Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Naptime: And Other Tips From The Captain's Log

Afternoon Readers,

     Never trust a baby. They'll tell you anything you want to hear. In the past, I could plop the twins in their cribs, skip out, and enjoy a nice, long nap time. But, ever since Butch figured out how to get out of his crib, things have been complicated. Both detainees are now under constant watch, on (what they consider to be trumped-up) charges of mutiny. Through my nap time journeys, I've been able to gather enough in my log to share some survival tips, in the instance you find yourself keeping watch over scurvy babies. May I now present a few choice entries from my Captain's Log....
                                                                     Captain's Log:
(The studiously non-studious entries kept by the infamous Captain Waxes Her Beard)

December 1, 2011

     As usual, I'm on watch by myself. I thought being the Captain meant I was supposed to assign other people to do the crappy jobs? I suppose I should've listen to Husband, before I set sail, and fully staffed the ship. Though, we do need to plunder first, hire a nanny second. So far today, I've swabbed the deck, killed a shark, and replaced the ship's toilet paper. The detainees are quiet.
 
December 15, 2011

     Yesterday, when I said they were quiet, it turns out they were just laying really still. When I heard the girl make a noise, I walked over to the crib, leaned in, and was almost bludgeoned to death with a stuffed seal. I've heard of Sirens. I think I may have just encountered one. By my estimation, her every intent was to beat me senseless, then use my lifeless body to jump out.

December 28, 2011

     I've learned not to look at the Siren and read my Kindle, instead. I caught her reflection, once. Luckily, she didn't inherit her Father's ability to turn others to stone with a single glance. I've, thereby, classified her a threat level green.

January 3, 2011

     I've taken to learning Chinese, Hindi and an ancient form of Gaelic, with the long afternoon hours. When I'm done with that, I usually write notes to myself using stick figure doodles. Speaking of, I can't tell if --(--:) means, "Feed the dog" or "Time to put the dog down." It could've also been me trying to remember the giant stingray I saw off the port bow.   

January 7, 2011 

     Today was especially frightening. The boy, usually quite content to roll in a ball and go to sleep, unleashed his full fury. I knew he was just biding his time. From my rocking chair, it was apparent the small man was set to explode, his arms flailing, and many protests of, "Ma, no no no!"

It wasn't until I jumped to my feet, brandished the stuffed seal, and shouted, "Fàngxià, xiànzài, nǐ de bàojūn!”
 ...or.."Lay down, right now, you tyrant"...that the small man with the balled fists retreated back into his cave made of fuzzy snowman blankets. I've since found, what I presume to be, small threats scrawled across the bottom of my refrigerator door.
January 17, 2011

     There wasn't as much resistance, as in past weeks. Although, I did find it rather frightening when the detainees both stood up in their cribs, started rocking back and forth, and somehow turned, "Mama, Dada, no, no, no," into some sort of round. I don't have the heart to tell the First Mate, we might be done fore. Perhaps I'll cook him his favorite meal as a last goodbye. I know how he loves my special "Boiled Water Over Salted Water".

So, that's about how my week's going. Anyone else?

Until Next Time, Readers!