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February 20, 2004Can I complain a bit?Can I complain? Intellectually, I realize I'm a very lucky guy. I have two beautiful healthy babies, a beautiful healthy wife, and live in a beautiful all-natural-no-preservatives community. But sometimes I like to bitch and moan. Wednesday we had Aqua-babies class, where our children get to splash in a pool. Of course it would be crazy to just let parents bring kids to a pool and have them entertain their offspring; there must be a regimented class with an intructor keeping the beat. "Okay parents, now let's everyone pretend to be lions. Ready? Rrraaarrr..." I'm not the most participatory parent, let me just say. And to the guy driving the Cayenne -- couldn't you try to follow the car ahead of you a little closer? The roads are clear; you have plenty of braking room. It's nice if more than three cars get through the on the turning light. And what kind of vehicle is a Cayenne anyways? We heat our house with wood and I'm sick of it. Sure the heat is very pleasant -- like a caress, one of our friends said. But they don't have to go outside in their housecoat in the cold, dark morning and lug twenty pounds of tree inside and then manage to get it to combust. They just turn a knob. Plus the house is either too cold or too hot. Grr. Both kids are teething or sick or mad at me in some way. They've not been their usual pleasant selves for the last couple of days. Screaming at mealtimes, not wanting to go to sleep, latching on to my legs and wimpering piteously -- it's not been fun. I've been giving them liquid ibuprofin every now and then and it helps, but they've been quite the challenge. Why is the liquid ibuprofin dyed this horrible deep blue? It's a given that a kid is going to dribble it down their shirt. I swear, it's just like ink. I am sick to death of clasps, buckles, latches, an especially those metal buttons that baby clothes are festooned with. They all require you to apply a non-trivial amount of pressure to a small surface area to make them work. Doing this literally hundreds of times a day puts quite a bit of stress on your fingertips which, combined with winter's dry air, results in cracks in the skin on the sides of your fingers. It's painful! You have no idea... We're getting 25cm of snow tonight. I'm sick of snow. I have nowhere left to shovel it to. And now Max is once again grabbing my leg and screaming. I'm typing with one hand and holding Talia as she screams too. I better go. Posted by Bruce Gottfred at February 20, 2004 04:16 PM | TrackBackComments
I hear you brother! amen! It's tough here too. I still can't fall asleep without the air conditioning on and trying to find the remote control to crank it up in the middle of the night is just like hauling in the logs I swear. It's so hot I'm worried my wine celler is heating up and the wines aren't at optimum aging temperature (whatever that is). Plus making all that ice to keep the whites chilled is a real pain. Sometimes, to try and cool off have to open the bay doors here and let the breeze blow right through and that means the odd flower from that wierd pink tree outside flutters in, it drives me bonkers. Just to let you know I'm suffering with you. It's like long-distance bonding man. Posted by: Andrew Barden at February 20, 2004 11:47 PMMisery loves company, they say. Thank you, you've made me feel a lot better. Posted by: Bruce Gottfred at February 21, 2004 08:01 AMPost a comment
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