Long time no see. I’m having a quiet phase, content with almost everything, days off of complaining. That’s why I have nothing to bitch about. Boring days!
So you can see how much I’m in such a vegetal mood, I don’t even mind Donald Trump being elected president. Relax, don’t need to be freaking out so soon, give the man an opportunity, who knows!? Maybe something less bad than expected is in sight for the ‘great nation’. Anyways, it’s done – democratically – but you still have 70 days to enjoy Obama. Make the most of it!
I think it’s funny how all of a sudden everyone believes in politicians, that they actually do what they promise during campaign. Since when?? NEVER my good people, NEVER! Have faith in the system.
So, don’t need to come running to Canada, please, we have enough retards here! joking, for the less humorous. The dog that barks doesn’t bite. Lets be afraid of the poodles.
Know the expression Pardon My French?
For the past 4 years I’ve been using it, and it was literally pardon my french cause I’m Portuguese and don’t speak very fluent. Well, I got tired of apologizing, it’s not only my french the problem here, Quebecers are the problem and what they proudly call their language.
Shit! Not even the real ‘french people’ can understand the fuck they’re saying. How am I supposed to?
Imagine a fat truck driver, an 80’s haircut, toothpick – despite the lack of teeth – and touching his scrotum like there’s no tomorrow, talking about god knows what.
Something like that…
Well, that’s what I see when someone talks to me in this beautiful language called ‘Québécois’. Osti, tabarnak!
Vive Quebec libre!
…And with it the changing tires season. Our lease ends next summer, and the winter tires are kaputz. Nothing survives in Montreal, not happiness, not even tires. So this week we went to Mazda just to see if we could do anything about the situation, like have some money after for the tires or whatever. After 3hours, two feedings and a change of diapers, we left with a new car.
For a while now, Jerry was getting sucked into the SUV’s world. We tried, nop, to boat-ish, every turn you feel like throwing up. Plus you need an airplane runway to park that shit. The moment you have a baby, the two things people swear by are a drying machine and a mini-van. We got none, stubborn motherfucker. Still don’t know how I’m gonna dry the thousands of clothes Thomas spits, during this beautiful winter, No Stress!
Anyway, we ended up with a smaller car but automatic and with gangsta windows. In the end of the day it’s only us three, we don’t use that much space, yet. Sorry, four with Sasha. And if Thomas keeps growing tall that fast, we got the sunroof. Safe buy!
When we bought the condo, same shit. A winter sunday, nothing to do – as usual – we went to some open houses – BAM – first one, SOLD! Dealers when they see us coming through the door, they must have an orgasm. Damn. We are so easy. Consumerist whores!
I guess I got everybody by surprise. No one was expecting me – the quiet one – having a blog and so much shit to say. My few friends and family know I don’t talk much, and I think they made peace with that, especially my mother. I knew she was gonna be my first and only follower. She loves to know stuff. Watch out your Facebook pages, people!
It’s not that I don’t like humans. For me, speech is a complicated process. I need my time and paper – YA I get lost a lot – to organize my ideas. Otherwise, I just turn in my father, and nobody wants that. Believe me!
If we are having a conversation my mind is like a crossword puzzle. I start with an idea but then argument with some other theories, contradict myself and end up in a completely different topic. While all this is happening inside my head, I still need to find the right words, get all the letters together in a way that makes sense and finally speak out loud. By the time I figured it all out, everybody is home and sleeping. So, I just nod and say yes!
Anyway, what I can try to do is to keep a record and study my lines, in the end they always are the same stories. And I understand, by norm people have friends and a life, at some point they just forgot to whom they told what. So they just keep telling…
After a while gets in you in a way that you don’t know anymore what stuff happened to you, which stories are yours, you just start telling them too. And goes around again until you realise it wasn’t yours – your life is getting really boring. Damn!
Well, sleeping when there’s a baby at home is a myth. Or you’re one of the lucky moms and your baby lets you sleep at least 5hours straight, or you get a taste once in a while, just to tease. Here I am, writing at 4am, between feedings, quite hungry myself – only baby is allowed to eat at night, if us big girls eat too we are doomed. YES, even if you are in the lucky group and he wakes only once in the middle of the night, the time it takes you to fall asleep, he’s awaking ready to start his day, FULL POWER! That’s what I was talking about in the other post, when I said I wouldn’t mind having a shitload of kids if I didn’t need to go through this again.
I had a pretty good labour. Was 8hours since we checked in at the hospital until Mr.T popped out. Was in charge of my body until I reached 7cm, when for a brief moment, waiting for the anesthetist, I thought death was coming…Hell NO!!! I’m going home, fuck this! – Guess not, better stay – After epidural took over, peace on earth, 2hours pushing and voila! No tear, no pain, no nothing. Actually my delivery nurse played a big role in all this, she was sooooo nice, I actually think I fell in love with her. She even made me laugh between pushes. Natalie, if you are out there, a big thanks from this happy vajayjay!
So, I don’t know if it was the stuff I did during pregnancy, like drink tons of water, walk like a gypsy, squats…or if it’s in me biologically, like I heard from all the staff ‘was made to have babies’ – it’s a sin to have only one. As far I can believe that, I’m not so sure about the raising a kid part, all the patience, dedication, sacrifice and love that takes…With luck he doesn’t turn a Trump fan.
Let’s see how that goes!
P.S: A big thanks too to papa and grandma, they were there all the time holding hands and legs and grandpa trying to sneak in. Papa was pushing and everything, like a big boy.
It appears that nowadays everyone knows how to write and have blogs and stuff on the web. Since I have tons of time in my hands now, and too lazy to exercise, I’m giving it a try! And it seems a pretty good way to practice my english. Not sure how this thing works, when and what to write about, you guys feel free to help and throw some ideas.
So, to fill you in. My name is Monica, I live in Montreal – for now – with boyfriend and our recent acquisition, a 3 1/2 month baby, Mr. T.
I’m on maternity leave, around 7 months left, but scratching my balls since 5 months pregnant. Not because of a dangerous pregnancy, more cause my job is not pregnant friendly. I was so tired that when they told me was my last day at work I was so relieved and thought was a good thing, until I started to gain weight, and more weight and doctor giving me shit. Turns out it wasn’t me, was the baby. Fucker! Was born almost 10 pounds – 4.225kg±55.5cm – with big Sasquatch feet, maybe we can get to that another day.
About all that time I told you I have now, I’m trying to find things to occupy my time – while baby sleeps – I’m doing a comic book for Thomas, to show him later all the pain he made mamma go through – better be the next Ronaldo.
Actually I complained a lot during pregnancy, had nausea, vomiting for the first 4 months,then heartburn, the famous constipation, leg cramps, sciatica, almost everything there is in the menu plus, I was mortified about labour.
Well, guess what, that’s the easy part! The nightmare starts once baby pops out and they put him on the boob, and you just stare at baby, nurse, baby again. NOW WHAT???
Doesn’t matter how much you read about breastfeeding, how many clips you watch and classes you go. It’s a fucking mess!
I’m telling you, labour was a piece of cake, I would have a soccer team if it wasn’t the next – at least – 3 months of adaptation, sleep deprivation, the headaches if baby is eating enough, sticking the thermometer in his little bum every time the poor guy sneezes…
I’m being a little drama queen here, my baby is quite a good baby, but once you think you’re an expert of being a mommy, they change the game, back to square one. They own you girl! Hell!!!
Since the moment I created life inside my once average size belly – or better yet, since papa put his seed inside mamma. Ups! – I earned the right to complain about horse shit I want.
Anyway, passed the crazy 3 months, now I’m starting to think about getting back to work, a bit scared if I lost the work rhythm and the ability to interact with grown-ups. Also afraid of not finding a daycare on time or going bankrupt with it – we are missing the grandparents here. Lately I’m afraid a lot, I wasn’t like that before, I’m becoming a real pussy. My boyfriend tells me ‘That’s cause you’re a mother now’.
Well, I guess he’s right. Welcome to fucking motherhood!
P.S: I got a little lost there, so finally here’s a sneak peek of the book. By the way, christmas is coming, any copic, chameleon or touch markers will be welcome, to finalize the masterpiece. All our money now goes to poop care lol