Glowsticks and Pacifiers

So, for Christmas, Brian and I were given a fabulous sound system for our living room TV setup.  We’re very excited about it.

Picture us with our toddler having our nightly pants-off dance-off in the living room, this time with better quality music.

Begin scene.

Brian: (breathless) Man, it’s so great to have some bass in here!

Me: (equally breathless) …My butt has always been this big.  And you’re welcome.

B: …

M:  (seriously) Yes, I know!  The sound quality is great!  We should share this with the world!

B: You want me to turn it up?

M: No…we should do one better.  We should throw a rave!!!!!!

B: (doing the running man) We totally should!  We have those glowsticks left over from Halloween!

M: (doing the mashed potato) …AND WE HAVE PACIFIERS!!

My kid: (flailing wildly)  YAAAAAA-YAAAAAAAA!!!!!

M:  See?!  Dylan thinks this is a rad idea and will have no trouble sharing his pacis.

B:  But what can we offer our guests in terms of herbal refreshment?

M:  Ummm…I still have a bottle of max-strength ibuprofen left over from delivering Dylan!  Sure to give a medium-sized person some moderate anti-inflammatory action!

B:  (doing the sprinkler) Cat tranquilizers!

M:  (doing the roger rabbit) From our move up here!  YEEEESSSS!  Damn cat wouldn’t eat them, so it’s her loss!!  And speaking of loss, everyone will have to surrender their pants at the door, in keeping with tradition.

B:  We can throw in some Children’s Tylenol for good measure.  I think we have the makings for a great party.

M:  Not great.  THE GREATEST.

Dylan:  (still flailing) YAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

M:  I’ll have my assistant draw up some plans in the morning.

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Who wants to come to our rave, y’all?!?!

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My Playful Little Goober

You know what?

I’m in love with you, you little goober.

In a fellow mommy blogger’s post, she once mentioned that she could characterize each of her children’s behavior in utero using one word.

I think your word is playful.

Sometimes you want to play when I want to sleep.

Sometimes, when I get up to pee at night and probably wake you up, you give me a little tap, tap just to say hi.

The other day, you were tap dancing on my cervix, probably because you thought it was funny.  It was not.  Ouch.

It’s gotten to the point where your little drumstick limbs are strong enough that most of your kicks and punches can be seen from the outside.  This means that your uterine cage fighting often upstages the TV, which is pretty impressive.  I mean, the other day I was minding my own business, trying to watch Derek Hough’s abs Dancing With The Stars, and I actually paused the TV several times just to stare at my belly.  It was amazing.  YOU are amazing.  You already make me feel guilty for doing cardio while I am stuffing my face with Cherry Garcia.  Jerk.

Today, for reasons unknown, you scrunched your entire self over into the right side of my uterus.  Why?!  Why would you do such a thing?  Was it on a dare?  Because I don’t see how that could be comfortable in the slightest; it certainly wasn’t for me.  It looked like my belly was made of clay and that I had fallen down on my left side, causing the clay to squish in on the left and out at a freakishly bulbous angle on the right.  It took several jabs from me to get your cute little baby ass to move back into a more respectable position.  If you were playing sardines, I hope you won, cuz bravo, Little Duck, bravo.  After you’ve broken out and I can’t find you, I’ll remember to look in compact spaces.

Be warned that my abdominal area is prime real estate.  Later on today the cat requested napping space adjacent to your ever-expanding lofted apartment, and things must have gotten a little tense.  I guess I’m going to have to teach you to share a little sooner than I thought, because you ended up kicking the cat several times in the face.  Bless my furry love child, for she either didn’t notice, or didn’t care enough to give up the comfort that is my lap.  I kinda wanted her to notice, though, because that shit was hilarious.  I hope this is an indication that you two will become fast friends who occasionally breakdance fight each other.

I’m so excited, Little Duck.  I can’t wait to meet you, for reals.

I can’t wait to see what kind of person you become, and what kind of parent you make me be.

But so far, I know that you have a wicked sense of humor, which is good.  You’re going to need it.