Bodily function night. Plus bacon!!!

1.    Addie did it again last night.

I don't know whether it's the warmth of the water...the joy of being with her sister...or the fact that she needs to make room for her recently-eaten supper.

SHE SHAT IN THE TUB.  AGAIN.

Of course, poor Eva was in there with her...and exploded out of the bath in a loud streak of disgust and horror.  

Etienne was out with a friend so I was on my own.   

And when you're on your own and dealing with two wet, poopy kids and a tub full of floaty toys and brown lumpy water, you don't really know where the hell to begin.

Ideally, I'd leave the girls standing there dripping while I scooped out the toys and turds, then fully washed out the tub.  But Addie never remains in one spot for more than 0.5 seconds anyway, so that doesn't work.

And as long as the tub was full of poop soup, there's no way to really clean them off, either.

I finally soaped up Addie while she stood on the bathmat, then just rinsed her under the tap.   I dried and dressed her, went back and drained the tub and started scooping out toys and dealing with the - ahem - lumps...when suddenly I heard a BANG and a wail.

Of course Adele had employed her brand-new skill (learned so recently I didn't even know she could do it) of climbing onto the bed alone...and then promptly rolled right off, whacking her head on the floor.  I raced back to hold her, while Eva kept up her litany of "I'm cold...can I get back in the tub?  I'm cold...can I get back in the tub?"

Argh.  But the bodily function story gets better.

2.  So the girls get cleaned up and go to bed and all is fine.  I go to bed early...and about an hour and a half later, Eva starts coughing.  She has a mild cold and coughs...and coughs...and coughs.  

Now, when she coughs a lot, Eva tends to vomit.   Especially at night.  Especially in her bed.  Especially just as we're drifting off to sleep.

OF COURSE, SHE WAS TRUE TO FORM.

All over her bed.  All over the duvet...neatly missing the bowl I had placed in her bed EXPRESSLY FOR THIS PURPOSE.

Etienne was home by this point and together we cleaned up Eva and her sheets and calmed her down and gave her water and so on.

  

Kids, please....for your tired Mama and Papa....tonight let's make a concerted effort to keep all solids and liquids WHERE THEY BELONG.

3.  I mentioned BACON.  This comes up because Eva's sweetheart of a little friend Emie came over last night and stayed for supper.   Emie's family is Muslim, so they don't eat anything that comes from a pig.

Anyway, Emie was explaining this to Eva.

Emie:  "So I don't eat pork or bacon or dragon"

Eva (with an audible snap of her neck as she looks up from her drawing):  "NO BACON???"

Emie:  "Nope, no bacon...and (clearly trying to get a rise out of Eva) NO DRAGON"

Eva (loudly, clearly shocked): "YOU CAN'T EAT BACON???"  

(A pause, then even louder)  "NO BACON???"

So...apparently eating DRAGON is perfectly fine by my kid.

Pundit

We've often talked about politics at the supper table...but we didn't realize how deeply it was actually sinking in until tonight.

  

I have to admit, my little girlie's knack for names made me pretty proud.

Etienne:  "I can't believe that in ONE WEEK it'll be the U.S. Presidential election."

Me (to Eva):  "Who's going to win the presidential election?"

Eva:  "Stephen Harper?" 

Adele: (laughs out loud from her highchair)

Me:  "No...I think you might remember his name.  The other guy.  For PRESIDENT"

Eva:  "Barack Obama!!!"

Yummy, yummy crap

We don't buy sugary cereals for our kids.

Before you start thinking I'm ONE OF THOSE...let me state for the record that we are not those over-the-top parents who send their kids out with "SUGAR-FREE" emblazoned on their t-shirts, whose children eat sugar so rarely they get hyperactive after eating a prune.   Mine do get gum and candy and all that jazz.

HOWEVER...when it comes to the main meals of the day, we're fairly rigid on their nutrition content. 

Now, Eva is used to having sugary cereals while at her grandparents' house.  My mum and dad have made a lovely tradition of having a minivan-sized box of Froot Loops in their cereal cabinet for whenever the grandkids sleep over.   And you can usually find a similarly-sized box of Frosted Flakes at Etienne's parents' place.   It's one of those awesome things you remember about staying at your grandparents' house.  

But while Eva is used to having those cereals at her grandparents', she's not used to having them IN HER OWN HOME.

Today, her grandmama rocked that boat BUT GOOD.

This afternoon, they went out for a walk and wound up stopping at a grocery store where Eva asked for - and got - the Grand-daddy of all crap cereals.   Pink hearts, yellow moons, green clovers, blue diamonds...all made of synthetic neon marshmallowy fluffy hexametaphosphate (I kid you not, it's ON THE BOX).  

You guessed it:  LUCKY CHARMS.  

And these are not just regular Lucky Charms.

These are CHOCOLATE LUCKY CHARMS.

Eva couldn't believe her luck.  COULD. NOT. BELIEVE. IT.

CHOCOLATE LUCKY CHARMS.  IN MY HOUSE.

Tonight she gently took out the box of Chocolate Lucky Charms and carefully placed it on the counter.   Then she lovingly traced her index finger over the brightly-coloured rainbow, dotted with big hunks of artifically flavoured marshmallows, swirling about over that insufferable leprechaun's head.

Then she slowly and softly exhaled one word...

 "CALORIES!"

Bye bye, Mathilde

The first week of school, we heard the name "Mathilde" often.

She seemed like a nice little girl...Eva seemed to adore her and they played together often at school.  There was talk of play dates and sleepovers.

Then suddenly...things changed.

The planets shifted...the clouds churned...and suddenly, the name "Mathilde" was replaced by the name "Nadine".

All this was fine with us, as long as Eva was happy.

But the other night, Eva filled me in as to what happened to her great friendship with Mathilde.

"I was playing with Mathilde and it was fun.  But this other girl named NADINE comes along.  I didn't know her.  I only knew that there was this nice girl named Mathilde.  And we played.  But Nadine came and Mathilde didn't like her as much as me.  So one day they fought and Nadine had my arm and Mathilde had my other arm and they pulled and pulled and I was like, 'whoa this is ME' and finally they let go."

Me:  "And then what happened?"

Eva:  "Then they said I had to decide who was my BEST BEST BEST FRIEND"

Me:  "Wow...that's a tough decision... how did you do that?"

Eva:  "Well.......actually........I DID EENIE MEENIE MINEY MO".

Me: "And that's how you decided who your best friend forever would be?"

Eva:  "Yup!"

OOOOOOOOOH life is cruel when you're five...

This makes me want to wake her up...

...just so I can hug her for being so cute it makes my heart hurt.

Why do children fight sleep to the point of passing out SITTING UP???

Silly wee troll...SLEEP IS AWESOME!!!

Childproofing

Following our bloody incident the other day (see previous post)...we are re-childproofing our kitchen.

I started the process about an hour and a half ago, armed with a brand-new box of plastic childproof latches, a hammer, measuring tape, a bunch of screws, and a screwdriver.

I was optimistic...buoyed by the hope that we would finally be able to thwart our little Houdini before she slices off another finger or downs any more uncooked lentils.

I quit the entire blasted affair about five minutes ago, sweating wet, throwing the tools down in disgust and humiliation.

The result of my efforts...a single blasted plastic latch installed backwards in a spot that makes it impossible for the second part of the latch (the one attached to the drawer) to close.

WHY THE %&%?$!!!  DOES IT TAKE A FREAKING ENGINEERING DEGREE AND THREE FREAKING HOURS TO INSTALL A SINGLE FREAKING CHILDPROOF LATCH ON A SINGLE FREAKING DRAWER?????

Etienne has kindly taken over.  

He, too, is swearing.

But he is smarter and less of a quitter than his wife.

In fact, as I write this, he has just completed the latch.

AND THE $%$?#&!!! THING WORKS.

So, Addie, our dear little maggot...your parents might be battered and bruised in their efforts to protect you...

BUT YOU ARE NOT. OPENING. THAT. DRAWER.

Guilt, part 11,987

My constant flirtation with maternal guilt is no secret.  I feel guilty for pretty much everything I do or don't do as a parent. 

 

So that's what made tonight exceptionally awful for me.

And it was all my fault.

I was supposed to be watching Adele, who was wandering around the kitchen.  Etienne was busy in another room and all I had to do was keep an eye on her for a few minutes.  But I had drunk a bucket of coffee this afternoon...and I have a bladder the size of a walnut.  SO...I figured a 30 second (literally) dash to the bathroom (just around the corner from the kitchen, leaving the door open, returning to the kitchen immediately to wash my hands) would be safe.

I am such a freaking moron.

I was in there maybe ten seconds, when Addie started crying and spun around the corner...her hand and mouth smeared with blood.

I picked my heart up off the floor, jammed it back into my chest, and started searching for the source of the blood.  Initially, I figured it was her mouth so while she wailed, I checked inside. Nothing.

Finally, I figured out that the blood was dripping from a tiny little prick on her tiny little finger.

What happened was this: the childproof lock on the utensils drawer broke a couple of weeks back.   Now, we pretty much hover over Adele because she is the reincarnation of Evil Knievel...the kid is "energetic" (READ: TASMANIAN DEVIL).  So we kind of put off fixing the lock. 

The drawer holds serving spoons and a wide variety of utensils for peeling and preparing.  No knives or anything like that...nothing sharp...we figured it was totally safe.  However, Addie managed to find the one utensil that was not TOTALLY safe. 

It's a cute little red vegetable peeler, made just like a carrot peeler only with serrated edges.  I'm not sure exactly what it's meant to peel...tomatoes?  Zucchini?  

At any rate, it peels fingertips verrrry neatly.

Poor Addie.  I held her in my arms while Etienne gently washed her little finger.  Then he applied her first-ever Band-Aid.  The wound was teeny tiny...and I mean MINISCULE...but we just felt AWFUL for her.  

We put her in her highchair and like a mad dog, she immediately tried to gnaw the Band-Aid off her finger.

She finally calmed down when we served her dinner...leftover crepes stuffed with ricotta cheese, asparagus, and smoked ham, lovingly prepared by her Grandmama.  Who wouldn't stop crying for that?  Addie ate like a trucker and all was well.

Well...except for me, with a little black hole of guilt in my heart...for an injury that was very minor but still drew blood.  

I know every parent takes their eyes off their children momentarily...and I know it's impossible to watch the little whirlwinds every second of every day.

But still.

For a parent who already wrestles with guilt, this was like being pinned to the mat and smacked down hard. 

Poor little troll.

Fixing the damned drawer right away.  

My guilty conscience will take longer.