In no particular order:
that she yells as she runs (to hear the vibration)
the way she asks, "me, Mummy?" when she hears me talking about someone
the sound of her voice
that she has her own fashion sense (another dress, Mai??)
the way she takes her sister's hand and leads her around the house
her hair
the way she draws me at least three times the size of anyone else in her pictures
her penchant for horses or anything horse-like (zebras, pegasus, unicorns, donkeys)
her laughter
the way she says, "coucher sur maman!" before bed and lies on me with her eyes closed as she counts her breaths, up to 20 (every single night)
the way she gasps and looks surprised when I catch her picking her nose
that she doesn't know what race is and that she doesn't seem to take note of people's skin colour
the way her lips become the size of a dime when she makes a fish face
her perfectionist tendencies
the way she gladly helps clean up and then actually cleans up more than I had planned on doing myself
that her shouting isn't even that loud
that she loves books
that she sometimes carries around imaginary things (lately: Slimey and Skirmy the earthworms, along with a caterpillar)
her singing voice
that she is almost always singing
her perfect hugs
her love for everyone she knows (I have yet to hear her say that she doesn't like someone)
...these are just a few of the things that I love about Maïa; it is not an exhaustive list. I'm sure many of my readers could come up with more...
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Disjointed thoughts
The entries here haven't been as frequent as I would have liked, mostly because it's end of term in university-land, and that affects our whole family, even if only one member is in school. With a number of term papers due, a conference on the near horizon (which means another paper to write) as well as having to plan a class he's teaching starting May 2, Derek is crazy-busy. That also means that the household is somehow more chaotic, less organised, and generally — well, dirtier. And, frankly, I've been nicely kicked off the computer most evenings (I'm sneaking in while Derek is reading bedtime stories to Maïa).
So what have we been up to?
We all caught yet another cold and gave it to many other loved ones (sorry Grandma and Nick & Naomi!). It actually caught me off guard. Since Maïa has been in daycare, we have contracted colds, flus, ear infections... basically anything that can be caught and even a few things that couldn't. From December on, at least one member of our family was coughing or had a runny nose, with a brief and well-timed break for Christmas. Then, about a month ago, it stopped. We were all healthy. For three whole weeks, nothing. The curse was broken... And then we spiralled down again. But we're on the mend, so all is well.
Solanne and Maïa have both started swimming. Solanne and I go to a Bubblers class once a week. About seven moms and their toddlers wade into the pool, sing songs, and pretend that the little ones like it. Only this week, week 4, they actually did start getting into it. Maïa's time in the pool is a little more involved: she goes in on her own (sans maman) and learns to paddle, kick, jump, and float. The first week was a total disaster. She refused to go in. I was so obsfuscated that I just took her and left after five minutes. I realise that it was the wrong thing to do (we should have stuck around at least to watch the other children), but I had to leave. Truth be told, I was a little embarrassed. All the other little kids clambered into the pool without any to-do. Maïa wailed as though there were sharks in the water. Derek took her the next two weeks, and she slowly warmed up to the idea of being in the pool, and even participated in a couple of activities. This week, I took her, and it was a modest success. She cried a little when it was time to get into the pool, but she went in. Then, she did it. She followed along with the lesson. She sat astride a pool noodle while her instructor held it, and then "swam" half the length of the pool. Her little legs kicked away so quickly, they were blurry from my vantage point on the balcony. She jumped in the pool holding onto her instructors hands and kicked her way back to the stairs. She floated around on a pool noodle all by herself. And then she waved good-bye to her instructor and smiled at me. It was a great feeling.
On other fronts, Solanne is talking more and more and signing less and less. Whatever signs she does use are accompanied by words or sounds. She is a very chatty little girl: she "talks" most of the time while she's playing or eating or reading a book. She just has so much to say! Maïa is learning to read by sounding out words. And she's having fun learning that if you take one letter away from a word, it can spell a whole new word, like FARM becomes FAR or ARM, depending on which letter you block. How cool!
As I type this, the girls are tucked away in their beds and I hear them chattering each to themselves, sometimes saying something to one another. And I feel truly blessed to have these little people in my life. They are beautiful beyond my descriptive abilities.
Good night. Bon soir, mes chéries.
So what have we been up to?
We all caught yet another cold and gave it to many other loved ones (sorry Grandma and Nick & Naomi!). It actually caught me off guard. Since Maïa has been in daycare, we have contracted colds, flus, ear infections... basically anything that can be caught and even a few things that couldn't. From December on, at least one member of our family was coughing or had a runny nose, with a brief and well-timed break for Christmas. Then, about a month ago, it stopped. We were all healthy. For three whole weeks, nothing. The curse was broken... And then we spiralled down again. But we're on the mend, so all is well.
Solanne and Maïa have both started swimming. Solanne and I go to a Bubblers class once a week. About seven moms and their toddlers wade into the pool, sing songs, and pretend that the little ones like it. Only this week, week 4, they actually did start getting into it. Maïa's time in the pool is a little more involved: she goes in on her own (sans maman) and learns to paddle, kick, jump, and float. The first week was a total disaster. She refused to go in. I was so obsfuscated that I just took her and left after five minutes. I realise that it was the wrong thing to do (we should have stuck around at least to watch the other children), but I had to leave. Truth be told, I was a little embarrassed. All the other little kids clambered into the pool without any to-do. Maïa wailed as though there were sharks in the water. Derek took her the next two weeks, and she slowly warmed up to the idea of being in the pool, and even participated in a couple of activities. This week, I took her, and it was a modest success. She cried a little when it was time to get into the pool, but she went in. Then, she did it. She followed along with the lesson. She sat astride a pool noodle while her instructor held it, and then "swam" half the length of the pool. Her little legs kicked away so quickly, they were blurry from my vantage point on the balcony. She jumped in the pool holding onto her instructors hands and kicked her way back to the stairs. She floated around on a pool noodle all by herself. And then she waved good-bye to her instructor and smiled at me. It was a great feeling.
On other fronts, Solanne is talking more and more and signing less and less. Whatever signs she does use are accompanied by words or sounds. She is a very chatty little girl: she "talks" most of the time while she's playing or eating or reading a book. She just has so much to say! Maïa is learning to read by sounding out words. And she's having fun learning that if you take one letter away from a word, it can spell a whole new word, like FARM becomes FAR or ARM, depending on which letter you block. How cool!
As I type this, the girls are tucked away in their beds and I hear them chattering each to themselves, sometimes saying something to one another. And I feel truly blessed to have these little people in my life. They are beautiful beyond my descriptive abilities.
Good night. Bon soir, mes chéries.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Magic and mundanity
As I peer back over the three and a half short years since we became parents, the moments that I remember best (or recall at all) are the magic ones. They are not always good, mind you, but they are always magic. Like Maïa's birth and her 48 hours in special care, when we thought that she may have to stay for a week, while I would be released after only three days. That very first memory of parenthood is filled with fear, confusion, and magic. The magic is in what I have learned from it; how different I am now from who I was then; in the quality of the lighting, of my heart, of my relationship to Derek, to my family, to the entire universe, and to God. The magic lies, too, in my ability to look at the memory and hold it like a fragile bauble, but not to cry in its recollection.
I hope everyday that the magic of time and memory, and how it colours our lives, will not lose its touch. For I feel sometimes overwhelmed with mundanities. Like, will Maïa ever jump into that pool willingly, or will we have to drag her to swimming lessons every week? Perhaps time will colour that one, too, and make it funny because Maïa is a champion diver or simply because she loves to sit in the bath for hours at a time. Or I wonder if changing diapers will ever have the colour of magic? Will I fondly recall my times, countless now, at the change table with my girls? Or will those memories, of the pool, of the diapers, simply fade away into the mire of time and fuzziness?
It seems our lives are divided up into those two categories, and we live in the present, where the sorting occurs, of the magic and the mundanity.
I hope everyday that the magic of time and memory, and how it colours our lives, will not lose its touch. For I feel sometimes overwhelmed with mundanities. Like, will Maïa ever jump into that pool willingly, or will we have to drag her to swimming lessons every week? Perhaps time will colour that one, too, and make it funny because Maïa is a champion diver or simply because she loves to sit in the bath for hours at a time. Or I wonder if changing diapers will ever have the colour of magic? Will I fondly recall my times, countless now, at the change table with my girls? Or will those memories, of the pool, of the diapers, simply fade away into the mire of time and fuzziness?
It seems our lives are divided up into those two categories, and we live in the present, where the sorting occurs, of the magic and the mundanity.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Pumf
pumf (pumf) n., pl. pumfes (pum'fez) (Maïan) a pillow, divested of its pillowcase, on which small children and their animal friends may rest; the pillowcase acts as sleeping bag-like cover on the pillow; the term was first encountered in 2006 during nap time; the invention of the pumf appears to have been a stalling tactic on the part of a child to avoid said nap
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