Christmas shopping

Today was our big day to get out there and shop for Christmas presents... if this seems last minute to you, let it be known that for our family, it's actually quite a bit ahead of time (last year we finished shopping on the 23rd).

Normally, we would put the girls into umbrella strollers and set off. They're surprisingly hardy on snowy and icy sidewalks. But it was unthinkable to take any kind of stroller out today on our sidewalks.



Luckily, we have two child carriers (read: backpacks). One heavy-duty one from MEC and another that Derek actually used to ride around in! So Maïa climbed into the big one (much to her delight - you have no idea how many times she has asked to ride in it!), and Solanne got strapped into the vintage model... and off we went.



And what shopping trip would be complete without a break for lunch at the restaurant? Maïa loves going to the restaurant; in fact, she plays "restaurant" in our bedroom. She brings all her food toys and dishes in there and has a little party. Sometimes she even invites her sister. So today it was a special treat for the kids not only to visit a culinary establishment but also to sit next to one another. I am happy to report that they were incredibly well behaved. They made us proud (as always, of course!).

Clean up

Once the snow had slowed (though not stopped completely), Derek and Maïa went out to shovel and clean off the car. You might be able to make out Maïa cleaning off the car with her mitt... it would take a long time to do it that way!! Derek gave her a hand spade (you know, the little ones you use to garden) so she could help him dig out. Mostly, she just played and ate snow.

Welcome to Montreal

It has been snowing all night, and as I write this, it's still going. School buses aren't running, daycares are closed, our street is almost impassable. It is winter! For those of you not in this part of the world, here are some images...

This is our car... somewhere under there...


This is our street, with buried cars


This is our livingroom window


Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!!

Tufty

When she was born, Solanne had a fine dusting of blond hair on her head, just as her sister had. But there was one difference: Solanne had this little bit of dark, thick hair on the side of her head, just above her left ear. And when her newborn down fell out, the tuft of hair stayed, stubbornly. And it often stuck out, defying us to tame it (which has always been impossible).

So when Solanne's hair began to grow back, the tuft remained, longer than the rest and defiant as ever. Nowadays, it's generally only noticeable to us, sticking out ever so slightly (though still untameable). But yesterday, it came back in full force, so I had to capture it for you.

And this is how Solanne got the nickname "Tufty."

Milestone: A visit to the ER

It has been a hectic week here. Last Thursday, Maïa got sick and then got a runny nose. She's recovering alright. Then Solanne got it, and it was a whole other ball of wax.

On Tuesday, Sol developed a fever, but it was low-grade and she was pretty much herself, only she slept a little more than usual. That night, she slept poorly (and a so did Mum!). Then yesterday, she was limp and listless. She slept in my arms most of the day. By the evening, she had a 40.1C fever (about 104F). I brought her to the emergency at the Children's Hospital.

We got through triage quickly and saw a doctor right away. Because Solanne was so weak and hadn't eaten or drank anything all day, they decided that they had to put her on an IV. To me, this was good news because I knew it would make her better. What I didn't bank on was the horror she would feel at being poked and prodded the way she was. I am not complaining, because I know it was all necessary, but it was hard to watch them insert a catheter to get a urine sample, and even more heart-wrenching to watch helplessly as the nurse tried three times to get a vein, only to have two of them collapse. The third stayed. In went the IV, and Sol's little arm was taped to a board to keep her from bending it.

I felt terrible for her. I couldn't believe that my little girl had to go through this. Once they had a good drip going, we were sent to Observation, where we spent the night. Solanne had to stay on the IV until she was willing to drink. Well, there's one thing I have to say for my girl: she has her opinions. She did not want to drink. So we stayed until 5 am, until I convinced her to take a few sips of pedialyte. And we went home, groggy, but happy to get back.

Through it all, though, I am immensely thankful. One: that the only thing wrong with her was an ear infection and dehydration. Two: that we have a medical system that works, most of the time. Three: that I didn't have to pay a cent to have access to quality care. Four: that we live in 2005, and not 1905, when a high fever and an ear infection might have killed my baby.

And as I type this, Solanne is in bed, fever-free. By early this evening, she was walking around again, talking, signing. She even learned two new (verbal) words this evening: "suce" (pacifier) and "dada." All in a day's work for her, I guess.

Christmas decorating

Tonight, we got our home ready for Christmas. There's nothing like a deadline to get us moving, so we planned a Christmas party for Saturday (for colleagues of Derek's). Last night, Derek set out the Christmas knick-knacks and put up the tree. Tonight, when Maïa got home from daycare, I put the lights and garland in, and Maïa helped put the decorations on the tree. Of course, if it were up to Maïa, all the ornaments would be on one branch. So we've taught her that they have to go on different branches. Then the decorations were on the lower third of the tree. Don't tell Maïa, but I had to move a bunch of them.

So for your viewing enjoyment, here are shots of our tree: pre-decorations, and post-Mom-intervention decorations.

The magic of disappearing

There is something magical about babies. Beyond the diapers and the vomit, the sleepless nights and the lack of a social life, the crying and the whining, the mess and the mayhem... beyond all these, there is the magic of wonder. Wonder in the sense of awe, but wonder also in the sense of "I wonder what in the world she is thinking?"

Being home with Solanne every day, all day, I know her better than anyone. This was not true with Maïa, with whom I was home for about 7 months, and then I set off to work while Dad stayed home. So this is all new to me. A few months ago, pre-signs, pre-words, Solanne would look at me in a certain way, and I would know that she needed a drink, or to be picked up, or to go to sleep. It's always been obvious to me but a great mystery to those observing us (especially those who do not have children of their own). It was like we had this cosmic connection, or at least a cosmic joke, just between the two of us. But it was more than that.

Our communication was subtle. Without a word, Solanne could convey a need, a feeling, a mood, and a wish, all at once. And, if I wasn't immediately busy with her sister or some other task, I would happily grant her wish. Her looks were infinitely more complex than a word might ever have conveyed. And because of it, she seemed, even as an older baby, to have a deep wisdom, one which people often associate with newborns.

Formal communication has begun to remove this mysetery, this connection, between the two of us. Now, when she wants to drink, anyone who knows that an index finger to the mouth means "I'm thirsty" can fulfill her wish. Of course, it's less stress on me, and I'm thrilled by the fact that she's started to "verbalise." But it's like she's slowly being taken from me and given to the world.

This, of course, is the plight of parenthood. I love these two children more than anyone in the whole world. I would do anything for them. And for now, they love me more fiercely than anyone else (I share that honour with their Dad). But one day, and I know it will feel like seconds from now, they will grow to love others more. And that's normal. And that's devastating. So I hold onto them a few seconds longer than they would like when they come over for a hug, peek in on them when they sleep, soak up their laughter with every fibre of my soul because I want to keep them mine just a little longer.

@ Nana and Grampa's

Every year, around this time, the descendants of Nana Sandie and Grampa Ken come back home to prepare the family homestead for Christmas. So Mum and Dad packed up the girls and headed out to eastern Ontario (there's no town: it's in the middle of nowhere, which is great!). It was also uncle Pat's birthday, so we celebrated that, too.

Now preparing for Christmas at Nana and Grampa's involves the usual: you know, decorating, listening to Christmas music, eating lots of food... In the decorating realm, there are a few things that one must know to fully understand what it means to decorate Nana's house: there are a lot of decorations. They date back to before Nana and Grampa even met. Every year, there's one monologue that goes like this:

Grampa: See those decorations? I brought those from Toronto, from the place I shared with Marilyn (his sister). Those date back to... geez... 1972, 1973!

And there's also the decorations that Derek and his brothers made when they were little - paper snowmen, construction paper trees, a graham cracker house that we have to warn the kids not to eat... And they all have a special meaning. Last year, our little family added to the home-made decorations. Maïa made a paper ornament that has her little handprint on it. So there are many things that need to find a spot in the house, and we all help out (luckily, along with the accrued number of decorations over time, the family has also grown, so there's more help... I think it all evens out in the end).

There is one more part of the decorating that is a mainstay in the house: the Village. I imagine that at one point in time it was called the "Christmas village," but the name has had to change over the years. Now it's more of a snowy scene of bloody violence. I guess that comes naturally in a house of boys (ah, the special grace of God to have sent us two girls...). Since I have been around to help decorate, Derek's younger brothers have always set up the Village, so I just thought the violent tendencies were theirs alone. Turns out I was wrong. This year, Pat and Derek worked together on the Village, and it's just as gory as ever. In this incarnation, there's a three-way battle going on, the details of which I'm sure Derek could explain far more intricately than I could ever try to do (or really want to).

I must admit, though, that setting up dioramas is lots of fun. And I must also admit that the guys are really good at doing it, and I laughed more than once as I took a look at their work (and then again much more, as the two photographed their work with great care). So I've put some of the pics up here so that the faithful readers of this blog could get a little insight into Derek and his brothers... and to chuckle along with all of us who witnessed the Village first-hand.

I think that we will add in a Christmas village into our own tradition. I look forward to seeing how it evolves over the years as the girls add in their own touches.

P.S. Happy Advent

Milestone: Daycare

Yesterday, Maïa started daycare. With Mum working part-time from home, we needed to find a solution to the problem of the shortage of time (take care of a toddler and a preschooler, work from home, sleep... all in 24 hours?? get real...). After a thorough search of the neighbourhood facilities, and some luck thrown in, Maïa landed a spot in a reputable daycare not 10 minutes by foot from home. We are incredibly blessed to be living in Québec, the land of cheap daycare (and blackouts, too).

So it was with a little sadness that Maïa left her preschool on Thursday. Her friends at the YMCA preschool will be missed, as will her teacher, Kim. Maïa really blossomed in the short two months she was there. Hopefully, after a little bit of adjustment, she will do just as well at her new daycare.

Although the daycare has some great programs (including dance and classical music), it does not have a swimming program. So for now, we are retiring the famous bathing cap, but not before posting it here for everyone to see.

The blackout

Last week, we experienced a blackout: not our first and probably not our last. A number of buildings were without power, including a couple across the street, and a couple behind us. Strangely, and most annoyingly, our next-door neighbours, and many more across the way, had plenty of light. Luckily, we had just finished cooking some eggs for the kids when we lost power. It was around 5 pm. I had wisely chosen to make something quick for the kids and wait to make something more elaborate for the adults afterwards. Well, we didn't get anything elaborate. In fact, we ate cold left overs. At least the kids were adequately fed.

We made the best of it: we lit candles, pulled out the flashlights for Maïa to play with, and played some games (ok, this last one we do all the time, but somehow it's different with the lights out). We had the perfect excuse not to have to clean up after supper: no light and no hot water means that it's impossible to do the dishes. What a relief - until the light of morning, when all the yuckiness of the night before is made evident... but we didn't think of that at the time.

The kids took it all in stride. After only a momentary uneasiness on Maïa's part, they embraced the darkness. We shone the flashlight in every direction. Including eyes. Uh, don't look directly into the flashlight, Mai. Solanne was intrigued by the moving light on the ceiling and made her bird sign. That's not a bird, Sol, it's the light. More frantic bird signs. It's the light. See? The flashlight is making light. Bird signs. Ok, you think that's a bird. It's kinda like a bird...

And then it was bedtime. Funny how even events like a blackout can't stave off the Bedtime. So Maïa got a story by flashlight, and off they went to rest in a very dark room.

By the way, we got power back by midnight... and lost it again the next day, but only enough to bug us and make the clocks flash 12:00.


Our camera has a great night photo feature, so it's actually much darker than it seems by the picture.

"Sol" patch

The joys of Play-doh

As Daddy took this picture, Maïa said to her creation, "Smile, spider!"

A weekend in the life of Mai and Sol

This past weekend was busy, but it was lots of fun.

Friday, the girls (and their parents) headed out to Ottawa to visit with Grandma. We arrived mid-afternoon, had a nice visit, and good dinner. In the evening, Grandma looked after the girls (well, Solanne was already in bed) while Mum and Dad went out... a real live date!! and to see U2... well, the girls didn't know this, but they wouldn't have cared anyway. Mum and Dad had a great time with friends, even though they were very tired the next day.

Saturday, Maïa and Solanne got to visit with some of their own friends. We went to our friends' Sue & Andrew's place. Maïa's got to see Desmond and his new baby sister, who is just seven weeks old! Later, Maïa's good friend Zoë came over (with parents in toe). And the three bigger kids had a wonderful time, with hardly any screaming at all, which makes for a very successful playdate, indeed.

Meanwhile, Solanne was busy with her own new friend: Scuba the dog. He's a wonderfully friendly, large dog. He is long-suffering and kind. And when Solanne saw him, she went nuts! She practiced her relatively new sign, "dog," quite a bit. She followed Scuba around, panting and squealing. Often enough, Scuba would look for a diplomatic way out of the situation, turn around, and try to leave the room. It happened that he would be blocked by other children or a piece of furniture, so he would wait, wagging his tail. But Solanne was right behind him. So she got whacked by his tail on a number of occasions, and she loved it. She laughed and giggled and squealed some more. She loves dogs now. But I think they have a long way to go before they can catch up to cats in Sol's heart!

When it was time to go, the girls were reluctant (as were the parents), but it was time to say good-bye, see you next time. So we suited up and headed back to Grandma's (which of course, is also a special treat).

Sunday morning was rushed as we packed up our stuff and our kids and headed back to Montreal to meet up with the other side of the family. Derek's aunt Marilyn came in from Vancouver for a workshop, and she dropped by for the afternoon and evening. Nana and Grampa joined in, as did Aunt Robin and Uncle Mike. It was more fun and more attention for the kids: they had a blast... right up until after supper, at an Indian restaurant in our neighbourhood, when Maïa promptly vomited her entire supper all over herself, the table, and Mum. I guess it was too much excitement, too much food, and too much spiciness. Ah well, the joys of being a child. Daddy scooped her up and brought her to the bathroom. She got cleaned off while Grampa ran out to get the car... luckily the bill had just come, so that was taken care of. On the 60-second drive home, Maïa was laughing and babbling on, so she was alright.

Into the bath the girls went, as we hurriedly said good-bye to everyone. They got cleaned up, dried off, pyjamaed, and hair-dryered. It was off to bed, and to the end of an exciting weekend.

Maïa's box yoga

Long before Solanne crawled into a box (or even into this universe), Maïa had already begun box yoga. I had forgotten about this incident and this picture. I came across the image the other day as I was transferring files. This is Maïa when she was just a little older than Solanne is now...

The exciting world of preschool internet

To get a better understanding of Maïa and what makes her tick, check out her favourite website. Be warned, however: do not click to Sesame Street if you have anything important to do. You will get sucked in. Maïa especially likes Elmo's Keyboard-O-Rama game (it's just as exciting as it sounds!). Also of interest is Zoe's Dance Moves and Bert's Bottle Caps (a game in which you have to help Bert organise his bottle caps - hours of fun!!).

The webmistress has added the link to the sidebar, in case you forget to add it to your favourites in your own browser. Have fun! And let us know your favourites.

The problem with independence: Exhibit B

Solanne has decided that it's time that she feed herself. Enough of this nonsense of waiting for Mum or Dad to put it into her mouth: she can do it herself. We are generally happy to oblige her because, in theory, it frees up some time for us to do other tasks, like get food ready for Maïa, or even eat ourselves. Getting Solanne to feed herself does free us up while she's eating, but in the end, it creates a whole lot more work.

You see, the problem of independence is that it's really messy. We've even taken to stripping Solanne down to her diaper and bib in some cases. We did that last night when she went to task on Mum's homemade chili.

Solanne, before the chili


Solanne, in the act

The problem with independence: Exhibit A

My kids have always wanted to do things their own way. I don't know if it's just a kid thing or if it's my kids in particular, but I must admit that it can be terribly trying at times. Maïa has been asserting her independence since long before she uttered her first full sentence at about 18 months: "Maïa do it self!" She said this to Derek as they headed down the stairs of our apartment building: she didn't want to hold his hand. Sigh.

The problem, lately, with Maïa's need for independence is that it takes a whole lot of time for her to do everything herself. Now that we're into snowsuit weather, there's a whole new type of clothing she needs to figure out: hats, boots, neckwarmers, mitts, and of course, the long zippers on the snowsuit. I've tried to factor in the extra time, but inevitably, we get rushed. So I try to help her. I do up the zipper. She gets upset (read: she screams then cries), undoes the zipper, and then does it up herself. The thing is, she can't really be blamed for doing it: I know that she'll do it, but a small part of me hopes that she won't and that it'll all go faster if I do it. Right.

So the real problem with independence is letting it happen. The problem with Maïa's independence is me...

Friends

This week has seen the emergence of something I've been waiting a long time to witness: a deeper closeness between Maïa and Solanne.

They have liked each other from the beginning. When I brought Solanne home from the hospital, Maïa cried out, "it's Solanne!" She would often ask to hold her. We'd set her up with pillows and put Solanne in her lap. This position would last all of 12 seconds, but Maïa was always up for it. And Solanne has always tried to do everything her big sister does, and she has always watched her with keen interest and deep admiration. But what has started to happen this week is different.

Maïa now seeks out her little sister's company. A short week ago, Maïa would actually run away from Solanne, and slam doors behind her to keep her sister out. But now, when Maïa goes to the bathroom (which is a semi-public affair for her right now), she calls Solanne to join her. Last week, she would have gotten up, run to the door, and slammed it shut if Solanne even so much as walked by. The two have whole conversations in there. They go something like this:

"Yeah Solanne, that's my pee and my poo, and the toilet paper is floating in there!"

"Arr-zug-wa!!"

"Yeah! That's the toilet!!"

"Sug-ya?!"

"Don't put your toy in there; it's a toilet."

"Arr-goo!!"

And so it goes, the two of them chattering away. And the playing together is not limited to potty time. When Maïa is playing in their room and Solanne walks in, Maïa gets her sister to sit down, and she reads to her (well, she abbreviates the stories she remembers). And Solanne looks on with interest. Sometimes, she tries to grab at the book, but it has happened that the scenario has actually played out peacefully. Solanne is not really prone to staying in one place for very long, so after a minute or two, she generally walks along her merry way. But now, Maïa asks her to stay. Even shouts to her to "come back, Solanne!"

Today, when we were at the park, the two of them played together on the teeter-totter. Maïa giggled and Solanne laughed her deep, throaty laugh. And I knew that it had happened: sisters had become friends.

Field Trips With Dad (By Dad)

Cristina has asked me to write a piece on some of the things that Maïa and Solanne do with Dad. During most weekdays, I'm away from the house, so I don't get to see all the exciting things the kids are up to at first hand; in fact, sometimes I end up reading the blog and finding out new things that my kids are doing that I hadn't been aware of! But the last couple of weeks I've taken some days off from school, mostly to give Cristina a chance to catch up on work, meaning that I needed to find something to do with the kids.

Field trips are fun. Two weeks ago we decided to go to the Insectarium, which is apparently the biggest insect museum in North America. In my infinite wisdom I decided we could make it across town by bus instead of taking the car--that way, I told myself, I could avoid traffic and parking hassles. The fun part was keeping them entertained. Luckily I had brought a big bag of raisins, so Maïa had a good time trying to put all the raisins into the little crack at the bottom of the window, and Solanne had an equally good time trying to stuff the remaining raisins into her mouth all at the same time. Even more fun was the part where I accidentally got us off at the wrong stop, then realized that I had no idea what part of the city we were in. But they best part was when we finally got there--four buses and an hour and a half later--only to realize we still had to walk a fair ways to get to the museum. An interesting fact about children is that you can usually count on them to decide at a point like this that they are tired of walking and want you to carry them. Well, Maïa wanted me to carry her...Solanne was already strapped into our trusty Mountain Equipment Co-op backpack carrier, which meant I had one kid on my back and one on my front. For some reason, the kids thought that this situation was hilarious, although I'm not sure I was able to appreciate the joke in quite the same way! But we got there.

Actually, we had a lot of fun, and I shouldn't complain because despite my mistake about the buses, they were in a great mood. We saw A LOT of bugs, which, I am happy to say, is as interesting to Maïa as it is to me (I think bugs are pretty cool). Solanne, of course, was happy to do anything--she just likes being carried around in the backpack. Anyway, we saw all kinds of critters: stick bugs and leaf bugs (some of whom were, um, busy making baby stick bugs), shiny green and blue beetles that are used to make jewellery in South America, giant goliath and rhinocerous beetles with huge horns that get pitted against each other in fights to the death in South-east Asia and Japan, enormous indigo-winged butterflies, a terrarium full of cockroaches longer than my thumb, huge cicadas from Asia whose singing must be deafening, and scorpions that glow in the dark (Maïa really liked this one). By the way, next time any of you talk to Maïa, ask her to do her cicada sound; it's pretty cute.

So what kind of bug did Maïa like the best? "The little one." Go figure.

This past week I thought we would try something a little closer to home, so I suggested that we visit the Musée des Beaux Arts, which is downtown, not far from the McGill campus. I had read in this guide book we have that they have a studio there where kids can make art. So first I had to explain to Maïa what "art" is. "Art means things that you draw or paint, Maïa--like your pictures. When you draw pictures, that's art." She was sold on that one. "I want to do art! I want to go to the art gallery!" Mission accomplished. Apparently, she talked about it the whole day and a half leading up to the trip. So, to the art gallery we went.

So we took the bus again (only this time I really did know the way), and what is the first statue we run into in the entrance hall? Something called "Horse and Cougar," a gigantic horse with, you got it, a cougar sitting on its back. I'm not sure how the sculptor got the horse and cougar to pose for this one, but whatever he did, it was a brilliant idea. Maïa was absolutely enthralled with this giant "Clickey," and Solanne made sure I was well aware of how excited she was that there was a huge kitty cat sitting on its back. We spent five or ten minutes just looking at it. It was perfect.

The studio thing for kids was not running (it only operates on weekends), but we had a good time looking at some of the colourful creations that different kids had made. My favourite was a set of telephones painted and papier-mâché'd into a horde of crazy monsters. Then we went to look at the galleries of contemporary art. We had a good conversation about a giant painting of burning grass. It went something like this: "The grass is not burning, Daddy." "Yes it is, Maïa, look at the fire." "No, it's not." "Well, really, it IS...but don't worry, only a little bit of it will burn. It will be okay." "No, it's not burning, Daddy." "Sigh. Okay, Maïa, it's not burning." We also got to look at two gigantic carved wooden heads, which, I found out, were really the carved likenesses of Mummy and Daddy (I didn't know my nose looked like that...). But the best was the nude torso of a woman, with a butterfly hovering over her private parts. "What's that, Dad?" "Uh, that's a butterfly, Mai." "That tickles her, Daddy."

I still have no idea how to respond to that.

Anyway, it was a great day out. Solanne, once again, loved just being in the backpack. She has a great time just bouncing around in there. Sometimes I feel like I'm neglecting her, but she makes her own entertainment--making hooting noises in the cavernous rooms of the art gallery and listening to the echo ("Shhh, Sol, everyone's staring at us!"), or laughing like crazy at her sister. I guess if she's happy, I should just accept it and not ask too many questions!

So what was your favourite thing at the art gallery, Maïa?

"The horse."

Maïa loves to help

Apparently, as children move from the toddler stage to the preschool stage, they become much more settled and predictable. And the most wonderful part of the preschool stage is that they become so willing to help. Residual tantrums aside, Maïa has arrived. She loves to help out in any way she can, including by pushing her sister around in the walker (or "stroller," as she calls it).

Here she is reading a story to her little sister. This photo was taken in August.

And here, Maïa is folding little cloths. This is one of the "chores" she's been assigned, along with putting away toys in the evening and hanging up her coat and backpack when we come home. When asked if she would fold the cloths, she says, "oui, s'il-te-plaît."

Solanne: god of the village

New uses for old toys

When Maïa was about a year old, our good friend Sandra (Mme. Rayne) gave her an excellent toy called an activity walker. It's basically a toy mail cart. Baby can just push it around, or mail her letters and deliver them herself. It helped Maïa learn how to walk (and run!).

Solanne also enjoys this toy. But she has a different use for it. She rips off the little doors (which are removable), turns around, and parks her little behind in the walker. Then she eagerly looks around for anyone to help her with her game: she wants a push.

Well, this has been the perfect opportunity to develop a game that the two girls can happily play together: Maïa is quite pleased to push anything around, especially her sister, and Sol is thrilled to have a ride.

Birthday party in images

Great-Gramma made the girls' cakes (also noteworthy: she had made our wedding cake, too!).







This is the hat that Mummy knitted the night before.

This is Solanne checking out her famous cat book. Not shown: the purring sounds.

Box yoga: a visual

Hallowe'en pics

This is Maïa holding her prized pumpkin. She picked it on her preschool field trip to the pumpkin patch (no word on any Great Pumpkin sightings). Notice the dirt on her clothing and face. She had a wonderful time.


Daddy and Maïa drew the face on the pumpkin, then they opened her up. Maïa was very reluctant to touch the gooey bits of her beloved pal, but she eventually got into it.


Maïa and her jack-o-latern. Well, technically it would be a "jill-o-lantern" since Maïa insisted that she was a girl. "What's her name, Maïa?"

"That's Corka."


The girls: Maïa as elephant, Solanne as dinosaur, Cristina as Mum.

Sign, sign, everywhere the sign

For those of you who knew Maïa as a baby, you are probably already familiar with Baby Signs. For the others, here's the low-down:

Baby signs are based on the premise that infants and toddlers can understand far more language than they can communicate back because their little mouths and vocal cords are not mature enough to form many words. Baby Signs are based on American Sign Language, but there are many variations to accomodate small fingers and hands.

It was observed that children of deaf parents who used sign language acquired language at a faster rate than the average. These children had a wide vocabulary from very early ages. It was only then that science could prove what many parents knew all along: babies understand what we say to them. The problem is that they can't always answer back.

Drs Linda Acredolo and Susan Goodwyn developed the Baby Signs method, based on what they observed in the children around them, namely Linda's daughter. The researchers found that children who learn baby signs actually acquire (spoken) language more quickly than the average. The reason for this is simple: the more a child can describe the world around her, the more her parents or caregivers will speak to her and name the words (and signs) for other objects. It's a cascading effect.



This is Maïa at 16 months signing "again."

As expectant parents, we had heard about this method, and we were curious to know more. We bought the book, and I was immediately sold. Derek didn't come around right away, however. So I taught Maïa signs like "again" and "all done". It wasn't that I necessarily wanted to give Maïa a headstart; mostly, I wanted to ease the frustration that comes along with not being understood. Instead of crying or throwing a tantrum when we offered her a cracker, Maïa simply (but adamantly) gave us the sign for cheese (rubbing palms together). And Maïa has always loved her cheese, so we saw that one a lot! There's a lot less guess-work involved here. Once Derek witnessed the usefulness (not to mention the cute factor) of baby signs, he was on board 100 percent. In fact, he's the biggest baby signs advocate I know. I remember some days, in the heyday of Maïa's signing, coming home to find Maïa had learned three signs that day (Derek was the stay-at-home parent for a year).

So now it's Solanne's turn. I've been signing "again" to her for a couple fo months now. She would do it on cue (if asked), but today was the first time she did on her own. We were playing a little clapping game, and she wanted to keep playing, so she signed again! I was thrilled to do it again: we played for quite a while!

Solanne has a few other signs, too. She can say bird, bye-bye, no, cat, horse, and bear. The last three aren't exactly signs, but rather sounds (purring, clicking, and growling, respectively). But since the point is communication and not finger gymnastics, we still consider them all very useful additions to her vocabulary.

Over the next few months, I look forward to keeping you all in on Solanne's latest signs. There's a whole magical world out there, and I can't wait for Solanne to tell us all about it!

C'était une blague!

This is a common phrase in our household. Maïa learned it early on from a favourite character in a book: Binou. Binou is this tiny white cat (yes, cats again!) who has adventures that feed off his sense of humour. He hangs out with his friend, Toupie, an enormous mouse. The two are best friends (I guess the reversal in size evens out the playing field??). When Binou does something funny, it's usually followed by "c'était une blague".

If you know us at all, you know that we like to laugh. Derek's family is notoriously silly (read: Ken, his dad, is somewhere in the stratosphere of silly), and my family has been known to be a little crazy, too. So when we started to notice Maïa's sense of humour, we weren't really surprised. What has surprised me, anyway, is the precociousness of Solanne's sense of humour.

At twelve months, she really likes to joke around. When she's nursing, she'll pop off, look around, and then pretend to nurse off a shirt button or something, look up at me, and just laugh. She's making a joke; she's being silly. I really didn't know that someone so young could make jokes. But there it is: the infant "blague."

And the laugh! This is not just any laugh. It's the heartiest thing I've ever heard come out of someone so small. It's deep. It's from the belly. And it's hilarious. No one who has heard it so far can keep from laughing when they hear it.

One of Maïa'a favourite jokes is to hide in the kitchen cupboard (one we've saved just for the kids' use). If we don't immediately wonder aloud, "where's Maïa?" she prompts us. The game has become more elaborate, with us suggesting we get another Maïa at the store, Maïa jumping out and returning the pretend Maïa to the store... So now, Solanne has learned the joke. Today she got into the cupboard, closed the door, and waited...

And when I asked, "où est Solanne?" she opened the door, smiled up at me, and laughed. C'était une blague!

The birthday party

Last Saturday, we hosted a party for Maïa and Solanne.

Guest list:

Nana & Grampa

Grandma

Great-Gramma & Great-Grampa

uncle Nick & auntie Naomi

matante Julie (uncle Pat sent regards)

great-uncle Mike & great-aunt Robin

cousins Chris, Jeff, and Steve

Mummy, Daddy, Maïa, Solanne

...all stuffed into our apartment. There was exactly enough space for everyone to sit uncomfortably in the livingroom (this involved using up all the floor space, too). And we all had a great time.

One highlight was when Solanne opened her gift from aunt Robin and uncle Mike. It was a touch & feel cat book. Solanne immediately started her purring, and enthusiastically!! The purring continued for about 10 minutes - and this is no exageration. She was soaked from the drool. It was definitely her favourite gift.

Great-Gramma made two beautiful cakes: one cat cake (for Solanne, of course), and one Big Bird cake (Maïa's favourite Sesame Street character). They were delicious, and five days later, we are still enjoying the last bits.

We're really enjoying being around Derek's extended family (grand-parents, aunt and uncle and cousins), so it was nice to have them at the girls' party. What was also nice was that our families all coordinated to come from Ottawa to be here for the big day (poor Pat, he really wanted to be here, but training to be a paramedic takes a whole lotta time out of one's schedule - for which, frankly, I'm glad: it's good to know that the training is so rigourous!). It was heart-warming to have everyone together... it's such a rare occasion these days that we can all manage to make it to an event at the same time.

Soon, likely next year, we will have to have separate birthday parties. Already this year, Maïa said, "it's just Maïa's birthday party!" and argued that she should not have to share with Solanne. She was finally convinced otherwise, after being given the ultimatum of "either you can share your party, or the party will only be for Solanne." That one works on toys, too.

Happy Birthday, Maïa!

More Mum musings...

I'm not quite in the space right now to share Maïa's birth story (and it seems so far away for me), but I will share a few thoughts on motherhood.

Three years ago today, when Maïa was born, I couldn't have imagined what it was going to be like, being a mum. I hadn't considered what kind of things I would have to do for my children, and if I had, I wouldn't have known that they would seem so totally normal to me. Illustration: today, Maïa started to wriggle around, then she squealed, "Mummy! it's itchy!!" and she pointed to her bottom. She couldn't quite get the right angle, or something, so she asked me to scratch. And I did. I wouldn't do that for anyone else. I love Derek to bits, but I wouldn't scratch his bum if he asked. But I never gave it a second thought. And when I did it, I just laughed at the ridiculousness of scratching someone else's bum!!

Another thing that I hadn't banked on is how much a part of me my girls would be. From what I understand, it's not quite the same between mothers and sons, but with mothers and daughters, there's this strange connection... it's a push-pull sort of thing. And if I had known about it before, I would have thought myself above it or immune to it or something. But here it is... I am very tough on Maïa about most things. I have very high expectations of her (and I imagine it will be the same with Solanne, once she's of a certain age where she understands better). I want her to be able to do so much, to behave well, to be smart, to be cool, to be sporty, to be pretty, to be funny... And I've been thinking about it for a while, and I've realised that I'm trying to live myself through her. I don't want her to be me. I actually want her to be better than me. So when she's shy, I get upset. When she walks around with her head in the clouds and ends up tripping over stuff, I get frustrated. When she can't throw a ball as well as other children her age, I get annoyed. But these are all things I've been known to do (or used to do).

So I'm learning (or trying to learn) to let Maïa be Maïa. She's not mini-me. She's not a new incarnation of me, to be perfected. She's a perfect little version of herself. She's shy (sometimes), but she's kind (almost always). She has her head in the clouds, but she has an incredible imagination. She can't throw a ball very well, but she has a fantastic time trying.

And here's the best part of all this: I'm learning as much about being a better person as Maïa is learning about life. Thanks, Maïa, for the beautiful gift of you.

Happy Birthday, Solanne!

Mummy remembers one year ago...

At least for the first birthday, I think it's appropriate to celebrate both the day labour started and the day Solanne was born. So yesterday was full of memories.

October 23, 2004, started out with plans for a fun-packed Saturday. We were invited to Nick and Naomi's for brunch. It was going to be our first time having their crepes, and we had no idea that they make the world's best! So our little family of three woke that morning and slowly got ready.

I was getting tired of being big and pregnant. I was still 8 days away from my due date (which was Oct 31), but I was getting impatient. Maïa had been 3 weeks early, so I actually felt like I was overdue. So, I invented the "get out-get out-getout!!" dance, which involved chanting "get out!" and jumping up and down. Maïa, then a toddler just developing language, thought it was hilarious, so she joined in. She would continue to do the "get out!" dance for months to come!

We gave Maïa a light breakfast and I had a snack, and we headed out for brunch. We had a fantastic time with Nick and Naomi. The crepes were amazing, and they spoiled us with unbelievable topings: berries, maple syrup, brown sugar, chocolate sauce, cheese... we ate our fill and then some. We visited with them for part of the afternoon and then headed home. We had to go pick up our organics basket at the Byward Fruit Market. Because when you're that pregnant, you never know when you'll have time to do the things that need to be done.

So later that afternoon, we took a walk to the BFM, which at the slow pace of a pregnant woman, was about a 30-minute walk from home. While we were there, and Derek was chatting with our favourite merchants (Isaac and Myriam), I started feeling a little crampy. But I quickly realised that these were no cramps: they would come and go, at regular intervals (about 3 or 4 minutes between). I wasn't very friendly as Myriam said good-bye (I was in the middle of a mild contraction).

As we walked home, I told Derek that I thought this was it. His eyes widened. Really? Yes. And we smiled the whole way home (even through the contractions). We were finally going to meet this little Solanne person, who had had a name for months, but no face to go with it (at least, none that we could see!).

When we finally got home, I paged our midwife and told her what was going on (6pm?). She said that since the contractions were mild, I should just hang tight, relax, and call her if anything changed. So I called my mom and asked her to come (she was going to take care of Maïa while we were birthing Solanne). She was excited and worried she wouldn't make it in time: "the contractions are only 3 minutes apart? Get to the hospital!!" I still smile at her nervousness. I was way cooler that she was... But she had had really fast births, so I understand where it was coming from.

Just after my mom arrived, my midwife called back (7pm?). She had a feeling I should get to the hospital sooner rather than later. Since the contractions were so close together (though mild) and I was gbs positive, I should get the antibiotics into me as soon as possible. It turns out to have been a good hunch.

I got to the hospital around 8 pm, still in light labour, the kind you can walk around in, talk through, laugh through. That all changed pretty quickly. Within an hour, I was into active labour. Serious breathing and focusing. Some complaining. Some whining (I admit it). Derek, knowing what I needed from him, was fantastic. He cheered me through contractions, congratulated me at the end of each one. When it was time to push, he counted through the pushes. His voice, each number, helped me focus enough to get through. And once, when he forgot to count, I yelled at him to COUNT!! And I got through the push...

Active labour is kind of a blur. All I remember is looking at the clock at some point, and realising it was past midnight and that Solanne would be born on the 24th. I'm told that I was in active labour for less than four hours. I pushed for about 40 minutes. This is short for a first vaginal birth (Maïa was c-section because she was in frank breech). The placenta was delivered 25 minutes later, while I held my little girl in my arms.

She was beautiful. I had been on my knees for the delivery, so she came out from behind. I couldn't see her! Derek assured me she was cute... the cord was too short to do much maneuvering, so they had to cut it before I could turn around and hold her. She was gorgeous. Her round eyes were wide open. These deep, dark pools looked up at me with this amazing, wise look. I thought she would come out with a sort of questioning look, but it was like she had more answers than questions. I can hardly describe it... But she looked at me, and she knew me. And I was in love.

She latched on and nursed right away. She scored a perfect 10 on the Apgar (a test of newborns, concerning colour, breathing, etc). She was 6 lbs, 13 oz. She was strong and healthy.

We got to our room around 4:20 am. I couldn't stop holding her, looking at her. I was elated, on the most amazing high I've ever had. I had my little girl. Our family was complete. We were finally all together, on the outside. And I could finally hold my little Solanne. I put her down in the basinette next to my bed and tried to sleep. But I couldn't. I was exhilirated. I couldn't stop smiling.

Box Yoga and the Monkey Brush

Though not a mainstay in the household, yoga is an activity that the parents do and have endeavored to teach Maïa (and Solanne, to a limited extent). Maïa is adept at the half lotus, downward dog, cobra, and a few variations on other favourites. So when Solanne started to empty out short, stout toyboxes so she could sit in them, cross-legged, Dad began calling it "box yoga." It's a running joke in the house: "Uh-oh, Solanne is up to her box yoga again!"

Maïa, not to be outdone, has invented her own yoga position: the Monkey Brush. It looks somewhat like a push-up (arms extended), but with the feet resting on the futon in the office. It looks nothing like a monkey or a brush, but somehow, the name is fitting (besides, do you really look like a mountain when you do The Mountain in yoga?). Maïa has taught both parents to do the Monkey Brush, often on demand. But Maïa is still the best at it. It takes some skill to master it, and who better but the creator of the move to do it perfectly?

a note on pictures...

A number of avid readers of this blog have been a little confused. It had been mentioned that the blog would contain photos of the girls. The pics are coming, but they are not quite yet available. As the "blogmaster", I assure you that I will post them as soon as I have them. I apologise for any confusion...

chat, cat, gatto, katz, kitty, minou...

No matter what you call them, they are Solanne's favourite animal.

A few weeks ago, she and her family spent the weekend at her grandparents' house in the country where there are a number of semi-tamed outdoor cats. When Solanne discovered the furry creatures, she was fascinated. The moved! They made funny sounds! The crawled around at her level! But best of all, they had fur everywhere!! This is an important fact for a little girl who loves to touch hair — she can't get enough of it. So she spent the weekend convincing the adults in the house (and there were plenty: two parents, two grandparents, two aunties, and two uncles) to walk with her. And when she had the adult in her grips (literally), she would lead her or him to the door, tap it hard, and make a "purring" sound. She wanted to go outside and visit with the cats — again.

Solanne came home after that weekend and sought out all the cats in her house: stuffed animals, pictures in books, figurines... she found them all. One would never have guessed that there would be that many cats to be found, but there they were. Now, Solanne's best friend is a stuffed cat named "vanille". She is comforted by its presence and happy to see it. And if it's not around, she calls it by making her special purring sound (she makes the sound by making her lips vibrate. It's a kind of raspberry sound).

So when Solanne's first word came out two weeks ago, it was no surprise to anyone that it was "chat."

Tantrums!!!

The so-called "terrible twos" are nearing their end for Maïa, and the tantrums, which marked the first few months of her twos, have returned with a vengeance. She had been stressed out for a number of weeks with small toilet-related accidents and high expectations from her parents. Once they layed off, the accidents tapered off and the tantrums began. Perhaps the two are not connected, and there may well be other circumstances that are stressing her out and causing her to blow a fuse.

And these are not the simple screaming tantrums: these are full-body, full-on meltdowns. Screaming, kicking, writhing... she stops short at foaming at the mouth. And most people who know her would say, "no way! Not Maïa!" Indeed... Alas, yes, Maïa. The otherwise gentle, calm, intense little girl has her mother's temper. And when it goes, well, all hell breaks loose. So mother and daughter are working together through it all. And just like her mother, Maïa is afraid of her own anger. She won't even say, "I'm angry." She will readily admit to being happy, sad, surprised, excited, but not angry. Ironically, Maïa's anger has hit its peak while her mother's has diminished a great amount.

Not to be left out, Solanne has begun her own sort of baby tantrum. When she doesn't get her way (which, in her opinion, is often), she tenses up her little body and lets out a growlly scream. A little writhing sometimes ensues. Luckily, she is easily distracted, so the tantrums are relatively short lived.

Ah, the sweet joys of childhood.

Milestone: walking

After a number of weeks of taking tentative single steps and months of cruising around furniture, Solanne finally decided that it was time to take the plunge. On Saturday, despite a runny nose and general discontent, Solanne walked across the livingroom amid cheers, laughter, wonder, and tears of joy.

So now, she is upright. Her parents were warned not to encourage it: that it would lead to more trouble and more running around on their part. But, in fact, it has resulted in less whining by Solanne. Now, instead of pleading with any adult in sight to take her hands so that she can lead them around the house to where she wants to go (because, really crawling had become below her, given that she knew what it was like to stand), she can just crawl over to any sturdy piece of furniture (or wall, or person), grab on, stand, and just walk off.

Of course, there is some falling involved, but Solanne has become comfortable with it. In fact, her realisation that falling wasn't to be feared but embraced as a normal part of success, may have been her inspiration to finally get going on her own. She was so afraid of failure that she never tried in the first place. Now, she knows that she can deal with the setbacks: she just has to get up and try again.

Maïa's quote of the week

This was a totally un-coached and un-solicited comment...

"Uncle Nick is a stinko because he's a man."
-Maïa

The bathing cap

Today Maïa had her first weekly swim time at preschool. After spending the summer swimming in her grandparents' pool and her great-grandparents' pool, Maïa had become quite adept at "1-2-3-jump!" She was looking forward to going "swimming."

So, today she headed off to preschool with her swimsuit, a towel, and a bathing cap in her tiny backpack. You will note, however, that this bathing cap is no ordinary affair. No... It is a bright azure blue cap, with yellow, pink, and orange tropical flowers. Her mother, who could not keep a straight face when looking at Maïa with said cap on, pictured some elegant yet ostentatious blue-haired lady who will never have the pleasure of wearing the cap to her weekly swim. The cap, of course, was chosen by Maïa, who adamantly defended her right to keep her first choice... You gotta love preschoolers.

Welcome!

Since Maïa and Solanne's webmaster has very little time to dedicate to creating an entire website, the two sisters must content themselves with this weblog to keep all their friends and family abreast of their activities.

In the coming weeks and months, they hope to let their loved ones in on what's going on with them, how they're growing, and what trouble they've managed to create for their unsuspecting parents (well, their parents do indeed suspect quite a bit, but sometimes they are caught unawares).

So stay tuned...