We have arrived north in Piedmonte. We visited with my first set of cousins in Parma for five days, and it was a great reunion. Now, we've come north to visit a second set of cousins, who have also welcomed us very warmly. Our Italian is improving daily. Maia has been trying it out, too, and is doing quite well.
Our connection is still non-existent, but we don't have much time to write these days anyway, since we're visiting so much. Italia è bellissima.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
a post-card to my readers
hello friends! Access to wi-fi here has been limited. So far, we've managed to find exactly one wi-fi hotspot (in Vatican City, of all places), which is where I uploaded my first two posts. I've been writing them as I go, but will only upload as I find wi-fi (right now I'm in an internet cafe, which, ironically has no wireless internet).
I haven't yet figured out how to load my camera pics onto my iphone and send them along with blogposts, so until we get back, the posts will likely be image-free. I do commit, however, to add pics when we get back (we have some magnificent ones so far!).
The weather here could be better; we've had mostly clouds, some rain, and temps between 18 and 20 degrees. Am hoping things will clear and warm up for our stay by the sea. But, as Derek keeps saying, we're in Italy!
Ciao tutti!
Cristina
I haven't yet figured out how to load my camera pics onto my iphone and send them along with blogposts, so until we get back, the posts will likely be image-free. I do commit, however, to add pics when we get back (we have some magnificent ones so far!).
The weather here could be better; we've had mostly clouds, some rain, and temps between 18 and 20 degrees. Am hoping things will clear and warm up for our stay by the sea. But, as Derek keeps saying, we're in Italy!
Ciao tutti!
Cristina
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Day 2 - Rome Antics
May 5, 2010
We started out our day at 10:30, which is when we woke up after a somewhat painful night, having had to seperate the girls after midnight because they still weren't sleeping in their shared bed. We had granola bars for breakfast and headed out quickly.
We started out our day at 10:30, which is when we woke up after a somewhat painful night, having had to seperate the girls after midnight because they still weren't sleeping in their shared bed. We had granola bars for breakfast and headed out quickly.
Our first stop was chiesa di San Luigi dei Francesi to see three Caravaggio paintings (one of Derek's favourite painters).
We then headed to the Pantheon, one of the oldest buildings in Rome. The girls were most impressed by the fact that there's a hole in the ceiling which lets in rain. We spent some time just outside the Pantheon, enjoying the area while Maia and Solanne ran around chasing pigeons and playing a secret game I'm not privy to.
Our next stop was the Trevi fountain, which was familiar to the girls thanks to a few books and the Lizzy Maguire movie. We gave them each a small Euro coin and they made wishes by throwing the coin backwards over their left shoulders. They loved being around the fountain so
much that we decided to stay for a while. The girls continued their game (which by this point I discovered involved a cauldron) as Derek snuck off to buy our lunch: more delicious pizza. This pizza was slightly less saucy than the last, so there was a bit less mess - though this time we were prepared with a bandana which we wet in the drinking fountain.
Once we had finished our lunch and the girls had had enough time play, we headed toward the Spanish steps (also famiar thanks to Lizzy
Maguire). On our way we came across a children's store that was disappointingly similar to toy stores in Ottawa (think Mrs Tiggy Winkle's without the selection), only about fifty percent more expensive. We managed to tear the girls away and meandered toward our destination. The steps were beautifully adorned with fresh blooming plants, and full of people. I tried to take a picture of the steps and got a great crowd shot (no steps in view). We walked up the steps (Maia counted 136), and got a great view of the steps, the piazza below, and the city beyond. Solanne and Maia each took a picture of Derek and me at the top. Then they watched an artist sketching a portrait of a woman and Solanne declared that one day she would draw
like that, "me too!" said Maia.
It had been a long day of seeing things so we decided to go to the Villa Borghese, a beautiful park, and let the kids run around for a bit. They continued their game of cauldron and ran and skipped and tried to climb trees.
The great part of having kids who are a) so close in age; b) the same gender; and c) great friends is that they can entertain themselves together. And Derek and I have time to chat and hang out. And even just look into each others' eyes.
But the day was getting late, and if there's one huge inconvenience Europe is known for, it's its lack of public restrooms - extra tricky with kidlets in toe. So I suggested we start to make our way back "home" before one of them made an urgent plea.
On the way, we stopped off at chiesa Santa Maria del Popolo to see two more Caravaggios. We wandered back to our neighbourhood, bought some produce and breakfast for tomorrow before stepping back to our place.
The instant we got into the building Solanne started dancing around and saying she had to go, and after nearly eight hours out of the house, I figured it was about time. We all had some down time: the girls played in the loft, Derek figured out where we would have dinner and I had an aperitivo.
Solanne's discovery: your can drink from the spouts near the various fountains around the city - and the water is delicious.
Maia's discovery: marble comes in all kinds of shades and colours, and Italian architects and sculpters used them beautifully.
A tavola! Tonight we went to a restaurant called La Carbonara, named for the famous Roman pasta dish. The waiter seated us at a beautiful table in the corner of the terrace. We order gnocchi with tomato sauce for the girls, who mowed down on the bread before their main course was served. I ordered the penne carbonara as a primo and eggplant parmigiana as a secondo. Derek had spaghetti in a lovely tomato sauce
followed by baccala (fish in batter). All served with aqua con gaz and a litre of vino (which cost a ridiculously cheap 10 Euros).
Day 1: Rome-ing
May 4, 2010
Most of today was spent travelling, in time and space, and recovering from said travel. The flight to Frankfurt went very well and a little too quickly. The kids got about four hours of sleep, I a little less and Derek none at all. Our connecting flight to Rome was a close call; we ran a fair bit to the far end of the airport in another terminal to barely catch our connection. Thank goodness for rolling sidewalks!
Most of today was spent travelling, in time and space, and recovering from said travel. The flight to Frankfurt went very well and a little too quickly. The kids got about four hours of sleep, I a little less and Derek none at all. Our connecting flight to Rome was a close call; we ran a fair bit to the far end of the airport in another terminal to barely catch our connection. Thank goodness for rolling sidewalks!
We landed in a soggy, grey Rome; not a sight that was familiar. We waited for what seemed an eternity to pick up our luggage (ah, the inefficiencies of Italy!) then sought out a train. The ticket seller told Derek that we would have to wait half an hour since we had just missed our ride to downtown but for the same fare we could take a bus that was leaving now. Our "bus" driver immediately materialized and we were escorted to our ride: a chauffeured car.
The driver was nice enough but spent far more time chatting with Basile and Maria than finding where exactly we wanted to go. He dropped us off at the far end of the train terminal downtown, and Derek paid as I roused our now fully sleeping children to get them to walk the seven blocks I'd hoped we'd be spared.
The last leg of our journey consisted of picking up the keys to our Roman apartment, taking a crowded bus for the couple of kilometers I
would have walked on my own, and trying to find our temporary home in the tiny winding streets around Piazza Navona - quickly, because by now Solanne really had to go to the bathroom.
We settled in quickly and had a nap for the better part of the afternoon (aka la siesta).
When we got up we freshened up and figured out a direction and headed out. We had fantastic pizza in Campo de' Fiori. The girls had aranciata and we had lemon infused sparkling water. Maia and Solanne
both declared it the best pizza ever.
After taking a break and watching the girls sketch the piazza on their notebooks, we took a stroll around the neighbourhood. We ended up on Piazza Navona, where the Fontana dei tre fiumi is unfortunately
covered up for renos. We found a highly recommended gelateria and enjoyed some fantastic gelato in the warm evening air.
OF NOTE
Solanne's discovery: "the floors (at the Frankfurt airport) sparkle! We don't have that in Canada."
Maia's discovery: "I'm a mango person" (after having sampled eight flavours of gelato).
Reality check: seeing Rome this time will be very different from ten years ago. Touring a city by foot and seeing it from wheels of any form is not the same. And we will be on wheels a lot more than I was when I was on my own, if only to spare the kids their little feet and us our patience.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Day 0
The backpacks are full, the kids' daypacks are filled with activities to keep them busy in the plane, our passports are at hand, and we are ready to go.
Our departure date and time seem very civilised: a Monday evening, after a whole weekend a nearly full weekday to prepare. The timing let us even enjoy a picnic with friends yesterday. I'm sure, though, that when we land in Frankfurt at 7:15am local time (1:15am ET), the timing will feel slightly less civilised.
The girls are getting antsy and asking when we'll be going to Italy. I've been telling them that we'll leave after lunch, all day, so now they're asking again. Well, another hour and a half before we begin our journey toward the airport. Then more waiting, to check our baggage, then waiting again until we can board the plane.
We have some surprises in their daypacks: fairy sticker books, cool colouring books, pencil crayons, gum, snacks, magazines. And if they get bored, there's always the in-flight movies. I've even loaded some good tunes and fun games onto my iphone for them. My (and their) favourite is the Bubble Wrap app: bursting bubble wrap bubbles on the touch screen. It keeps them busy for at least 30 minutes at a time.
So we're heading out, with just a little trepidation and a lot of excitement. Tomorrow, we wake up in Europe, and we'll be in Rome before lunch. I'm thinking focaccia and Orangina.
Our departure date and time seem very civilised: a Monday evening, after a whole weekend a nearly full weekday to prepare. The timing let us even enjoy a picnic with friends yesterday. I'm sure, though, that when we land in Frankfurt at 7:15am local time (1:15am ET), the timing will feel slightly less civilised.
The girls are getting antsy and asking when we'll be going to Italy. I've been telling them that we'll leave after lunch, all day, so now they're asking again. Well, another hour and a half before we begin our journey toward the airport. Then more waiting, to check our baggage, then waiting again until we can board the plane.
We have some surprises in their daypacks: fairy sticker books, cool colouring books, pencil crayons, gum, snacks, magazines. And if they get bored, there's always the in-flight movies. I've even loaded some good tunes and fun games onto my iphone for them. My (and their) favourite is the Bubble Wrap app: bursting bubble wrap bubbles on the touch screen. It keeps them busy for at least 30 minutes at a time.
So we're heading out, with just a little trepidation and a lot of excitement. Tomorrow, we wake up in Europe, and we'll be in Rome before lunch. I'm thinking focaccia and Orangina.
Monday, April 19, 2010
One less car
After over a year of talking about it, trying it out in various forms, thinking some more, we've finally gone and done it: we've sold the car. We are now car-less, or car-free.
We were once a happy car-less family, back when our family consisted of three. When we were about to welcome Solanne into the family, I insisted to Derek and I needed a car. I did not want to repeat the long, lonely winter days cooped up in our little apartment alone with Maïa. So we bought a used, old Civic (it was eight years old at the time).
And our little Civic treated us very nicely. Except for a short time of what turned out to be mostly panic on my part, the car was reliable and stable. It got us to where we were going, and we got there all together, dry and warm (or cool, on those very hot summer days).
But we came to rely on the car to get us to places that in the old days we would have walked or cycled to, like the grocery store, church, or the kids' school. It was just easy. And we didn't take it that much, so it was easy to dismiss our use and call it the price of convenience.
About a year and a half ago, Derek and I costed everything out and realised that if we relied on walking, cycling and public transit more, not only would we be more fit (!), but we would save a lot of money–enough to rent cars as needed to visit Nana and Grampa in the country and take road trips to Montreal as much as we wanted, and then some.
So we tried selling the car last fall. The one person interested changed his mind; we didn't renew the ad and kept the car. This spring we decided it really was time and tried a little harder. And we found a buyer: a young supply teacher who gets gigs around town and needed a way to and from jobs. The sale was finalised this morning.
When I told people we were thinking of selling the car, most looked at me like I was crazy. But how are you going to get around? We live in a central neighbourhood, so walking, biking and busing make sense. What about getting to far out places? Buses. What if your kids get sick? Cabs. What if... And I don't know that I have all the answers, and I admit that I am a little nervous about our new lifestyle–because let's be honest, this is what this means. But my parents got along just fine without a car until I was 6 years old. Some good friends of ours live farther out than we do, and they have made the choice to be car-less, and it just involves more planning and in some cases, changing plans.
It is with excitement, and a little trepidation, that I (we) jump into this new way of life. We have some key gear, like two decent bikes, two trail-a-bikes for the girls, and a trailer. We'll need some more, like lights for night riding, cycling clothes, and perhaps a utility bicycle for those times when only one parent needs to get two kids somewhere. But we are well on the road–or path–to leading our new car-free life.
We were once a happy car-less family, back when our family consisted of three. When we were about to welcome Solanne into the family, I insisted to Derek and I needed a car. I did not want to repeat the long, lonely winter days cooped up in our little apartment alone with Maïa. So we bought a used, old Civic (it was eight years old at the time).
And our little Civic treated us very nicely. Except for a short time of what turned out to be mostly panic on my part, the car was reliable and stable. It got us to where we were going, and we got there all together, dry and warm (or cool, on those very hot summer days).
But we came to rely on the car to get us to places that in the old days we would have walked or cycled to, like the grocery store, church, or the kids' school. It was just easy. And we didn't take it that much, so it was easy to dismiss our use and call it the price of convenience.
About a year and a half ago, Derek and I costed everything out and realised that if we relied on walking, cycling and public transit more, not only would we be more fit (!), but we would save a lot of money–enough to rent cars as needed to visit Nana and Grampa in the country and take road trips to Montreal as much as we wanted, and then some.
So we tried selling the car last fall. The one person interested changed his mind; we didn't renew the ad and kept the car. This spring we decided it really was time and tried a little harder. And we found a buyer: a young supply teacher who gets gigs around town and needed a way to and from jobs. The sale was finalised this morning.
When I told people we were thinking of selling the car, most looked at me like I was crazy. But how are you going to get around? We live in a central neighbourhood, so walking, biking and busing make sense. What about getting to far out places? Buses. What if your kids get sick? Cabs. What if... And I don't know that I have all the answers, and I admit that I am a little nervous about our new lifestyle–because let's be honest, this is what this means. But my parents got along just fine without a car until I was 6 years old. Some good friends of ours live farther out than we do, and they have made the choice to be car-less, and it just involves more planning and in some cases, changing plans.
It is with excitement, and a little trepidation, that I (we) jump into this new way of life. We have some key gear, like two decent bikes, two trail-a-bikes for the girls, and a trailer. We'll need some more, like lights for night riding, cycling clothes, and perhaps a utility bicycle for those times when only one parent needs to get two kids somewhere. But we are well on the road–or path–to leading our new car-free life.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
More planning
We've booked the airline tickets and our various accommodations, set an itinerary, booked rail tickets, emailed family, made lists, made other lists, visited the passport office, ordered activity books for the kids, consulted teachers, alerted our employers, and debated back packs vs luggage. And there's still a lot to do: shop for (wrinkle resistant) summer clothes for the kids and myself, get Euros, book museum tickets, and finally buy a cell phone are the big ones.
We've travelled abroad with Maïa when she was a baby, and that certainly involved more gear (pack-n-play, diapers, food, bottles, wipes, tons of tiny clothes, etc etc), but it feels like there's more to do now. I always say that children are portable, and they are, but there's a lot of planning involved.
Keeping them entertained is key to both their enjoyment and our sanity. They'll be kept plenty busy visiting various cities. It's the travel time that'll get them. So we have story books featuring Florence and Rome, a couple of Roald Dahl books to read to them, sticker books, an ipod, a sketch/scrap book, colouring pencils, they're favourite friends, and a tiny tent for said friends (which kept them incredibly entertained in BC, where we bought it).
School work needs to be kept up, too. Maïa's teacher has assigned one math problem per school day, daily reading en français, and practicing calligraphy. Solanne has no assigned homework, but we'll have both kids do lots of drawing and journaling about their travels.
And we've managed to find lots of fun stuff for the kids to do in each of the cities. Treasure Hunt Florence will keep us busy, finding famous paintings, sketching the David, talking about how we feel about the paintings, counting fountains and towers, and finding hidden treasures. We haven't found a similar guide to Rome (which seems astonishing), but we have quite a few surprises in store for the girls there. They already recognise the Colosseum and the Spanish Steps, and we've been talking about ancient Rome, so I think they'll enjoy seeing the sights there.
The rest of our travels will be in smaller centres, including Cinque Terre by the seaside, and Aosta in the Alps. And, of course, visiting family, where they'll have a chance to practice their Italian–which currently consists of about a dozen words. That was the extent of my Italian when I was five, and I came back having forgotten most of my French and English, so I know they'll pick up enough to get by.
As for the backpack vs luggage debate, backpacks won, hands down. We'll be on and off enough trains that it makes more sense to strap something to our backs than try to roll luggage on endless cobblestone, while trying to hold small hands. The down side, of course, is the restricted space. So we're carefully planning our wardrobes, which is a challenge when you're going from the Mediterranean to an elevation of over 2000 feet. I'm not quite sure how we'll pack for that... stay tuned.
We've travelled abroad with Maïa when she was a baby, and that certainly involved more gear (pack-n-play, diapers, food, bottles, wipes, tons of tiny clothes, etc etc), but it feels like there's more to do now. I always say that children are portable, and they are, but there's a lot of planning involved.
Keeping them entertained is key to both their enjoyment and our sanity. They'll be kept plenty busy visiting various cities. It's the travel time that'll get them. So we have story books featuring Florence and Rome, a couple of Roald Dahl books to read to them, sticker books, an ipod, a sketch/scrap book, colouring pencils, they're favourite friends, and a tiny tent for said friends (which kept them incredibly entertained in BC, where we bought it).
School work needs to be kept up, too. Maïa's teacher has assigned one math problem per school day, daily reading en français, and practicing calligraphy. Solanne has no assigned homework, but we'll have both kids do lots of drawing and journaling about their travels.
And we've managed to find lots of fun stuff for the kids to do in each of the cities. Treasure Hunt Florence will keep us busy, finding famous paintings, sketching the David, talking about how we feel about the paintings, counting fountains and towers, and finding hidden treasures. We haven't found a similar guide to Rome (which seems astonishing), but we have quite a few surprises in store for the girls there. They already recognise the Colosseum and the Spanish Steps, and we've been talking about ancient Rome, so I think they'll enjoy seeing the sights there.The rest of our travels will be in smaller centres, including Cinque Terre by the seaside, and Aosta in the Alps. And, of course, visiting family, where they'll have a chance to practice their Italian–which currently consists of about a dozen words. That was the extent of my Italian when I was five, and I came back having forgotten most of my French and English, so I know they'll pick up enough to get by.
As for the backpack vs luggage debate, backpacks won, hands down. We'll be on and off enough trains that it makes more sense to strap something to our backs than try to roll luggage on endless cobblestone, while trying to hold small hands. The down side, of course, is the restricted space. So we're carefully planning our wardrobes, which is a challenge when you're going from the Mediterranean to an elevation of over 2000 feet. I'm not quite sure how we'll pack for that... stay tuned.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Brilliant
Solanne had homework this week, which for a kindergartener has the potential to be a drag, but she loved it. She had to prepare a book report (of a sort) and a presentation to go along with it.
It was only last night that I realised that her teacher, Madame A, had set up the class precisely so that Solanne, and her classmates, would get excited about homework. For Solanne, it's a privilege to present her book to her friends; she's the only one allowed to do it on her big day as Petit Coeur.
Here's how it works: at the beginning of the year, Madame A set up a routine of a having a daily "Petit Coeur" (little heart). Each child had their turn at being Petit Coeur, and the role comes with some serious perks: the child gets to lead circle time, bring the attendance sheet to the office with the friend of their choice, skip nap time, have the pick of what activities she wants to do... and the list goes on. For the first two months, that's all it was.
By December, each child got to bring something in to present when they were Petit Coeur. Last month, they got to prepare a "science experiment." Solanne brought in oil, water, and syrup and poured them all into the same container and showed how one floated on the other; a first exploration of density. This month, Solanne got to pick her favourite (French) book and complete a sheet: title, author, illustrator, favourite character. And she had to prepare a presentation on it. This is the basic format that she'll have to do in Grade 1 next year, once per week, with library books. And she was so excited about doing it.
Of course, there's no guarantee that she'll still love these book reports next year, but Madame A is at least setting up favourable conditions for her to enjoy it and get interested in it. There are no guarantees with kids anyway, so I'm just soaking this up now and am happy to watch Solanne's face light up as she practices her presentation for tomorrow.
It was only last night that I realised that her teacher, Madame A, had set up the class precisely so that Solanne, and her classmates, would get excited about homework. For Solanne, it's a privilege to present her book to her friends; she's the only one allowed to do it on her big day as Petit Coeur.
Here's how it works: at the beginning of the year, Madame A set up a routine of a having a daily "Petit Coeur" (little heart). Each child had their turn at being Petit Coeur, and the role comes with some serious perks: the child gets to lead circle time, bring the attendance sheet to the office with the friend of their choice, skip nap time, have the pick of what activities she wants to do... and the list goes on. For the first two months, that's all it was.
By December, each child got to bring something in to present when they were Petit Coeur. Last month, they got to prepare a "science experiment." Solanne brought in oil, water, and syrup and poured them all into the same container and showed how one floated on the other; a first exploration of density. This month, Solanne got to pick her favourite (French) book and complete a sheet: title, author, illustrator, favourite character. And she had to prepare a presentation on it. This is the basic format that she'll have to do in Grade 1 next year, once per week, with library books. And she was so excited about doing it.
Of course, there's no guarantee that she'll still love these book reports next year, but Madame A is at least setting up favourable conditions for her to enjoy it and get interested in it. There are no guarantees with kids anyway, so I'm just soaking this up now and am happy to watch Solanne's face light up as she practices her presentation for tomorrow.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Familial journey
We are on our way.
Some time in the next few weeks or months – we haven't yet settled on the date – the four of us will be off to Italy.
The passport pictures have been taken, the lists have been drawn, toiletries purchased, wardrobes planned. We've scoured the tour books and set up an itinerary. We've searched the web and found kid-friendly activities in each of our destinations.
Cousins have been contacted; all are looking forward to our visit.
But this is more than a family vacation.
I will see my aunt, the woman, who along with her older sister, helped raise my father. The woman, who ten years ago when I visited for the first time in two decades, referred to me as her other granddaughter. A woman who knows what my father was like as a child; a woman who holds pictures of my father with round eyes and rounder cheeks; at least, that's how I imagine him since I have never seen them. The woman I will likely never see again after this visit.
Her eyes are so much like my father's that I feel lonely when I look at her. She tells me the same. And we laugh at the idea that we share those sorrowful eyes, dropping down in the corners, with him and with each other. And now with Solanne.
The children carry an Italian name like an amulet, wrapped around them always, but mysterious and whose history is still beyond their understanding. They will, for the first time, meet others with the same name. Some with the same eyes. All with the same long, invisible thread of DNA knitting us together, binding us across languages, across time, across leagues of water.
And we will visit my ancestral village, a town of fewer than three thousand souls. Breathe in the air that fed my father and his family, the air that is said to be unique in the world in its ability to both age Parmesan cheese and cure prosciutto ham to perfection. And we will visit the tiny house my father called home, carved out of the ancient hillside, that held that cobbler's family of six children.
Strange that I feel tied to that land, more than any other. Not to the town, or the villagers, but to the land. I have been there twice in my life, once with my father and mother, once on my own, long after my father had died. Some tie, perhaps that strand of DNA born of that land, makes me long for that place and root me in it when I am there.
I promise to post pics and stories here about our adventures, from preparations, to the journey, and the long road back.
Some time in the next few weeks or months – we haven't yet settled on the date – the four of us will be off to Italy.
The passport pictures have been taken, the lists have been drawn, toiletries purchased, wardrobes planned. We've scoured the tour books and set up an itinerary. We've searched the web and found kid-friendly activities in each of our destinations.
Cousins have been contacted; all are looking forward to our visit.
But this is more than a family vacation.
I will see my aunt, the woman, who along with her older sister, helped raise my father. The woman, who ten years ago when I visited for the first time in two decades, referred to me as her other granddaughter. A woman who knows what my father was like as a child; a woman who holds pictures of my father with round eyes and rounder cheeks; at least, that's how I imagine him since I have never seen them. The woman I will likely never see again after this visit.
Her eyes are so much like my father's that I feel lonely when I look at her. She tells me the same. And we laugh at the idea that we share those sorrowful eyes, dropping down in the corners, with him and with each other. And now with Solanne.
The children carry an Italian name like an amulet, wrapped around them always, but mysterious and whose history is still beyond their understanding. They will, for the first time, meet others with the same name. Some with the same eyes. All with the same long, invisible thread of DNA knitting us together, binding us across languages, across time, across leagues of water.
And we will visit my ancestral village, a town of fewer than three thousand souls. Breathe in the air that fed my father and his family, the air that is said to be unique in the world in its ability to both age Parmesan cheese and cure prosciutto ham to perfection. And we will visit the tiny house my father called home, carved out of the ancient hillside, that held that cobbler's family of six children.
Strange that I feel tied to that land, more than any other. Not to the town, or the villagers, but to the land. I have been there twice in my life, once with my father and mother, once on my own, long after my father had died. Some tie, perhaps that strand of DNA born of that land, makes me long for that place and root me in it when I am there.
I promise to post pics and stories here about our adventures, from preparations, to the journey, and the long road back.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
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: Okay, let's clean up; you go clean up and I'll finish my drawing.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Solanne's spontaneous poem
Lime juice
Pinched my skin
Licked my skin
Go up here
Go up there
Go into my underwear
Pinched my skin
Licked my skin
Go up here
Go up there
Go into my underwear
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, August 03, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
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.
And their closet door, which didn't quite make it into the video.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009
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...
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...
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