Bonjour les culottes!

The end is nigh... the end of diapers in our house! About a month ago, Solanne started to poo exclusively in the toilet. Don't worry: I'll spare you the details. And we've been experimenting with underwear. Since I'm the one doing most of the potty work with Solanne, she has adopted the French term for underwear, which is "culottes." It's funny because most of what she says is in English, but then she'll throw in a "culottes" out of the blue.

In any case, two weeks ago, I put the culottes on Solanne and whisked her off to the bathroom every half hour or so. At a certain point in the morning, I got to my house-cleaning, including vacuuming. I guess I lost track of time, because Solanne came running into the office where I was cleaning, and she had a bare bum! She promptly told me she had peed, wiped herself, and flushed the toilet. "And I did't talk to you," she said, meaning she hadn't told me ahead of time.

So now she's in culottes most of the time, except for naps and at night and for long trips. She can and does go all by herself. I'm so proud! And our diaper laundry has been cut by a fair margin. I guess not having babies in the house has its advantages...

Yippy yi-yay!

Some of you have been pestering me, wondering why I haven't posted a blog entry in a while. Well, I have a good excuse.

I am happy to tell you all that I will have an article published in a real-life magazine. Published. Yay!

My article, dealing with so-called natural products, harmful ingredients, and new labelling legislation, will be published in an upcoming edition of Briarpatch Magazine.

In the mean time, I hope you're all sufficiently appeased by the three other entries posted here this evening.

My disco girls

Right up front, I have to make a confession: I love disco. It's my secret, guilty pleasure. I owe it to being born in 1977, at disco's apex. Well, I think it was the only year that disco was popular... In any case, I love it. And I will not tolerate being teased about it. Now on with the blog entry.

Once upon a time, "my disco girls" referred to my highschool girl friends. On special occasions we would get dolled up in our disco gear and go out for a night on the town (or in someone's basement). Now "my disco girls" refers to Maïa and Solanne. I am happy to report that they both enjoy dancing to disco music (especially the Bee Gees). This makes me tremendously happy.


Here is Maïa dancing, using the moves I've taught her.



By the way, in case you're wondering what she's wearing... it's her brand new raincoat and spring hat. I bought them today, she's been wearing them all afternoon and evening.


And here is Solanne. The music is in the background, so listen carefully for it. These are her very own moves, which we've dubbed the "Alligator Dance" (check out the moves with her hands: it looks like an alligator's chomping jaws).

The Pink Party

Today is Election Day in Quebec. Last night, Derek was bemoaning the fact that he didn't know who to vote for. The two main parties, the Liberal party and the Parti québécois, do not represent our stances, in one way or another. So I started naming off our other options: le Parti Québec solidaire, the Green Party...

"Party" seems to be one of those words that kids pick up on. But Maïa and Solanne preferred the idea of a Pink Party. I asked them what their platform would be (I had to explain what a platform is). Here are some highlights of their new party:

Everyone would have the right to the following:

cake and ice cream

disco

breakfast

bracelet-making

drawing

play

sleeping well at night

Solanne, on her part, clarified:

pink cake

ice cream & fruit

food

necklaces

crayons

So on this election, let us all take a moment to consider how much of a better place this would be if we only let our kids make some of the decisions.

My first name is Mommy

Solanne has been getting used to the fact that Derek and I have other names besides Daddy and Mommy. She was naming everyone in our family: "Daddy is Derek, I'm Solanne, Maïa is Maïa, and Mommy is..." She had forgotten. Then Maïa tried to remember, but she could only come up with "Katrina," the name of one of her friends. She knew it was wrong, so she asked me, "Momma, what's your second name?"

It sent me into thinking about the radical identity transformation I have gone through since Maïa was born.

Last week I spent two whole days with a friend who has a three-week old baby. She's just beginning to reel from the reality of it. I remember feeling utterly useless and strange and completely out of touch with everyone I knew.

Watching my friend, I realised, for the first time, what I had gone through. I had lost myself. Truly lost Cristina. My roles as friend, daughter, wife were all a distant second to my new role of mother. And I didn't feel like a mom. I didn't think I was acting like a mom. I felt like I was some sort of imposter (I had no idea what I was doing). And at the same time, I felt like I would never again be those other things: wife, friend, daughter, person. I was in a strange identity limbo. I was nothing. It was devastating. For months, it was devastating.

And now, I laugh at the idea that Maïa thinks that my second name is Cristina. She'll likely not know I'm a person until she's into her twenties. But that's okay; I know I'm a person, a wife, a friend, a daugther. It's all okay now.

Things I love about Montreal

in no particular order:

Montrealers/les montréalais

a great, affordable daycare

the fact that there are three used book stores within a fifteen minute walk from my house

there are two mommy-n-me cafés within the same radius

the multicultural aspect

driving for 10 minutes from downtown and still being in downtown

an awesome public transit system

recognizing no one, anywhere

relatively frequent family meals with Ken, Sandie, Gramma, Grampa, Mike, Robin, Jeff, Steve (and Chris, when he's there)

cheap rent

having friends visit for a weekend; it's a totally different dynamic than coffee

innumerable fantastic restaurants

the fact that (almost) everyone has a fashion sense

Akhavan Food Market

the Korean/Japanese food store

the natural products store

the Iraqi grocer

having an awesome sitter who lives next door

knowing there's great music out there to listen to (hey, with two kids, who has the time or the money?)

the urban feel

being surrounded by people who speak French

the sheer amount of snow (do we get more here, or is the city just not very efficient at removing it?)

how friendly people are

NDG park, even though you can hear the traffic on Sherbrooke

the architecture

the Biodome, Botanical Gardens, Insectarium

the recycling program

the cool factor

Things I miss about Ottawa

in no particular order:

my mom

getting together with my girlfriends

the ByTowne Cinemas and All Books, next door

my extended family at Ascension

skating on the Rideau canal

driving for 10 minutes from downtown and being in the country

walking to church

recognizing people I know everywhere I go

relatively frequent family meals with Ken, Sandie, Pat, Julie, Naomi (and Nick, when he's there)

Sunday Bike Days

green space, lots and lots of green space

watching my friends' kids grow up

pancake supper, Seder supper, Christmas pageant, coffee hour at Ascension

not worrying about what I'm wearing when I leave the house

the Byward Fruit Market, especially Isaac and Miriam, the owners

seeing old friends often instead of next-to-never

Beaver Tails

the fact that there's only one major highway cutting up the city

Canada Day

other Franco-ontarians ("no, I'm not québécoise... really, people do speak French outside Quebec")

knowing how to get to any part of the city from any other part

an excellent school board

the Hammerheads!

Strathcona Park, on the Rideau River

our family doctor

the National Gallery

walking along the Ottawa River, below Parliament Hill, at night

Confederation Park

the fact that I feel at home there

Welcome, baby Eva!

I just found out that my good friend Sandra had her little baby girl on Tuesday. Mom and baby are doing well, I am pleased to know.

I'm tremendously happy that one of my oldest friends can now share the joys (and hardships!) of motherhood with me. Since "matante" Sandra has a baby, I guess my girls now have a new little "cousin"!

Congrats, Sandra, on the arrival of your baby and on the very hard work it has taken to get you both here. You're a hero.

On turning 30

I turned 30 a few weeks ago. And it's been good.

Around the time I turned 28, and was feeling down in the dumps about getting older, I made a decision. I was not going to worry about aging. In fact, I was going to love my thirties. So I started getting ready for the big Three-Oh, by getting excited about it. And it worked.

I won't expound on what I've learned over the course of the decade of my twenties... not now. But I will brag about what great people I have in my life. First and foremost, my best friend and hubby, Derek. My beautiful kids. My best girlfriends from highschool. My wonderful friends from university, work, and beyond... And we all (except the kids and my friends with kids) got together to celebrate my coming of age.

It was a big bash that started out in Wakefield, at my friend Sarah's house. She prepared an Italian meal, specifically from the region my dad was born in: Emilia-Romagna. She should know the cuisine: she spent a year there studying food! And it was delish, as Sarah would say. Check it out here. Present were my highschool girlfriends: Sarah, Katherine, Gen with partner J-F, Louise, and me. Absent was a very pregnant Sandra.

When we had our birthday tiramisù and quickly opened a few cards, we dashed off to Ottawa to meet up with friends at The Collection, a martini bar in Ottawa's Byward market. I was surrounded by friends who were all there to celebrate me, some of whom had travelled a few hours to join in the festivities! I feel incredibly blessed to know them all. Maybe we should do this every year!!

Here's a taste (from Sarah's camera):

My favourite day of the year

When I was a kid, living at home in our bungalow in Ottawa, my very favourite day of the year was the day I would step out, in the spring, and feel the warm spring air on my skin and realise it was warmer outside than it was inside. It usually occurred in late April or early May, and it usually preceded our weird mid-spring heat wave.

I have always loved summer and disliked—to avoid the word hated—winter. I am always cold and I can never seem to warm my hands and feet before May. So the warmth is always a welcome relief. But there's more. The short days and long, long periods of darkness affect me, though not severely, acutely. I have low levels of energy, I get grumpy, I feel lonely. And I have been like that since I can remember. So feeling the heat of the oncoming summer was a promise I wanted to hold, like a security blanket, close to my face and heart.

Now my favourite day of the year comes much earlier. Today was that day. It was that day when the sun touches my face and it feels warm. When the fact that the sun actually heats our planet was not just theoretical in my mind but felt by my body. As I walked to Maïa's daycare, pushing the chariot, I felt the sun and knew. That it was almost time. That the dark days are on their way out. That the earth was tilting, ever so slowly, back toward the sun. That I will one day be able to leave the house within five minutes, without snowsuits and hats and mittens and scarves and boots. That joy was returning.

More fun with words

Derek has taken up squash, and so we went raquet shopping over the weekend. As he was testing them all out, he explained to the girls what the raquets were for. Maïa astutely responded, "I want to play sweet potato, Daddy."

When we visit Grandma, who lives on the 11th floor, Solanne knows we have to take the "alligator."

News flash

Solanne is officially out of size 2 clothing and very comfortably into size 3. She's wearing the clothes Maïa wore last year! At this rate, I'll soon have to buy a double wardrobe of a single size... or do laundry twice as often!

I knew she had a growth spurt coming on when she suddenly started taking epic naps (upward of three hours) every day, consistently, for about three weeks. She got back into a normal routine of about 90 minutes of sleep, which seems wickedly short to me now. And suddenly her shirts were all belly-shirts and her pants were capris. I'm a little concerned, now: she's been sleeping over three hours every afternoon for the past three days... she's better not grow again!

Misunderstood lyrics and other malapropisms

One of the best things about having a toddler is watching how she mis-hears and mis-understands the world around her. Since her experience is limited, she can only put what she hears into that small context. Here are some of the cute things Solanne says.

• the ABC song goes like this: a-b-c-d-e-f-geez! ache-i-j-k-all-a-many-pees-q-r-s-t-u-v-w-x-y-z-now i now i ABC's, next time won't you sing with me?


• Baa-baa, black sheep, how you doin'?


• eye-browns (instead of eyebrows)


• she calls the Fisher Price village the Bumble Bee (still not sure why)


• hey! wait until me (instead of what for me)


• my two-head (instead of forehead: if Maïa is four years old and has a forehead, then Sol, who's two, must have a two-head, right?)

Proud moment

Yesterday, Maïa and I were frantically trying to get her little Valentines all done for her friends at daycare. Well, I was frantic, she was just putting on stickers and writing out names, calm as could be. I had written up a list of the kids in her class, and I felt that there was someone missing.

"Katrina isn't on the list!" Maïa shouted. So I added her on, Maïa wrote her name on the Valentine, and we went along our merry way, completing the task. Later that evening, when Maïa was in bed, I heard her shouting. Derek went in to check on her; it's rather unlike her to say anything these days after her head hits the pillow. Derek came back, a smile on his face.

"What was wrong?"

"She said that we forgot Aliza on the list. She wanted to make sure we made a Valentine for her, too."

I couldn't believe how thoughtful she was! She was so concerned that we make a card for everyone in her class that she had to let us know. It came to her as she was falling asleep, and she had to make sure that Aliza wasn't left out. I might note, here, that while Maïa doesn't necessarily dislike this girl, she has never spoken fondly of her... she barely speaks of her at all.

Yet Maïa has this sense of justice, of equity, already at this young age. She didn't want anyone to be left out. When I realised this, my heart just welled up in immense pride. I've felt proud of her countless times before, like when she does big puzzles all on her own, or sounds out words and writes them out, or when she draws her amazing creations. But I've never felt anything like this. This generosity she has in her little soul is something that surpasses what I've taught her (at least directly) and what I expect of her. It goes beyond the academic or the sporty. It's deeper. It's part of her, and it's beautiful.

I'm just proud that this little kid is my daughter.

Virus number 7

victims: Maïa, Solanne, Cristina

symptoms: slight fever at onset, congestion, runny nose (how do those happen at the same time??), slight cough due to mucus, disorientation (wait... I think that's caused by the Sinutab... oh, sweet sleep, I hear you calling..........

creations

Solanne has recently taken an interest in drawing and colouring. Just two days ago, she astonished Derek and me by drawing "inside the lines." I use the term "inside" loosely, but she was trying. And, like Maïa did, she only uses one colour at a time, so by the end of her colouring, you wouldn't know that she's colouring in the lines, but if you've watched attentively, you can see that she has coloured the picture section by section.

Visit our craft site to see a couple of her drawings. They're her first recognizable creations.

Ev'ybody

I always thought that "transitional objects" were toys that children carried around to help them get through toddlerhood (ie, transition from baby to little kid). I learned in a psych class in university that the objects have a more direct and immediate use in children's lives: they help children transition from one activity or space to another. Maïa had Clicky, whom she took everywhere. Solanne has Cat (aka, Vanille) and Baby (aka, Baby Rachel). Their respective friends became very important around the age of 12 to 18 months.

Then, around the time Sol turned 2, she expanded her group of friends. Suddenly, she started carrying around Jacka Monkey and the gorilla; Solanne calls them "the mommy" and "the daddy," respectively. Soon, there were a number of other stuffed animals involved, including a dog and Snowman (they're the regulars). One day, out of the blue, Solanne dubbed the group "ev'ybody." Now, if we're busy playing in the living room and call her into the kitchen for a snack, she first must gather up ev'ybody (it's a full armload for her), bring them to the kitchen, and dump them on the floor. I found this a really odd thing, to expand her cast of characters. And then I remembered Maïa.

Around Christmas two years ago, when Maïa had just turned two, she began asking to bring more friends to bed with her. The group became quickly established. There were five of them, a number we had to remember so we could find them all at bed time: Clicky, Dodo (a receiving blanket), Chick, Snowman (now Sol's regular friend), and Pillow (a little doll pillow that had been mine when I was little). There was no title to the group, however.

I'm not sure if it's just my kids who do this around the age of two; after all, many children don't even have one special friend, let alone a whole group of them. But there must be a reason for it happening around the age of two. For Maïa it lasted about 8 months. By the time we moved here, she was back to having just Clicky with her at bed. For now, "ev'ybody" is going strong at our house. There is one saving grace in all this: at least she doesn't take them all to bed. I don't know if we'd be able to find her in her little bed for all those friends.

Trailers on the run

I promise to write soon, when I have a moment, when I am not editing someone else's writing... I guess I can't complain about having paid work (for once)! A little preview of future entries:

Ev'ybody

Misunderstood lyrics and other malapropisms

School registration

Inspirational song

This is the song that uncle Mike wrote for the wedding. It was performed (by Derek, and sung along by all) instead of having a traditional reading.

"It's Great to Be a Pirate"

It’s great to be a pirate
And live a life of pleasure
We fight with swords and swing from ropes
And hunt for buried treasure.
We make our families walk the plank
Ignore them while they’re pleadin’.
We’ll wear those patches on our eyes
So we don’t have to see ’em.

CHORUS
It’s great, it’s great – To be a married pirate!
It’s great, it’s great – To live in wedded bliss.
It’s great, it’s great – Shackled to our partner.
It’s great, it’s great – A life of strife as man and wife our
Freedom we won’t miss.

Here’s to getting married
Our vows we’ll be a’heedin’
We’ll fight all day, make up all night
Our sleep, we won’t be needin’.
We make our families tow the line
When they will come a-sailin’.
They’ll swab the deck and clean the head
And that’ll send them packin’.

CHORUS

The pirate wedding

The pirate wedding was one of the highlights of our holidays. When Derek and I were approached to help plan this occasion (unbeknownst to the bride and groom!), we were happy to chip in. We had no idea how out of hand it could become!

Derek's aunt Susan (Sandie's sister) has been with Dan for thirteen years, and they finally decided to tie the knot over the holiday season. The timing wasn't great for most of us, but they chose the date because it was the first time in about five years that Susan's daughter, Megan, and Dan's two daugthers would be in town (Toronto) at the same time, before heading back out to their respective corners of the planet. Most of us couldn't make it, and Susan and Dan were very gracious in understanding. It was, after all, a few days before Christmas and four days after Pat and Julie's wedding, and short notice.

But Derek's uncle Mike, Susan and Sandie's brother, felt that we couldn't let the occasion pass by unnoticed. He thought we could host a wedding: more than just a dinner to celebrate, he wanted to have the whole thing done right here in Montreal, before the whole family. Since Susan and Dan sail, a pirate theme was tossed about. I don't think Mike knew what we were going to do with that idea!

Derek and I planned out the ceremony, casting my father-in-law, Ken, as the officiant: a crusty old pirate captain. Ken is somewhat of a ham, so he was very excited when he got the script. He even added some of his own touches. We were inspired and helped along a little by the Talk Like a Pirate website. Everyone in the family got into the spirit of things. Some made the pirate hats we were all required to wear.

.

Uncle Mike and his wife, aunt Robin, hosted at their home (and Robin made a feast). Sandie and Ken helped with the costumes. And everyone was game to sing along and play their parts.

The ceremony opened with Mike playing a wedding march. (Keep in mind that Susan and Dan only knew they were going to have a celebration in their honour: they didn't know about the ceremony). Dan was ushered out by Megan who forced him forward with a plastic sword (to create a pirate version of a shotgun wedding).

Susan came down the stairs, and headed for the "altar."

Ken played up his role as Cap'n "Scurvy Bilge Rat" Ken.

The rest was rather like any other wedding, only done up in pirate-speak and with a great deal of laughter. We sang "It's Great to Be a Pirate" and then listened to the bride and groom's vows. Throughout, we called Dan all names but his own, such as Dick, Don, Doug, Dale, and Donovan. (We have only known him for thirteen years, after all.)

After the ceremony, Susan and Dan opened up their wedding survival kit (including ear plugs, sleeping masks, various how-to guides, jumbo condoms, band-aids, and Centrum Silver vitamins). The gifts were followed by the first dance. Then we devoured the delicious supper as well as the wedding cake, made by Gramma.