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.

I melt

Last night I dreamed that Adele was missing.

I don't remember any details beyond that, other than the fact that eventually, police found her and brought her back.

In the dream, I heard her crying as I raced out the door to rejoin her...and in my dream, I fell on a mat on the porch; wailing and so emotionally spent that I could not get up.

Then I woke up.

And so, instead of just standing in the doorway of their room and blowing kisses to each of my sleeping girls as I rushed out to work at 4 this morning, I actually entered the room to kiss them.

There are always two kisses each.  

One for the heart, and one for the head.

And as I give them their kisses, I always mentally say, "Keep living, keep loving".

Always.

Anyway, with the adrenaline from my dream still making me a bit shaky...I went into the bedroom to give them their kisses.    I just needed to touch my girls - to feel the warmth of their baby skin and touch their soft hair for a moment. 

As I bent over to kiss Eva, she whispered quietly in the darkness, "Goodbye, Mama.  I love you."

And I tell you with complete honesty...,if there is no reward beyond that in this journey of mine...

That will have been enough.

At least she didn't crap in the tub part two

Adele farted her way through the nightly bath, sounding less like a toddler and more like a jumbo jet landing in the backyard.

She farted bubbles in the water with enough force to power the freaking Titanic.

So you can understand why we expedited the bathing process, and loaded her into her pyjamas with relative speed.

Farting with reckless abandon - at least on the part of Adder - is generally considered a good sign that something's coming down the pipe.

All was quiet until just before we were about to throw her in her cage - I mean, crib - for the night.

Etienne noticed the smell first...and hauled our girl off for a diaper change.

After a moment:  "Kristy!  Come here!"

I went to Addie's bedroom, expecting a diaper blowout.

What awaited me was much, much more spectacular.

Me:  "It's BLUE"

Etienne:  "It's kind of green, I think"

Me:  "I really think it's blue"

Adele (helpfully): "BOO?"

I swear, it was BLUE.

In fact, I have rarely seen such a lovely, delicate shade of ROBIN'S EGG BLUE.

I remember when I was little and our dogs would eat our mislaid crayons, and for days afterward, our lawn would look positively festive, festooned with a sprinkling of multicoloured waxy confetti.

But at least then, we knew what caused it.

I have no idea what the hell that kid ate, to shoot that alien colour into her diaper.

There has been no blue jello...no blue whales...no recent blueberries or dark grapes.

This is a child who survives on AIR most of the time.

Although I suppose she's 18 months old...and basically a 22-pound Hoover trawling the floor.

The felt from a marker???

Crayons???

Excuse me while I eat the sky.

Vomit comet

Up until Adele, gastro - also known as stomach flu - has pretty much left us alone.  Eva vomits whenever she coughs, but we're used to that - she hugs a saucepan every night instead of a stuffed animal.  She even dumps it, flushes it, and rinses out the saucepan all by herself.  It's all good.  

But Adele upset that apple cart.  And then puked all over it.

This recent bout started around 10 last night.  In a two-hour period, our girl woofed her cookies THREE TIMES.  There was nothing left in her by the last time, but she nonetheless hacked and gagged like a cat tossing up a beach-ball-sized hairball.

We were up three more times in the night...twice for her and once for Eva (potty break).

And this morning I felt fresh as a daisy that had been puked on, stepped on, driven over by a tank, and eaten by a mad cow.  Then turned into cud and eaten again.  Then shat.

I love my children but sometimes they just kick it out of me, you know?

Cupcakes.

I need cupcakes.

And for my wee pooper to get better. 

And sleep.

Mucho sleepo.