Home again, home again

So we're back in our little house, all together now.

It was a super trip.

1.  I got to spend some time with my Grandma.  She's in her nineties and just had two operations for recently-diagnosed breast cancer.  We feasted a couple of times on takeout Chinese food and tea.  So wonderful to see her and have time to relax and chat. 

2.  Great to see my mum and dad!  They are just about the loveliest people you could ever hope to meet, and integrity personified.  I totally won the jackpot when I got to be their kid.  Counting my blessings, you'll find them at the top of the list.  I'm now craving my dad's casseroli.  It's dynamite and transports me directly back to childhood every time I eat it.  MMMMMcasseroli.

3.  Got to see my friends.  Had some fantastic suppers, some wonderful hugs, and plenty of belly laughs.  They are smart, strong, beautiful women, all of them.  I am blessed.

4.  I got to see a cat lose its ears to frostbite.  It was pretty amazing and I found myself a bit emotional once the bits actually fell off.  Bodhi is no intellectual lottery winner, truth be told...he basically tried to commit natural selection a few weeks back when he decided to head out into the Western Canadian Winter to hide under a car for two weeks. 

It was about -800 degrees outside (that's about -400 fahrenheit, Kulio). 

Of course he ignored the fact that the car was three feet from a heated garage with a door that went up and down several times a day, leaving him plenty of opportunity to return inside...and never mind that his loving family called his name for DAYS.

No sir.  Bodhi was holding his ground and HIDING, dammit.  He was going to show that blasted sweet family with the endless supply of food, water, and love WHO IS BOSS.  

Or at least, WHO IS DARWIN.

When they finally found him, they practically had to peel him out of the snow.  His tail was frozen and now juts at an odd angle, and the tips of his ears froze completely. 

When Adele and I arrived home, the ear bits were hanging by bits of skin and I lived in terror (well, okay slightly morbid nervousness) that they would quietly pop off and Addie - who is still basically a 22-pound Dustbuster - would be the first to find them.  SOOO not interested in supplementing her protein levels with a bit of feline.  Fortunately, my sister was on top of the matter and my worries were totally unjustified.  Poor sweet, dumb cat.  Ya gotta love him, now that he's a survivor.  Even if he has only two active neurons to rub together.  

5.  Eva did her class presentation this week.  She compared Eid al-Fitr and Easter to answer the question, "Are holidays in other countries the same as holidays here?"  She did a poster that is the freaking BOMB, and memorized a whole bunch of facts about the two holidays.  

We were pretty proud of her - mostly because of how hard she worked on it.  All by herself, she drew about ten pictures for her poster, cut them out, and glued them onto the cardboard...and then memorized a two-minute presentation which she practiced relentlessly over several days.  She had a little trouble because she kept jumping from "And they killed Him and He rolled away the stone and went up into the sky because He was full of love and the Easter Bunny came". 

Etienne helped her gather facts and arrange them in order...but she put it all together.   Never underestimate a troll.

6.  Addie can say the word "bee" and "tree"...she has also started saying "choo choo" for train, and "I DONE".  The latter is the one that gets the most airtime in her vocabulary, because she uses it constantly whenever we try to feed her or well, get her to do anything at all.  She seems to be showing no ill effects after last week's divebomb into the carpet at my parents'.   I, on the other hand, have aged about five years.

Tomorrow's Friday and that makes me happy.  Looking forward to a few days with my beautiful little family.  Off to bed now.

I DONE.

Addie Lou Retton, or why my hair is going grey

We are at home...the home where I grew up.

There's something so wonderful about coming home...being around your mum and dad, laughing with your younger sister, spending time with beautiful friends you've known too many years to want to remember, eating the foods you loved as a child (my dad's "casseroli")

I love that you can always just roll right back into that familiar warmth...with the people who really know you and yet still seem to like you.

Adele's been having a blast, too...bugging her older cousin Josh and chasing the dog and cats WITHOUT MERCY.

Tonight she scared me, though....more than either of my girls ever has, I think.

It was after supper....and Adder climbed up on the couch and started bouncing.

She loves to climb, and she loves to bounce.

We usually sit beside her and let her jump away, ready to catch her if she bounces herself off the couch. So far, she hasn't - HADN'T - fallen.

Tonight, though, I was across the room.

So when she got up on the couch, I got up and started heading over to spot her.

Suddenly, she bounced the wrong way...and bounced right off the couch.

And I don't mean just bounced off.

Bouncing is hopping. Skipping. Happy skipping.

This was not happy skipping.

Olympic gymnasts don't get air like my 18-month old had tonight.

Mary-Lou Retton, 1984 Olympic gold medal winning vault?
That was bronze-medal shuffleboard at the senior's games compared to what Adele did.

SKI JUMPERS don't get air like my girl.

It was actually pretty darned spectacular.

She just suddenly bounced twice and BACKFLIPPED - and I do mean BACKFLIPPED - herself right off the couch.

And landed right on her head.

I almost fainted.

I truly worried she'd broken her neck.

When I got to her, she just looked up at me, blinking rapidly in surprise.

I was afraid to move her...afraid to touch her, really...but then she started rolling over to get herself up, so I picked her up.

And that was that.

She didn't cry...didn't react at all. She just...got herself up and resumed running...totally oblivious to the fact that her mom had just lost about five years of her life from stress.

And you know what makes me even more stressed?

Knowing that this was NOTHING.

This was just the first of many, many falls where I won't be able to catch her.

All I can do is pick her up when she lands, and let her start running again.

And then gulp down a fistful of blood pressure medication, say a quick little prayer of gratitude...and then yank out every parental-stress related grey hair at the root.

I have a feeling there will be many grey hairs with that little roach's name on them.

Many, many, many.

Sigh of relief, this time.

3.5 out of 4 ain't bad

Eva had her first DICTÉE this week.

Here in Quebec, this is a sort of academic rite of passage.

Basically, it's a short phrase, story, or article that one hears and then copies down.

The goal is to copy it down with perfect spelling and grammar.

Now, if you know French at all, you know this is PRETTY MUCH FREAKING IMPOSSIBLE.

This language is NUTSO.

Oh, it's beautiful to listen to, don't get me wrong.

There's a reason French is considered the language of love.

And there's no hilarity like a swearing Quebecer.

Trust me, they take cursing to new heights.

I wet my pants every time I see my husband hit a golf ball, because the string of curses that follows is so damned eloquent and explosive at the same time.

But this crazy language has exceptions on top of its exceptions.

The grammar is so tough, French writers consult a manual.  CONSTANTLY.

They have dictée COMPETITIONS on the TELEVISION.

ON THE FREAKING TELEVISION.

IN PRIME TIME.

So dictées are a big deal.

This particular dictée was also a big deal because it was her first ever actual RESULT for school work.

Up until now, it's been "yay, Eva! You counted to 10!" or "yay, Eva!  You drew a fish!"

Now, suddenly, she's into the realm of EVALUATION for one's work.

There's no turning back.

She had to write three words (she's only five)

Ski, vélo, and nager.

And she got them all.

She lost a half-mark because she wrote her name in capital letters but that's okay (although little miss Type-A insisted on writing her name in capital AND lower-case letters today for her teacher, to show her that SHE CAN DO IT PERFECTLY SO THERE)

Which, actually, almost makes me more proud than the dictée.

Bravo, Evita!!!

Tu as bien fait, ma belle.

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.