More Maïa swimming adventures

Well, I can certainly say that Maïa is not the fastest swimmer in her group. She is not the most agile. She is, however, the most graceful — most times. She just seems to float along gently, either holding onto the noodle or her instructor. Her little legs flutter about in a motion that reminds me of the movement of a seahorse's fins. I remember being in that aquarium in New Orleans with Derek, when I was three months pregnant with Maïa, and being utterly fascinated by the tiny creatures whose fins looked thinner than onion-leaf paper and fluttered slowly and elegantly. And somehow those little fins managed to propel them about. That's what Maïa's little legs look like in the water from my vantage point in the mezzanine overlooking our local Y pool.

Man, is she ever cute.

In retrospect...

Life with children is so often in-the-moment that it is hard to get some perspective on it all. I imagine it's because the children themselves live so much in the here and now. Their pasts seem to be so obscure to them, and their futures are utterly unimaginable, past suppertime.

Living in the moment can be a great blessing. Especially for someone like me, someone who constantly obsesses about what's going to happen next, what our plans are for next week, next month, next century... if we live that long ('cause you never know, you know). I have a zillion maps in my head, all charting out our paths, with different courses, all depending on what happens next...

So living now is good for me. Only, I end up falling into another trap. When Maïa screams at her sister or hits her, I (vaguely) imagine her doing it forever, as though as a thirty-year-old she would lash out in such a way. I often find it impossible to take a moment and think that perhaps things will change. That perhaps we will, at some point, not have a nearly-four-year-old and a nearly-two-year-old. That in fact, we will one day have a ten-year-old and an eight-year-old... and tons of other combinations that I won't bore you with. Indeed, one day, if we keep on reminding her that it's not okay to do X, she will know it (whether or not she continues to do it is another matter altogether). I am learning, however. So I try to see the funny things...

Derek and I went out for dinner at some friends' place. We had our regular sitter come over and look after the girls. It was the first time that she was responsible for putting both children to bed all on her own. We thought it would be all right...

When we got home, our fifteen-year-old sitter Megan told us about Maïa convincing her that we let her sleep with Solanne in her crib. There was much moving around (and jumping, I assume) in the little crib. Finally, after trying to settle them both into the crib without success, Megan took Maïa out. There was another story about bringing certain toys to bed (none are allowed save Clicky). And another story about taking a suce (she hasn't had one since she was 18 months). And another about a drink of water from a cup, which had to be left by her bedside in case she needed it because she was coughing and Mummy and Daddy always give her water when she's coughing because it makes the tickle go away... And, in the light of day, there were the toys and books strewn about the floor of the bedroom, the lost suce, the spilled water, the messed up crib, and the very, very, very tired children. I was not happy.

Yet in retrospect, it's pretty funny. I have to chuckle when I think of it. A little perspective goes a long way.

Hold on

Tonight, we — Derek and I and all of Montreal — hold onto our children a little tighter.

Once upon a rainy Labour Day

This is how we spent our last day before back-to-school and back-to-daycare and back-to-work:


painting










movie time


lunch break: home-made sushi and miso "shoop"



some reading


talking to Grandma


and a little pre-bedtime tickling



...even Ta and Clicky get in on the tickling action

Just because it's funny...

Solanne is well into language-acquisition: she's been making short sentences for about a month and a half now, she repeats almost everything we say, and she is interested in new sounds. But there are still glitches in the system: she hasn't got all the consonents and vowel sounds down, yet. So things come out a little strangely.

Yesterday, Derek was reading to the girls; it was a book about foxes. Well, Sol's "au" sound (which is required to say fox) is a little off and sounds more like "uh," and she doesn't always manage to say the final "s" in every word... With a little deduction, you can understand why I laughed every time she said it. Derek warned me that I would have to stop, otherwise she would keep saying it. And I guess it's only funny a couple of times, and then it gets old and perhaps misunderstood when you go out.

Which brings me to another story. When Maïa was about the same age, she, too, had some difficulty with some words. Frog often came out without an "r" and with the "o" sounding more like an "a." "L"s were difficult, so clock was also amusing. But within context, most people didn't think twice about what our child was saying... until, that is one day when we were happily shopping in the housewares section at the Bay. Maïa got very excited when she saw something novel, and she liked to let us know, at the loudest decibel she could. So the frog clock was... well, a little embarrassing.