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.