Dongurigal

Life is beautiful

The beauty of being a foreigner in Japan, which, incidentally, is where I am right now, is that you can buy an embarrassing item such as a package of pads for incontinence rather than for periods and the cashier is going to think, "dumb foreigner has the wrong pads but I won't be able to explain to her that it is the wrong thing because she won't understand a word I'm saying" instead of thinking oh gross, that foreigner pees her pants.

Which, incidentally, is exactly what I've been doing since giving birth.

Peeing my pants.

Conversations with Sproglette #6

Sproglette:  Mom, mom, maaaahm, this is a yummy banana.

Dongurigal: Oh, I'm so pleased you ate half a banana. You're such a good girl. It's been so hard to get you to eat solids, but now look at you, an eating machine. Oooh, you're my sweet little chicken...... Uuuuuh, what do you think you're doing?

S:  I'm going to smush it into the chair.

DG:  Yeah, uh, can you NOT do that, we're in a shopping mall. Other people might want to sit in this chair. Aw, hon, NO. NOOO. NOOOOO. Give me that. Oh, God, there's banana everywhere.

S: Now I'm going to smack your boobs.

DG: No, wait, don't smack me with those sticky hands. Do you know how hard it is to wash banana out of clothes? Do you? Just wait till I wash your hands off. Just give me a minute, I gotta open my purse and find the wet wipes.

S: With your pinky?

DG: Well, yeah, I've got banana all over my hands now.

S: You're going to rummage through that monster purse of yours with your pinky?

DG: Yes.

S: And you think I'll wait for you to find the wet wipes? You think I'll just sit here quietly while you rummage through your...

DG: Yes, yes, please, yes, sit quietly. I'll just be a minute.

S: Forget it! I'm going to smack you and smear this bit of banana into the chair some more. That's what I'm going to do.

DG: Ok, fine, I'll lick my fingers so that I can rummage faster.

S: Ha. Mom, you can't lick your fingers. It's Ramadan. It's Xtreme Lent. Plus, it's illegal in Qatar to eat during the fasting hours. Oh, man, it would be so cool if you got arrested for licking banana off your fingers.

DG: Look, I have to lick my fingers anyway because the wipes are at the very very very very bottom of my purse. So, I'm going to lick my fingers once this guy in a dishdasha walks by. Right, I'm looking left. I'm looking right. No one's around. Ok, it's safe to lick my fingers now.

S: HEY EVERYBODY, MOM'S LICKING BANANA OFF HER FINGERS. HEEEEEEEEY HEEEEEEEY. LOOK OVER HERE! SOMEBODY CALL THE COPS.

DG: Stop it. Do you want to get me arrested?

S: You got banana on your lips.

DG: Bugger.

S: Caught red-handed.

DG: Would you cut it out.

S: Mom, duh, why didn't you have the wipes ready before you gave me the banana. Sometimes, you just don't think do you?

DG: I know, l'il miss smartypants. I know, ok.

S: Basic, mom, basic. Guess it's time for you to enroll in Motherhood 101.

Conversations with Sproglette #5

Sproglette:  Mom, mom, maaaaahm, would you cut out that racket. I'm trying to nap here.

Dongurigal: Right, but I want you to wake up. It's been nearly 2 hours and lately you've only been sleeping for half an hour. So I thought you'd be done by now.

S: See that's what I don't get about you mom. You're po'd when I nap for half an hour and now you're po'd when I nap for 2 hours. Make up your mind, would ya.

DG: Listen, we need to discuss your napping habits, sweety, because you know exactly why I'm trying to wake you up. We were supposed to be at H's house an hour ago. I told you we were going when I was putting on your diaper.

S: Yeah, well, I got tired. I can't help it when I'm tired.

DG: But you seem to do this EVERY time I make plans. Every time.

S: (Big Wide Eyes)

DG: And when I don't make any plans for the day, you don't nap. AT. ALL. What gives, kiddo?

S: (Big Wide Eyes and a Yawn)

DG: Anyway, I just phoned H to tell her we'd be over by noon, now. It's not nice to keep her waiting. So, uh, sweety, what are you doing?

S: Going back to sleep.

DG: No, we gotta go soon. Stay awake. Please.

S: Just a few more minutes, mom.

DG: I'll flush the toilet. Over and over again.

S: Oh, that's really environmental, mom. Way to go. Bye now. I'm closing my eyes.

DG: I'll vacuum.

S: Eyes are closed mom. Go away.

DG: I'll crackle plastic bags and bang pots and pans.

S: LA LA LA LA, mom. I can't HEAR you!

DG: Are you lalala-ing me?

S: What does it sound like, mom? Huh? Now let me sleep, already, or you'll really really regret tonight.

DG: Ok, fine. Fine. FINE. You win. Zymurgy!

S: Is that a new swear word?

DG: Might be. (oh, hi H, yeah, listen Sproglette's still sleeping, so it looks like we'll be over maybe around 1:30 or 2 now, is that ok. Sorry, really, I'm sorry. Oh, thanks so much for understanding. See you then.)

S: Can you teach me some more new swear words?

DG: No, now go back to sleep. You wanted a bit more time, didn't you? So here's your bit more time. Use it.

S: Nah, I think I'd like to learn some new swear words. You've got some good ones.

DG: No, no, go back to sleep. Please. I just changed plans. C'mon. Just nap for a bit longer.

S: Nah, swear words please, I know they're coming. You're going to lose in a second. C'mon mom. Let's hear 'em.

DG: BACK. TO. SLEEP. NOW.

S: I'm waiting.

DG: &à!!#(ç$  "-#!?&@° &~"-`#!

S: Awesome!

Conversations with Sproglette # 4

Sproglette: Hey dad, dad, DAAAAAD.

Hubs: Qu'est-ce que tu racontes?

S: Dad, we have to speak in English for the sake of mom's blog. Anyway, I love you.

H: Me too. Shall I dance? Doopidoopi doo, jiggly jiggly jig.

S: Ha ha. You're funny. You're more fun than mom, you know.

H: What are you talking about? She's fun too.

S: Yeah, ok, but she multi tasks her fun-ness. She doesn't just focus on me like you do. You know, yesterday, while she was washing one of my poopy diapers, she sat me in front of the washing machine to watch the laundry go round and round.

H: So? What's wrong with that?

S: Well, nothing, I guess. Actually it was kind of mesmerizing. But then she wouldn't let me chew on the laundry soap bottle cap.  And when we're in the kitchen she won't let me crawl into the dishwasher when she's loading it. I mean, that's not nice. She really shouldn't do her CHORES while I'm awake. I should be her sole focus.

H: Well, if she did that, then nothing would ever get done in this house. You gotta understand, she's addicted to the internet, so she lives for the times when you nap so she can go online.  She's not going to clean when you're asleep. Are you kidding?

S: I know! Once, when I was almost asleep, and she put me in the crib, and I just stayed there quietly, eyes nearly closed, I SAW her pump her fist in the air and do a happy dance. Can you believe it?

H: Yup. I can.

S: So, I cried. Then she had to pick me up and she couldn't go online right away. Hah! She thought I was gassy. She just doesn't get it. Hey dad, watch this...WAH WAH WAH...

(from kitchen) Dongurigal:  Oi, Sproglette, what's the matter?

S: Wah wah --psst dad, you still watching, I'm going to crawl toward the kitchen, crying at the same time. Watch. Wah wah, you watching? Huh? I can see you watching the Olympics, watch ME dad.

H: Ok. Ok. I'm watching YOU.

S: WAH WAH WAH...

DG: Hey sweety, hello there, what's wrong? You hungry? Gassy? Hot? You miss me? You want a cuddle?

S: Wah. Mmmmm, mommy, your so cuddly. (Pssst, hey dad, do you wanna play the poop game. Make an excuse to go downstairs for a few minutes.)

H: Gotta get something from the car, back in a minute.

DG: Ok....

S: Pffffffffft, splurt.

DG: Oh, jeez. Oh, God, why do you always wait until your dad walks out the door to take a shit. Always, always!!! Why? WHY?

----5 minutes later

H: Stinks in here, did she....? While I was downstairs?

DG: DO NOT EVEN TALK TO ME. Next time, I'm letting her stew. I swear to God.

S: (Winks at Dad).

H: (Winks back at Sproglette).

DG: Hey, I saw that.

Conversations with the Sprog 3

Sproglette:� Uh, mom? Mom, what are you doing?

Dongurigal: Putting you in your car seat, honey. We're going to the mall.

S: No no no no, oh no, OH NO! Don't even think about it, JACKASS.

DG: EXCUSE ME?

S: I said "don't even thi...."

DG: Sweety, I'm being rhetorical. I know exactly what you said. And what I want to know is why you think that's appropriate.

S: What does appropriate mean?

DG: Don't change the subject. You said the J-word.

S: So? You always say Jacka...

DG: The J-word

S: Fine. The J-word. You always say the J-word.

DG: I do not ALWAYS say it. When do you hear me saying the J-word?

S: In the car. Pretty much every few seconds, especially when you see a Toyota Land Cruiser merging or entering a roundabout. In fact, mom, do you realize you always say, 'Don't even think about it, J-word.' There, you happy. I said J-word.

DG: Well, technically I don't SAY it, I whisper it.

S: Mom, please, you SAY it. I can hear you in the back seat.

DG: Well, then, it's a stage whisper, ok.

S: Sure. Whatever... and sometimes you even shout it. And sometimes you even say 'Don't even F-word think about it, J-word.'

DG: Sigh

S: You also shout Jesus H.

DG: Yes, I guess I do.

S: That's taking the Lord's name in vain, mom.

DG: Yes, I know. My bad.

S: What's His middle name?

DG: Whose?

S: Jesus'

DG: I don't know.

S: Well, apparently it starts with H. Harry? Harvey? Herbert?

DG: How about we move on, kiddo.

S: Ok moving on then. The other word you shout sometimes is Moth...

DG: That's enough.

S: ...erfu...

DG: I said, that's enough.

S: ...ck

DG: DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT....

S: JACKAAAAAAAAAAASS!� Keeheeheeeheeee.

DG: Oh, you are in trouble now, young lady.

S: Oooh, I can't wait till Nana hears my very first word.

DG: I heard that.

S: What? I was "whispering."

Conversations with Sproglette 2

Sproglette: Hey mom, hey hey. Mawwwwwm. Wake up. I'm awake now. I'm all refreshed. You were right, I'm all smiley, all happy. I'm not growling. But you. You look really crotchety. And you're growling!

Dongurigal: You call that a nap?

S: What? What's wrong with 22 minutes? It's long enough.

DG: Not for me, it isn't.

S: Well, it's long enough for me.

DG: Not, it's not.

S: Yes, it is.

DG: Is not.

S: Is so.

DG: IS NOT

S: IS SO.

DG: IS NOT IS NOT IS NOT LA LA LA

S: Mom, grow up. And get me out of this crib will ya.

DG: Fine. Now what do you want to do? 'Cause I can tell you what I want to do. Nap.

S: I think I'll crawl, thank you. Put me down. Please.

DG: I gotta change your diaper first. Ok, done. There you go, you're on the floor now. Have fun crawling.

S: Aren't you going to play with me?

DG: Nope, I'm too tired. I have no energy. You  didn't nap long enough, so I'm just going to sit here and watch you.  And read.

S: You mean you'll read and every now and then get up to move me away from the wires and back to the middle of the rug. 

DG: As you like.

S: Please play with me.

DG: Nope.

S: Pretty please.

DG: Nope.

S: With sugar on top.

DG: Ok, ok.O-KAY. Just for a few minutes, though.  Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo. Well, back to my book now.

S: Play longer.

DG: Nope.

S: Why not.

DG: Because I'm too tired. And I don't want to be awake. We're stuck in this apartment most of the day and napping makes the day shorter.  Really, Sproglette, it's such a tragedy that we're in Doha this summer. You can't be outside, it's too hot. We can't listen to birds, we can't go for a walk. You're missing out on so much. It's brutal, just brutal.

S: Oh, mom, quit being so melodramatic! What are you talking about anyway? This apartment is AWESOME.

DG: Sure it's nice, but I'm a bit stir crazy.

S: Stir, I don't know about, but you're definitely crazy. Look at all the exciting things we can do in this apartment. Crawl over here. Crawl under the coffee table. Examine the wheels of my high chair. You really should dust them, you know. We can chew wires! Chew the corner of the rug! We can scritch the rug! I love scritching the rug. Oh, oh, wait. Let's smack the ceramic tiles! C'mon mom, smack these tiles with me. You'll love it.

DG: Smack the tiles with you?

S: Yeah, listen smack smack smack. Isn't that just great.

DG: Smack

S: Harder

DG: SMACK

S: Three times in a row, really fast.

DG: Smacksmacksmack

S: Ha Ha mom.

DG: What?

S:  You're smiling.

Conversations with the Sprog (a la Cartoon Lounge)

SPROGLETTE:  Mom, mom, mawwwwwwwm, would ya look up from your blog for a minute and pay attention to me. Look, I'm chewing wires.

DONGURIGAL:  Gah, you're chewing wires!!! No no no no. Sit here.

S: When are you going to learn that you can't take your eye off me for even one minute, mom. I'm crawling now.

DG: You call that crawling? It's more like a cross between a baboon walk and beached seal.

S: Ya, but I'm fast.

DG: Ok, fine, you're fast. But it's not full on crawling. Gawd, you're only 6 and a half months old. Slow down already. I don't want you bonking your head on the TV stand like you did last time.

S: Ya, I'm fast, alright. Woohoo. That'll teach you for not watching me 24/7.  Look at me go. Zoom zoom. Vroom vroom....... Grrrrr.

DG: You seem tired. You wanna have a nap.

S: No. No way. I'm not tired.

DG: But you're growling.

S: So?

DG: And you're rubbing your eyes.

S: Yah? So?

DG: And you're yawning.

S: Soooooo?

DG: And your head keeps dropping to the floor.

S: Whatever, mom.

DG: Did you just 'whatever' me? Save it for your teens, kiddo. You're napping. Here I'll give you a cuddle first.

S: I like cuddling you, mom. You have soft boobies.  I got a question though, are you going to pull that Cry It Out crap like you've been doing the last couple of days?

DG: You betcha. Haven't you noticed how tidy the apartment looks right now. Even dad's noticed.

S: I don't get it.

DG: Well, I'm not all that heartless. It's not like I can go read a book or hang out on the internet while you're crying. 

S: And? I still don't get it.

DG: So, I tidy. Wash a pot. Get the dishwasher unloaded. Put in a load of laundry. Wipe the counter. And anyway, I always come into your bedroom after a few minutes to soothe you, so what are you whining about? And, chicken, I got a question for you, too: what's with not napping or  going to bed for me, but going to sleep immediately when your dad puts you in your crib? Huh, what's up with that?

S: Well, he's furry, mom. It makes me sleepy.

DG: But you're already sleepy.

S: But he's like one of my toys.

DG: Is that so.

S: It is so.

DG: Ok, sweety, we're done cuddling. Have a good nap. I love you.

S: Hey, hey, hey, haaaaaaay.

DG: Don't even think about it. It won't work. You know me, sleep's something I do not compromise on. And you are much nicer after a two hour nap. You just are.

S: Grrrrrrr.

DG: No really, you are. Smiley, happy, You don't growl or whine. You play. You crawl. If I let you get away with this, you'll be a basket case all day. And so will I.

S: Grrrrrr.

DG: I'm going to load the dishwasher.

S: Grrrrr. I'm going to cry. I will. You know I will.

DG: Whatever, kiddo. You'll fall asleep eventually.

S: Did you just 'whatever' me, mom.

DG: Yep, I sure did.

The Logic of Cats

Chatsworth is restless. She likes to be outside, but it's minus 30 right now, there is heaps of snow, and a windchill to boot.

It doesn't stop Chatsworth from checking out the outdoor scene though. She sits on her kitty stool, stares out the window, chirps at the winter birds and then runs for the front door if me or my parents so much as pass by it.

We open the door to let her out for five or ten minutes, but she's learned that even five or ten minutes in this weather is insufferable. So she meows until we let her back in, three seconds later. Then she runs under the dining room table and licks herself.

She's still restless. She bats at the venerable Purrl and jumps on sleepy Willow and generally makes a nuisance of herself.

Then she has an a-ha moment. She goes and sits by the side door. I ignore her. She meows by the side door. I still ignore her.

Trots on over to me as I stand by the stove stirring my hot chocolate and paws at my legs.   She informs me with her forceful meow to let her out the side door because isn't it obvious that because it's a different door, the weather will be different too. I tell her no, it is not different. It is the same. But she insists and paws at me some more, so I let her out the side door. Fine, go outside, but you'll see. Front door, side door. It's all the same outside. It's COLD.

What do you humans know, she meows back in contempt. And leaps outside.

Three seconds later, she's back in the house, under the dining room table, licking herself and very humiliated. Her cat logic proven wrong.

By a human, no less.

Dogs have nine lives too

There is no question that you are a vicious cur, what with your teeth bared, the speed with which you launched your attack from your front door, your bristling white fur, and your rabid bark. No question. If I had been riding my bicycle, I would have wobbled into oncoming traffic just to avoid you.

But, I wasn't on my bicycle, was I?

I was in an SUV.

You're damn lucky to be alive.