Welcome to the world, Naomi-chan.
On Sunday morning my friend Miss Ruthie gave birth (by cesarean section) to a 5-pound girl called Naomi. She's a little premature and was on the ventilator for a while, but she's doing fine, and breathing on her own. Mom and baby should be home, together, by Thursday.
It's lovely. I've been overwhelmed by feelings of well-big and warm fuzzy goodwill since I got the news. And I can't believe I feel such love and affection for a little bundle of warm skin and pooping that I've never even met, nor seen. But I guess, in a way, that's partly because she's made of the best parts (I'm sure) of two good friends, and partly because I've been following her progress since she was but a little tadpole, viewed on a fuzzy scanned ultrasound printout. And partly because babies, especially other people's babies, are just plain cute and smell nice*.
I had a kind of disturbing dream though, last night. More than usual, I mean**. I was in this odd place that was half-submerged underwater, and it was night time. I was surrounded by people that were my friends (in the dream, but who do not actually exist, as far as I know), and there was this woman there; very retro and 40's, with very sharp eyebrows; who asked me to microwave her baby to warm it up. I got distracted while doing so, and the baby ended up cooked..overcooked in fact, with all the grue you'd expect from a microwaved baby***. I was, to say the least, upset. And felt very guilty.
The mother was not all that upset about it, although she chastised me at first for my carelessness. But, as she said, "it happens". I still felt terrible, though, and was sad and sickened until way after I woke up, brushed my teeth, and sprayed my deodorant****. So, what's going on in my mind, eh? I mean, microwaving bebbehs...what's up with that?
* disregarding, of course, the screaming, crying and pooping, respectively.
** Although the one the night before last where my ex had a smaller waist than me and kept taunting me about it was pretty quirky too, I guess.
***it looked even worse than Amy Winehouse, or Britney's cellulitic bottom. yes, that bad.
**** I missed my underarms and hit the wall behind me: I was very sleepy.
It's lovely. I've been overwhelmed by feelings of well-big and warm fuzzy goodwill since I got the news. And I can't believe I feel such love and affection for a little bundle of warm skin and pooping that I've never even met, nor seen. But I guess, in a way, that's partly because she's made of the best parts (I'm sure) of two good friends, and partly because I've been following her progress since she was but a little tadpole, viewed on a fuzzy scanned ultrasound printout. And partly because babies, especially other people's babies, are just plain cute and smell nice*.
I had a kind of disturbing dream though, last night. More than usual, I mean**. I was in this odd place that was half-submerged underwater, and it was night time. I was surrounded by people that were my friends (in the dream, but who do not actually exist, as far as I know), and there was this woman there; very retro and 40's, with very sharp eyebrows; who asked me to microwave her baby to warm it up. I got distracted while doing so, and the baby ended up cooked..overcooked in fact, with all the grue you'd expect from a microwaved baby***. I was, to say the least, upset. And felt very guilty.
The mother was not all that upset about it, although she chastised me at first for my carelessness. But, as she said, "it happens". I still felt terrible, though, and was sad and sickened until way after I woke up, brushed my teeth, and sprayed my deodorant****. So, what's going on in my mind, eh? I mean, microwaving bebbehs...what's up with that?
* disregarding, of course, the screaming, crying and pooping, respectively.
** Although the one the night before last where my ex had a smaller waist than me and kept taunting me about it was pretty quirky too, I guess.
***it looked even worse than Amy Winehouse, or Britney's cellulitic bottom. yes, that bad.
**** I missed my underarms and hit the wall behind me: I was very sleepy.
posted by Betenoir at 10:28 AM
5 Comments:
I think you gotta start cutting back on those late night snacks. No cheese before bedtime for you ;)
This isn't a setup for a joke is it? How do you get 10 babies in a bucket sorta thing?
Dude your dreams are starting to even scare me!
Sheeeat!
The microwaved baby is a metaphor for something important you feel like you've buggered up in your life. The mother represents all those people who tell you not to worry about it, but you know you should have done it better. Just call me Dr Wiggly.
chewie: I need the cheese, man! I'm an addict...
Shebee: that's not a good sign! not at all!
Wiggly: that doesn't really narrow it down... but thanks. You're a pro, for sure.
Fine physician that he clearly is, I think Dr Wiggly missed the diag marginally...
Second opinion (and just that..:)
It's about temptation..The water is your struggle in life...The retro with the blade eyebrows is Nick, Louis Cypher...tempting you with unspeakables...The crispy fried rug-rat is the (possible) consequence of your seduction....
[/opinion]
If I hit any nerves, are you being tempted? To do some bad/cool/bad/sexy/bad stuff?
Hey! You said leave a comment...
;-)
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