Zoned out

The kids have been adjusting to being back on Eastern Daylight Time. On Friday, they were definitely still on Pacific Time – or maybe even a zone farther out, somewhere actually in the Pacific. They woke up at 9:30, and only because I got them up. It went against all my instincts, but I knew I had to get them back to our time before they went back to school (yesterday!).

And I've had to wake them up every morning since. Saturday was 8 am, Sunday I got Solanne up at 7:30 (Maïa actually woke up on her own). They're still somewhere in the Prairies, maybe Winnipeg, in terms of biological clocks. And it has me wondering why we didn't take them west sooner? Had I known we could mess with their heretofore flawless internal systems by travelling toward the sunset, I would have done it years ago.

It's a little late to have made this discovery; now I'm stuck getting them up for school every morning, though having to get them up at 7:00 rather than having them get me up at 6:00 is alright, I guess. Here's to hoping they stay on Central Time.

Quotes of the day

Maïa: Hey, did you hear that? I made a soft "T". It sounded like a French "R" – without all the "R" stuff.

****

Solanne: Okay, let's clean up; you go clean up and I'll finish my drawing.

Solanne's spontaneous poem

Lime juice

Pinched my skin
Licked my skin
Go up here
Go up there
Go into my underwear

Perfecting

Raising kids is an amazing lesson in self-discovery. When I look at them, I see the things I am, and the things I am not. Sometimes I get frustrated at the things they do differently from me, mostly because I don't understand them. But there are times I am awed by who they are and wonder at how they became the people they are.

Here's a (not so well guarded) secret about me: if something doesn't come easily to me, I give up. I have no patience for something that takes time or effort. Luckily, there have been quite a few things that I'm good at, but I guess that's been a double-edged gift. If everything were a little difficult, I imagine I would have learned persistence. But since there were things that I was very good at, I could just dismiss the hard stuff as beyond my interest, perhaps even below me.

My dearest Maïa, though gifted at a number of things, has the guts to go out and try and try and try again at the stuff she finds difficult. Now, it's not always an easy road to get her to try something in the first place, especially if she's afraid. But once she's decided that she's going to do it, there is no standing in her way. She will do it, and try it, and try it again. Until it's perfect. Then she'll do it some more, just because she's good at it now (who doesn't like the feeling of doing something that's now fun and easy?).

Last summer, Derek and I tried to get Maïa to play on the monkey bars. Just to go from one rung to another – with us holding her, even. No way. She was so afraid of falling that she wouldn't even consider it. You wouldn't recognise that girl now; she has calloused hands and can go a dozen rungs (hand over hand) without falling. And when she does fall, she gets back up there and goes again. And again. In fact, this past spring, I had to threaten to take away some privileges if she went on the monkey bars again since her little hands were literally bloody from the effort. Yet she wouldn't stop.

Back in late June, Maïa decided to learn to play O Canada on the keyboard. She persisted for a full day, playing the notes over and over again, until she got it right. Then she moved on to another song. Then another. Now she can play about eight songs (one-handed) on the keyboard, all of which she learned by ear and almost without any help from me or Derek.

And just yesterday, after a full season of trying to get Maïa back on her bike, she finally did it. She needed the inspiration, and a new little girl on our lane with the very same bike as Maïa's, whooshing up and down the lane, was just what I might have thought of, if it weren't so perfect a situation. So Maïa asked to get her bike out, put on her helmet and zoomed around our lane like an expert. She hadn't ridden so enthusiastically since last fall. That isn't to say she didn't fall, because she did. But she just got right back up, dusted herself off, looked up and said, "I'm okay!" And off she rode again.

This morning, before I was even dressed and before the sun came out from behind the big storm clouds, she was asking to go bike riding again.

Solannisms

When she doesn't know the precise word for something, or an expression, Solanne makes up her own way of saying something. I never really noticed that with Maïa, who normally asks, "how do you say...?" And Solanne does it completely unselfconsciously. A few examples:

During storms, our satellite image cuts out sometimes, scrambling up the digital image before making it go blank. Solanne says, "the TV's not working! It's getting all crump'oed up into little squares!"

Pins and needles she describes as "little balls inside my feet."

She doesn't know the word for the air conditioner (goodness knows we've barely used it this year), so she calls it "the two-lights" after, you guessed it, the two lights on the front.

A virtual tour of the girls' room

Well, we never did get around to putting in the chair rail, and we probably never will. But we straightened the paint line, got the books out of the closet and out into the open where they belong, unpacked the last of the kids' knick-knacks, and painted flowers over their bed. And it's done. Finally.



And their closet door, which didn't quite make it into the video.

Momma's news

For those of you who have spent more than five minutes talking to me about work and how I found my job, and for those of you who work for the federal public service, you will understand that the following statement is no small (or quick!) feat:

I got a promotion.

I found out yesterday that as of Monday, I will be officially cemented into my job. No longer "acting", I am the real deal.

The process was a relatively short one. I began my current responsibilities in August of last year. In January (I believe) a poster for my job, and others at the same level, went up. I sent my CV and waited. Then I was told I was screened in, and I waited. The Thursday before Easter, I wrote the exam, and waited. And in late May, I did the interview. Then waited again. I figured after all that waiting that getting the results would be rather anticlimactic.

But then I got my letter of offer yesterday. And I was elated. So now I am (starting Monday), officially the Senior Advisor to the Director General of Communications. Whatever that means.

While the kids are away the parents will play...?

The kids have been at Nana and Grampa's for nearly a week now. We dropped them off last Sunday, and we'll be going to pick them up tomorrow. It's been a rather quiet week without them here. I wake up regularly at 7:15 (instead of 6:00) to get ready for work. I stay a little later, without feeling guilty. I get home, and on the nights Derek is teaching, it's quiet, and even a little lonely.

Derek and I have had some great conversations and some good "hang out" time, which we almost never get. Even on date nights, which are rare enough, we feel pressed to "enjoy" ourselves and stare into each others' eyes, that we don't really just hang out.

And, like the kids' stay at Nana and Grampa's last year, I got some time to do some decorating in their room. Last year I painted the lower half of their walls purple (in the hopes of putting up the chair rail within weeks). I also painted flowers on their closet doors. This year, I painted some more of the same flowers over their beds, as per their request over the past year. The chair rail still isn't up, but the hope is to get it up within a few weeks (!). The new flowers are a surprise for them, so I'm looking forward to their reaction.

I miss those girls. I've talked to them nearly every day, and I love their little voices and their excitement, and even their independence. Solanne frequently ends the conversation before I ever would, letting me know she has other things to do. She even told Derek one evening she didn't need to talk to me when she was done talking to him.

It's good being in a position to be able to miss them, to look forward to seeing them again. It's nice to realise that I really like those little people. I love them, of course, but I like them and think they're really cool. I guess the time and distance lets me see some of those things a little more clearly.

The octagon lesson

A few days ago, Maïa was trying to draw a stop sign. She was having a tough time, mostly because she was starting with a pointy top. Derek decided it was time for Maïa to deepen her knowledge of octagons.

First was the lesson in etymology: "Maïa, how many sides does an octagon have?"

"Six?"

"Don't just guess. Do you know what OCTagon means?"

"No."

"Think about it... OCTagon."

Pause.

And her eyes got big and her mouth made a perfect little O. "OCTOpus! That means EIGHT legs! An octagon has eight sides!"

Great. She had the first piece. Then Derek told her about regular octagons. This was a visual exercise: he drew shapes with eight sides at various angles and different lengths. They didn't look right to Maïa. So she learned about equal sides and equal angles.

Then the third lesson: drawing an octagon. She tried again, and again began with a pointy top and got frustrated. Derek showed her a square and asked, "how can you make this into an octagon?"

Solanne piped up immediately: "cut the corners off!"

So they practiced cutting corners off. At first, they got slightly rounded squares, but soon enough, they got something that resembled a regular octagon.

And that's how our kids learned about regular octagons.

Next week: trigonometry.

Before and After

Busy

It's been a busy week, mostly for me, and mostly at work. My department is tangentally affected by the H1N1 flu virus, but we are running around, making sure that we're on top of things. There's a lot of coordination with other departments, making sure our messaging matches others', behind the scenes kind of work that never really shows, unless, of course, things go wrong. Meanwhile, we continue our every day business, but without the boss around, since he's in meetings and ensuring that everything on the urgent file is dealt with. So I've had a lot to do, keeping everything running, as it were.

It's great fun, in a way, coordinating everyone, seeing to the little details that would otherwise be overlooked, finding 10 precious minutes with my boss to go over the important things that need to be looked at and the less important things that can be deferred, delayed or passed along. But it's not so much fun when it means that I don't see my kids until 6:30 or 7 in the evening - or worse, not at all before they go to bed.

I'm looking forward to quieter times at work. Perhaps in a month or two...

Earth Day

For weeks now Maïa has been over-the-top excited about how she and her classmates were going to teach her school how to save the planet. This, of course, was in preparation for today: Earth Day. Maïa's role in all this was to tell everyone to print double-sided.

Solanne had the very important role of Wind in the play her class put on for the day. She wore blue and green. And she also informed me that trees make air.

I was also involved in Earth Day, helping with the logistics of a Green Fair at work. Our branch showcased what we've done over the year, including instituting double-sided printing, using recycled paper, running an awareness campaign about switching off lights and powering down computers. Oh, and I wore green too.

In all of this, I'm noticing that these actions the kids and I were highlighting were tiny. Minute, really, in the grand scheme of things. But somehow, the sum of all these things really does make a difference. And now I'm a little excited about it all, too.

For an interesting read on what a local lunch place is doing, visit the Green Rebel website.

Here's a fun site for all to explore: measure your carbon footprint, as well as your water, tree, and land usage. It's for kids, but it works just as well for grown ups: Zero Footprint Kids.

Bonne Journée de la Terre!

Squirrels and their love affair with our family

On a warm Easter Monday afternoon, Derek was sweeping our deck when he discovered a nest inside our folded parasol. Now it serves us right to have the thing destroyed by creatures for having left it out all winter. In our defense, if you've been on our deck, you know we don't need a parasol: four large Manitoba maples take care of the shade for us.

Derek called the girls and me over. The nest was large–about a meter long and over 40cm in circumference. Derek looked inside and didn't see anything, so he started poking at it, and showing the girls how nests are made. At this point, we still thought it was a bird's nest, and an abandoned one at that. So soon, we pulled it down in order to dispose of it and get our parasol back. As the nest fell on the deck, we heard loud chirps. "Oh no! Shit!" was all Derek could get out, and the girls began to scream. I herded the girls into the house while Derek dealt with the fallout.

He managed a look inside and spotted three tiny little squirrels. The chirping stopped. So Derek called me out to help him get the nest back into the parasol. I thought the little rodents were done for and protested, but Derek and the kids were so distraught that I figured we had to at least try. So we frantically placed the nest back into the parasol, closed it up, leaned it against the house, and snuck back inside. And within half an hour, a grey squirrel made her way to the nest, crawling through the top of the parasol where she had chewed a hole.

And one by one, she carried those babies out and whisked them away to a new home. The nest had obviously taken a while to make, so I'm not sure what kind of makeshift home she found for her babies, but they all got out.

This is not the first time we have rescued squirrels: in fact, they seem to come to us for help.

When we first moved to Montreal, Maïa attended preschool at the local Y. One afternoon, on his way back from picking up Maïa, Derek spotted a squirrel on the ground. City crews had been out, trimming trees, and this little guy must have had his branch cut out from under him. Derek picked him up, wrapped him in his jacket, placed him in the back of the Chariot, and brought him home. That evening, Derek brought the squirrel to the SPCA, likely so it could be allowed to die peacefully.

As we were leaving Montreal, we held a garage sale on our front lawn (lawn sale??). Toward the end of the afternoon, we spotted two very young squirrels on the lawn. There was something strange about them: they weren't their usual nervous squirrel selves. In fact, they were rather relaxed, which just isn't right for a squirrel. So Derek picked them up, which didn't take much effort, put them in one of the boxes we had out, and brought them to a local animal hospital. The clinic wouldn't take them, but luckily someone there made it their business to rescue and rehabilitate wild urban creatures.

I'm not sure what the conjunction of these three stories says about us, so I'll leave it open, but they are interesting, so thought I'd share.

It was at Nana and Grampa's in the country – a mild, early spring day. Maïa came running into the house and pulled at my arm.

"Come outside Mama. I want to show you something I don't need you for anymore."

Those words, spoken with such exuberance and personal accomplishment.

Those words, air bursting out of lungs, pride leaping out of heart.

Those words, broadcast through air, sound waves dissipating in rivulets around us.

Those words, moving my curiosity to witness her great discovery.

Those words, tearing away, irreparably, a tiny piece of that cord binding me to her.

Home

I got in my inbox, a few weeks ago, a call for participants. A woman doing her PhD in sociology was looking for people to interview on the topic of home. I can never resist these kinds of appeals, so I responded. My assignment: send in a picture that depicts home for me, and make myself available for an interview on the topic.

The picture, above, is what I sent in. It was the first photo that came to mind, and it was the only one that fit.

It's a shot I got of Maïa last November, on an unseasonably warm day. It was the first time she rode her bike on her own. Here, she's gliding down our little lane, sure as the breeze that carries her.

The day after I sent the researcher my image, we spoke for about an hour. The details of our conversation are unimportant. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. So I offer up this one as my 1000 words to you this week.

Family Day

Ontario fêted its second Family Day yesterday. Stores were closed, provincial and municipal employees had the day off, kids stayed home from school. But federal employees had to punch their time card. So I took the day off to be with my girls.

As Derek toiled away at a book proposal, the girls helped me sort laundry. Then we played games and drew pictures. And we went to the movies.

Our local movie theatre, the Mayfair, is a landmark in our neighbourhood. For Family Day, they and a local real estate agent put on family day matinées. So Maïa and Solanne and I took in E.T. for free, complete with complimentary popcorn for all. The girls enjoyed the movie—scary parts and all.

After the movie, we visited Grandma and Poppy. We had dinner and played a round of Sorry!

I had a great day, and I hope the girls did, too. But I realise that I consider it to have been great because it brought me back to my childhood. I was about Maïa's age when I first saw E.T. with my own mother. And part of my childhood traditions was to visit my grandma and play board games. I know for Derek's family, the big ticket traditions are very important, like Christmas at Gramma's. But for me, whose big holiday events changed from year to year, it's the little things that tie me to my past: shopping with Mom and Grandma on Saturdays, playing board games at Grandma's house, watching the Smurfs on the weekend.

I try not to put too much emphasis on what we do together, but rather on the fact that we're doing it together. I hope they enjoy our family days, whether they're official holidays or not. The best I can hope for is that they remember the love and laughter we share.