… stop listening to this radio programme about alcoholism. It's starting to, err, bother me. I'm not an alcoholic. Not really. I just love drinking. Booze helps me relax. Without booze, I become this introvert, gloomy person with too many insecurities.
And if I quit drinking, I'd probably lose 2 or 3 pounds and if I do, I'll start to look scary. I love my bones but when they start to poke out too visibly, they tend to freak out everyone around (probably because no one wants to get their eye poked out by a clavicle).

I've come to realize that no matter what, I'll always have this melancholy, this creeping sadness inside of me. I've never been fully happy in my life. Whenever I'm happy, I know it won't last. Or I tell myself it won't last. I can't help it. Even as a kid, I sometimes stopped playing and thought about how nothing would last, how one day, my grandfather would die or there'd be a war or that I'd lose everything I loved.

There are so many things that can trigger that feeling. Right now, it's when I see all the new baby pics on Flick'r. No, I don't and can't anyway have a baby. But I just feel excluded from The Club, once again. Parents share something I'll never know.

I watch life from the outside. That enables me to write, I guess. But it's lonely here sometimes.

Blythou out.

Just because she's a cutie...

She's growing up really fast. Soon, she'll speak fluently, but right now, she's in full babytalk mode, which is extra-cute. She called me Tata (French for Auntie) the other day and whether it was a coincidence or not, I don't care, it was adorable.

She had great fun with her uncle Thierry as well, who gave her plenty of piggyback rides...

Right now, her favorite activites include : doing whatever's dangerous, hazardous, forbidden, watching us play with the wii console and putting obstacles in our paths when we exercise with the wii-fit, splashing in the pool, making all kinds of cute noises, watching the washing machine in action, moving around her little plastic chair, messing with her food.

She also adores when you hide behind something and emerge while saying "Coucou !". We played it a LOT. And I mean, a lot. I just melt when I make her laugh.

Blythou out.

Well, thank you Margaux and thank you Ginger & JM... Without them, I'd freak out majorly at the thought of new babies popping up around me on a regular basis lately.

Before she was born, I had this preconceived idea that all parents turned into, well, parents. You know, the kind who look down their noses at you suddenly because you're a potential bad role model and you're too selfish to have little ones.

Now, I still feel a little pang of initial, well, not sadness, no. Bittersweetness is more like it. But after that, I feel excited. Because a new baby means little feet to nibble on, fresh baby smell to inhale, baths & bottles to give, cuddles, loads of cuddles, sharing new experiences.

I'm stopping here before I get sappy and emotionnal. You all know what I mean anyway.

PS : does anyone know where to find a "Super Auntie" cape ? It has to be easily washable, of course !

Blythou out.

If someone could bottle Baby Margaux's freshly washed skin smell, they'd make a fortune. It smells great and it's soothing as well.

Blythou out.

Back from the monthly lunch with my mother in law. She was in fine form, i.e. mega annoying. For no reason at all, except that she has trouble minding her own business, she broached one of her favorite subjects. When, oh when, will I finally have a baby ?

Thierry and I promptly answered like the 6798 previous times : NEVER.

This is clear enough, I think. We've never let her hope that we might change our minds and Thierry has repeatedly told her he doesn't care for kids, doesn't want to have any and I've said the same, adding that I've already got more than enough to keep me occupied.

This time, she almost pleaded. It was pretty disturbing. She started by suggesting I work part time (free lance journalist part time, that's like, totally realistic). To which I answered that less work means less money. And a baby is expensive. She then replied that she could help us, even give us money if we had a kid.

Oh yes... That's exactly what I want. Being financially endebted to a mother in law who tries to control our lives any chance she gets. I'm so going to quit work, stay home, raise a kid and depend on her money... Esp. since she loves to underline in front of Thierry that I'm a big spender !

Thierry rushed to my help, saying that I loved my job too much for quitting or slowing down. And that he felt too old to have a baby anyway. No, no, no, you're not, she said. And babies don't cost that much.. When you were born, Thierry, we didn't have a lot, blah-blah...

What she doesn't understand here, is that we both love our freedom too much, we love having enough money so we don't have to worry about making ends meet, that we're already on the next level, the one where you think about designer furniture, travels, selfish pleasures of every kind, and where you don't want to live in a cramped appartment with a baby, struggling with money, lack of sleep and spare time, etc.

Then, she launched in a diatribe on one of her favorite subjects : how "supposedly liberated working women" (her words) are unhappy, rushing every morning to work, looking harrassed, often smoking (YES ! Those monsters SMOKE, like I sometimes do !) and how she loves to observe them every morning from her bedroom window.

I didn't reply by saying that at least, they're free, unlike many women who used to be trapped at home, raising a family while their husbands were sleeping with younger, sexier chicks (to stay in clichéland where she lives). Or that many people can't afford to live with one income. Or some women are divorced and must earn their keeping. Or that the fifties way of style is a thing of the past, thank God.

At least, I was glad Thierry supported me. And I still wonder how she didn't turn into a horrid macho after trying to ram so much sexist bullshit down his throat.

Blythou out.