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.