post for you.
For those of you who have been reading my hubby's posts (my apologizes) you know that we are quickly approaching the arrival of our love nugget. Things have been going along pretty smoothly and I am so in love with this little one, can't think of anything I would change except for maybe a signed contract from my hubby. I should have gotten him to sign off on our understanding of each others roles during this blissful time.
Here is my understanding and I am sure that he will have something to add.
As the carrier and sole life line for our babe, my role/duties are as follows:
- Eat healthy, get plenty of rest and protect myself and nugget from any harm
- Visit an OB regularly and follow any instructions she may give me no matter how badly I do not want to participate
- Choose and plan for necessary items such as a baby registry, nursery colour and layout, bedding, baby gear, hospital bag and anything else that my hubby would just sniff off as "who gives a crap"
- Continue to read up on fetal development, changes in myself in preparation for anything out of the ordinary and what to expect for the arrival. Contrary to popular belief...There is no stork
- I am to continue with the cleaning of our home (when I have the engery), paying bills, grocery shopping and other household activities. God bless my hubby for his continued support with cooking, laundry, garbages and animal poop collection.
- Start and complete the "nesting" routine. I have recently gotten the strong desire to start reorganizing and getting rid of crap I don't need. Old clothing, clutter from the closets, cupboards, the office, nursery, basement, garage, kitchen and anything else I can get my hands on
- Last and most importantly...Enjoy my pregnancy, rest and relax while I still can
- Attend appointments with mom if he can
- put up with mom's mood swings including the crying and/or frustration
- Tell mom she looks great no matter what she looks like and tell her how much you love her as often as needed
- Assist mom with home chores and do all the heavy lifting
- Speaking of heavy lifting...Help mom off the couch and from a sitting position if needed without making groaning or dead God comments
- Rub mom's back, feet and legs when she needs it ... She is no longer in control of her body baby is and it's going to ache
- Lastly make mom happy at all times...This includes going out to get her an item that she is craving. I WANT A GOD DAMN DONUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My baby daddy (ha-ha) has been outstanding in almost categories, but lacking in the seriously in the last two. One night I had a Charlie horse in my leg so bad that I had to ask him to rub it. He simply turned to me as he lay in our married bed and stated that he was not going to touch me as he does not want to set life long standard. My hubby is afraid that he will become my uncle who is forced to rub my aunt's feet nightly. He feels that my uncle must have started this during her pregnancy 20 years ago and set this standard. In the mind of my hubby, my uncle will die with his wife's feet in hand. What a load of crap!!!!!!! So I spent the night thrashing in pain while some dick slept peacefully.
Second area of improvement became an issue ony as of last night. We were watching TV and I turned to him and said, "I want a donut". He commented that's nice. That's nice, did he not hear me? I thought that maybe stating my desires was a tad harsh and maybe better excepted if I phrase it in a question.
me: "Babe, I am craving a donut, could you please go get me one".
DH: Yeah no!
me: But that's your job as the daddy.
DH: Your car is at the end of the driveway and your legs work, so get your own donut.
me: but I am in my pj's.
Dh: Yeah, well I am in my jogging pants (ps. he doesn't jog) You're in a car at the drive through, nobody will see you. You want a donut go get it.
Me: Pout on the couch
Now I know this seems stupid, but I have yet to send him out during this pregnancy on some wild food fine at 3 in the morning. I have not had cravings for anything other than fruit, which is in my fridge. I think he has been lucky that I am not the crazy pregnant lady who has ripped him from a sleep at 130 in the am to get up and find me a fresh hot cheeseburger with onions and pickles in Burlington during a snow storm. No that was my dad's life with three pregnancies almost 3 times a week. All I am asking for is one damn donut at 8pm from Tim Hortons. Really not a hard task.
Needless to say no donut. As I pouted I thought, if I were married to a woman I would already have a donut by now and she would have brought me a tea, just because.
As we were falling asleep last night, our dog who is ready to hatch 6+ pups was acting strange. She was really sucky with me and would not eat her cookie. When I asked her, "D, you don't want your cookie"? I hear this little voice from out of the dark, trying not to kill himself laughing say, "maybe she wants a donut"!
For breakfast I had two honey donuts...kiss it baby daddy!