Saturday, January 20, 2018

Welcome Little Baby ... Bat

After many MANY years of hearing from both the offspring, “Neither of us have any intentions of making you a grandmother. We hate children. It's never gonna happen, so don't bother getting your hopes up.” can you even begin to imagine one's surprise and delight upon receiving the news that is exactly what she's going to become this spring.

As you can well imagine, upon hearing the glorious news there was a flurry of activity here in the Little Gothic Cottage. Knitting was started. Thrifting was begun. And the newly appointed grandma started digging through the bowels of the basement to find all those baby items she'd so diligently washed, mended, sorted into plastic bins for each of her offspring and lovingly packed away when we decided to move from the city. Just in case. Because she vaguely remembers saying to her own Sainted Mother many MANY years ago, “Neither of us have any intentions of making you a grandmother. We hate children. It's never gonna happen, so don't bother getting your hopes up.” And she stuck firmly to that belief right up until the age of thirty-three; whereupon she decided that IF she was ever going to have children she'd probably best start thinking about it soon and promptly conceived a few days later. So truthfully, it wasn't all that surprising to get the news from the youngest - plus she'd already dreamt about it two weeks previously anyway.

In between knitting baby blankets, the grandma-to-be also started Googling for suitable layette items ... vampire baby clothes, gothic baby toys, dark mori baby attire, etc. Have you ever Googled any of those phrases yourself? No? The insomniac's  the only one then? Well, believe her when she says the results are nothing short of extremely disappointing.

Oh to be sure, there were plenty of black onesies with skulls, but when exactly did skulls become so mainstream on baby clothing? As far as vampire baby attire ... who in their right mind wants to saddle a child (or her mother) with either of these? Distasteful, at best.

We all know it happens.
No need to advertise the fact.

Sorry. Not on this grandchild.

And should you Google the phrase dark mori baby clothing (go ahead - just try it) why, there isn't a single picture of even one baby in the resulting images. WTH Google?

No matter where one tried to display the thus far accumulated baby items in the LGC, it all looked so terribly bright. Cheery, even. More importantly, it just didn't fit with grandma's aesthetic. Obviously, something must be done.

Oh sure, it's all Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice,
but one has to wonder where are all the Snakes and Snails
and Puppy Dog Tails Eyes of Newt?

So, as per usual, the insomniac has decided her newest all-consuming obsession in life is to come up with some ideas for dressing her granddaughter in a suitably dark, and yet tasteful, manner. There's just nothing quite so exciting as an all-consuming obsession, is there?

After all, what are grandmothers for besides teaching their grandchild how to bake delightful cookies, introducing her to our immediate neighbours, showing her which log the Faeries live under, and pointing out which mushrooms to avoid in the Spooky Forest ... although one might err on the side of caution for the latter and simply tell the child ALL the mushrooms are poisonous and not to eat ANYTHING from the forest. Just in case.

Totally toxic. Or maybe not.

Erring on the side of caution is probably the wisest choice here,
considering one's ignorance on the subject of mushroom toxicity ...

A fairly frequent neighbour, whom we are always happy to see.

Unlike some.

Not just hazarding a guess that Faeries live here. They've been SEEN.

(Don't kid yourself. The insomniac  totally knows which
mushrooms in the forest are the good ones ...)

Although she was given free reign (sort of) by the youngest as to what she was okay with grandma making for the new babe and assured her mother she'd let her know when she'd “gone too far”, we're all very aware this grandma wouldn't know the meaning of the phrase until she'd gone waaaay past wherever that particular line is drawn. Likely she wouldn't figure it out until threatened with Supervised Visits or, worse still, greeted at the door by someone with a restraining order in their hands. (Which likely means a real crow's foot baby mobile is out of the question, right? Yeah, thought so. Just checking.)

One feels a mobile made from all these elements would be
nothing short of a best seller ... No?

This obsession also seems like it might prove to be an excellent source for new blogging material, plus will hopefully placate one's psychic. Every visit, she mentions the Spirit Guides are insisting the insomniac  write a book. Not to second-guess one's Spirit Guides or anything, but one feels that what they're actually insisting is that she resurrect this blog. Again - not to disrepect the SG's opinions, who are far more aware of what the insomniac  should be doing with her life than she - but the idea of a book seems almost ludicrous. Whatever would she write about ... how to perfect the ever-so-useful lost art of hand-feeding birds? How to bake cookies unfit for human consumption? How to decorate one's home in the oh-so-popular Witchy Gothic Dark Mori Cottage Style? How to design and sew clothes for baby vampires? Such a book - should it ever be written - would defy even the best efforts of any bookstore associate to determine what category it should be filed under. Should such a book ever be written.

But for the time being, until a suitable topic for said book presents itself, if you follow the insomniac  on Instagram she may occasionally post a picture of her latest “creation” bearing the single hashtag #hasgrandmagonetoofar. This is a signal for you, dear readers, to let her know (preferably before the package goes in the mail) whether or not the item in question should be sent and will hopefully save her from the embarrassment of that restraining order. And by the bye, how is it even possible that hashtag has never been used before? The insomniac's  the only one then? Typical.

Until next time, the insomniac  wishes you nights of blissful sleep filled with pleasant dreams ... unless you're a brand new mother, in which case prepare yourself for a lifetime of sleeplessness. How else did you think the insomniac became the insomniac? As they say, payback is a bitch.

Goodnight, my pretties.

IA