It's all in the numbers

Picture this:
Two fairly energetic, relatively young (one of them, at least) moms of two toddler girls plan the perfect rainy day outing. On the agenda: letting the girls tear up Carrefour Laval, the mecca of Montreal malls, in the morning, lunch at the best Chinese buffet in town, then a jaunt to Wal-Mart. Once the said two moms “successfully” (depending on your definition of success) execute these plans, they add one extra – collapsing for the rest of the afternoon on the couch, strong Chai lattes in hand, while the daughters "entertain themselves" in the living room. Here's a recap of how their day went, broken down into statistics.

Number of...

Wrong turns on way to mall: 3

Curses spoken by driver: 5

Apologies for cursing by driver: 5

Times BINGO played in car: 6

Lost (then recovered) sippy cups: 2

Snacks consumed by toddlers: 4 dried fruit bars, 2 cups of cheesy alligator crackers, 2 cups of milk, 6 soda crackers, ½ cup of raisins

Items toddlers attempted to shoplift: 2 tank tops, 1 hairclip, 1 cap, 1 Dora puzzle,
1 stuffed bear

Times one toddler insisted on going opposite direction of everyone else: 7

Trips to the buffet tables: 8

Cucumber slices with exactly one bite eaten found on Chinese buffet floor: 4

Pastries eaten by moms: 2 cream puffs, 2 custard tarts – not enough!

Times one such mom (not naming names) got lost in parking lot: 1

Accidental detours taken after misreading construction detour signs on way home: 1

Times stuck in special bus lane on way home: 1

Play-do clumps found in carpet: 3

Sentences on Oprah actually heard: 3

Hair-pulling incidents: 1

Times one toddler was told not to jump off couch and did so anyway: 5

Pasta sauce stains larger than a quarter on toddlers clothes: 5

Times one mom or the other said “Good God, I’m exhausted” or some variation of: 5

Reasons to do it all again on the next rainy day: Too many to count.

Getting down to the hokey-pokey

Getting down to the hokey-pokey
Posted by: trinastjean.

Anissa's favorite dancing outfit is a dress my mother sewed for me when I was a little girl. She surprised me a few days ago by pulling it out of the closet and saying, "Memere made it." Gramatically-correct sentences still take me by surprise. Wasn't she a newborn a few weeks ago?

FYI

I've been meaning to let you know:
When I first got the blog going, I had (unknowingly) set it so you had to be a member of blogger to leave a comment. This is no longer the case...anyone, anytime, can post a little note. (Yes, that means you!) In fact, Anissa loves hearing from friends!

Potty Talk

For about six months now, Anissa occasionally confesses to us that she has a dirty diaper. What does she say? Naturally, she repeats what Papa exclaims when he changes her diaper and finds a particulary full load..."HOLY!" We thought this was pretty hilarious, but the evolution of her usage is getting worrisome.

Step One: Holy bum!
Step Two: Holy poop bum!
Step Three: Holy BIG poop bum!
Step Four: (denial - usually while being chased around the house for a diaper change) Ana NO Holy Poop! Ana, no holy poop!
Step Five: (in public washrooms, while she is in the cubicle with me) Mama holy poop! Mama, BIG holy poop! (and NO, it is not true.)

Papa, could you come up with something new?

On Safari

Since that nasty thesis is now out of the way, Papa was available for FUN the entire weekend. This called for something extra special, so we spent Saturday afternoon at Ana's new favorite place, Parc Safari. Excitement mounted as we drove around and she scouted the terrain for animals to feed...




And then there it was: a towering giraffe! The expression on Anissa's face, as you can see in the photo, was priceless. "Wow, wow!"



Ana wanted desperately to feed the giraffe, but unfortunately (and fortunately for our Pontiac) they don't let those giants come near the vehicles. So we were back on safari. Soon enough we came across a herd of zebras that were all too eager to accept a snack...or two...or three. Anissa got a serious case of giggles as one of the lovely striped beasts stuck his head in the car, sniffing and nibbling at me.



Goats, buffalo, deer, ostriches - we made friends with all the wild and woolly creatures we encountered. Anissa called them from the window to "Bum!" and eat. She blew them kisses as we drove out to park the car and continue our safari on foot.

Let me interrupt to tell a little story:
I realized recently that Anissa doesn't seem to be afraid of anything. She doesn't freak out around animals or hesitate to go down the big slide by herself, doesn't seem disturbed by mud or dirt, and even tries to kiss snakes through the aquarium glass at the pet store. But on Friday, she finally revealed a crack in that cool exterior. At the Carrefour picnic, an animator dressed in a colorful parrot suit stopped and asked to take our picture. Anissa stared, and asked me "that?". Without giving it much thought, I told her that he was a "bird guy". That night, when I was changing her diaper and we were talking about how much fun we had had at the picnic, she got upset and started shaking her head, repeating over and over, "No, bird guy! No, no!" She hasn't stopped talking about him since, despite my assurances that he was a nice bird guy. He is, after all, much much nicer than the lioness that stared her down, ready to pounce, at Parc Safari. That didn't stop my brave little girl, though, from trying to scale the fence that separated them.



Once we managed to peel Ana off the lion fence, we visited the hyenas, wolves, chimpanzees and bears. Anissa greeted them all with loud, friendly "Bonjour"s. And to cap off what had already been an exciting day, Ana rode trains, planes and automobiles at the amusement park. We said a "difficult""( temper tamptrum) bye bye to Parc Safari and drove home. Entertainment in the car? Mommy's sneezing fits. Apparently, a little zebra fur in the car is enough to trigger quite the allergy attack!

Why am I so happy?

Why am I so happy?
Posted by: trinastjean.

Because I just found out that my Papa is a Doctor! Yup, he officially finished his PhD just over an hour ago. Way to go, Papa!

We are SO proud of you.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Hangin' with some homies

Hangin' with some homies
Posted by: trinastjean.

One last story from Caroline

One last story from Caroline
Posted by: trinastjean.

Au Revoir, les amies. A la prochaine.

Au Revoir, les amies. A la prochaine.
Posted by: trinastjean.

Today was our last Carrefour (playgroup). I couldn't help getting a little sad; Anissa and I have been attending this group weekly since she was 7 months old. Only a few months left to go before our big move...

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Sorry, had to get that out.

We also had a nice surprise visit from Laurel, Clara and Leo (just in time to save me from Anissa-won't-nap frustration), and Natasha and Mariella later joined the party. It's amazing how fast three toddlers (and some Moms with the munchies) can polish off a box of Goldfish crackers!

Fine Dining

Fine Dining
Posted by: trinastjean.

Papa was sick today and Daddy had work to do, so naturally Natasha, Mariella, Anissa and I took off shopping. I packed the girls a thermos lunch to avoid the usual food-court frenzy, and we fed them in the car before heading into Winners. Anissa scored a fold-up tunnel (and a Dora one nonetheless), bathtub crayons and an early birthday present from Mariella, a parachute. (Those of you with young ones know that this is not for actual parachutting. I'll let the rest of you figure it out.) When we got back home, Ana had a blast playing in her tunnel. She tried out the crayons in the tub. But what was the one event of our day that she had to talk about, that seems to have left the biggest impression on her?

Eating meatballs in the car with Mariella!

What Not to Wear - Ana Style

While shopping earlier this week, I decided to try a little experiment. Anissa was in the dressing room with me while I tried on a few t-shirts, and I was in desperate need of some fashion advice. There were no salespeople in sight, so why couldn't she, I thought, give me the thumbs up/down on the potential purchases? I explained to her that I was going to show her some new clothes, and I wanted her to tell me if she liked them or didn't like them. And she would do this by saying BLEH! (her word for things that gross her out - boogers, paint on her fingers, etc) if she didn't like the shirt, or WOW! if she liked the shirt. She was quite enthused about the idea, and I even got my hopes up a little. Kids are honest, I told myself, this will be perfect.

I started with a lovely turquoise number with some pretty beading. This is the conversation that followed:

ME: So, what do you think, Anissa? Do you like this one? Bleh or Wow?
ANISSA: (actually takes the time to look carefully at the shirt. This is working, I think, she's really going to give me her opinion!) Mmmmmm, mmmmmm, Bleh.
ME: Really? Bleh? You don't like it?
ANISSA: No, no, Wow! Wow!
ME: Oh, wow. So you do like it?
ANISSA: Bleh! Wow!
ME: OK, now what does that mean? Are you undecided?
ANISSA: WOW! (getting louder now) WOW! WOOOOWWWW!
ME: Yeah, it is nice, isn't it? And it brings out my eyes, if I may say so.
ANISSA: BLEH! BLEH!

This is what you get for expecting someone who wears her Papa's underwear on her head to be your personal shopper.

Wash my face? You have to catch me first!

Wash my face? You have to catch me first!
Posted by: trinastjean.

The rice is so-so, but this bowl is yummola.

The rice is so-so, but this bowl is yummola.
Posted by: trinastjean.

Someone, anyone, save me!

Anissa was just drifting off her afternoon nap today - on the couch, in my arms - when the doorbell rang. Apparently I had made an appointment for a moving estimate last week that I completely do not remember making, so of course I had to let the nice gentleman in and show him the massive quantities of toys (oh and a few pieces of furniture) we will be taking with us to the US of A this summer. Once he left, Anissa was wide awake and no longer on her way to the land of slumber. I had missed the oh-so-slight window of opportunity. So I made the inevitable decision: keep her awake (late nap equals much too late bedtime) but keep her happy. A few hours later my friend Karen, who is visiting from Toronto and has not seen Anissa since September, came over to hang out. Anissa, by this point over-tired and a bit wired, kept away from Karen, shooting her suspicious looks from behind furniture. Ten minutes later I'm assuring Karen not too worry, my daughter will warm up to her, when the doorbell rings. It's a hardy construction man, here to give us a free quote on some work we need done on the condo. Problem is, he speaks French, as the Quebecois say, avec "une patate dans la bouche" (a potato in the mouth). After 7 years in la belle province, I think I manage to get by in French, but I only caught every second word that came out of this man's mouth. And Mehdi, who was supposed to be home 15 minutes earlier to show the guy our dungeon basement, was nowhere in sight. I had no choice but to descend into the dungeon with him and try to decipher his mumblings and - and now this is the tricky part - leave my Mommy's-girl daughter with Karen (a stranger). I knew she wouldn't take to it too well. Quick apologies, and I left the two to get reacquainted.

The entire time I was outside and downstairs, I was distracted by concerns. Was she frantically screaming, freaking out that she had been abandoned? And how was my Anissa? When Mehdi finally pulled up and saved me, I ran back upstairs to discover that neither Anissa nor Karen were in tears. Karen had managed to calm a panicked Anissa, who was yelling "Mama! Mama!" out the window, by singing a made-up Come Back Soon Mama song. It was only later that night, over drinks with Karen, that I found out things had grown a little more desperate than that. Near the end of the evening, Karen leaned forward and asked "By the way, who is Lala?" Apparently, after she had explained to Anissa that I would be back soon, she had started yelling out the window for Lala (Mariella). If Mama couldn't save her, then the next best thing would be her twenty-one-month-old best friend.

You have bad hair, but I love you anyway Mama.

Today was one of those days when the smallest things made me ridiculously happy. Everything had me grinning: the way Anissa called the birds in the park to “come” (Bum, Birds! Bum! – she has trouble pronouncing the letter C); the goofy-looking dog (hubba in Arabic) under the table in a riverside café that Anissa talked to while we had hot chocolate (Bonjour, hubba. Hi, hubba. Morning, hubba.); Mehdi, Ana and I singing in the car to Led Zeppelin cover tunes; the softness of Anissa’s neck below her ponytail. Today, I didn’t even mind folding the laundry. Life is good.

Excuse the sentimentality, but it’s Mother’s Day and I am a very very happy mother.

So Happy Mother’s Day to all you other mommies – my Mom, especially. You taught me by your loving example that family is happiness, and that is a gift for which I’m forever grateful. Thank you Mom.

Mama Jo, Please Don't Go!

Mama Jo, Please Don't Go!
Posted by: trinastjean.

We went to Trudeau to see Mama Jo (Mehdi's mom) off for a visit to Tunisia. Anissa doesn't like saying goodbye to any of her grandparents (they always seem to be coming and going), but at least getting pushed around in a cart and playing at the big indoor playground in the airport made her feel a little better. Then, of course, there were the stickers that she got from Memere and Pepere (my parents) in the mail this morning to entertain her on the ride home in the car.

A double-pebble throw

A double-pebble throw
Posted by: trinastjean.

Anissa and Mariella were in their glory yesterday when, instead of finding ducks in the park pond, they found a huge puddle and millions of rocks ripe for the pickin!

Ooooh, Papa's head is scratchy!

Ooooh, Papa's head is scratchy!
Posted by: trinastjean.

Cannibalism?

A conversation in our kitchen this morning:

Anissa (tugging on my pant leg): MAMA! Umma! (translation= yum yum/food)

Me: OK, OK. Yes, breakfast. How about some blueberries, like bears eat? Would you like some blueberries?

Anissa: AAAAAH! (unhappy yell) Umma! Mama!

Me: OK, no blueberries. Cheerios, then?

Anissa (shaking head fervently): No, NO! Umma, Mama!

Me: Anissa, you love blueberries, you love cheerios. But all right. Do you want some toast instead? With jam?

Anissa: Aaaaaaah! (frustrated scream) No, no, NO! Mama, umma!

Me: I'm trying, Anissa, I really am. What do you want to eat? Tell me! Use your words.

Anissa: (opens her mouth and, with a wicked little grin, pretends to take a bite out of my thigh) Mama, Umma!

Me (shocked): You want to eat Mama?

Anissa (jumping up and down): Yeah, yeah, YEAH!

Don't worry, I convinced her to have the cheerios in the end.

No pretty pictures

It's been busy around here the past few days. We spent Saturday hanging out with Aziz, Eolie and Jo (Mehdi's mom), and Anissa went to the airport that night with Mehdi and Jo to say "Au revoir" to Uncle Aziz. The next morning, the first thing she told me when she woke up was "Aziz, up-down (which is her word for airplane). Bye bye!". She's going to miss him!

Sunday morning we had a house full for brunch: Natasha, Dan (or, as Anissa calls him, "Daddy") and Mariella, Luis, Mary and Mateo, and Laurel with her two cuties Clara and Leo. We big people managed to have a fairly relaxing breakfast while the midgets danced and played and wolfed down waffles/grapes/blueberries/crackers/any scrap we plunked down on the table in the living room. Not long after the dust had cleared, Mehdi and I dropped Anissa off at Mama Jo's house and went out for a movie matinee. Aaaaah, precious "down time". (Thanks, Mama Jo!)

Today, Anissa's got a bit of a cold that, unforunately, has cranked the whining to fullgear. I thought, this morning, if I heard "Mama, Hug!" (which is her very sly way of getting me to pick her up) one more time I would lose my mind. Thankfully, a little outing involving a donut at Tim Hortons with Tasha and Lala soothed my psyche.

Bad news: I had some sweet photos to post and I accidentally erased them while trying to download. It's a miracle I manage to have a blog.