Sticky Beak
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The Skinny
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...life in small Northern towns, working for assholes, boys who refuse to become men, synthetic personalities, anorexic models and their link to emotional scarring, bad marijuana trips, crazies on BC Transit, beer, piece of shit cars, living out of a suitcase paycheck to paycheck, unrequited love, Seinfeld, minimum-wage jobs, broken New Year�s resolutions, and over-limit Visa accounts.
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Toilet Tales from My Brief Sojourn in Parenthood Yesterday I discovered what it's like to have to dig poo out of someone's butt-cheeks. It was a horrifying experience that I'm in absolutely no hurry to relive. And today is day two on no sleep; he wakes up at about midnight, screaming bloody murder, and will only fall asleep again if I let him sleep with me. I've never slept with a toddler before... FYI, it's pure hell. They sleep every which direction except lengthwise in the bed, and Ethan makes it entirely impossible for me to sleep because he's constantly shifting in his sleep and half the time ends up sitting on my head or kicking me in the face, or whimpering because he can't find a comfortable position. It's a good thing he's cute, or he'd have been sold to the gypsies by now. Or, at least he would have if they existed around these parts. And another glowing reward in my temporary 'parenthood' � Wyatt's working tonight on the 6pm � midnight shift. For joy. That means that about the time I arrive home Ethan will be waking. Excellent. The joys of parenthood are so abundant, it's a wonder to me that anyone falls prey to it � particularly those people who have one child and even though it requires more energy than they anticipated, they go on and have another. Like my poor brother Ryan whose $500 tent � his pride and joy � was crumpled and broken by two young demons a couple days ago. "Oh Hol, you should have been here the other day, I nearly snapped. I had such a shitty day at work, and I came home at lunch to find that the brats had jumped on my tent while it was set up and broke one of the poles. And I love that tent, Hol. I mean, if you could marry a tent, I'd marry it. I think I've even kissed it. Seriously Hol, like, every time I set it up, I say that I love that tent at least three times. Even when I set it up in the yard to air out, I came up to the house and told Jess, 'Man, I love that tent!' With children, nothing is sacred. There's no point in owning anything nice � or even half decent � because it will inevitably wind up with bits of half-eaten Smarties ground into it, encrusted in spilled drinks and covered in dirty little handprints. Things will be broken, lost, even eaten. And there is no such thing as spare time anymore (for instance, I write this entry as I sit on the toilet (lid down, of course) watching Ethan run circles in the shower and lick the water off the calcified tiles...). These are all things I've learned since coming here and staying with Mel. Oh sure, they're cute and cuddly. They warm your heart and when they smile at you or let loose one of those adorable little giggles, they melt you so that you'd give them absolutely anything in the world within your power. And when they curl up on your chest while you're sleeping, or you play with those little fingers wrapped around one of your giant ones... well, you realize that there's nothing more precious or pure in life. So... what was my point? I forget. I'm too busy watching this Tasmanian Devil in the shower, my stomach doing somersaults that he's gonna slip and hurt himself, and praying that he doesn't pinch another load of nuggets in there like he did yesterday. Where is this place and how the hell did I get here??? |