I think I may have to accept the inevitable: Anissa no longer needs a nap. Whenever she skips one, which is fairly often these days, she holds up just fine for at least 12 hours or so. Today, we had a full morning that would have knocked her out if she really needed an afternoon siesta: she attended the library story hour (which includes singing, dancing, and a craft), then played in the playground and ran up and down her beloved covered bridge, ate lunch and jumped on the trampoline, and listened to me read all her new library books. Still, by 2:30 she was showing no major signs of fatigue. So she watched an episode of Mr. Dressup (a DVD from a set I nostalgically purchased in Montreal), then played "pretend" and trick-or-treating for the rest of the afternoon while I did some cleaning. There were no meltdowns at all. So, yesterday, why did I....
DRIVE TO MAINE TO PUT HER TO SLEEP?
It finally happened. I can now say that I drove to another state just to give her a nap. You see, it's been months and months since she will actually go down at home. This was OK in Montreal, where we actually spent long stretches of time walking about, either heading home from an outing or shopping or whatever, because she would crash in the stroller. But, well, there's just not as much to see on foot in Dover. And we are more often in the car here, so a well-timed car ride home is generally the new napping method. Yesterday, Anissa woke up earlier in the morning than usual and was acting tired at her gymnastics class, so after a drive to the Dollar Store (boy, I miss Dollarama!) I thought I'd take the opportunity for a scenic detour to a few nearby towns on the way home. We made it to Somersworth, only about 5 minutes away, and Anissa was still banging on a tupperware dish I had bought at the dollar store and singing (sort of) her ABCs. I kept driving, sure she was on the verge of conking out. We were nearing the Maine border when she treated me to a new song. It went something like:
"I pee on the potteeeeeee-ya! I pee on the big potteeeeee-ya! And the little poteeee-ya!"
I was trying hard not to laugh, and thinking maybe I should turn around and head back to New Hampshire, when she started her usual pre-nap whining for a "hug, Momma, hug"! She went down in Maine, and I carried her up to her room a mere ten minutes later.
This is a pretty expensive napping method, consider the price of gas. But at least I'm getting to know the area.
A few favorite moments from our busy day today:
1) Anissa's deep voice standing out amongst all the little squeaky ones while singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star at the library Story Hour (Natasha doesn't call her the Soul Singer for nothing).
2) Anissa actually getting into Mr. Dressup, my favorite show as a kid. I wasn't sure she'd enjoy the slow-pace of the show - after all, she's used to the fast-paced action of Dora the Explorer - but she loves it. He's her new hero.
3) The way she comforted me when she heard me complaining out loud that the onions I was chopping were making me cry. "It's OK, Momma," she said. "Don't be sad. Onions are nice!"
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Me Too!
Lucky us. We got to spend the weekend in Montreal. The excuse to go was Mehdi's conference, but the real reason was to see everyone. Aziz and Eolie have moved back from Paris, and Mehdi's cousin Cais came down from Quebec city for the weekend, so we had a genuine family reunion. Natasha and Dan threw us a wonderful post-departure farewell party on Saturday, and although the time with our friends and family was all too brief it was soooo nice.
Anissa, of course, had a great time hanging out with everyone. On the long drive home, she asked me all kinds of questions: "Mama Jo can't walk to the new house? I can't go to Lala's house?" When we passed Concord, she saw the lights and asked me where we were. I explained it was the city where we pick up Mama Jo and Natasha and Mariella when they come to see us on the bus, and she let out a long sigh. "Í want them to come see me. All of them. I wuv them. All of them!"
My sentiments exactly!
(Anissa at Mama Jo's apartment with the family, a view of Montreal's "mountain" in the background)
Anissa, of course, had a great time hanging out with everyone. On the long drive home, she asked me all kinds of questions: "Mama Jo can't walk to the new house? I can't go to Lala's house?" When we passed Concord, she saw the lights and asked me where we were. I explained it was the city where we pick up Mama Jo and Natasha and Mariella when they come to see us on the bus, and she let out a long sigh. "Í want them to come see me. All of them. I wuv them. All of them!"
My sentiments exactly!
(Anissa at Mama Jo's apartment with the family, a view of Montreal's "mountain" in the background)
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Just another outing
I had a whole roster of activities planned for our first week of real life (without guests) in Dover: Monday, playgroup; Tuesday, Crafty Kids; Wednesday, gymnastics; Thursday, Library Story Hour, then leaving for our weekend trip to Montreal. Tuesday night, though, and it all changed.
When Anissa woke up around 1:30 a.m., I could hear the strange choking sounds all the way from our room. I ran to get her and discovered her gasping for breath to the point that she could barely cry out for us. Adrenalin kicked in, of course. All I could think was "asthma attack!", because I suffered enough of those as a kid. So I knew what to do. I ran downstairs (yelling at Mehdi to get dressed, that we were going to Emergency) and opened all the windows, getting her to breath in the fresh, cool air. Once she was able to get some oxygen, she began to cough and I realized this was no asthma attack: she was barking that seal-llike cough I've heard about. CROUP!
By the time we got to the hospital (thankfully only a minute's drive away), Anissa was sleepy but breathing just fine. And by the time we got the see the doctor, she was thinking that this was one cool dream. She got to see all the tools from her favorite toy, her doctor's kit, but real and in action. She got stickers. And, to make it all the more pleasant, our doctor was a Canuck from P.E.I., so Mehdi and I got treated to a nice maritimer's accent and some chitchat about "back home". A good time was had by all.
Oh, and yes, Anissa has croup. The first case of the season seen in these parts. It's a pretty common childhood illness, and usually nothing to worry about. She's been doing fine since. It is, however, highly contagious. So our activities have been cancelled and instead we're hanging out at home. Anissa doesn't seem to mind. In fact, there's only one thing she keeps asking to do again "next week"...
A trip to see the doctor!
When Anissa woke up around 1:30 a.m., I could hear the strange choking sounds all the way from our room. I ran to get her and discovered her gasping for breath to the point that she could barely cry out for us. Adrenalin kicked in, of course. All I could think was "asthma attack!", because I suffered enough of those as a kid. So I knew what to do. I ran downstairs (yelling at Mehdi to get dressed, that we were going to Emergency) and opened all the windows, getting her to breath in the fresh, cool air. Once she was able to get some oxygen, she began to cough and I realized this was no asthma attack: she was barking that seal-llike cough I've heard about. CROUP!
By the time we got to the hospital (thankfully only a minute's drive away), Anissa was sleepy but breathing just fine. And by the time we got the see the doctor, she was thinking that this was one cool dream. She got to see all the tools from her favorite toy, her doctor's kit, but real and in action. She got stickers. And, to make it all the more pleasant, our doctor was a Canuck from P.E.I., so Mehdi and I got treated to a nice maritimer's accent and some chitchat about "back home". A good time was had by all.
Oh, and yes, Anissa has croup. The first case of the season seen in these parts. It's a pretty common childhood illness, and usually nothing to worry about. She's been doing fine since. It is, however, highly contagious. So our activities have been cancelled and instead we're hanging out at home. Anissa doesn't seem to mind. In fact, there's only one thing she keeps asking to do again "next week"...
A trip to see the doctor!
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Love is in the air
We never talk to Anissa about the idea of husbands or boyfriends or any of that romance business, which is why one of her evening's conversations with Papa was especially surprising :
Anissa: When Anissa's bigger, I wanna have a boy.
Mehdi: Oh, you want to be a mommy and have a baby boy?
Anissa: No! When I bigger, I wanna have a Papa boy. A boy like Papa!
One thing's for sure: the girl's got great taste!
Anissa: When Anissa's bigger, I wanna have a boy.
Mehdi: Oh, you want to be a mommy and have a baby boy?
Anissa: No! When I bigger, I wanna have a Papa boy. A boy like Papa!
One thing's for sure: the girl's got great taste!
Friday, September 16, 2005
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Falling in love again and again
I don't have any story to tell, but I thought I'd share some of the adorable things our daughter has been saying and doing lately. I may have said this at every other stage of her development, but I honestly think this age is the best. A few reasons why:
Her imagination. She loves to play that she is someone else (a policewoman riding a horse, like the mounted police here in town; a monster, usually a Gagawa from a French book; a mommy saying "It's OK" to a crying baby; a cashier) and of course insists everyone else play along. In fact, I sometimes feel I hardly see my daughter these days and am instead spending time with a host of interesting characters. She can get so into her play that she's oblivious to what is going on around her, such as the time when I was trying to buy a bus ticket at the counter and she (in my arms) was insisting that I pretend I was a dog. I nearly barked and panted just to get her to stop yelling. Other times, like when I went to take a sip of "tea" that came from the bathtub, she firmly reminded me that it's only pretend (and, in that case, that I was about to drink "bum soup", what we call bath water). Most of the time, she is brutally honest (announcing "I'm pooping! Holy! Big poo!", no matter where she is in public) but other times she likes to entertain with a little exaggeration - like her Mommy. After a uneventful boat cruise with my parents on the weekend, during which we saw a few seals poke their heads out of the water, she told Mama Jo on the phone that we had seen a shark!
I have a question for Mama Jo: is Anissa's report of what you do at work true? Anissa has spent some time at her grandma's office, and recently told us that Mama Jo's job involves looking at pictures of Anissa all day and eating chocolat! Hmmmm.
Her sweet, loving nature. She gives compliments: "Wow, Papa. Your shirt! I like it." She tells us she loves us. When someone seems upset, she gently tells them, "It's OK". Last night, as I was holding her hands to walk down the stairs she turned, grabbed my face and said, "Oh, Mama. Your brown eyes are so nice. So nice!". Forget that I was wearing sweatpants and one of her hairclips pulling back my bangs - I felt like the most beautiful woman on earth!
Her smarts - street and otherwise. She's good at puzzles, she's strong and can kick a soccer ball better than I can, she can count to 10 in English, Arabic and French. She corrects Mehdi's English and my attempts at Arabic (in fact, she outright laughs at those). But she's also got street smarts; she can stare down any stranger with a look I know will come back to haunt us in her teenage years. There's no messing with this girl.
Thanks for indulging my need to brag up our little rascal. I'll save some for another time!
Her imagination. She loves to play that she is someone else (a policewoman riding a horse, like the mounted police here in town; a monster, usually a Gagawa from a French book; a mommy saying "It's OK" to a crying baby; a cashier) and of course insists everyone else play along. In fact, I sometimes feel I hardly see my daughter these days and am instead spending time with a host of interesting characters. She can get so into her play that she's oblivious to what is going on around her, such as the time when I was trying to buy a bus ticket at the counter and she (in my arms) was insisting that I pretend I was a dog. I nearly barked and panted just to get her to stop yelling. Other times, like when I went to take a sip of "tea" that came from the bathtub, she firmly reminded me that it's only pretend (and, in that case, that I was about to drink "bum soup", what we call bath water). Most of the time, she is brutally honest (announcing "I'm pooping! Holy! Big poo!", no matter where she is in public) but other times she likes to entertain with a little exaggeration - like her Mommy. After a uneventful boat cruise with my parents on the weekend, during which we saw a few seals poke their heads out of the water, she told Mama Jo on the phone that we had seen a shark!
I have a question for Mama Jo: is Anissa's report of what you do at work true? Anissa has spent some time at her grandma's office, and recently told us that Mama Jo's job involves looking at pictures of Anissa all day and eating chocolat! Hmmmm.
Her sweet, loving nature. She gives compliments: "Wow, Papa. Your shirt! I like it." She tells us she loves us. When someone seems upset, she gently tells them, "It's OK". Last night, as I was holding her hands to walk down the stairs she turned, grabbed my face and said, "Oh, Mama. Your brown eyes are so nice. So nice!". Forget that I was wearing sweatpants and one of her hairclips pulling back my bangs - I felt like the most beautiful woman on earth!
Her smarts - street and otherwise. She's good at puzzles, she's strong and can kick a soccer ball better than I can, she can count to 10 in English, Arabic and French. She corrects Mehdi's English and my attempts at Arabic (in fact, she outright laughs at those). But she's also got street smarts; she can stare down any stranger with a look I know will come back to haunt us in her teenage years. There's no messing with this girl.
Thanks for indulging my need to brag up our little rascal. I'll save some for another time!
Saturday, September 10, 2005
The Voyage
I broke down and did it. Something I am a tiny bit ashamed to admit, because it's one of the millions of things I said I would never do when I became a parent that I now do. After we had Anissa I began to truly understand the meaning of "desperate times call for desperate measures".
I bought a portable DVD player. Now Anissa can watch videos during "long" trips in the car. I didn't really buy it for her. It's more, I confess, to save my own sanity. See, when we drive anywhere for more than half an hour or so, I have to be "The Entertainer". And when you have a toddler who hates the car, you have to really put on quite a show or you pay an awful price and endure endless whining and crying until you feel like you want to hurl yourself out the window onto the freeway. So I thought I'd leave the entertaining to Dora or someone more qualified for at least part of such trips. And the reason I bought the device this week specifically was because I had to drive with Anissa (sans Mehdi; he was teaching) to pick up my parents at Logan airport in Boston on Wednesday night. It's only about an hour and a half away, but I guess I must be a pessimist because I always imagine the worse possible scenario (Anissa throwing an hour+ long tantrum the entire way while I'm trying desperately to read maps and follow signs in the dark with insane big-city drivers cursing at me as the drive by). The TV, I was sure, would buy me the security I needed to make it to Logan.
How naive.
By the time I arrived at the airport at 8:15 p.m., I could have swallowed a whole bottle of Gaviscon to fight the ulcer that was beginning to form in my stomach. The TV had worked its magic for the first 45 minutes or so of the trip, when it was still light out and I was smoothly sailing down a four-lane superhighway. It was when it got dark, when staring at that screen began to tire Anissa's eyes and she asked me to shut it off, that I knew this little bit of technology was not going to save me. Just as I had to turn off the four-laner and start driving into the city, she started to whine. I asked her, please please, not to do it now. To have a meltdown later, at the airport, but not when I needed to concentrate. I begged her to be happy, to give Mommy a break so I could find the airport. She tried, I'll give her that. She yelled, "Airport! Where you?", "Memere, Pepere! Where you?". But a few minutes later, when I got to the first of a series of complicated badly indicated giant traffic circles where I had to cut off various big trucks to make it over a few lanes when the Logan Airport sign popped out of nowhere, Anissa could no longer contain her frustration. She let it all out. And out some more.
It's a miracle I made it there at all. Dad assures me that in a year's time, after the umpteenth trip to Logan airport, I'll laugh that I ever found the trip difficult. But with that wailing Banshee in the backseat, it seemed like the most complicated route ever. (If you've ever seen Peewee's Big Adventure, it was kind of like the scene when Peewee is driving the semi through the mountain roads and the signs get more and more ridiculously convoluted. I swear.) As soon as we found Terminal C and Anissa was unbuckled, everything was fine and dandy. She gave Memere and Pepere the warmest welcome, and fell asleep in the car on the way home - which, along with the fact that I had Dad in the front seat to help navigate, made the trip back almost relaxing.
So that little TV is not the magic solution I thought it would be. But having Memere and Pepere here is well worth any trip.
Just look at Anissa playing the tour guide, pointing out grapes, at the Strawberry Banke museum in Portsmouth yesterday!
I bought a portable DVD player. Now Anissa can watch videos during "long" trips in the car. I didn't really buy it for her. It's more, I confess, to save my own sanity. See, when we drive anywhere for more than half an hour or so, I have to be "The Entertainer". And when you have a toddler who hates the car, you have to really put on quite a show or you pay an awful price and endure endless whining and crying until you feel like you want to hurl yourself out the window onto the freeway. So I thought I'd leave the entertaining to Dora or someone more qualified for at least part of such trips. And the reason I bought the device this week specifically was because I had to drive with Anissa (sans Mehdi; he was teaching) to pick up my parents at Logan airport in Boston on Wednesday night. It's only about an hour and a half away, but I guess I must be a pessimist because I always imagine the worse possible scenario (Anissa throwing an hour+ long tantrum the entire way while I'm trying desperately to read maps and follow signs in the dark with insane big-city drivers cursing at me as the drive by). The TV, I was sure, would buy me the security I needed to make it to Logan.
How naive.
By the time I arrived at the airport at 8:15 p.m., I could have swallowed a whole bottle of Gaviscon to fight the ulcer that was beginning to form in my stomach. The TV had worked its magic for the first 45 minutes or so of the trip, when it was still light out and I was smoothly sailing down a four-lane superhighway. It was when it got dark, when staring at that screen began to tire Anissa's eyes and she asked me to shut it off, that I knew this little bit of technology was not going to save me. Just as I had to turn off the four-laner and start driving into the city, she started to whine. I asked her, please please, not to do it now. To have a meltdown later, at the airport, but not when I needed to concentrate. I begged her to be happy, to give Mommy a break so I could find the airport. She tried, I'll give her that. She yelled, "Airport! Where you?", "Memere, Pepere! Where you?". But a few minutes later, when I got to the first of a series of complicated badly indicated giant traffic circles where I had to cut off various big trucks to make it over a few lanes when the Logan Airport sign popped out of nowhere, Anissa could no longer contain her frustration. She let it all out. And out some more.
It's a miracle I made it there at all. Dad assures me that in a year's time, after the umpteenth trip to Logan airport, I'll laugh that I ever found the trip difficult. But with that wailing Banshee in the backseat, it seemed like the most complicated route ever. (If you've ever seen Peewee's Big Adventure, it was kind of like the scene when Peewee is driving the semi through the mountain roads and the signs get more and more ridiculously convoluted. I swear.) As soon as we found Terminal C and Anissa was unbuckled, everything was fine and dandy. She gave Memere and Pepere the warmest welcome, and fell asleep in the car on the way home - which, along with the fact that I had Dad in the front seat to help navigate, made the trip back almost relaxing.
So that little TV is not the magic solution I thought it would be. But having Memere and Pepere here is well worth any trip.
Just look at Anissa playing the tour guide, pointing out grapes, at the Strawberry Banke museum in Portsmouth yesterday!
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Wishing Well
Anissa and Mariella said a sticky (due to ice-cream consumed at the bus station) goodbye this afternoon. My little sweetheart must have sensed that I was feeling a little sad about our friends' departure, because she not only stayed sitting in the shopping cart for more than an hour at Target but also loudly proclaimed her affection for me for all the other shoppers to hear ("I love Mama! I LOVE Mama! I love MAMA!").
It's amazing how three little words can melt the heart.
(The photo was taken yesterday at the gardens in Portsmouth.)
Monday, September 05, 2005
Privacy, please!
Anissa and I were lucky enough to join in a celebration today when Mariella made a poo in the potty. Anissa was especially lucky because she also got a reward lollipop, although she hadn't created anything in the loo. The girls were so excited about their treats that they shut themselves away in the bathroom and Anissa sang "Happy Birthday to Lala". When we opened the door to peek in on the festivities, Lala told us firmly to close the door.
We can already imagine what they'll be like as teenagers!
We can already imagine what they'll be like as teenagers!
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Reunion
Anissa must surely be thinking that this new house place is pretty darn cool. First, Mommy and Papa are home with her all day, taking her out to the beach and having picnics in the backyard. Then Mama Jo not only comes to visit, but actually sleeps over for a long weekend. It was really tough to say goodbye when Mama Jo boarded the bus back to Montreal (Anissa sobbed, actually) but at least Mariella and Natasha had just gotten off the bus just 45 minutes earlier and came over for a week-long pyjama party! The girls hadn't seen each other for over a month, but the moment they saw each other they were back to their old ways. Yes, they are adorable together (kissing, hugging, holding hands, saying thank you and please and you're welcome) but they are also keeping Natasha and I on our toes with their usual antics. We've been out and about, exploring. We've been to a beach in New Hampshire and another in Maine, shopping, to Portsmouth's Children's Museum and on numerous other outings for icecream and whatever else keeps our darlings happy.
Needless to say, we're having a great time. And, the icing on the cake, Natasha and Lala wake up early and make us waffles or go to the bakery and buy us croissants. We're so spoiled!
Needless to say, we're having a great time. And, the icing on the cake, Natasha and Lala wake up early and make us waffles or go to the bakery and buy us croissants. We're so spoiled!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)