Guess where... Devine où...

Everybody knows that moms are supposed to know everything. All the time. Including where every little toys are. Even after they haven't been sighted for 6 months. (Actually, I know for real where those are likely to be: the belly of the vacuum cleaner or the municipal dump. But that is my secret... I chose to feign ignorance sometimes!). I may not know what to have for supper tonight, but I know that the Bratz shoe (don't get me started on that *%#$ doll!) that is under the shirt that is under the pillow under my daughter's bed is the one that matches the one that is in the pink purse, in the purple backpack that is lying at the bottom of the clothes hamper. Who am I kidding!? I don't know those things, but I'm expected to! As stated by my daughters regularly, by statements like "Mommyyyyyy, where is my thingimagig, you know the one that Olivia touched with her big toe 3 weeks ago while you were at work?" OK, maybe I exaggerate, but only slightly...While I cannot keep track of every little stray (but very important) tidbit of junk that my daughters see as treasure, I am usually pretty good at keeping track of important stuff, like clothes, keys or the kids themselves. So it was with growing concern that, last week, I couldn't find Olivia's gymnastic suit. When it was time to leave. Of course. I looked everywhere I could think of. Up-ended the laundry basket, rummaged through every drawer. That's when Olivia asked :
- Mom, what you doing?
- I'm looking for your gym suit.
- It's in my room.
- No, I looked and it is not there (said through clenched teeth).
- Oh Mom... It's there! (said with the mother of all eye rolls) Come
see!
She took my hand, and took me to her room. Where she proceeded to remove a family of stuffed toys from the top of a suitcase. Removed the suitcase from the top of her toy box. Removed the lid of the toy box. Removed all the toys from the toy box. What was at the very bottom, perfectly laid out?... you guessed it, the gym suit!

Tout le monde sait que les mères doivent tout savoir. Toujours. Y compris où sont tous les petits jouets. Même s'ils n'ont pas été vu pour les derniers 6 mois. (En passant, je sais très bien où ceux-ci sont probablement: la balayeuse ou le dépotoir municipal. Mais c'est mon secret... Je choisis de feindre l'ignorance parfois!). Je ne sais peut-être pas quoi faire pour souper ce soir, mais je sais que le soulier de Bratz (ne me laisser pas commencer à parler de cette $"*! poupée!) qui est sous le chandail qui est sous l'oreiller qui est en dessous du lit de ma fille va avec celui qui est dans la bourse rose qui est dans le sac à dos mauve qui est au fond du panier à linge. Quand même! Je ne sais pas ces choses, mais c'est ma responsabilité. Tel qu'exprimé par mes filles régulièrement par des énoncés du genre "Mommyyyyy... où est la patente, tu sais celle qu'Olivia a touché avec sa grosse orteil il y a trois semaines pendant que tu étais au travail?" D'accord, j'exagère peut-être, mais à peine...

Même si je ne peux garder l'oeil sur toutes les petites (mais si importantes) babioles que mes filles considèrent trésor, je suis habituellement assez bonne à savoir où sont les choses importantes, comme le linge, les clés ou les enfants. Donc, c'était avec une inquiétude croissante que, la semaine dernière, je ne pouvais trouver la tenue de gymnastique d'Olivia. Au moment de partir. Bien sûr. J'ai regardé partout où je pouvais penser. J'ai vidé des paniers à linge, fouillé dans tous les tiroirs. C'est à ce moment qu'Olivia m'a demandé:
- Mom, qu'est-ce que tu fais?
- Je cherche ta tenue de gymnastique.
- Elle est dans ma chambre.
- Non, j'ai déjà regardé (dit entre les dents serrées)
- Oh Mom... Il est là! (dit avec un roulement des yeux suprême). Viens voir!
Elle m'a prit la main et m'a amenée dans sa chambre. Où elle a enlevé une famille de toutous du dessus d'une valise. Enlevé la valise du dessus de la boîte à jouets. Enlevé le couvert de la boîte à jouets. Enlevé tous les jouets de la boîte à jouets. Qu'est-ce qui était au fond, tout bien étendu?... vous aurez deviné, sa tenue de gymnastique!

Cousins!

The girls just love their cousins! Which warms my heart since we don't see them that often...

First example: Labor Day week-end, Moncton, New Brunswick.
Heather had the fantastic idea to meet for a week-end, because we all agreed that to wait until next summer to see them in Quebec was way too long! So Emily and I met Heather, Alain and Casandra for a two nights-three days family package at the Ramada Crystal Palace. (By popular vote in the Maillet household, it was determined that everybody would enjoy the trip better if miss Ollie spent quality time with Daddy at home. The vote was unanimous!) Despite the obvious fun that we had in such a location in such great company, the week-end revealed some pretty precious moments: a mother-daughter road trip that did in fact bring us closer (complete with an extra night just the two of us at the Delta. Gotta love Air Miles! And I also mean litteraly closer since sleeping with her is like having an octopus velcroed to your body... legs and arms become tentacles in the night, I swear!), a fantastic evening where (miracle of all miracles!) three kids enjoyed a swim for over two hours under our eyes letting us two gals catch up and talk like we haven't done in a long, long, (very) long time, and the following photo... (If I needed a single reminder of why that week-end was important, it would be this picture.)


But don't worry, Olivia got to enjoy a cousin too a few weeks ago. Sarah came from Fredericton to spend Thanksgiving week-end with us. The way the girls were getting excited at the mention that their cousin was coming, I was afraid that they were expecting another kid to play with. So I reminded them that she was a grown-up. I guess the lesson hit home with Olivia, since she woke up on the Friday morning and asked "So, when is my own grown-up Sarah going to be here?" And once Sarah was here, I think she was sitting down for no more than a few minutes before miss O made herself right at home on her lap, as shown on the picture. Position she occupied quite permanently during the week-end!

And the next day, while getting ready to go see a movie, Olivia looked up at Sarah and instructed her that she needed to sit next to her at the movie because she (O) loves her (S). Nothing like a very stern and direct love declaration by a 3 year-old! And within minutes of getting up at 11h am (and was I proud to remind Sarah that she used to think that I slept a lot when we visited them 10 years ago...!), Sarah was informed by O that it was about time she got dressed. She can be such a loving little dictator!

Serenade... Sérénade...

My 3 year-old loves to sing. She sings to herself all the time, and to the whole world, whether the whole world appreciates it or not. So, it was only natural that when we drove back from gymnastic tonight at 6pm, I was treated to a serenade the whole way. I cannot possibly write down all the lyrics, and could never render the improvised tune, but I do recall snipets of it:
"Oh, how I love grilled cheese...
My dear grilled cheese...
I love him so much, he is my friend and he is a grilled cheese...
My tummy loves him too...
Have you every seen a grilled cheese?... They are made with cheese...
I'm dreaming of a grilled cheese...
Clover loves grilled cheese...
Mommy and Daddy love grilled cheese...
Emily loves grilled cheese...
My favorite grilled cheese...
Would you like a grilled cheese?...
Lovely grilled cheese..."
OK, at this point, I started to get an inkling that the kid was hungry and maybe would like to eat a grilled cheese sandwich. Wild guess, but us mothers have intuition you see... And then, on the spur of the moment, she changed the song. She actually kept the tuneless tune, but changed the lyrics completely...
"I won't go to beeeeeeed...
I will never go to bed again...
I'm not tired (yes, but mommy is!)...
I don't need sleep...
Have you ever gone to bed?
Clover goes to bed...
Mommy and Daddy go to bed...
Emily goes to bed...
I don't go to bed...
Mommy says it's OK... (NO, she doesn't!)
I can stay up all night...
Eating grilled cheese..."
Which she didn't, as there was a leftover of mac'n'cheese when we got home and she did go to bed after!

Single again... Célibataire à nouveau...

Don't worry, I am not talking about myself! I am talking about Olivia. First, I'll backtrack a bit and explain that this summer she declared that she got married. Don't be offended by not being invited... As the mother of the bride, I was not even told until after the fact. Apparently, they eloped at day care. It all happened on a rainy day (don't know if it was raining, it just add to the romance of the description!) when they were sitting on the couch together. Her Romeo turned, gazed in her eyes and kissed her. And then TA-DAA! They were married, just like that. During our vacation, she frequently mentioned him and declared that she missed her husband! I suspect that she was a little bit high-maintenance however, from the rules that she told me she gave him: he couldn't kiss another girl and he could only marry her (because apparently, every kiss is a new wedding!). (Oh, her future boyfriends just have no idea what they'll be in for!).

So, back to the present and the newly single gal... I hadn't heard about Romeo (You will have guessed by now that this is not his real name, but to protect his privacy, we'll call him that) for quite a while, so I asked her how he was. "Good" she replied, "but we're no longer married". "Oh, what happened?" "Well, he has a boyfriend now!" And then she started to sing "Romeo and Boyfriend are kissing in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

Oh boy! This kid will be a teenager someday...!

Ne vous inquiétez pas, je ne parle pas de moi! Il s'agit d'Olivia. Premièrement, je vais remonter dans le temps et expliquer qu'elle s'est mariée cet été. Ne soyez pas insulté de ne pas avoir été invité... En temps que mère de la mariée, je ne l'ai pas su avant que le fait sopit accompli. Aparamment, il s'agit d'un mariage spontané à la garderie. Tout est arrivé un beau jour de pluis (en fait, je ne sais pas s'il pleuvait, mais ça contribue au romantique de l'histoire!) quand ils étaient assis ensamble sur le divan. Son Roméo s'est tourné, l'a regardée dans les yeux et l'a embrassée. Et puis TA-DAA! Ils étaient mariés, juste comme ça. Pendant nos vacances, elle l'a mentionné souvent et nous a déclaré qu'elle s'ennuyait de son mari! Je soupçonne qu'elle est un petit peu "haute maintenance" d'après les règles qu'elle m'a dit lui avoir imposé: il ne peut embrasser qu'elle et ne doit marrier qu'elle (parce que, apparament, chaque baiser est un nouveau marriage!). (Oh, comme ses futurs petits copains n'ont aucune idée de ce qui les attends!)

Donc, de retour au présent et à la nouvelle célibataire... Comme je n'avais pas entendu parler de Roméo (vous aurez deviné que je n'utilise pas son vrai nom pour le protéger!) depuis quelque temps, je lui ai demandé comment il allait. "Bien" me répondit-elle, "mais nous ne sommes plus mariés." "Oh, qu'est-ce qui est arrivé?" "Bien, il a un chum maintenant!" et puis elle s'est mise à chanter "Roméo et Copain s'embrassent sous un arbre..."

Oh boy! Cette enfant sera une adolescente un jour!