*Gulp!* Only three weekends left before Christmas?! Oi!

Let me drop some random news meanwhile, since the blog might become a little quiet in the next days:

• Half a week went by, and Xavier still has not pulled down the Christmas tree. I added the lights after he went to bed, tonight; we’ll see what happens…
• A whole lot of snow fell down yesterday, and it affected our day in many ways, especially our evening – dust off the car, make our way at low speed to the babysitter’s place, pick up Xavier and manage the babysitter’s driveway – whose snow guy didn’t show up – get home to find out our own snow guy has forgot about us (a good 3 feet of snow in front of the driveway!), Frank shoveling the walkway and the opening of the canvas garage while I unfreeze vegetable stew (yay! for meals cooked in advance and waiting in the freezer!)… Frank, after he got into the house, turned to calling back his brother, calling back my brother to help him set up his Internet connection and went by my parent’s to fix their email; all of this left me to care for Xavier pretty much by myself for part of the evening, and I’m going through all of this tale to put some emphasis on the thought that went through my head during that time: I have no idea how single mothers – or fathers, even – do it. I have no idea. I mean: usually I don’t have much problem taking care of my son on my own, and this evening went relatively well, in fact, but there was still a lot of action around with the snow, etc., and I’m trying to imagine someone who has to handle a whole household by herself, being both parents at once, with a toddler requiring attention through it all. Wow. (That’s one of the best times to mention “I love you, honey” to my very dear partner.)
• Xavier started expanding his vocabulary. His words are still chewed and garbled, but it’s pretty amazing to see him assimilate language these weeks.
• I have an appointment at the doctor’s tomorrow that will confirm it, but baby 2 seems in excellent health to me: she’s kicking, kicking, kicking, nonstop, and with strength! She promises to be a real handful! When pregnant with Xavier, I would feel him move well and regularly. This time, however, I don’t know how baby 2 is placed, but I feel every little movement even more, and it doesn’t stop!
• We took our 16-months-old to see Santa at the mall. Remind me to scan and post the picture one of these days… It’s a good shot of Frank, hehehe.
• I persevered through all of this season of Beauty and the Geek. I finally made it to the finale and winner, which was tonight, but I missed it because our supposedly cool tv receptor that Frank installed isn’t working, again.
• Frank just told me I would better not use the “Publish” feature right away to post this entry, because he pulled our website offline to mess with the server.
• Frank is actively loosing ground on his request for funds for buying a new computer to use as server.

Alright, that will be enough. I translate and I’m off to bed. (And apparently I only post this entry tomorrow.)

We’re not much for folding laundry. We often forget loads in the dryer until we’re looking for a piece of clothing, or we’ll bring a hamper of clean clothes upstairs because we have to clear the dryer for a fresh load. That hamper usually stands in the corner of our bedroom through the week, we’ll take a shirt out once in a while and sometimes drop dirty clothes in it by mistake, until we can’t remember if that laundry’s clean or for washing.

The other day, Frank brought a clean load up and set the hamper in a different place than usual. When I came up to bed and found it there, I asked why the change of location.

F – Oh, I just figured by placing it there we’d be more likely to get it folded.

He said this quite casually and without really thinking about it. I looked again at the new location.

E – Have you figured out why this is so?

Frank paused, thought for a second or two, then tried really hard to refrain from laughing just before me.

Here’s our bedroom layout, “A” being the old usual location, “B” being the new.

You can come to your own conclusion.

“It’s me, Grace. I’ve seen you eat M&Ms off the floor.” – Will, Will & Grace

I thought that line was sort of funny, back in the days where every piece of food that found its way to the laminate flooring of this former McDonald’s employee’s house had just bought itself a ticket to the kitchen garbage bin. Now that Xavier’s started eating, we’ve sort of lowered those ISO-approved restaurant chain standards. I’m not saying we’ll scrape puree from the floor to feed it back to him, but dry foods could well make it back to his tray. To quote a long-running ad campaign of Quebec’s lottery, in relation to having a baby: “Doesn’t change the world, but…”

On some things, I can’t decide if having a kid is making us more into mature classy adults or bringing us a step back.

The alarm clock wakes me up at 6:32. In the shower, the water gushes in a steady warm flow. The toaster is set to 4, so the bread gets crispy but not stiff. The fridge offers orange juice kept at 36 degrees F. Plate and glass go in the dishwasher, set with options normal cycle-extra rinse-heat dry.

From the morning show on tv, I know of traffic issues in advance and learn potential alternate commutes. I start the car; the dashboard lights up – ready to inform about anything amiss – and the stereo automatically begins playing music to my liking. En route, traffic lights keep travelers agreeing and, once on the highway, the activated cruise-control frees me of worrying about keeping a steady speed. 12 minutes later I enter the company parking lot: a snowplough service has already removed the effects of last night’s storm and cleared my spot.

Work begins at 8h. An ergonomical chair prevents any strain on my back, and the screen on my desk pinpoints reminders, tasks and meetings. The office’s temperature is regulated by the dual action of a heating system and air conditioning, so that weather does not affect work. If a glare should appear on the screen, I can shut the blinds to continue working comfortably. I meet a client at 10:00, during which time the phone’s ring is muted, and voicemail picks up my messages. Lunch hour starts at 12h – voicemail is activated again while I consumate food reheated for one minute and 52 seconds at intensity 7 in the microwave. The courrier guy comes around at 16h to pick up a registered package bound for a city in another province. It will reach its destination at 10h the next day; should it get lost, the warranty will replace it.

I get in the car again at 17h02. I stop at the store on the way home, where I get my pick from a dizzying array of food on display. I get annoyed there’s no avocado in stock. Back at home, a machine chops the food for me, and it is cooked at 375 degrees for 18 minutes exactly, after which delay the timer goes off.

I eat in the living room, remote control in hand, zapping through a sea of 500 tv channels until I settle on a travel show uncovering the beauty of a country half a world away. Later on, my laptop and the internet allow me to complete some banking operations, plan an outing for the weekend and receive news from faraway friends, all this while remaining ensconced in the sofa.

I switch off the light, slip in bed and lie back on a mattress designed to suit my bodysize and preferred sleeping positions. The fridge’s hum bothers the quiet of the otherwise silent house. I wonder if there existed a gizmo to control sleep.