Tuesday, 26 August 2014

MY LATEST VISIT WITH PIGGLY WENT PARTICULARLY WELL

piggly wiggly, brampton, whorrified, ice bucket challenge,
PIGGLY AND I SPEND A JOYOUS HOUR ON THE FRONT PORCH
waiting for passersby to mistake me for her mother. 
It's just one of the many fun things we do when Glama visits.

It's been an unheard-of two weeks since I last saw my little honey bundle of thigh rolls, and I don't know if Piggly Wiggly Withdrawal is a medically recognized condition, but if it isn't, it should be. Because I suffer from it and it is no joke. If more than a week goes by without an infusion of her baby cuteness, I start to feel wan. If more than 10 days go by, I start to have nightmares. (In the last one, Piggly walked up to me on her fat little seven-month-old legs and barked, "That's not really coffee in that cup at all, is it?") 

So when I opted to visit her during my precious days off last week rather than staying home and cleaning my slatternly household it's more of a habitat, really it was basically a medical emergency and therefore I have no reason to feel guilty about it. Even though I implied I was coming over to help out and then did nothing but sit around drinking "coffee" and cuddling my adorable little plumpling.

However, because I am nothing if not a gigantic pain in the ass saint, I did endeavour to make myself somewhat useful. Meaning I sent my daughter and her hubby out for some couple time while I babysat. In the one hour that they were gone, I managed to spill an entire bowl of pureed baby food on their new furniture, keep the baby up past her bedtime taking selfies and, for the piece de resistance, somehow allowed her to pull that goddam feeding tube out. Any of the romance her parents were able to rekindle while they were out was instantly doused by the ensuing ordeal of having to hold their squirming, squealing infant down and wind that awful thing back into her stomach through her nose. I have a feeling it might be more than two weeks before I'm allowed back to help again. Seriously not looking forward to those damn nightmares ...

THE KID PAUSED DURING A ROUSING ROUND OF JOLLYJUMPING, LOOKED ME STRAIGHT IN THE EYE AND SAID:  
'Enough of this crap, how about you pour that drink over your head and call it the Ice Bucket Challenge?' Or maybe it was just another one of my withdrawal nightmares. They're terrifyingly real.