The terrible one-and-a-halfs

I've never really believed in the terrible twos. I know a lot of parents who found that parenting through the twos to be very difficult and annoying at best. But I have discussed this many parents of kids over the age of three and caregivers who have taken care of their share of toddlers, and there is a camp of us who agree that, hands down, parenting through the second half of the "one's" is far more challenging.

In our family, by the age of 12 months, our kids have had the rudimentary tools to communicate their immediate needs to us. Unfortunately, by age 18 months or so, their needs become far more complex than what a sign can convey, yet verbal language has yet to catch up with the thought process. With Solanne, besides not being able to express what she wants, she knows that she can't express herself very well. So when a situation arises where we actually do understand what she wants but we won't give it to her, she thinks we're missing something so she tries harder and gets madder. And, to top it all off, at this point, her ability to reason is very limited, so when we explain something, she looks at us like we're idiots (perhaps we are??).

Here's a glimpse into Solanne's complicated thought process (and why we don't always understand her): last week, Solanne was in the swing ("si'") at the park and I was pushing her ("pu!"). She started to get annoyed, so I thought she wanted down. But she clearly indicated that she still wanted to be pushed. So I kept pushing. More whining. I asked if she wanted to get down (what other option is there??). No, she wanted me to push her. Well, before she freaked out to much, she finally managed to get out this phrase: "maman pu deu ma'", which translates to "Mummy, push me with both hands!" Don't get me started on how weird a request that is from a twenty-month-old child, but I was happy to oblige her! Unfortunately, she doesn't have all of the vocabulary to make all of her complex requests known, so she often loses it. And when she loses it, she goes all the way. I can't wait 'til she's two so she can tell me what in the world is going on in her little head!

Today, we had no fewer than four total melt-downs. And today was a good day, actually, because there was no whining in between. Just a happy little Solanne intermittendly frustrated by the world. The meltdowns were over the following: not getting a second kiwi because there wasn't one to be had in the house; not being allowed to leave through the front even though she clearly prefered that door (today) and already had her sandals on at the front door; apparently over a book (though that one was fuzzy for me); and fourth that seemed totally random to me. Each lasted a minimum of ten minutes. The kiwi one lasted 20 minutes.

And so, at the end of one of the tantrums, with her hair all sweaty and curly, she looked so sweet... and I was reminded of a rhyme my mother used to tell me:

There once was a girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good;
When she was bad,
She was horrid.

Family portrait

Maïa drew this portrait of our family this morning after breakfast. She loves to draw, and her favourite subjects are her family. About a year ago, she used to draw what Derek calls "her Easter Island people" who were basically long, rectangular faces with strait mouths. Two eyes. No hair. I can't believe how far she's come along in her style! (though I do miss those little primitive faces)

At first, I couldn't make out who was whom. But I quickly deciphered which two were Maïa and me and which two were Derek and Solanne: check out the hair. Maïa has been into segregating our family along hair length for the past week or two, so my spot at the table is now next to hers while Derek sits by Solanne. The two with the short hair, obviously, are Derek and Solanne. Now, all the girls in the picture are wearing dresses (note: dresses are long rectangles while shirts are short rectangles). So, obviously, Solanne is on the far right, while Derek is the second from the left. Missing, however, is his beard, which is strange since Maïa usually draws it. Also of note, Maïa used to draw Solanne's hair by making tiny little dots around Solanne's head ("that's Solanne's tiny tiny tiny hair"). Anyhow, I figured out those two but I couldn't decide which one I was, so I asked. Apparently, I'm the second from the right, and Maïa is on the left. I think, if I had really tried, I could have figured it out given that I'm the one with the largest head in the drawing. I'm always the one with the largest head. I don't know that Maïa has ever really noticed that this is the case, or if she does it on purpose, but it just seems to be the way things work for her. And, for my smart-alec friends out there, I choose to believe that it's because I figure largely in her life that I have such a large head in her drawings, and it's not due to any other factor, thank you.

So there we are, our little family of four, according to Maïa.

The slow movement of life

Things have been rolling along at a steady but rather boring pace around here, hence the lack of "news" on this blog. Solanne is finally beginning to say words and phrases of her own. Maïa is getting over her dress phase and can be convinced, once in a while, to wear shorts or even long pants. It depends on the day, however.

It's the start of a long weekend here in Québec (the Saint-Jean Baptiste Day is on Saturday), and Solanne and Derek and down and out with a fever and sniffly noses. Maïa already had it — with vomitting thrown into the mix. It passed quickly, so I expect (and hope!) that Derek and Solanne will be better by the end of the weekend.

In any case, we have a whole other long weekend next week (Canada Day!) to look forward to. As long as I don't get sick...

The paths before us

I think all parents have a difficult time not branding or labelling their children in one way or another. I think it's our way of getting to know our children: "She's a really active kid; she never sits down. When she's playing, she just squats down so that she's ready to go. She'll be a sporty type, I think." That's just one example of many that I have caught myself saying. And it's not a bad thing to describe our children, but I think that we can easily move from describing our children's behaviour to prescribing it. And I don't want to put my children in boxes; I want them each to feel that they can try anything they want and not to be limited by what I expect they should do or be.

And, when I think of it, it seems rather ridiculous even to try to describe what or who they are at the tender ages of three and 19 months. After all, what habits will Derek or I pick up in the next decade, say, that will one day be "so Derek" or "so Cristina"? Just last week, Derek declared that he realised that he really likes to take care of plants and that he's looking forward to having a back yard to garden in. Perhaps one day, a grown up Maïa will say to one her friends, "I can't help you with your garden, but you should call up my dad: he knows everything about gardening." But he didn't discover that love until he was in his late twenties. Or Derek's dad, who loves to cook and who is famous for his elaborate family meals. He only started to cook when he was in his mid- to late-thirties.

If all these potential interests, still undiscovered, exist in our adult selves, how can I expect even to guess at my children's futures? And that's what is so exciting: that they could truly be anything. A teacher, an ophthomologist, a painter, a pharmaceutical expert, an economist, a CEO, a cleaner, a telemarketer, a magician, a lawyer, a theologian, a sports psychologist, a programmer, or even a ghost-buster. Whatever. It's all out there, waiting to be discovered. I hope that I'll allow my mind to be free enough to allow all those possibilities and so many more to be available and open to my girls. Heck, I don't even know what I'm going to do when I grow up...

Offer of employment

Hours: 12-hour shifts, interspersed with 12-hour on-call shifts. 7 days per week. Shifts may be variable; however, they are not flexible and are not changeable by the employee.

Breaks: No official breaks are offered. The employee may take quick bathroom and lunch breaks as needed; however, the employee continues to be on the job and must foresake said break as required by the employer.

Holidays: No regular holidays are offered. The employee is expected to work all statutory holidays with no compensation (see Salary section).

Vacation: Vacation days may only be taken on condition that a suitable replacement be found. The employee is responsible for finding the replacement and may have to pay said replacement out-of-pocket, unless a volunteer replacement may be found. However, the employee will remain on-call throughout the vacation, on an emergency basis.

Salary: None. In fact, you will be expected to pay the employer out-of-pocket for the entirety of the employment period. The employer will demand funds for housing, clothing, food, entertainment, education, and vacations.

Benefits: None.

Training: None. No courses or training exist for this employment. There are a number of training manuals available. However, they are often contradictory. Use at your own risk.

Grievance process: None. Grievances may be privately voiced to other employees; however, the employer shall never hear of such grievances. All grievances are to be carried to the grave.

Harrassment in the workplace: Harrassment is to be expected and tolerated. Verbal abuse is common; some physical abuse, including sleep deprivation, is common in the first few years of the employment period. Note: The employer is officially exempt from adhering to the United Nations Convention against Torture.

Union: Unions are forbidden.

Pension: None.

Retirement: None. Generally, the official employment period lasts approximately 20 to 30 years, with multiple employers demanding time, often overlapping. However, the employment period will be extended as the employers themselves become employees and ask for your assistance (for their own relief; see Vacation section).

All those interested are asked to pair up and foresake all means of birth control or visit their local adoption agency. No interviews necessary: anyone crazy enough to want the employment described above deserves what she or he gets. Best of luck.

Graduation

Today, with little ceremony — none really — Maïa graduated from the beginner swimming class. She has moved on from Bobbers onto Floaters. Hurray! After our initial dismal start, I didn't really consider that she would be moving on, but she has done wonderfully well. She loves swimming now; she can't wait to go swimming in Nana and Grampa's pool this weekend.

I credit her instructor, a young man named J-F, with her success. He was a swimming instructor for Maïa's class back when she attended the YMCA preschool; the little class headed down the hall for swimming lessons every Thursday afternoon. He recognised her right away, and he even remembered her name. She took to him immediately and was always excited about going to see J-F. His cool factor is evident in his note on her Progress Card: