Regardez moi! I'm NEKKID.

Me, to Adele: "Come here, we'll finish putting on your pyjamas"

Adele: "Wait. I'm going to talk to Grandpapa" (runs out of bedroom, naked)

Adele (to her Grandpapa, in other room): "Grandpapa! I'm with Mama!" (returns to bedroom).

Glad that's clear.

Music education: lacking.

Eva, looking at a photo of the Beatles:

"So which one of them is Michael Jackson?"

Last night

Eva, at dinner, after being told to finish the remaining two bites on her plate: "I know, I know. Because there are children in Africa who are FADING".

Then, while doing homework...she scanned some printouts of research material for her first grade science project on "the first explorers in space".

The Yuri Gagarin page caught her eye: "Oh, so his last name is actually WIKIPEDIA???"

Her first misinterpretation of internet information. Awwwww.

Magical

Arriving home after several days of work-related travel...hearing those delighted shrieks of "Mama!!!!!" and nearly getting knocked down in the huge, warm, wiggly hugs.

I am so, so lucky.

Her Highness

Typing this in a hurry because I have to go pick up her majesty at daycare in about ten minutes.

Addie has begun truly exerting her two year old self.

Remember that kid in The Exorcist? I'm sure I've made this comparison before.

Well, that kid was DAYCARE compared to Adele when she doesn't get her way.

Ad is a manager of mad. An administrator of anger. A goddess of grump.

Kid's got grump for DAYS.

Is this just "terrible twos", or is Adele more...mercurial...than most toddlers?

Oh, and the following is not about her grumples. Nooooo.

It's about her BOSSY.

Last night Addie announced at the dinner table, "I don't want Eva to talk". When no one really responded and Eva kept talking, Adele repeated it VERY LOUDLY AND EMPHATICALLY as though speaking to a table full of deaf people with mild intellectual challenges.

"I DON'T WANT EVA TO TALK!"

Nice.

Then, about a half-hour later, I was reading with Adele when she said, "NO MAMA. PAS PARLER". In English, that basically means SHUT UP.

(Yes, we are addressing this. Among other transgressions.)

Meanwhile, Adele has decided it's time to expedite her eventual move to a bed.

I've addressed my concerns (well, terror) about this, a post or two back.

We like having her in the cage at night.

SO.

As a compromise, we've started putting her into Eva's bed to fall asleep at night.

And for the time being, she doesn't seem to realize that SHE CAN GET OUT OF IT.

But it's still not easy.

Up until now, their bedtimes are staggered enough that Adele falls asleep in Eva's bed, then we move her into her crib so Eva can jump into bed.

Last, night, we made the mistake of moving Adele WHILE SHE WAS STILL AWAKE.

I am telling you, my arms are barely attached to their sockets.

The kid was PISSED.

I'm sure you heard the howls wherever you were. Glass broke, two towns over.

I think I have permanent hearing damage.

Which is okay, because Adele gives her (constant) directives so LOUDLY AND CLEARLY that I still get the gist.

I live to serve.

Sleepover

Eva's best friend is sleeping over.

So far, they've eaten supper, danced to the Grease soundtrack, played dress up, and fought a vicious battle over the rules of chess (!)

Moments ago, Eva tore out of the bedroom all dudded up (with the fly of her pants down) and demanded, "do I look like a rock star now?"

Stifling a snort of laughter took every ounce of strength in my body.

Right now they're going through her friend's little overnight bag.

Along with her pyjamas and toothbrush, she brought along:

Six cough lozenges and a tub of Vapo-Rub

Two superbounce balls

A stuffed unicorn

A giant stuffed rat

(and my favourite)

A pumpkin wand that lights up and spins

I love having little girls.

GET BACK IN THE $#*@!!! BED

1. Eva, tonight: "Without chocolate, I COULDN'T LIVE"

-I feel the same way about red wine. Particularly on Fridays.

2. Eva, also tonight: "It doesn't matter if you win. It just matters that you participate."

-Uh, right. Guess I'll be counting on your sister for a wealthy retirement.

3. Speaking of Adele - we're starting to consider moving her from a crib to a bed.

You can pretty much cue the ominous music right about now.

Adder is not like Eva was at two and a half.

Eva would come out and ask for water and a pee and a kiss and all that procrastination jazz. But when we said GET BACK IN THE BED, she went.

Eva's head is full of lollipops and gumdrops. Flowers and pixie dust. Butterflies and Froot Loops.

Adele's head has those things, too. But it also has a healthy splash of spit and vinegar. Thumbtacks and pork rinds. Bees and All-Bran.

The side that WILL NEVER, EVER GIVE IN TO WEAK, INSIPID MORTALS.

This is the two year old who locked me outside the other day (see post from November 2). Who laughed uproariously while I frantically tried to get her to open the door, and only opened it once she saw the veins physically pop out of my forehead - threat of a certain coronary if the door didn't open RIGHT NOW.

THE CHILD OPENED THE DOOR IN AN ACT OF MERCY.

And granted the constant nightly freedom of a BED, I know that she will show NO MERCY.

Adele will be nothing but a curly-topped 26-pound BOOMERANG.

The only thing going against her is that she's just a little weiner. She's short enough that we could probably keep her in the cage - I mean, crib - until after Christmas.

But sooner or later, we'll have to make the switch. It's only a matter of time.

And she'll be ready.

Oh yes.

She'll be ready.

(cue high-pitched evil laugh...then more ominous music...then fade out for Mama's bedtime)

Time just flu by

1. Just got back from getting Addie her H1N1 vaccination. SO GLAD to get one kid done. Frustrated that Eva's group doesn't come up until DECEMBER 7th. At the risk of sounding over-dramatic, it feels kind of Sophie's Choice to vaccinate one and not the other. I know the risks of any serious complications are low...but I'd like to make them even lower by getting that kid vaccinated!!! Anyway. Adder's done and I'm relieved about that.

Her memory shocked me yesterday...I said, "tomorrow we're going to the doctor" (well, random health-care professional) and she said "DOCTOR. THAT PICKS!" and pointed to her arm. She'd had her regular series vaccinations two weeks ago at the doctor's office.

I said, "It picks just a little bit"

She shook her head violently. "NO. IT PICKS A LOT"

Nice set up, Mama Bear. Way to freak her out in advance. DUH.

2. Started pushing the vacuum around this morning and Adele wagged her finger at me and bellowed, "NO MAMA! NOT ON THE CARPET! IT'S SOFT!"

Um. Smart kid. The CARPET is the POINT.

3. Eva got another 12/12 on her weekly spelling/math test. She has gotten ONE answer wrong all year. I'm kind of blown away. She can't remember to put the top back on the toothpaste...keep her butt planted on her chair during meals...leave the piano alone in the mornings because we have neighbours...etc etc etc. In fact, she'd forget to breathe if it wasn't an automatic bodily function. But song lyrics or academic stuff? Once you jam it in there, it's there for life.

4. Eva stayed home from school yesterday...she's been a bit on the sick side and I just wanted a day with my girlie. We rented "Les Choristes" - a French movie also known as "The Chorus" or "The Chorale" or something like that in English. There's a class photo with a bunch of old-fashioned-looking grubby little schoolboys on the DVD cover.

I'd seen it before - but loved it all over again because she loved it so much.

Worth renting - even subtitled, it'd be awesome, if only for the music.

Okay off to put away the vacuum. Wouldn't want it accidentally touching the carpet.

Can you hear me now?

1. Lost my voice. Well, not GONE but too weak to be on-air today. Wound up coming home and keeping Addie with me for the day - she's a bit sick with a cold, and seems to want a lot of cuddles. She keeps coming up to me and saying, "coller" (pronounced coll-AY). The verb "coller" means "to stick" - so she literally is asking to stick her little body on mine. It's kind of like saying "cuddle" or "hug", only a zillion times cuter. Which is my little bug's way.

2. Found myself on the WRONG side of the back door this morning, begging Adele to unlock the door while she laughed hysterically inside. I had stepped into the backyard to grab a bag of leaves, to set out for the garbage truck to pick up.

Quick as a flash, that little wretch slammed the door and LOCKED IT.

Suddenly I found myself outside looking in, with my TWO YEAR OLD completely free inside the house.

I'm sure it was hilarious for anyone observing from the outside - slightly crazed woman in sweatpants whispering curses and pounding on the back door, peering in through the window and gesturing like a one-armed air traffic controller on Christmas Day while begging to be let in...with all of my pleas completely inaudible because I HAVE NO BLASTED VOICE.

Adele seemed to understand, though, because after a horrifyingly stressful minute, she unlocked the door, smiling innocently the entire time.

Troll the Younger is NOT TO BE TRUSTED. EVER.

3. Eva has begun reading BECAUSE SHE WANTS TO. She's taken to carrying books around with her, cracking them open, and actually reading without us saying, "why don't you read a book?". Her fave is the Geronimo Stilton series. I watch it happen and melt - the whole world is opening up for her and we get a front row seat as it happens.

Kids are miracles, yes they are.

Miracles that ARE NOT TO BE TRUSTED FOR A FREAKING SECOND.

Halloween

1 Girls are down for a pre-Halloween eve nap. I've told Eva "No nap = no trick or treat" and she seems to be having a bit of trouble understanding the concept. I hate being the hammer, but she'll be one miserable little coot tonight if she doesn't catch a few zzzs. Not quite sure what I do if she actually doesn't sleep, ultimately. That was a dumb correlation for me to make - am I actually enough of a meanie to TAKE AWAY HALLOWEEN FROM MY CHILD? Probably not. Argh. I always thought I'd be an airy fairy hippy dippy mom. Instead I'm Cruella de Vil.

2. We are sick. All of us. Adele probably has it the worst; she's bubbling snot like Old Faithful bubbles hot water. And she's so fiercely independent, she doesn't even want us to wipe her nose for her - she wants to do it for herself. The result is dried snot all over her face and a toddler that looks like a wee Oscar the Grouch.

I must say, however, I love how Adele pronounces "booger" with a French accent: "Boogeur" with a little roll on the "R". It almost makes it fun to wipe away "les boogeurs".

3. Eva did two class projects out of entirely recycled-recyclable materials. One is a beanbag game, which is the project she actually entered in the competition at school (and lost but who cares). The other is a boat about the size of the kitchen table. I know the size is comparable because it has now been sitting on our kitchen table for many, many days.

And not because we LIKE it.

I have been trying to recycle that damned boat for TWO WEEKS NOW.

TWICE I have put it in the weekly recycling bin, only to have Eva shriek in shock and overly-dramatic offense that we are THROWING AWAY HER BEAUTIFUL CREATION and rescue the blasted thing from the bin. And then eventually it finds its way back to the kitchen table.

This time, I'm gonna bury that sucker SO DEEP DOWN IN THE BIN, it'll take a freaking DRILLING RIG to get it back. That boat is gonna strike oil!

THURSDAY MORNING. THE RECYCLING TRUCKS ROLL.

Random

1. Etienne and I were in the kitchen prepping lunch today, while Addie played on the floor and Eva sat quietly reading in a chair.

Suddenly, and with no apparent reason, Eva said, "You know, sometimes we all have stress in our lives. But that's okay. We can't help it. It's not our fault"

Etienne and I just sort of stopped working and stared at each other...wondering what psychoanalyst's ghost had possessed our elder child. Or what problem she was working through at school. Or what the heck she was talking about.

But that was it...she just quietly went back to Geronimo Stilton.

2. Had a brief but heated debate with Adele tonight, as to whether a camel in a book was a CHAMEAU or a CAMEL. Sorry kid. Check whose lap you're sitting in; that'll tell you if it's a chameau or a camel. And considering your bony little butt is currently destroying my upper thigh muscles, I'd suggest you just accept the fact that AT THIS PARTICULAR MOMENT IN TIME, IT'S A CAMEL.

3. Took Adder to Tim Horton while Eva was at dance class this morning.

We bought an old-fashioned glazed donut and got ourselves settled to share.

We were sitting by the window - a cold, grey day with rain pelting down. The donut was soft and unbelievably fresh and I was so happy to share such a sweet little moment with Adele.

I broke the donut into four parts and handed one to her.

She didn't even finish it. Took two bites and set it down, disinterested.

REFUSING TO FINISH A DONUT??? THE HECK???

My child, how you disappoint me.

4. Went to Evita's "Green Day" at school (well, it's actually called something else but I have no idea what the direct translation is). Everyone is supposed to send in old skates and coats and clothes and books and homemade cookies and so on to sell, raising money for a school in Nepal. We sent some stuff last week and then made four dozen cinnamon snap cookies this morning (Holy last minute, Batman!) and Etienne went off to volunteer at the sale while the trolls and I were at Eva's dance class.

We stopped by afterwards and watched Eva cavort with her friends and compete to see who could jam the most baked goods into their mouths.

Disturbed but also somewhat impressed by Adele's unrelenting efforts to escape our evil clutches and melt into the crowd. That kid will make an excellent spy one day.

5. Had to laugh at the playground, despite my distaste for graffiti on CHILDREN'S TOYS.

Some jackass had taken a magic marker to the slide and drawn male and female private bits on it.

There were some little lines between the two, as if to indicate motion or something, but the whole thing looked like it was done by some blind kid during an earthquake, so it wound up looking vaguely like an ice cream cone talking to an amoeba.

Kid, if you're going to go embrace danger and anarchy and start making your mark in the hood by scrawling graffiti on playground equipment, KINDLY FINISH THAT ART CLASS FIRST.

6. Swimming tomorrow. It's my turn to swim with Adele in her parent-child class. Gotta go make myself presentable - i.e. scrape my legs. They're like Christmas trees.

Now beat it, kid

Adele, my tiny tornado, shaking her head as she watches me beat some eggs:

"NO NO NO, Mama. GENTLY. We do it GENTLY"

Apparently our little dictator DOES understand when we issue the same directive.

She's just ignoring us.

As I suspected.

Thankful

It's Thanksgiving here in Canada...and more than anything, I'm thankful for my beautiful family.

We had a marvellous, sweet, quiet day.

We went to the park in the morning...Etienne and I hugging our coffees while the girls climbed and crawled and jumped and dug in the sand with chilly little fingers. I pushed Addie in the swing FOREVER - she screamed "FIRE!!!!" whenever her momentum started to drop. I kept trying to explain that the word is actually "HIGHER" but she never quite got it.

This afternoon, the three girls in the house NAPPED (woo hoo!) while Etienne went off on his own for a bit.

And then our awesome dinner...turkey roast, homemade cranberry-orange sauce, mashed potatoes, and maple-glazed brussels sprouts. Everything was easy peasey to cook...but FREAKING DELICIOUS. We didn't really have much by way of dessert, although I'd made applesauce earlier in the day and that was enough to satisfy Evita's sweet tooth.

It really was a wonderful, quiet day...I think we all needed a day at home with no obligations and no commitments...nothing major to do...leftovers in the fridge for lunch...supper all planned and easy enough to put together. We toasted the holiday with glasses of wine (E and I) and apple juice (the girls).

Really lovely.

Really lucky.

Really thankful.

THIS JUST IN

*****BREAKING NEWS*******

Eva L. is dropping out of the Grade One class presidential race.
The six year old made the announcement yesterday at her home in Montreal.
Sources close to the candidate say she'd run out of time to complete a campaign poster and speech.
When family members suggested she already had homework to do and should drop the campaign, Eva had this to say:

DALET 51555
IN: sfx (heavy sigh)
RUNS: :03
OUT: "Okay"

Eva: "Sigh........okay"

Eva says she still may consider a run for class president next year.
Family members say they will support Eva in anything she chooses to do...but homework has to come first.

Holey moley

So yesterday, Eva comes home from school with a hole in her shirt.

Her nice, brand-new Mexx shirt that she was wearing for the first time.

It was a tiny hole, about two millimetres in diameter (about 1/4 inch, Heather).

But a hole, nonetheless.

Me: "How did you get a hole in your shirt?"

Eva: "Are you going to get mad?"

Me: "I don't know. If you caught it in your zipper, no. (Laughingly) If you took a pair of scissors and deliberately poked a hole in your shirt, then yeah, probably."

Eva, eyes filling with tears: "YOU'RE GOING TO GET MAD!!!"

Me: BLINK BLINK

Crickets chirp quietly in the background as I try to process the fact that my daughter who can find fifty countries on a map and read and write and do math and make banana bread all by herself and sing songs in ten languages and remember the names of every man, woman, and child she has ever met and and who is running for president of her class just TOOK A PAIR OF SCISSORS AND POKED A POLE IN HER BRAND NEW SHIRT FOR FUN.

So yeah, I did get mad eventually.

Not for long...but I did threaten to give all of her beloved pink clothes away and to buy her nothing but THE UGLIEST BLACK AND BROWN CLOTHES I CAN FIND for the rest of her natural life, AND WELL INTO HER SECOND CAREER IN HEAVEN.

And now I fully understand why my own mom got mad at me, that time I lost my brand-new gymnastics outfit in grade one (sorry for that one, Mom!!! Love ya!!!)

Crazy kid.

Madame President

Eva has decided she wants to be class president.

I know this is the part where I am supposed to express my delight in my sweet little Type-A offspring's desire to lead; to inspire her schoolmates; to make a difference in her little six-year-old's world.

And a part of me is delighted. No question.

But another piece of me worries that she's setting herself up for disappointment. In her words, "three or five and maybe more" - of the twenty kids have the same lofty dreams of power.

The fact that she decided to throw her hat into the ring a full day into the week-long campaign can't help. Some other kids already showed up this morning flashing posters with HANDLES MADE FROM BROOMSTICKS (these are parents who like colour-coded flashcards, remember). Eva also informed me that one kid has a poster made by his parents.

I think it also can't help that her interest doesn't really seem to lie in BEING PRESIDENT...I think she just likes the idea of making a poster.

Evita likes to draw.

SO...my sweet little firstborn is indeed making a poster. And coming up with a speech and a campaign slogan. (Etienne helpfully suggested "Yes We Can".....which then prompted "The Audacity of Hope"...and many giggles from the parental peanut gallery.)

Tonight we talked a bit about her campaign speech, asking her what she planned to say about herself.

Her response: "I want to say that I'm AUTONOMOUS."

Hubba Wha?

ANYWAY.

Tomorrow she will complete her campaign poster; a poster that currently features a tree, a bush, a heart, two cats with long curly eyelashes, a stray set of floating facial features (minus a nose), two children playing soccer, a mouse with huge ears, a flower, a garbage can, a compost bin, and a recycling logo.

Tomorrow, we'll also figure out what the heck she's going to say in her speech.

Sigh.

We'll get there.

Autonomous. The environment.

YES, SHE CAN.

Revenge of the ringlets

1. Adele has two bad habits. Sucking her thumb...and twirling her hair.

Lately...with the latter...this is the result.

Another view?

See that wee little thumb?

No, of course you can't...because it is SMOTHERED IN KNOTTED HAIR.

This is happening several times a day.

And sometimes during the night.

For more than a week, now.

She'll be sitting there quietly and suddenly start shrieking.

We'll rush over to find her thumb wrapped up over and under and through, turning blue from lack of circulation.

So far, we've always been able to free her...and haven't had to break out the scissors.

But I'm guessing it's only a matter of time.

DOGS learn to avoid behaviours that cause them pain.

With Adele, WE ARE STILL WAITING.

One candy, two candies

1. Girls are in bed now; Eva just wrapped up a PhD student's worth of homework and Addie has been in bed for a while, singing away like an off-key karaoke leader in a tone-deaf crowd of one.

"Un bonbon. Deux bonbons. Deux bonbons. Deux bonbons. Deux savons. Deux savons. Lave les mains! Bravo." Then it all repeats; especially the candy part.

Translated: "One candy. Two candies. Two candies. Two candies. Two soaps. Two soaps. Wash your hands! Good for you!"

My fave part is the furious thumbsucking between refrains - a habit we're trying to break her out of, now that the fall cold (and pandemic) season is almost upon us.

It's one of the last truly BABY things Addie still does.

I'll miss lying in our bed at night and hearing a faint suck-suck-suck sound coming from Adele.

But the heartfelt jingles about candy and personal hygiene kind of make up for it.

2. Adele has nicknamed Etienne and me.

I am "Maminou" and Etienne is "Papitou".

Hearing her say it in her little helium-toddler voice makes me freaking MELT.

OH the sweetness.

And even more randomness

1. Eating an embarrassing amount of breakfast cereal for lunch. It's Maple Oatmeal Crispish sort of cereal and it's super crunchy and yummy and I'm a grownup so I'll eat as much of it as I damn well want. Just so you know.

2. Parents meeting with Eva's grade one teacher last night. All the parents trooped into the classroom and wedged ourselves into wee chairs in front of wee low tables, ready to find out WHAT TO EXPECT FOR THE YEAR.

Then her teacher came in.

Looking...FIFTEEN.

MAYBE.

I was fully expecting her to mention Twilight. Or start texting her mom.

But instead she was totally professional, intelligent, and well, quite fantastic.

We both liked her right off.

I think it's going to be a super year.

3. At one point during the evening's festivities, Catherine - the teacher - gave the parents some time to share homework strategies with one other.

I kind of figured it'd be things like, we do it at the same time every day.

Or, we ask her to do homework before she gets to play outside.

Suddenly, and with shocking speed, the mom next to me wheeled around and whipped out a rectangular plastic packet containing a tall stack of colour-coded flash cards, and slapped them out on the table with a triumphant thump.

Then the woman across from me did the same.

Colour-coded flash cards. Homemade and store-bought.

With pictures.

One parent described playing soccer with her kid, and he can only kick the ball back to her if he correctly spells a word first.

And diligently cutting words into wee bits of paper for the child to go through over breakfast.

Etienne and I just wound up sitting there quietly...we didn't know how to respond.

The colour-coded flashcards - in particular - left me feeling rather overwhelmed and uncreative.

Our strategy?

We ask Eva if she has homework.

If yes...she does it.

Listening to their stories...and all the time and effort they put into making it palatable for their kids..made me realize - once again - we're blessed with an awesome troll.

Two of them.

4. One more cool thing from parent-teacher night - each kid left their parents little cards that read, "Bonjour Maman et Papa. Je vous aime!" (Hello Mom and Dad. I love you!).

They all had little pictures drawn by the kids.

One kid had drawn a checkerboard.

Another, a car.

Eva's picture showed a bunch of children playing, including two little girls with rackets hitting a tennis ball, and an incredibly detailed little girl in the middle with braids.

But the best part: the swordfighting little girl in a wheelchair.

Oh yeah - have I mentioned that my troll is awesome?

Random

1. Eva, walking past a small grocery store that had gone out of business: "Maybe they'd have done better if they'd just labelled everything ORGANIC."

2. I decided to shoot a little home video of Addie in the tub. Not nekkid, just her happy little face as she sang and talked to herself.

The video goes something like this:

Zoom in on face of singing child. Child notices camera and smiles, then sings some more, placidly rocking back and forth.

"Bateau, sur l'eau..."

Zoom out slightly.

Child - known for taking dumps in the tub - then suddenly makes anxious expression and whines:

"Wanna go caca!"

VOICE ON OTHER SIDE OF CAMERA SHRIEKS, "OH!" AS CAMERA SHOT DROPS TO FLOOR NEXT TO TUB. QUICK FADE TO BLACK.

(*we made it, by the way!)

3. Addie does seem to be getting the hang of this potty thing...although she hasn't grasped that the detachable plastic bowl of her little stand-alone potty will hold more than a single turd at a time.

The moment she hears "something" hit the bottom of the potty, she leaps off and whips around to stick her face down in the hole and check it out.

It doesn't matter if she's completely DONE.

SOMETHING happened, and she wants to deal with it RIGHT FREAKING NOW.

So with a flourish and chanting, "Bravo, Adele!" she pulls the potty apart and dumps the offending item in the real toilet...then flushes dramatically - and with a few more rounds of "Bravo, Adele!" reassembles the potty and sits back down to continue her business.

Girl takes longer than a 109 year old man who missed the prunes at lunchtime.

But she gets it done.

Doh

1. Our cat just lost a mouse in the house. What an IDIOT.


Etienne and I were in the kitchen talking, when Coco came wheeling into the kitchen and ran for a corner...at which point we realized she had a mouse.


And then she lost the mouse.

Hilarity ensued as she chased it around for a while - and then it got away and raced under the piano in the living room.


Coco immediately started sweeping her paw under the piano but it didn't go far enough.


Etienne and I tried to help her out with extensible-type household utensils...and we were almost successful - we swept the little wretch out for just a moment, before it disappeared again beneath the piano.


We continued frantically sweeping.


Result:


Two markers
Two massive dust bunnies
One green block in the shape of a half-circle
One cap from a green marker (lost today)
One piece of odd multicoloured wax - melted crayon?
A couple of unidentified bits of paper


But no mouse.


I think it must have realized that it could go UP.


So...despite the fact that the girls had been in bed for an hour already...I began pounding scales on the piano...waiting for one key to ring silent...or at least to give a good plink and then a plunk as the mouse falls to the floor below.


NOTHING.


So now we have a mouse in the piano.


We have a peanut-buttery mousetrap beside the piano.


And we have a cat (who should be verrrry freaking embarrassed) parked by the piano.


DUDE...this is NOT what we pay you for.




2. Eva got her ears pierced last week.


She was ridonkulously brave, I thought...just marched right up and asked the lady to pierce her ears.


The woman told her that she could give her a freezing gel but it takes an hour to take effect.


Eva told the woman no thanks, just go for it.


So she did.


Eva chose her earrings (pink stars)...the woman drew dots on her earlobes...loaded up the little ear-piercing gun...then aimed and fired.


Between the two ears, Eva did breathlessly remark - in a tone suggesting mild hysteria - that IT HURT.


But she didn't cry.


Afterwards, I said, "I was SO PROUD of you...you even refused the freezing gel to make it hurt less!"


Eva whipped her head around with an audible crack and said,


"TO MAKE IT HURT LESS???"


Oops.


Next time, maybe we'll explain the process a BIT more clearly.


At least she'll know when she does her bellybutton, in ten years.




Off to bed. And yeah, I'll sleep just fine with a mouse in my piano.


A spider, on the other hand.....nope.

Gee thanks, kid

Eva's grandmother takes an ancient-looking jar of relish out of her fridge, as we prep our hot-dogs on a lovely late summer day.

She opens it, smells it, examines it carefully, before replacing the lid and setting it aside.

"I think that one's too old. I think it's gone bad, Eva" she says.

Eva sighs, turns, and shoves the jar across the table towards me.

"Here, Mama," she says.

"YOU TRY IT"

Day one, grade one

1. Eva seemed happy as could be, coming home after her first day of grade one. I had a huge a stab of guilt this morning while at work, knowing that Etienne was hauling three (3!) bags of school supplies, a lunch bag, a dazed Eva, and a squirming Adele - who refuses to hold your hand and tries to fling herself on the sidewalk when you lift her - into a school jammed with 200 other screaming and flailing kids all trying to find their classrooms.

But I talked with him afterward and he was cool as a cucumber - no problemo. Wattaguy.

2. Eva told me the first thing she had to do in grade one was to decorate a page with her name on it. The teacher instructed, "No guns, no violence, and no skulls".

Eva drew a mermaid.

Apparently a clamshell bra strapped on a spectacular pair of double DDs is just fine.

3. I have a summer cold and made the mistake of sniffling and coughing in front of Eva.

She chirped cheerfully, "Maybe you have the H1N1 virus".

Note to self: stop letting troll listen to the news.

4. To cap off an awesome day of grade one, she realized this evening that another tooth is preparing to free itself from the confines of her skull. This one is on top, though, which is particularly exciting. It's wiggling just a little, but she's pretty pumped.

My front teeth took about two years to come in after they fell out...and Etienne's were much the same.

If genetics play any role in tooth growth, Eva's gonna be missing her two front chiclets until menopause.

5. A nice day at work. Boss leaving for new job so we had champagne and bagels with cream cheese.

There is no bagel like a Montreal bagel.

Day two, grade one, bring it on.

Whew - that was long

1. Back from hiatus. Blew my writing mojo but I think it's returning. Or maybe my kids were just boring for six weeks. At any rate, will try to do better.

2. School supplies are purchased and ready to be jammed into Eva's piano-sized backpack tomorrow, for day one of grade one.

She needed about four-hundred duotangs this year but I shopped early and managed to find the kaleidoscope of colours required. I did, however, almost dissolve in tears while searching for the special "Louis Garneau" made-in-Quebec notebooks - they were tucked away in a corner of Staples (well, here it's called Bureau en Gros) and it took me about 15 minutes of tearing about frantically to find them.

She also needs three (!) boxes of Kleenex. Not sure if this is swine flu preparedness or they made a special copy of the list for my perpetually boogery daughter, but that does seem like a lot. Anyway. She's geared up for another year of school.

Let the bell ring and the snot flow.

3. Adder changed daycare groups. She's now in the "Coccinelle" group (Ladybugs) and she now has for a teacher, the lovely "Laura" - a former Romanian schoolteacher who DON'T TAKE NO CRAP. Laura makes pre-Maria Captain Von Trapp look like a giant Austrian marshmallow waving a whistle. Girl is TOUGH.

Anyway, Eva adored Laura and we really like her and I'm sure her no-bones approach will work awesomely with Mademoiselle Independence. In fact, on Monday, Adder's first day, Laura wheedled TWO peepees and ONE wee chocolate-chip-sized turd out of her ON THE POTTY. Laura deserves skyrockets, balloons, and a freaking parade, in my books.

4. Have been doing some spider control lately in the house.

Etienne was out the other night and I was climbing into bed when I saw one on the ceiling. Sprayed her with enough RAID to knock down a hippo, but the whore JUMPED into the bookshelf and I LOST HER.

The only thing worse than FINDING a spider in your bedroom...is LOSING a spider in your bedroom.

Anyway, I fretted and fussed and cursed and flailed about for about twenty minutes trying to find her, and finally gave up and crept into bed.

Read for a few minutes, then glanced up furtively to see her streaking up the wall to the ceiling again.

Grabbed the SWIFFER and went to squash her.

SHE JUMPED AGAIN.

And again, disappeared.

I almost wet my freaking pants this time, but managed to be a brave little soldier and just Swiffered like a mad fool all over the floor, as fast as I could, hoping to squash her (the floor has never been so dust free, I might add).

Anyway, I finally saw her leap out of the swinging Swiffer's path onto the wall, so I grabbed the can of Raid again, and sprayed so hard it looked like can of whipped cream had exploded on the wall. I think I hit her but she staggered under the bookshelf.

I haven't seen her since.

I worry that she's just waiting for her moment, when I let down my guard.

Those things are crafty.

And oh yeah, there was a big long-legged one in the bathroom this morning.

Rolled up three pounds of toilet paper and squashed her off the face of the earth.

Screw you, Charlotte and your terrific humble webs.

6. Off to fold laundry and figure out muffin recipes to deal with ten tonnes of strawberries and blueberries that are starting to sog.

Sleep would be nice, too.

xo

Die, die, die

Woke up this morning and stumbled into the bathroom, ready to make myself beautiful - well, socially acceptable - for another day at work.

And of course - because it's been a week or so since I've seen one and the wretches seem to be drawn to me a fat kid to a Smartie - there was a spider in the bathroom.

The size of my freaking hand.  

ON.

ADELE'S.

TOOTHBRUSH.

It was obscene, really, the huge black spider perched on a wee pastel green toothbrush with a happy-go-lucky little multicoloured train running along its tiny handle.

Pastel toothbrushes are HAPPY things.  

Happy things that belong to innocent, sweet babies...not creatures who've ascended from the murky depths to SUCK BLOOD and SCARE ME.

(those who know me, know my fear of spiders has no bounds whatsoever.  if one is smushed on a wall and it leaves the tiniest of marks, I will forever be afraid of the mark)

It was 3:35 a.m.  

If I woke Etienne up, he would kill me (with reason).

If I didn't kill the spider - which was likely a common house spider with absolutely no risk to humanity whatsoever but who really knows for sure -  IT MIGHT EAT MY FAMILY IF I LET IT LIVE.

She had to die.

And I had to be the one to shuffle her - well, squash her - off this mortal coil.

I was sucking up the courage, actually hyperventilating a little...when she suddenly started bumping up and down like a coked up pole-dancer named LaWanda at a strip club called The Skank.

That thing was HUMPING MY BABY'S TOOTHBRUSH.

I ran for the kitchen, grabbed a three-pound wad of paper towel, and made for the bathroom.

I had enough paper towel to squash a Golden Retriever...and I hit that sucker with enough force, I'm sure the boom was heard in Tokyo.

Then I smushed her again and again and again.  And again.  And again.

And I know there are people who might have carefully picked up the lovely spider (they eat bugs you know!) and gently, lovingly, moved her outside to skitter off into the sunrise, happily spinning webs that read TERRIFIC and HUMBLE and SOME PIG.

Well, SCREW THE PIG.  

Buh bye, beast.

You want some TERRIFIC and HUMBLE?

VICTORY IS MINE.

Huzzah huzzah

1.  Etienne is home.  

This is the best news I've had in oh, three weeks.  He was in Atlantic Canada first, and then off to Chile for a ten-day stint covering fisheries and the rape of the local economy.  The three weeks - they were long.  And I mean, beat your hand with a hammer repeatedly for three weeks long.  

His mother came and took over the girls' wake-ups and drop-offs, while I was busy yammering on the radio in the morning...she's a freaking saint.  But I'm glad it's over and we're back in the routine.  I missed my Etienne.

2.  Eva spent her week at CIRCUS CAMP.  We went to the big end-of-week show yesterday and she absolutely made me MELT beforehand because the trolls had been told to pull their hair back and (OH DEAR GOD, NO!) the elastic band holding her hair back FELL OUT.    She dissolved in tears and for a moment, it looked like her big circus brrreak wasn't going to happen.  But luckily someone came up with another elastic - I scraped her hair back into a messy ponytail and she was able to switch off the waterworks and suck it up for the big performance.  My girl likes to FOLLOW THE RULES TO THE LETTER.  

(As long as someone other than Mama makes the rules) 

But I digress.

Anyway, they did some cool acrobatics and pyramids and jumping and running...after which she spun a plate on a stick balanced on her finger,  for a total of about 0.03 seconds.

I managed somehow to flick the aging synapses into motion and snap a photo.

CIRQUE DU SOLEIL, BABY!!!

Afterwards, we wandered a few blocks down to the Jazz Festival where a gigantic blue bubblegum ice cream cone caught her attention like no sweet jazz ever will:

By the time she finished, it was smeared around her lips, on her forehead, her shoulders, and in her hair.  She looked like a Smurf had exploded beside her.  

But so beautiful.  And so happy.

3.  Addie has begun waving her hand imperviously and snorting, "une minute, Mama" when it's time to do anything.  Not even two, and she's basically telling me to keep my gitch on and WAIT.  I fear fifteen.

4.  Ordered Chinese food the other night and Evita asked, "So who is more Asian-ey...Chinese or Japanese people?"  It prompted a little lesson in geography and I guess anthropology?  Sociology?  I dunno.  At any rate, I explained they are equally...um...Asian-ey.   She's still not convinced - and appears to be pulling for China.

5.  Was in a shop at the Market the other day and slipped on a wet piece of the tile floor.  I skidded violently and whacked my hand on a metal spice rack, causing some immediate bruising, swelling, and bleeding (pride and hand).  

The Girl behind the Cash Register chirped blithely, "Oh, be careful".   Uh yeah.  Thanks - that helps a lot.  If I'd known my sliced hand wouldn't spray blood everywhere, I'd have smacked her with it.

6.  It's SUMMERTIME and Coco's killer instincts have kicked in.  

The other day, I found the ass end of a mouse - complete with an extra bit of spine hanging out - by the back door...and  a tiny dead bird curled up for a dirt nap at the end of the driveway.  

And then there's the tidy present Coco left for Adele, by her toy basket in the living room.

Are y'all feeling the love the cat has for the troll?

Hellooooooo disinfectant.

7.  Have I mentioned that Etienne is home?

Happy.  

Randomness

1.  Fiddled with my Crackberry on the ride home and am now two-fisting animal crackers to combat the nausea.  No, I'm not pregnant.  Just can't read while lurching about on public transit.

2.  Went shopping for bathing suits yesterday with Eva.  

She felt verrrry strongly about getting a sparkly, spangly little bikini, the top of which required a magnifying glass to see.  It was virtually pasties tied together with a string.

I wound up pulling out my Amish hat and forcing her to get a "tankini"...still a two-piece, still very cute, but which does not make her look like a six-year-old hooker.

Anyway, we were wandering about in the bathing suit section and my own suit is getting a bit stretched...so I did a quick check for myself, too.

Which turned Eva into freaking Anna Wintour.

"No, Mama.  Don't pick that one.  IT'S TOO BEAUTIFUL"

Then she pulled out a brown number with huge boobs cut into the front.

"How about this one?  Yeah, it's good for you."

Kid, LET ME REMIND YOU that my body looks like this 

BECAUSE IT GREW YOU THEN EXPELLED YOU.

3.  Was playing with Addie at the park on Saturday, when a mom and grandma came along, pushing a stroller with a baby in it - I would guess around 10 months old or so.

Anyway, Adele loves babies and toddled over to say hello.

There was a yellow dangly banana toy attached to side of the stroller, and Addie giggled and reached for it.

I could not believe the speed at which that mother snatched it out of Addie's hands and hid it under her arm.  She was so violent in removing it, Adele almost keeled over from loss of balance. 

Um...I hate to break it to you, lady...but before you put those Ebola fears to rest...

That swing your child is in?

MINE WAS JUST IN IT.

Muahahahaaa

4.  Made brownies with a six year old and a 22-month-old the other night.

    Never.

    Again.

The above photo was taken JUST BEFORE I shut it down just to stop the whining, screaming, pulling, complaining, whacking of spoons, and gnashing of teeth.

And hey, while we're at it, here's some more of that whining, screaming, pulling, complaining, and gnashing of teeth that seems to accompany virtually every moment they share.

Aren't they lovely?

Yeah. 

I think so, too.

Sucks and sweetness

1.  See that thing in Addie's mouth???

It's occupying a place normally occupied by a thumb.

A wee thumb that has grown increasingly - well, for lack of a better word - MANGLED over the past couple of days.

I'm not sure what's up...whether the suction has suddenly changed to HOOVER level, or if she bit herself...but Addie's beloved thumb now looks like we scraped it down a cheese grater and then drove over it with the car.   

Blistered, raw, swollen, and bleeding.  It's really, really wretched.

We have been taping it up at night, forcing her to suck on her other thumb...but during the day, we want to try to let it heal as best we can.  Plus we're worried that she'll figure out a way to get the twelve feet of bandage and tape off her hand, and somehow choke on it.

So we have turned to the pacifier.

She is nearly two, and we are INTRODUCING a pacifier.  

And in a year, we'll be trying to take it away.

After all of which, I'm sure she'll just return to sucking her thumb again, because she's JUST THAT KIND OF KID.

2.  Etienne took this photo, this morning.

This is how I love them most...messy, rumpled, still sweet from sleep.

And peaceful, for 30 seconds.

And I have no idea why I am so lucky, in this life.

xo

Toot toot

Addie can now say the word "fart" in both of Canada's official languages.

Although the way that kid's colon operates (hyperspeed), I'm surprised it's taken her this long.
Kid could power an Airbus 380, most days.

Bilingual gas.

We are so very proud.

Fée des Dents

Me:  "So what's the going rate for the Tooth Fairy these days, anyway?"

Eva:  "For the first tooth, FIFTY BUCKS"

She's smarter than she looks.

Without

This weekend, the girls went to stay with their grandparents.

They left on Saturday afternoon at around 4pm, and it is now just after 4pm Monday, and we are waiting for them to return.  It's a long weekend, and Etienne's mum wanted us to have some time to ourselves, to what we wanted to do.

For 48 hours, we have:

Gone to see a movie - in a theatre, even.

Gone out for dinner at 10pm.

Slept past 8 a.m.

Skipped breakfast

Eaten brunch twice, once with friends

Eaten asparagus without someone at the table whining about it

Wiped no one's nose/ass but our own

Lingered in bookstores

Lingered over coffee

Lingered over photographs

Lingered over books and magazines

And we have also missed them terribly.

It's fun having a break from trolls.

But it's much more fun having them back.

Can't wait.

Hither and thither

1.  Kids have been packed off to the grandparents' house for two nights and one full day.  The goal is for Etienne and me to have some time to work on the yard...but tonight we're going to a movie and then out for dinner.  

Stressed a little, mostly because Adele's one goal in life lately seems to be SUICIDE, and the 'rents aren't as used to chasing her EVERY FREAKING MILLISECOND but I remember this phase from when Eva was little, and expect they'll return her to us safe and sound.

Dinner is gonna be AWESOME...sweet little bistro called Lemeac.

2.  Have been spending looong stints at the park, now that weather is better.  Shocking how filthy trolls get.  The other day, Addie's face and hands were black from the wet sand, and I hadn't brought anything to wipe her off.  Loaded her into the stroller and arrived home to find her little black hands had a single thumb pristinely white from sucking.  GAH.

3.  Spent 20 minutes picking up remnants of a broken beer bottle under a swing.  WHAT IS WITH PEOPLE???  What jackass thinks that's funny?    You have to come from a pretty broken place, to smash a beer bottle and spread the glass under four swings in a playground.

4.  Funny how you can spot the first-time parents at the trendy park...they're the ones whose kid is wearing 16 layers of sweaters and jackets and hats and so on, in light pastel colours, despite the mild spring weather.   The kids look like the Pillsbury Doughboy.  Dude.  

Junior won't freeze to death if you take off a layer so he can actually BEND AT THE WAIST and SIT on the slide.   

5.  Bought three lobsters last night...they swam in our sink for a bit, before we sent them for one last swim in the "hot tub" on the stove.  Addie went to bed early so we had a sweet evening with our big girlie, tearing apart the lobsters.  Can't believe how big that kid is getting.  And how awesome.

How very awesome.

 

Forget mother of the year

Maybe her hearing needs checking.
Maybe we expect too much.

But I don't think so.

Eva's behaviour lately has been...less than acceptable.

In fact, I'd say she's actually venturing into "you little shit" territory.

In the past couple of weeks, her listening skills have gone even further into the toilet.
She's bouncing around constantly.

I don't think it's ADHD or anything like that; she's perfectly happy to sit at the table for 30 minutes doing math questions, then go read a book alone for 30 minutes, then colour quietly for another half hour.

But when we ask her to do something - anything - it feels like we have to repeat it 5-thousand freaking times...or get in her face and start threatening, before anything happens.

Leave your sister alone.
Leave your sister alone.
Leave your sister alone.
Sit still and eat your food.
And leave your sister alone.

We had friends over the other night and Eva was an absolute animal.
We were embarrassed.

She was rude, not listening, bouncing around, and being ridonkulously bossy with their toddler.

And it's not that we're inattentive parents...or yellers who wind up ignored because they yell all the time...or those annoying parents you see at the playground who kind of nasally drone at their children constantly to the point the kids tune them out because ohmygoshIcan'tstandlisteningtoyouforanotherminute.

We are involved.
We talk with our kids.
We give them time-outs when necessary.
We actively try to get them to behave.

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THAT AT SOME POINT, EVA'S EARS WILL UNCLOG and I won't have to NAIL HER ASS TO THE CHAIR to get her to sit still???

Tonight will be better.

Last night was ROUGH.

9:00...on my way to bed....tired...thinking it's going to be a long night because Eva's coughing..always a bad sign.  Then Evita stops by the bathroom hugging a full Tupperware container of orange-ish puke.  Clean her up, clean it up, feed her a bowl of Life cereal (hard to sleep on an empty belly)...brush teeth, off to bed.  

9:30...oh sweet blessed bed.  Alarm rings in six hours, exactly...but that's enough to get me through tomorrow.  Clean, fresh, 400-thread-count cotton sheets....bliss.

9:30-2am...Eva coughs.  And coughs.  And coughs.  Etienne and I don't sleep much...too hard with our sweet little one hacking and hacking and hacking.  Poor kid.

2:15 am...The inevitable happens.  Eva pukes.   All over her bed.   Etienne - bless my beautiful, wonderful husband - gets up with her.  She vomits into her hands and then pushes her hair behind her ears.  I see the bathroom light flick on and hear him calmly talking to her as he puts her in the shower...then I drop back into slumber.

2:30...the %&%*?%!!! neighbour's car alarm goes off.  For one solid minute, outside our window.  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.   There are not enough swear words in the English language to describe that f**ker so I'll use some French ones.   CALICE DE TABARNAK DE CRISS.  There we are.  That just about does it.

3:00...the %*?&#?@%!! cat decides to yak up a hairball AT THE FOOT OF OUR BED.  I repeat all those French swear words.  If I had some in Spanish or Russian, I'd toss those suckers in, too.   I wipe, disinfect, curse.

3:30...my %?%&$*!!! alarm rings.  And another glorious day begins.

And to make it all better...we kept poor Evita home from school today.  She and I lay down for a nap and she immediately started complaining about her ear.  We wound up sitting 4.5 hours at the hospital, surrounded by coughing, masked people (during a stage 5 almost-pandemic, according to the WHO) waiting for a prescription I could write myself, for an otitis media I could diagnose myself in about 30 seconds.  Poor Eva was so incredibly stoic, quiet, sweet...my hero...even while tipping her head left and right to alleviate the pressure and pain.  So proud of my girlie I could burst.  Four hours is a looooong time to wait to see a doctor...and Eva was absolutely marvellous.

It's been a long day, and my cognac is lovely.

Off to spend a couple of minutes parked beside my hero husband in front of the TV.

Trolls sleeping..........for now.

Tonight will be better.  

Parenting is the greatest job ever. 

And the most exhausting.

Good night.

To catch a thief

Adele and I went to the market yesterday.

I stopped at a nice little vegetable stand to buy some sweet potatoes.

We left...and had gone about 30 feet before I realized that Adele had done a little "shopping" of her own.

The vegetable-seller laughed very hard when we took the cabbage back to apologize.

Now, beat it

1.  The bathtub pooper struck again the other day in spectacular fashion.  And as usual, she chose to lay a log (well, three) when both girls were jammed in with six-thousand toys.  

Poor Eva has been very wary lately.    I'll put both in the bath and every 30 seconds, Eva will whine, "Addie looks like she's about to poo" or "Addie's STRAINING".  

I'm sure Eva's future therapist will trace any self-security issues directly back to the tub.

2.  Adele was shockingly constipated the other day.  Crying in pain.  Awful to watch.  And yeah, I admit, I threw her in the bath.  

But of course, Addie being Addie...NOTHING.

Perhaps I ought to have thrown Eva in, too.

3.  Was ridonkulously grumpy with Eva the other night.  I mean, mouldy green and living in a garbage can on Sesame Street grumpy.  Etienne was out and I was exhausted beyond exhausted.  Apologized to her and told her how tired I was, but I still felt awful.  

Felt even worse yesterday when I picked her up from school and she asked, "are you tired today, Mommy?"   Does Oscar the Grouch feel guilt?  I certainly do.  Sigh.

4.  Spent about a half-hour last night doing some very exciting math problems with Eva.  We did double digit numbers in columns (no carrying over, though) and you'd have thought she was picking winning lottery numbers.   What a NERD.  

I'm actually delighted because she clearly inherited the math gene from her dad, the Economics Major and not from me, the Literature Major.  I can barely count to ten.  On my fingers.  With a calculator.  While cringing because I dislike math so much.  More than that lump of trash Paris Hilton, even.

Anyway

Off to slam the lid on my garbage can.

GO AWAY.  Heh heh heh.

Thank you/ Merci

For some reason, I seem to recall smiling at an American Express ad involving Tina Fey.

She had been asked her biggest accomplishment and she said, "my daughter says please and thank you".

I thought it was rather cute.

And I do - to an extent - agree with her.

Polite kids are a worthy goal.

I love that at Eva's last parent-teacher meeting, the teacher told us that Eva might have trouble keeping her ass in her chair, but she is always polite.

And I loved it last night when Addie - at 21 months - said, "merci de l'eau, mama" when I gave her a sippy cup of water.

They may be a bit loud...a bit rambunctious...their noses may run constantly, and they may fart a lot. We're working on all that.

But dammit, they're polite!

Screw altruism

Etienne: "Hey, Eva, what do you want for your birthday next week? Happiness in the world?"

Eva: "No!"

Etienne: "What about food for all the hungry children?"

Eva: "No!!!"

Etienne "World Peace?"

Eva: "NO WAY!!! I WANT MULAN BARBIE!!!"

So that's how you see me???

Eva draws a picture of her family.

Etienne is rather pirate-ish, with only one eye visible beneath a sort of hat attached to a thought bubble that reads, "E".  He also sports a jaunty E on his belly, which is triangular.  Several dots between his nose and mouth are meant to indicate five-o'clock shadow, I'm guessing.  Either that or ants. 

Adele is also moderately triangular, with a fountain of hair sprouting from her head  She has three thought bubbles:  One reading "PAP", one reading "MAMA" and the other reading "h". Guess it's her kindly way of reminding me to book with the gynecologist.

Eva drew herself tiny, with no legs and EnE on her chest, and a gigantic E sprouting from her head.  

And as for me..well, I have a broad smile, a pointy-looking hat on my head, and the letters "KKK" on my belly.

I know it's all coincidence....

But YIKES.

Better, with bacon

1.  Adele is coming back to life...eating, and allowing more than six seconds to pass without whining or crying. 

SOOO relieved to see my little pooper feeling better.

It's been a stressful, awful five days.

Bring on the next virus...we're ready.

Well, we will be if we can get a decent night's sleep.

zzzzz

2.  Was cooking perogies and talking last night with Evita...explaining how delicious they are with sour cream and a few bits of bacon on top.  

And Eva dropped a bombshell.

Eva: "I don't want bacon.  Because I DON'T WANT A FAT TUMMY"

You know that sound in sitcoms when the main character has been partying with 600 friends in the family's palatial mansion, and they've spilled orange pop on the wall, and next door his best friend is KISSING A GIRL and they're dancing to ROCK MUSIC and they open up a beer to share among ten people sitting on the couch and his parents walk in early because they couldn't get a seat at the restaurant?  

You know that loud record-scratching sound?

Then, me, with an audible snap of my neck: "Who told you that?"

Eva:  "mumble mumble school"

I couldn't believe it.

We NEVER talk about diets or fat or weight or anything that might prompt this child to THINK TWICE about her body.  She doesn't watch TV.  The only movies she sees are Disney and Asterix films.   She plays outside all the time and eats healthy and she IS IN KINDERGARTEN, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

I am not naive.  

I know kids think about this crap, and kids talk.  

But my daughter is not even SIX YEARS OLD.

She is fit and perfect and has no reason to worry about fat.

We had a long discussion about MODERATION and how being active and eating healthy most of the time allows us to have the junky stuff once in a while without worrying about it.

In the end, I didn't make the bacon...not because of Eva's concerns, but rather because I was starving and just wanted to eat without waiting to fry it up.

And I was sooo happy when Eva demanded, "BUT WHERE'S THE BACON???" at the table.

BRING ON THE BACON, BABY!!!

3.  Made bricks - I mean, homemade granola bars.

We will use them to pave the driveway, once it warms up.

(Don't ever make homemade granola bars.  It's dumb)

 

4.  Went to Evita's dance competition at school.  

Her group did an elaborate dance to a tune about a masquerade ball...reminding me once again how folks who work in schools are criminally underappreciated and underpaid.

It also reminded me how much fun it is for kids to get up onstage and show what they can do!

Eva dressed up as a princess and had a blast.

Rock on, my beautiful girlie.

We are so very proud of you.

Like wine

Rough weekend.

Addie has a wierd mouth virus.  It pretty much looks like she licked a cheese grater and then chased it with a cup of battery acid.  Canker sores and wierd flaky spots all over her tongue and cheeks.  As well, her gums are swollen and bright red...bleeding if you touch them.  

No fever, thankfully, but she is ONE MISERABLE LITTLE COOT.

Treatment for this virus is supposedly TIME.  

So all you can do is try to alleviate symptoms...keep the kid hydrated, give them Tylenol, and feed them tasteless food.

(There's a joke about my cooking in there, somewhere)

Now, this is a kid who is on a perpetual hunger strike, particularly when ill.

She gets the sniffles, and refuses to eat for a week.

We've come to accept it as NORMAL.  

But this week, it's worse.

Because she WANTS to eat. 

She's hungry.

But it hurts her little mouth too much...and she gets FURIOUS.

No matter what we give her, she hurls it with enough force to dent our major appliances.

In three days, we've managed to exhaust our supply of tasteless treats - plain pasta...applesauce...plain, dry crepes...plain, dry bread...milk.  

All of it is too much for her sore little mouth to handle.

She just sits there, pitches it away, and sobs.

She has taken a bit of milk here and there...and a couple of times, choked down a few pieces of plain macaroni with unsalted melted butter.  But each time, she winced and cried.

This is supposed to pass within the next day or two.

Argh.

Tomorrow: Vanilla-free tapioca.

2.  Eva was doing homework tonight...she had to choose a country she wants to visit, and tell why.  She said, "OH FRANCE!!!!  Because they have lots of good things in France.  Like WINE!"  Oh, child of my heart.  How I do love thee.

3.  Addie ripped a mighty fart this evening...it sounded like a jumbo jet landed in the yard.  Then she chirped, "MERCI!"  

Yeah?  Well, you're welcome. 

4.  They tag-teamed last night...Adder waking up complaining about teeth, and Eva laughing like a hyena in her sleep. 

Then Adder woke up sobbing at 4a.m.  

I didn't know what to do with her (read: sleep-deprived), so I brought her in with Etienne and me.  

I am so very, very stupid.

She woke up COMPLETELY.

"MAMA!  PAPA!"  (then, clearly delighted to see us): "HEL-LO!!!"

After explaining that Eva's sleeping, Papa's sleeping, the cat is sleeping, the grandparents and assorted aunts, uncles and cousins (by name) are sleeping, the Prime Minister is sleeping, the President is sleeping, and every child on every continent (by name) is sleeping...she finally went back to sleep.

An hour later, Eva rolled into bed with us.  

Nothing like waking up before daylight ON A SUNDAY MORNING and then sharing your already full-enough two-person bed with a drooling, fretfully-sleeping baby and an almost-six year old who kicks and has a mania for scratching other people's backs and arms. 

Rough, rough weekend.

And hey!  Tomorrow's MONDAY.

Rainy Sunday

1.  Adder fought sleep for the longest time this afternoon; not sure why as she was EXHAUSTED.  An afternoon nap (or "dodo" as they're called here in Quebec) is part of her daily routine, and most of the time she goes down with no problem.  Today, though, she kept calling down the hall, "I done!  I done le dodo!"...which just made me smile every time.  

Just went in to check on her...eyes closed, breathing gently, sucking her thumb from time to time.  I just melt.

2.  Eva ate her weight in Cheetos yesterday.  I don't buy chips often...mostly because I have no willpower before the gods of salt and fat, and they just don't last.  But yesterday Eva and I needed to get out...so we walked a few blocks to the grocery store and bought a bag of Cheetos.  She tore into that sack like she was trying to put out a fire, and then said "these are the greatest things I HAVE EVER EATEN IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!"

I have to agree.

3.  It's been a rough couple of weeks.  Under normal circumstances, Eva's got the listening skills of Helen Keller.  But this week, she didn't listen AT ALL... and has also been verrrry busy testing the backtalk waters.   She has also been whining a bit, lately...which is odd for her because she's never been much of a whiner.  

I hate whining...it makes me nuts.

And yesterday morning was one...long...session...of whining.

It started at a clothing store, where she'd found some shoes she liked.

They were cute little canvas numbers with rubber soles and little butterflies on them.  Even though she didn't NEED them, they were awfully cute and not expensive, so finally I agreed to let her buy them.

However...

While standing in line at the cash register, I took a closer look.  The wee things were basically made of paper...there was a little blue bow that was glued on, and the white fabric was really light.

Now, Eva is not a delicate flower of a girl.  I wouldn't say she's rough, but I'll bet she could take Hulk Hogan down in about two minutes.  My girl MOVES.  I love her that way - dirty, sweaty, always scraped up and laughing.  But she can NOT wear white.  Or anything fragile.

And these shoes were unquestionably fragile.

SO.  In line, I had to break it to her that I was NOT buying her beloved butterfly shoes after all. 

Of course, this went over like a lead balloon.

She stomped...she whined..she demanded that I buy them.

When I still said no, she said she would NEVER LEAVE THAT STORE EVER IF I DID NOT BUY THEM.

Alright, I said.  Goodbye.  It's been nice having you as my child.

And walked out the glass doors.

And waited, gnawing my fist and feeling like the meanest person ever.

Of couse, she followed...whining and complaining all the way.

And so it went, all down the street as we walked to drop off her old shoes to be fixed (oh the cruel irony)...and then walked back to the car.

Finally...after about 15 minutes of whining, stomping, refusing to open the door for Addie's stroller and constant complaining, I lost it.

And in the middle of a crowded street, I snapped at her loudly.

And lengthy.

But particularly, loudly.

And of course, everyone around glared at the mean mommy with her innocent child.

So hard not to yell, OH PISS OFF, LIKE YOUR CHILD ISN'T A LITTLE SHIT SOMETIMES.

But I didn't.

Dragged her whining back to the car.

Dragged her whining into the house.

Dragged her whining into her bed for a nap.

This parenting thing rocks most of the time.

But it also sucks some of the time.

No, seriously. If you need anything, just call.

Last night, Etienne and I went out.

At night.

Without children.  Like grownups.

The supper was somewhat spontaneous - at least for parents of small trolls...meeting a lovely couple of friends for dinner.

Now, our babysitter list is shockingly short.

Like...one name.

And it's been so long since we've called her, she's probably got trolls of her own by now.  If she's not already a grandmother.  So...not really an option.

Anyway...a beautiful, smart, sweet young lady lives two doors down the street from us.  

We decided to give her a try.

Raquel is 12 years old, and has dropped by for many a supper when Etienne is away on work trips, offering to play with the girls while I cook.  She's an absolute sweetheart...calm, quiet, terribly responsible, ridonkulously polite, and she takes after her mother in that YOU DON'T SCREW WITH HER.  EVER.

But she's so teeny weeny.  I'll bet she doesn't even scrape 70 pounds...and she's maybe two feet tall.  And that's being generous.  She looks maybe nine years old.

It's like leaving your children with a garden gnome.  Or a Polly Pocket.

AND she sucks her thumb.

SUCKS HER THUMB!!!

Adorable, but it doesn't hike the maturity factor any, when you're thinking of leaving your kid behind (although I suppose two free thumbs are not a requirement for dialling 9-1-1).

We left a list of instructions...two bottles of pop in the fridge...some cupcakes...nachos...younger troll sleeping in her crib, older troll sleepy in her pyjamas...and a detailed instruction page on how to work the remote controls for the tv.  (There are three remote controls; operating the freaking space shuttle is simpler).

As we left, I looked behind at Raquel and Eva waving at me...and there were maybe two inches' difference between the two of them.  Literally, two inches.

And I was struck with a wave of terror

WE WERE LEAVING OUR BABIES WITH A BABY.

A GARDEN GNOME.

A STAR WARS ACTION FIGURE.

We pushed our fears down, and decided we would have fun, even though our children were in the care of a Fisher Price figurine.

Anyway, we enjoyed our meals and the company, and scraped in just under our self-imposed deadline of midnight to find Eva and Raquel curled up in Eva's bed, snoring like tiny freight trains.

Raquel had put Eva to bed, and then crawled in with her (awwwww).

Everyone was perfectly fine...and our raging paranoia was completely unfounded.

We felt great, until we hooked our cellphones up to charge overnight...and realized each had a "missed call" on it.

Mine even had a message.

It was Eva, sounding like the second victim in a horror movie (the one who runs away from the killer while looking backwards every 3 seconds, only to fall down and die screaming in the field as he slashes her to bits).   She was crying about a noise in the backyard...the cat climbing the window.  But we'd said not to open the door for anything...so Eva  had clearly sat and cried while Coco played Spiderman on the window screen.   

Raquel had allowed her to call in an effort to calm her down.

And I suppose it worked (even though her rotten parents didn't ANSWER THEIR PHONES) because Eva was sound asleep and a sleepy Raquel told us there had been no major problems.

Etienne's phone had simply a "missed call" flash on it.

How we missed the calls, I don't know.

It was an awesome dinner.

And we'll call young Raquel again.

Not when both kids are up...she's still too wee.  But when Addie is already in bed and Eva is heading off to bed, Raquel is ideal.  Especially with her parents two doors down.

I do know that the next time we leave our children with a thumbsucking peanut, I'll check my phone regularly.

And maybe even set it to "ring".

Jeez.

What a couple of doofuses.

  

Randomness

1.  Went to pick up Eva yesterday...bright, sunshine-y day.  She was out in the yard of the school, rerouting rivers of water and melting snow through the mud, looking somewhat clownish with her bright pink rubber boots and bright green raincoat.  She'd worn her AWFUL pink pants that SHE LOVES (I bought them in a second-hand store for playing outside but she likes them more than anything else she owns) and was just full of colour, bounce, sweat, and messiness.  

Sometimes she's so beautiful, it takes my breath away.  

2.  That "takes my breath away part" is happening more and more in recent days because cold season is over.  I love my child but even I recognize how disgusting she looks with a crust of snot under her nose...and that's pretty much her permanent state of being in winter.  No matter how much I wipe, I still look like a mom who doesn't care.  So I try not to care.  But it's hard, when a big blob of dark green is constantly hanging off your kid's face.

3.  Adder has started stringing words together.  Most have to do with the cat.  "Chat dehors" is a popular one.  "Hello, le chat" is another.  "Oh le chat" is pretty much her mantra now.  She is adding a few more phrases to her repertoire: this morning she woke up and shouted, "I DONE.  I DONE.  I DONE." with the force of a 747 jet breaking the sound barrier.  

4.  Eva said yesterday that a police officer had come to talk to the kids at school about safety issues.  You know, not taking candy from strangers unless they offer you a ride...that sort of thing.  Afterwards, she said, "his French was good but he was orange.  I think he's from RAMONIA".  That's reassuring...an orange man from an imaginary country giving my child safety tips.  I knew her school was progressive but WTF???

As my red wine turns to vinegar in the glass

Went to a house party last night.

We were both amused when an acquaintance walked in with her 13 year old daughter.

The girl was wearing a skintight black dress with a slinky belt, high boots, and about an inch of black eyeliner under each eye.

She grunted greetings, stood uncomfortably, and flipped her hair constantly.

She and her skinny, pimpled little boyfriend quickly disappeared downstairs to "watch a movie".

Etienne and I kind of smiled, thinking "how cute" until it struck us both at the same time.

THAT IS OUR DAUGHTER IN SEVEN YEARS.

Lord help us.

2.  Eva, to a man and woman seated together at the same party:  "So...are you guys separated, then?"

3.  Eva:  "I'll never try smoking.  Never.  I will never, ever try smoking." 

(pause)

"Well, except for smoked salmon"

I hope in seven years, when she's dressed like a wee little hooker and prepping for a snog session with her skinny, pimpled boyfriend, that she still feels that way.

Argh...this parenting thing is freaking TERRIFYING.