Snow devils

Okay.

They look cute here.

But can you tell me why, about 30 seconds after this photo was taken, the big one shoved the unstable little one so she landed face down in the snow?

And why, about 2 minutes later, she threw a handful of snow at her sister's face, and a shovelful of snow at mine...forcing me to send her in for a nap?

Can you tell me what is going on inside the lump of fat that is a five-year-old's brain? 

Hair. Cut.

Those scattered toys?

That full laundry hamper?

That runny nose?

All a way of life for our family.

Honey, git the bowl

I cut Adder's hair today.

I am not someone who generally cuts her children's hair.  I cut Eva's once when she was around the same age as Adele is now, and it wound up looking like a blind person with pinking shears had attacked her bangs.  

Or like she had pulled a Britney and grabbed chunks of hair and hacked at it herself.  While blindfolded.  In a hurricane.  With a butter knife.  

My haircutting skills ARE that bad.

I swear it took six months to grow into an acceptable haircut, and I vowed never to do it again. 

Instead, every four months or so, I haul her to a salon where the women coo and tell her how beautiful she is, start a Disney Princess film on the tv, cut her bob very efficiently, and then hand her a sucker.  It costs fourteen bucks.

And then I don't have to stand away from her in public, pretending THAT SLOPPY CHILD THERE?  THE ONE WITH THE SHREDDED HAIR?  Nope, not mine.

Well worth it, I'd say.

But Addie's hair has gotten out of control lately, and it seems obscene to go pay that much for a trim that would take a total of 15 seconds.

So...I sucked up my courage...took out the big scissors...and...

I trimmed it myself.

And it went fine.

I'm not saying it was easy, or stress-free.

Addie sat still for about 1.4 seconds (a record!), before she began flipping and spinning her head around like the Exorcist on fast-forward.  I actually worked up a sweat, struggling to keep her away from the scissors and distracted long enough to get around her head (paring knives, hard candies, and a lighter worked great)

AND...

SOMEHOW...

It looks darned cute.

I might actually allow this one out of the house.  In public.  Without a hat.  Before six months go by.

And if I'm feeling particularly saucy, I might even admit she's mine.

Maybe.

Let's get that kid to work

1.  Kept Eva home with me today.

I'm off work sick.  

Truth of the matter, I'm not actually SICK.   

I simply lost my voice.

But I talk for a living, and no voicey means no worky.

SO...with a lovely sunny winter day stretched out before me, I decided to keep Big Troll with me...to whisper our way through the day together.

And it was SO UNBELIEVABLY AWESOME.

While you're tied up chasing two trolls, sometimes you forget how awesome the big one is because she's acting like such a doofus trying to get attention, while you spend most of your time and energy keeping the little one from killing herself by backflipping off the piano.  

You know what I'm saying?

My big girlie and I hung out at a bookstore...sipped hot drinks in a cafe...played with stickers...then went to her fave restaurant for lunch.

And this is where my five-year-old proceeded to earn us a free lunch.

Eva's fave restaurant is a neighbourhood Salvadorean place.

Their specialty is the pupusa...a sort of pancake stuffed with chicken or cheese or beans or whatever you want.  You eat them drowning in a mildly spiced tomato sauce and smothered in spicy slaw.  Eva is mad for them.

(I should note here that Eva is a bit on the precocious side when it comes to eating.  One of her first words was tzatziki, and her favourite food is sushi.  On New Year's Eve, she slurped back fistfuls of raw oysters and cracked her way through a set of snow crab legs.  She can tear apart a lobster in five minutes, and when we go to the market, begs for quail eggs and artichokes).

Anyway, we order our meals and are chatting (well, she is...I'm listening) and then this guy who looks like the SPITTING IMAGE OF WAYNE NEWTON (post-plastic-surgery)  sits down at the table next to us.  

We nod in greeting and he proceeds to start talking with Eva.

Here in Montreal, every conversation with a stranger begins with the determination of common languages.  Most people speak French...some speak English as well...some speak Spanish or Italian or Arabic as well...and other languages kind of fall in after that.  Once you know what languages you share, you conduct your conversation accordingly.

Anyway, the guy started off by asking questions in English and French...then he and Eva moved to Spanish.  He was all impressed when she counted for him in Spanish and answered several questions for him.  He kept saying she was so cute (I agreed) and talking with her.  She obliged by chattering away in her non-stop stream-of-consciousness way.

Then, when I went to pay the bill...the waitress said that "it had been taken care of"

Wayne Newton then told us he was so impressed with Eva...and just thought it would be a nice thing to do for a nice little girl.

I HAVE GOT TO TAKE THAT KID OUT WITH ME MORE OFTEN.

AND TO NICER RESTAURANTS.

And remember all that crap I told her about not talking to strangers?

FUHGEDDABOUDIT!!!!!

Let's take this kid on the road!

2.  Adder shat on the floor last night.  At least she waited until she was out of the tub.  Just a single wee little turd on the floor of her bedroom, as her dad carried her from tub to change table.  

I almost wet my pants laughing.

Ah, my children are a talented lot. 

Guilt, part 11,988

In a couple of weeks, I'm heading home to visit my family.  

My grandma, who is in her nineties but still sharp as a tack most of the time, was recently diagnosed with breast cancer.  She's undergoing a second operation this week and hopefully will be talked into radiation (she's tougher than overcooked turkey, my Grandma).  

Anyway, she's doing fine but I want to go and have some quiet time with her.  I also want to see my mom and dad...go out with my sister...and visit a few friends.  I get home maybe twice a year, and just really want some time with the people I love.

I bought a plane ticket on a seat sale and initially was planning to go alone, without the kids.

Then I decided it would be dumb to go and not take Adele, who still flies for free.

Then I wrestled for a long time over whether to take Eva.

Obviously if I take one child, I should take both.

I always take both.

But this time...this one time...I think I'm not going to.

And it's causing me no end of guilt.

My family sees the kids only twice a year.  We are going there this year for Christmas, but I still feel like I SHOULD take Eva with me so the kid can see her G-rents and they can see her.  Christmas is a long way off.  They're awesome grandparents and one of my regrets is living so far that the kids don't see them as often as I'd like. 

HOWEVER

1.  As mentioned, Addie flies free.  Bringing Eva doubles the price and makes a quick, affordable trip into a major expense.  But this isn't the main reason.

2.  Eva would miss a week and a half of school, one dance class, and one swim class.  We've told her this is why she's staying home with her dad, and she's fine with it.  But still isn't the main reason.

The main reason is just that I want some time with my family and friends...and taking only one child is just so darned much easier.

Addie takes a 2-hour nap every afternoon.  She goes to sleep at 7:15 at night.   

I can take the playpen to my grandma's, pop Addie into it in the afternoon, and have a peaceful couple of hours with my Grandma.  

Or if I want to go to a friend's house overnight, I can take the playpen, pop Adder into it at 7:15, and I have the rest of the evening free.

Eva doesn't nap and if she's visiting, might not pass out until 10pm or even later.   She's totally a Type-A personality...bouncy, high-energy, talks constantly...and needs a certain amount of entertaining.   My girl is sweet, wonderful, and fun - don't get me wrong.  Eva doesn't know it yet, but tomorrow I'm keeping her home from school "sick" so that we can watch movies and go to her fave restaurant for lunch.  I'm really excited about tomorrow.  I love spending time with my girlie.

But I sit here tonight feeling badly that in a few weeks, I'll be selfish...and will leave her at home.

In a few years, she can fly out on her own.

And I've promised her that one day, I'll take ONLY HER.

And she's fine with it.

But I still feel badly about it.

Guilty.

Guilty.

Guilty.

Sigh.

JUST EAT IT, DAMMIT

I remember when I knew everything about feeding babies.

I had friends who complained their children ate nothing.

Mine, on the other hand, ate everything and asked for more.

Eva was a little machine, shovelling away like clockwork. Whatever I threw at her, she'd gulp it down whole like a seal tossing back fish at Marineland. She jammed it down her throat so fast she would choke if I didn't chop and grind everything...from vegetables to cereal to cottage cheese.
Not lying. I actually MASHED HER COTTAGE CHEESE so she wouldn't choke.

I took Eva's willingness to eat as a sign that I WAS DOING MY JOB WELL.

Now I have a child who eats NOTHING.

And I realize HOW UNBELIEVABLY STUPID I WAS.

It is just after three in the afternoon, and - so far - Adder has eaten three Cheerios, two bites of a whole-wheat cracker, one bite of baguette, one pea, and the residue of cheese that remained in her mouth after she spat out a bite of pasta so violently it skittered across the floor.

Yesterday, even less.

Now, I know I am not supposed to worry. I should just sit back and let it happen because children won't let themselves starve. I know this. I know she won't deliberately STARVE herself to DEATH.

It's just that she's such a tiny little weiner.

Skinny little pipe-cleaner legs...wee little arms...tiny little head with these huge, huge eyes.

Let her nose run for a minute and she looks like an ad for child poverty.

And it's frustrating when you work hard to create meals she will like...meals she will actually eat, dammit, and then watch her delicately run her tongue over the most miniscule amount possible to fit on a spoon, then fire the whole plate over the edge of her high-chair tray IN DISGUST.

SO.

I'm sitting back.

Not worrying.

Not.

Worrying.

Almost time to start thinking about supper.

What can I disgust my child with, tonight?

The possibilities are ENDLESS.

It's almost liberating.

I'd call her a little maggot...but at least MAGGOTS EAT.

I don't look THAT old, do I?

Eva:  "Mama, were you born in olden days?"

Me:  "No...it was years ago, but not OLDEN DAYS"

Eva:  "So...had ELECTRICITY and GAS had been invented by then?"

Sick baby strikes again

1.  Adder is sick sick sick.  Around 1 o'clock this morning, she started waking up every twenty minutes, whining and crying.  Every twenty minutes like clockwork.  I got up a couple of times to rub her back for a minute or two, before leaving her to snuffle and snort in the darkness.  I finally picked her up and held her - she was just so miserable.  And when I left at 4am,  Etienne was standing there, bleary-eyed in the early-morning dark, holding her while she snuffled against his shoulders.  Poor her.  Poor him.

2.  I was five hours into my shift before I realized the shoulders of my dark grey sweater were smeared with WHITE-ISH CAKED-ON DRIED SNOT.  Oooooh lovely - a present from my sick baby.     

3.  Got home around 11:30...ate lunch with Adele and we both crashed for a nap at noon.  After about twenty minutes, she started whining and crying.  I was exhausted from the previous night's festivities, so I finally scooped her up out of her crib, built a wall of pillows on Etienne's side of the bed so she couldn't fall off, and snuggled her in beside me.  She sucked her thumb and made snuffling noises, but passed right out until 2:30.  SO DID I.

4.  Eva's friend Emie was over tonight and they danced in Princess gowns before Eva popped the happy bubble in a big way - by REMOVING THE CHILD-PROOF BARRIER FROM THE STAIRS LEADING TO THE BASEMENT.  

You know that scene where the party's going on and some jilted girlfriend shows up crying and screams at the embarrassed jerk football player, and the last thing you hear before everyone goes silent to watch, is the scratch of the needle against the record?  I wheeled around the corner from the kitchen to find Addie standing at the top of the void, looking down the stairs with a great deal of interest.   SCRAAAAATCH.

Removing the barrier is just about the worst crime a 5-year-old can commit, and she found herself in bed VERRRRY early as a result.  

Now I find myself sitting here and trying not to think about what COULD HAVE HAPPENED.  

Too terrifying and it will make me cry.

5.  So I'll think about something else that - if I really think about it - could also make me cry. 

THE BATHTUB POOPER STRUCK AGAIN TONIGHT.

THAT MAKES IT TWICE IN THREE DAYS.  

Sick as a dog, and she still manages to lay a log in the tub.  

And of course, this time she waited until she and her sister were wedged in with about 3-thousand pieces of Tupperware, assorted Barbie princess gear, and Fisher Price animals (maybe it was the cow that shat, on second thought).  

Love cleaning crap out of the tub.  

Love cleaning crap out of Fisher Price animal orifices.  

Grr.

Tomorrow will be better.  Staying home with my sick baby.  

And she's welcome to rub snot all over my shoulders, all day long, if it makes her feel better.

As long as she doesn't crap in the tub.

Bodily functions and responsibility

1. Adder pooped in the tub. Again. I think this makes it six times. Maybe more. I think it might be more efficient if we just start bathing her in the toilet.

2. Eva is the "Responsable" today. This means she is in charge of telling the other kids the date, writing the weather on the board, and checking the temperature. In kindergarten, all of this is a pretty big deal and she started talking about it last week. She told me last night she also plans to inform the class that Barack Obama is being sworn in as the 44th President of the United States today. You go, my girl.

3. Also last night:

Eva: "My button is too tight. I can't undo my pants...can you undo them? I have to pee"

Me (undoing button): "What do you do at school when you have to go?"

Eva: "What school?"

Me: "The school where you spend your day. What do you do when you have to pee there?"

Eva: "I go to the bathroom"

Sigh.

Rotter

1. Do you jam out on your kid's best friend TWICE in a row because your kid is behaving like a doofus???

Last week Eva was being rotten BEYOND WEEK-OLD COMPOST IN THE HEAT OF SUMMER. As a result, we wound up cancelling a "playdate" with her friend Emie.
Eva cried, Emie cried, and Etienne and I felt waves of guilt wash over our coal black hearts, because Eva's punishment had an impact on her sweet little friend. But hey, collateral damage, right? Lessons must be taught here.

Anyway, this week Emie was over at our house. For "fun", I painted their faces...painstakingly drawing matching flowers, butterflies, and hearts on their cheeks and foreheads (believe me, this stretched the limits of my artistic capability and it STILL looked like they had been painted on by a blind person suffering a seizure).

Then, horror of horrors.

Eva smudged her butterfly. Ever so slightly.

And you'd have thought the freaking APOCALYPSE had arrived.

Tears, foot-stomping, the whole bit.

"EMIE IS PRETTIER THAN MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!"

Of course we told her to suck it up and whispered threats to send Emie home. But my heart just wasn't in that response, because Emie's big brown eyes were looking at me and I just couldn't stand bombing her playdate twice in a row.

So Emie wound up staying.

And once again, I wound up second-guessing my parenting skills.

Sometimes I feel like such a SUCKAH.

2. Addie ate Chinese food for the first time tonight. A child who often refuses to eat ANYTHING sat there and double-fisted lemon chicken and shrimp fried rice so fast, it was like watching a freaking hummingbird attack the plate. I was afraid to get my hands near her mouth.

Her fortune cookie read: "You are next in line for promotion in your firm"

She ate the cookie while whirling like a dervish to Les Cowboys Fringants' Manifestation song.

Eva's said, "Time is the wisest counsellor".

Good. Because Mom clearly isn't.

3. Eva says my friend Louise lives outside of Regina...so it's not Saskatchewan. Kid can find 40 countries on a globe, but doesn't know that a FARM near REGINA is still SASKATCHEWAN.

4. Etienne was talking tonight about a conversation with his manager (who is female).

Eva (shocked): "Your boss is a GIRL?"

(at this point, I quietly began choking on my stir fried vegetables)

Etienne: "Yes, she is"

Eva: "WHAT, ARE YOU CRAZY, THEN?"

It's been a long night.

Here we go

I've always known that outside influences have to work on my child.  You only really have them for the first couple of years, and then the OTHER stuff starts to work on them.  The kids at school get hold of them.  I've known this forever.

But I admit, I still wasn't quite ready for what Eva said to me while soaking in the tub last night.

The question I've been dreading since September, knowing that once this snowball starts rolling, it'll swallow us all.

"MAMA...WHAT'S HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL?"

Although it came out as "Mama, what's I School Musical?"

My daughter goes to a French school, so the kids there pronounce "High" without the "H".

I said, "Um...I don't know that much about it.  Do all the kids know about it?"

Eva:  "Not all.  Some do"

And we left it at that.

But it's coming.  I know it's coming.

My parents bought her a little black hoodie for her birthday last year that she wears all the time.  It has High School Musical on it and she adores it because it has metallic writing and sparkly pink cuteness.  

I still haven't told her what exactly it says on the front.

She hasn't asked.  And she hasn't been enterprising enough to read it herself.

But she will.

Heavy, soul-sucking sigh.

I'm sure my parents felt the same way when I discovered Corey Hart.

The only difference...

COREY HART WAS WAY COOL.

My b*by is growing up

Packing Eva's lunch in the morning, I selected a small pink spoon for her to use to eat her yogurt.   It's a spoon she has taken to school many times before.

Eva (horrified):  "Mom.  Not that spoon."

Me:  "Why?  It's pink.  It's little.  You love this spoon.  You take it all the time"

Eva (as though explaining to a retarded child): "MOM.   I can take a little spoon...just...not that one.   Look what it says on it."

Me:  "HEINZ BABY BASICS"

Aha.

The kids at school can read now.

What's next? Mani-Pedi during math class?

Eva: "Today we are having a SPECIAL relaxation to help us sleep during the nap."

Me:  "What?  What could be special relaxation during a kindergarten nap?"

Eva:  "We will have a massage first.  Then we have to roll over and get more massage.  THEN we do the nap.  It will help us sleep"

A MASSAGE?  What the hell?

I want to go to kindergarten!!!

Although personally, if I was the teacher, I'd just use tranquilizer darts.

Much quicker.

Another fudge drop? Yes, I believe I will

1.  I just made fudge drop cookies.  Easiest, tastiest cookie EVER.  They take like, NEGATIVE time to make and the payoff is pretty much like chocolate bars that you can trick yourself into believing are healthy because they have coconut and oats.  You can just eat six chocolatey cookies for breakfast and tell folks you had oatmeal.      

2.  Tonight I dis-assembled (is that a word?) the highchair and cleaned out all its innards.  I now think Addie must eat less than nothing because she is clearly hiding every scrap of food under her ass.  Remember that Mr. Bean episode where he hides the steak tartare in every nook and cranny of the restaurant?  And then blames the dude sitting beside him?  That's my daughter.  No wonder the kid's shaped like a Brazilian supermodel.  Oooh, I JUST ATE A PEA AND I'M SO FULL!!!

3.  Eva WILL NOT go to bed and just go to sleep.  "I'm hot with the covers up and cold with the covers off".  Every night.  Every freaking night.  I swear that kid is either pregnant or menopausal.

4.  Tomorrow is Adder's flu shot booster shot.  I hate holding my baby down while someone jabs her with a needle.  Eva's totally stoic...she always has been, when it comes to medical stuff - really my little hero - sticks her arm out and demands a sticker afterwards.  But Adder flails and drools and screams louder than a showering Janet Leigh.  Some parts of motherhood really suck donkey.

5.  Went to a movie today with Etienne.  We're off this week and spending the time going to movies (and holding down our children while strangers stab them with sharp objects filled with dead viruses).  It's been a while since we've actually been to a movie in a theatre.  When the hell did they stop making those moving pitcher stories in black and white, and start making them IN COLOUR?  And who is this young Brad Pitt feller?  

Benjamin Button was okay.  I found it long...and at the end when he turns into a baby and finally checks out, it made me think I should cry but didn't quite get me there.  I hate to say it but I thought Brad Pitt as an old man was laughably bad, although he got better as his character morphed closer to his real-life age.  Cate Blanchett is LUMINOUS and totally my girl crush.  They should give her an Oscar every year, just for showing up for work.   Tomorrow Etienne and I are going to Valse Bashir.  Or Waltz with Bashir.  Or something like that.  Oh yeah.

6.  The last prickly remnant of Christmas is now lounging in the back yard, waiting for tomorrow's "COLLECTE DES ARBRES DE NOEL".   It made me a little sad to sweep up the six TRILLION AND I DO MEAN TRILLION WITH A "TR" little needles that exploded throughout my home as the tree was forced through the back door.  Bye, tree.  Thanks for growing for five years so we could chop you down, hang stuff on you, and enjoy you for three weeks.  Have fun reliving the end of Fargo.

7.  I got a bit misty wrapping up the two little stocking ornaments with the girls' photos on them, made at school and daycare.  Flashing forward 15 years to me unwrapping those ornaments and hanging them on the tree, excited because the girls will be coming home soon for Christmas.    

This ride goes too damned fast.

 

Off to have some oatmeal before bed.

Here's the recipe:

===============================

Fudge drop cookies

2 cups sugar

6tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder

1/2 cup evaporated milk

1/3 cup margarine (I use butter)

1/2 tsp vanilla

3 cups quick cooking rolled oats

1 cup unsweetened shredded coconut

-In a medium saucepan, mix sugar, cocoa, evaporated milk, and butter.  Cook and stir over medium-high heat until mixture comes to a boil.  Boil for 1 minute, stirring the whole time.

-Take off heat and stir in the vanilla.  Add rolled oats and coconut and mix.  Drop by tablespoonfuls on baking sheets lined with wax paper.  Refrigerate for about an hour...I store them in the fridge but they won't die at room temperature, either.

    

  

On my shoulder? It's just a bit of snot.

I know it's been two weeks.

But it's been a busy two weeks.

1.  The happy Ho Ho Ho came and went.  

Trolls got great prizes.  We travelled/ate/drank/made merry very muchly and are now still in the lengthy (and slightly depressing) period of unpacking and re-adjusting our diets to include things that aren't picked up with fingers out of a small decorative bowl...or dipped in chocolate...or scooped from a buffet table.   Hope your Ho Ho Ho (or Hanukah) was happy, too.

2.   Addie was sick as a dog for the entire week. 

Our girls almost never get sick.  I'm not sure if it's because we eat a very healthy diet or if it's because they're hardy French-Canadian/Aboriginal stock.  But generally, viruses tend to take a hike after a day or two.  

Not this time.

Under normal circumstances, when the cold sent up from the depths of hell isn't taking over her body and beating her white blood cells into snotty submission, Addie is sweet, funny, and never stops moving for more than 0.04 seconds at a time.  She's Indiana Jones, Houdini, and Lucille Ball wrapped up into a wee little package.  

At the daycare, they call her "the stuntwoman". 

But for a solid week, she didn't move.  Didn't eat.  Didn't drink.  

Didn't MOVE.

She just kind of lay there...like a rumpled little blob, bubbling hot green snot like Old Faithful. She radiated heat for days and all she seemed to want to do was lie on us, whining and complaining because WE WERE BREATHING.  Or because THE AIR WAS TOUCHING HER.  Or because TIME WAS PASSING.

It was really, really awful.  And really, really long.  

And for a parent, horrible to watch.  Horrible.  It really made me think of parents in third-world countries...or here in North America a hundred years ago...when a child was fighting a virus and there was NOTHING that could be done about it.  You didn't have the option of going to the hospital for oxygen if it crept into her lungs...or antibiotics for the ear infections that seem to often follow bad colds...or the luxury of Tylenol to bring down the fever and provide a bit of comfort.  Nothing.

So it was that despite watching my poor little troll fight off a virus for seven days...while fighting with her to let me mop up the radioactive snot from her tomato-red little face...I felt fortunate.  I actually felt lucky.

And eventually...finally...my little girlie won the battle.    

Screw you, virus from hell.

3.  My girls vomited on me four times in five days over Christmas.  Lovely.  If they vomit on me one more time, I SWEAR I will simply disintegrate from the buildup of stomach acid.  When it comes to bodily fluids and so on, there's little that disgusts me by this point.  Vomit?  Been there.  Poop in the tub?  Done that (over and over and freaking overrrr).  But heaving your cookies down my shirt FOUR TIMES IN FIVE DAYS...COME ON, GIRLS.  WHAT DID MAMA DO TO DESERVE SUCH LOVE???  Instead of a stuffed animal, Eva now cuddles a saucepan when she sleeps.    

4.  Tonight in the five minute cuddle and talk at bedtime, Eva said brightly,  "Okay.  For the talk tonight, let's count to a MILLION!  I'll start."  

Um...no?  How about we count to ten and call it a day?  

  

5.  My feelings towards my rapidly drying-out Christmas tree are becoming alarmingly similar to my feelings toward the end of the ninth month of pregnancy.  Sooner or later, that sucker's gotta shoot out of its comfy, cozy home through a VERY. SMALL. PORTAL.  

And it's going to leave a helluva mess when it leaves.  

Sigh.

Tuesday.

Tuesday, I'll tear down Christmas and vacuum it up.

It's been a good one...despite the abundance of snot and vomit and diarrhea and is there any other bodily fluid I haven't mentioned?  

Two healthy trolls.

We are so damned lucky.