Jun
24

And They Shouldn’t Fence at Night! Or They’re Going to Hurt the Gymnasts!

For the past year—wait, that can’t be right, can it?
*looks at calendar*
Fine. For the past really, really, unusually long week, Scott has been leaving for work before five a.m. and returning around six in the evening. Before you get all choked up with sympathy for my husband, allow me to remind you that Simone wakes up at six in the morning, and thus now that Scott is working so late, I spend TWELVE UNINTERRUPTED HOURS on baby duty. And said baby is getting her molars plus that other fang tooth next to them. And has a cold. And as of today, seems to have infected ME with her tiny baby pestilence.

Unless Simone is napping, I cannot use my computer, sweep, do dishes, or even sit on the couch instead of the floor. It is all Touch & Feel Kitten (FEEL MY HARD YELLOW FOOD BOWL—wtf?) and I Am a Bunny, all of the time. Incidentally, I think that a person’s perception of I Am a Bunny probably says a lot about them, though I am unsure what: I find it peaceful, Scott finds it unbearably melancholy.

I love my daughter, I love reading to her and playing catch with her and I enjoy our percussion jam sessions more than I can say. But the combination of stifling 95 degree heat, twelve hour days, and a willful toddler is…taxing. Once Scott gets home, I have an hour to eat and work before it is time to take Simone to bed, where I sit holding her in the crook of my arm while I watch something on my laptop. This is my Special Alexa Time, you see. Simone falls asleep after several off-tune repetitions of “Mercedes Benz,” and then I watch my show (currently, season one of “Weeds”) or write, have a glass of wine, and go to sleep myself at nine thirty. Because in addition to her early waking time, Simone is up in the night, thanks to her Satan’s Kernels.

All this is to say that if it weren’t for my two days of childcare a week, nothing would ever get done, and frankly it is a miracle I haven’t missed more than two days of my mother’s birthday month posting extravaganza. Which will extend two compensatory days into July, obviously, because if you think my lawyer mother is going to let me get away with shortchanging her, oh ho HO!

Email I woke up to Monday:

TO: alexaflotsam@gmail.com
FROM: alexasmother@alexasmother.com
SUBJECT: no post? it’s still June…
and it’s grey and rainy here…remember how just yesterday I said i love love love reading your posts first thing in the morning. but of course you know that already.

Email I woke up to this morning:

TO: alexaflotsam@gmail.com
FROM: alexasmother@alexasmother.com
SUBJECT: no post? two missing days in one week??? you didn’t mention that last night when we chatted
so i wouldn’t have to have this unexpected sadness in the morning…..And next week i will be in London

However, litany of tiny-violin-worthy complaints aside, I am in quite a good mood. This morning I woke up in a snit (Messy apartment! Headache! Ennui!), but while I fed Simone and paged through my feed reader I saw that Metalia had posted this:

I rarely click on videos in posts, because it alerts Simone to the fact that my computer is open and she becomes fixated upon finding some way to get at it and smack smack smack heartily at the keys, but, well, “Total Eclipse of the Heart” always gets my attention. Apparently everyone else in the world has already seen this, but in case you haven’t, and are at work wondering whether to bother pulling out your headphones to watch, let me assure you that you will not regret it. I know I didn’t: my outlook has been positively sunny ever since, and in fact I have watched this video eight times today, and forced both my husband and Simone to sit through it as well. Simone clapped quite a lot, and if her uncle Max is reading this, I know he will appreciate it as much as she did.

Now, you may have noticed that I suddenly have advertisements advertising things over in my sidebar. I would like to say that I waited four years to run ads because The Man can keep his filthy ad money! MONEY CAN’T BUY YOU A SOUL, suit-person! But actually, I just never got around to it—first because I didn’t have the traffic for ads to be worthwhile, and later because I am terribly lazy. But there they are, and I hope no one minds. They aren’t the sort that pay by the click, so you needn’t feel pressured; they pay based upon visits to my page. And I very much respect the ad network I belong to, so you won’t see any Ether: It’s What’s for Dinner or Thalidomide Council ads (THALIDOMIDE: FLIPPERS ARE UNDERRATED!), you have my word.

By Alexa | Posted in Ceci N'est Pas Une Ecrivaine |