stories told

I remember being told that kids get really interesting after they begin talking. I did not believe it, though. I enjoyed every stage of Kaspar’s growth. But now, when I’m faced with a six month old and a two/almost three year old, I’m beginning to see what they were talking about. It’s much more fascinating to follow the daily events of an almost three year old then those of a six month old baby. After all, how much can I talk about her drooling, teething, sucking on her toes and so on? Kaspar on the other hand is full of surprises and NEVER ending chatter.

The other day I opened my email to find a handful of fire truck pictures for Kaspar from his grandparents. He climbed into my lap and we did not stop looking at them until the laptop finally ran out of juice and even then I had to deal with heartfelt tears. Kaspar has the wildest imagination. One or two pictures of his liking are often enough to spark questions that in return will begin an entire story in his little head. And the questions he asks are not of the easy sort. I often find myself speechless, looking for a good answer and while I wait trying to figure out a good reply, he just continues with the same question... repeating it over and over again, as thought to help me understand it better or something. It’s a strange quirk. But I think that most kids his age like to repeat questions. I know that some of my friends have complained about the “why? Why? Why?” period in their toddlers’ lives. Kaspar has not taken to the simple “why?” question. His ‘why?’s are much more complicated. Take for instance the fire truck pictures. He asks sort of like this: “If this really is a parade, and I think you’re wrong mommy, then there should have been a Santa Claus or some elves somewhere or at the very least balloons. They don’t make parades without balloons or elves. I know! I’ve been to parades. Remember? Remember? Remember?” And even though I try to tell him that I know he’s been to the Santa Claus parade his “Remember?” keeps coming until I do remember, yes, St. Patrick’s day parade or as he likes to call it the parade with the green elves and clowns. But before I finish a sentence he’s already flying : “So, if it’s not a parade then why would all the fire trucks be on grandpa’s street? Maybe there was a fire in the next building? Or maybe there was one in their building? Maybe even a small fire in their apartment.....?” And you can just tell that the drama is beginning to build, regardless of my answers to his questions, he’s already begun his story. His eyes are shining; he speaks a little faster, a little hurried. He leans in to the computer a little and continues: “Maybe, MAYBE... grandma left some matches on the counter (he has just learned about match safety, because here a lot of people have gas stoves that have to be lit with a match!) and some little boy came into the kitchen and took the matches and all of a sudden one match lit up and then one more and OH BOY, I think that boy is going to get into trouble! Isn’t he? Isn’t he? Isn’t he? Isn’t he? Isn’t he?” Eventually his story took us back to the firemen having to drive up grandma’s street and save the burning kitchen and grandma being very thankful... and the firemen having to wash their dirty trucks... etc. etc.

It’s interesting, though, that he is very aware of it being a fictional story. If I was to ask a day later what the story was about the trucks and grandma’s place, he’d more than likely just look at me perplexed and confused. He seems to create these stories in the moment and leave them just as fast behind. And all of them start with a very, very exaggerated “MAYBE...” I love listening to him tell the stories and sometime even help him along by carefully interjecting a little detail or two that take him in a new direction. It’s amazing with how much detail a three year old child is able to tell a story! They’re sometimes way better then the published stories in children’s books. If he continues like this then by the time Stella is ready for bedtime stories I won’t have to tell them myself. I’ll have a way better storyteller in the house... Ha!

not so very sick

Well, Saturday sale was not meant to be for me. Even though I was feeling much better, Stella came down with fever on Thursday night and I ended up staying home with her on Friday as well as today just to make sure the fever is over and done with. Like most baby fevers it came and went over the course of about 8-12 hours and I’m clueless as to what caused it. Since she has not had any of mine or Kaspar’s symptoms, I’m guessing that she might have had something as insignificant as teething fever. Who knows? She has been teething during the course of the last week, that’s for sure. We travel with 5-10 shirts and/or bibs everywhere we go. It does not take much more than 15 minutes for the entire front of her shirt, from neck to waist to be soaked through. Maybe she’s caught a cold because of it. Ha! What does it matter, really? I’m just glad that she’s better and Kaspar is on the mend, as well, and I’m getting better if ever so slowly, too. Thanks for all the good energy!

I was talking to a Toronto pal yesterday and we were comparing notes on laryngitis infections, common colds, flu and remedies of all sorts ... and ... it made me realize once again how much of what we do is influenced by the way we’ve been brought up and the way we are used to solving problems. Do I sound profound? Ha! Not really where I meant to go. However, our conversation sparked an interesting train of thought... bare with me for a moment...

Most people go to see a doctor as soon as they get sick and most doctors will prescribe a medication of some sorts to heal the ailment, whatever it may be. Most of the medications in their list of contents have things that are completely foreign to us, at times even unpronounceable chemicals and drugs that we have never heard of. Yet, we wholeheartedly trust that this medication will make us better, because the doctor said so. Or maybe it’s because we paid a plump sum of money for the drug at the pharmacy? Whatever the reason, but generally we’ll trust the drug. Ok, you might argue that this is a simplified version of the truth, but you can relate to it as truth generally speaking, right?

On the other hand, if I told you to put a hot (well, let me correct myself, very warm – so that you don’t burn yourself!) baked onion on your ear for about four hours to heal an awful earache, you’d probably roll your eyes and not really want to take me seriously. Most people don’t. Yet, I’ve grown up on healing wisdom like that. I’ve used it and know that it works, at times even better then the drugs. I don’t know why it works, but it works. Perhaps the reason why we have not found a cure for cancer or aids is strictly based on money? Sounds like some crazy conspiracy theory? No! But think about it ... If people invested the millions of dollars that are being invested in research of drugs and chemicals, instead in researching commonly known herbs, fruits and vegetables that are known to have healing properties, then maybe we’d know why a baked onion can heal an earache faster than any drug will. Maybe we’d also know a lot more about the healing properties of that onion, ginger, lemon etc. But why would a company invest money in something like that? They cannot make big bucks selling onions. Of course not! So, I figure it’s only logical to give every home remedy a try before going for the hard core drugs, because an onion is not just a part of your daily vitamin C intake. That’s only scratching the surface of it. Medicine has its place, no doubt about it. But first we should all take the onion seriously!

Hanging out with some older folk in my family, talking about their memories of times past and seeing my grandparents homestead again has made me, once again, want to write down all these little wisdoms that come from within, that come from a time when we were simpler yet wiser as a human kind.

Maybe one day I’ll post a handful of my family’s recipes for well being on the blog. Or publish a book. Or just keep them in a dusty box under my desk and take a peak once in a while when fighting another nasty bout of laryngitis. In either case I’m glad to have my little box of treasures!

sick

Arrgh. I’m sick. I hate being sick. I was sure that I was going to be unscathed. However I seem to have gotten it worse than the kids. Stella is just a little restless at night and congested. I can tell she's fighting a bug of some sorts. Kaspar has been sick for several days, but only with minor cold symptoms and a hacking cough during the night. But together it's enough to keep me up at night more often than I’d like. So, I’m blaming my laryngitis on the sleepless nights. Got to blame it on something, right? And I have it bad! Very bad!!! It’s the most terrible timing, too. I got into this big craft show and sale in Riga very last minute. I had missed the application date by a mile and I was sure they would not accept me, but they did. It’s taking place this Saturday and Sunday in an outdoor museum not unlike a typical “pioneer village” in Canada. I’m still planning to do it, but I do have some back-up if I end up being deathly ill. I hope I’ll get better. It’s Thursday night as we speak and I have not a voice and my throat kills and I’m chewing on raw onion just to keep the tickle in the throat at bay. I hope you feel for me. I need some sympathy... say a prayer for me and send all your good thoughts my way... I need all the help I can get.

a little irony

What irony... After posting yesterday's post I was looking at some of my pictures and found this one. Kaspar is in the middle. Just look at the kid... talk about overdressed. Unfortunately I cannot take credit for dressing him. It was his own doing with the help of his cousins. Maybe he's just trying to fit in?

through rose coloured glasses

greenhouse

Have you ever noticed how busy life suddenly gets, when you are on holidays? It’s this strange phenomenon. I always make these grand plans of catching up on all these little things (like organizing my ‘itunes’ and sorting pictures and such) when I’m away from home, but they never get done. It’s almost as though I need the stress of a very busy life to get anything done at all.

I was convinced that while in Latvia (especially now that I have a work lap-top!) I’d be blogging a lot more, too. Alas, it isn’t so! It seems like every minute of the day is taken up by one insignificant little thing after another and before you know it the day is over. And even though Kaspar has begun napping again (He often sleeps a good two to three hours during the day! Yay!!!), days when both kids are asleep at the same time are far too rare. So, when it does happen, I grab the opportunity to do a thing or two.

The weather has been blissfully warm and sunny and we’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors. It’s ironic that despite the usually cool springs here, this one has been consistently warm and sunny. I’ll even go as far as to say that every single day the projected temperature has been warmer than that of Toronto. And that’s a true rarity! I’m sure Toronto will catch up by the end of this week... and we’ll probably get slammed with some unusually cold days sooner or later... In the mean time, I’ll enjoy the 20+ degrees during the day, the sun and the wind in my hair and the nice cool nights, where it’s enough to keep a window open so that you can snuggle into the blankets and breathe fresh crisp night time air and listen to the nightingales.

The thing that perplexes me the most, as I stroll through the streets and watch other mothers here, is the way they dress their kids. Honestly... it’s a little disturbing. It’s not unusual to see a mother dressed in a summery top and shorts, probably sandals on her feet, lugging around her two year old with a close fitting hat on his or her head, the kind that has ears and they’re always tied tightly below the chin, a parka, socks (sometimes even a pair of tights under the pants) and most certainly long pants and long sleeves under the parka. It’s as though all the children are sick. And even a sick kid in Toronto would not be as over dressed as these poor kids. I’m sure that I have left some mothers wondering what I’m staring at them for. On the other hand, I’m sure I’m being started at as well. I’ve named this phenomenon “the greenhouse child”. In Latvia this is the norm, unfortunately. My brother’s wife and I have had some amazing laughs at times. She is on my side of the “the greenhouse child” issue and her stories of children her kids meet at the daycare are not only extremely amusing, but also a little frightening. Most mothers in Latvia are of the age old (at least for Latvians) belief that the only way to keep a child healthy is to dress, dress and dress them very well. And it’s being taken to the extreme. I do remember vaguely being told to pull my hat over my ears when I was a child and told to wear a scarf and stuff like that, but I had never noticed how extremely cautious parents here are.

I won’t go into the details, but there is also the “no ice cream” rule for anyone who’s got a runny nose, sore throat, cough or even cold hands. A drink is never served cold from the fridge to a child no matter how hot the day might be. They like to add a tad bit of boiling water to anything that comes out of the fridge even milk. Juices get served lukewarm. Just imagine – lukewarm grapefruit juice. Yuck! Anyways... you get the picture, right? And people stare, they really do stare at my kids, who are allowed to wear a t-shirt and shorts or bare feet on a baby, because HEAVENS!!! It’s +23!!!

how can it be?

I'm tired. How can I be tired at 10pm? But I am. Stella was up this morning just before six. Kaspar shortly after. Days seem long if you wake up at six and don't pack it in until after midnight. We spent hours on the beach today. Even though Kaspar was wearing a woolly winter hat and the wind was cold and brisk, we ended up spending the better part of two hours just watching three boys dig around in the sand. If only life was one big sandbox, huh? Stella is not yet of age to be in the sand. She at the stage where everything within reach has to be first put into her mouth. So, obviously, sand would not be a good idea. I'm anxiously waiting for the return of warmer weather. My only consolation is that even in Toronto it's cold. Here it's normal really to have a much cooler and longer spring before the truly warm summer weather hits. Well, I'm really out of steam today. So. This is all you get.

a few snippets

Kaspar is proud to present ( at 2 y. and 10 months) his own signature. He just learned how to write the letter K and now is ready to sign not only his own drawings but anything that might belong to him, even the underwear he wears. Of course at the ripe age of almost three he's entitled to want to sign his own underwear and t-shirts and even the DVD player... but I admit that I was not too pleased when I found him with a marker in hand leaning over his sister. Thanks to Crayola, we did manage to get her clean fairly easily, but It took me most of the day trying to convince my son that you do NOT need to sign everything just because you know how to. I never thought that I'd be cursing the day I taught him to write the first letter, but I'm close, very close...... Wow!

Stella has been introduced to real food. She loves it. I don't, though. I now have to clean her up not only twice but five, six, seven times a day and it all comes out according to colour scheme. Carrots are orange, avocadoes green, peas are also greenish yellow, blueberries can be black blue but oatmeal comes in the consistency of glue. I had forgotten about this part of babyhood... And not only that... but every time I feed her I'm covered in whatever food I'm trying to get into her. Literally head to toe! Which means... having to do laundry a couple of times a day, having to wash my hair a couple of times a day, having to wash her a couple of times a day. But the excitement of another mouthful of food disappearing into the toothless grin of a mouth is priceless. It would be even better if she did not purse her little lips and "pbbrrrrr" blow it all out into my face every few minutes. She loves eating and that’s more then I have ever been able to say about Kaspar.

There is something to be said about being away from home. I am only beginning to realize how different my life is these days when I’m not bound by housework, the yard, organizing boxes of toys, catching up on emails or even fitting in an hour or two late at night in the studio. My only responsibility these days is to my kids and it is by no means a small job, but... for the first time in a long time I’m able to concentrate on just that – my kids. It’s kind of refreshing. Sometimes a little boring perhaps, but who wouldn’t be bored standing and waiting at a playground for a two year old to be done playing with his boat. It only lasted two hours and ten minutes! On the other hand it’s always challenging, always changing, always refreshing and really unpredictable. It’s weird how fast the days fly by.

planes and planes and ...

I've finally had enough distance to not be traumatized by the memories of our flight. OK, OK! Slight exaggeration, I admit. It was not that bad! But I certainly am glad that it'll be months before I have to do it again.

I'll start on the positive side. The kids were fairly calm and mellow the entire time. Neither of them had any temper tantrums or fits of any sort. I was very glad about that! They slept a bit and ate well and charmed the flight attendants. One might say that I had the perfect flight, in fact. Even the longest stretch of the flight, which usually lasts somewhere between seven and eight hours, was only six hours and a few minutes. "We have great tail winds!" announced the pilot shortly after takeoff. Kaspar watched kids movies for hours and you could say that I managed to watch a movie, too. Missed the dialogue (the headphones did not work and I did not have the energy to ask anyone to try fixing the problem), but got the gist of it anyhow. Most Hollywood flicks seem to be like that, don't they?

But if I'm doing the pros and cons list, then I'm sure that the later will be much lengthier. It is kind of unfair, though. Most of us find flying taxing as is. So, maybe flying with kids is just a different kind of rough. Maybe the cons of flying always outweigh the pros? Is it not the lure of the final destination that keeps us flying? I myself do like the lift off and landing quite a bit, though. I love the feeling in my body... but that's just me. Maybe my true calling was to be a pilot. Ha!

Alright, I'll try to stick to the story line here. My first and most serious pet peeve is airport security. Trying to get through security checks with kids is a nightmare! When flying to Europe and boarding two flights you end up having to go through it several times in one day. It sucks!!! Not only do I have a stroller that does not fit on the moving x-ray belt and through that big box of an x-ray thing, but it has an attached bag, which is not removable. So, we instantly get pegged as dangerous criminals! Go figure. How did I end up with this stroller? No wonder it was cheap! Yeah, I had to stand there and argue and try to convince three, four, sometimes even five officers every single time that the stroller really does come that way and NO, I did not bolt my own backpack to the bottom of the frame. I swear! By the end of it I wanted to scream on top of my lungs. But you cannot scream at security! I'm wise enough to know that, If you want to get through in one piece, you have to stay calm and smile and repeat the same thing over and over and over and over ... well, you get the picture. Of course, to make things a little more interesting, while I was attempting to explain stuff to security either Stella was crying or Kaspar was asking for water (you cannot have water in your bag, when you go through the check points!) or something just as impossible as that.

Once we got past all the security checks things were a little calmer. There was a small playground inside the waiting area in Toronto. Kaspar just began to play with an electric car, when we were asked to board the plane. How do you get a two year old away from a video game he's just started to play in a calm and organized manner? I don't know. I'm at a loss. All I can say is that I did not do so well. Once we got past the check in and managed to fold the stroller and got on the plane... I discovered that there were dozens of little kids on the flight and we were not going to have a bassinet for Stella to sleep in or an extra seat or any other bonuses we have managed to land flying previously. Literally, the flight was packed! I had one seat in the front row and my mom and Kaspar had to sit behind us. And there were screaming babies everywhere I looked. In some ways it was good, because my screaming kids would blend in, if they were to cause a fuss. On the other hand though, I knew that we'd get absolutely no extra attention whatsoever. That did prove to be true during the flight. It took me more then an hour to find out that they did not have any more milk on the flight and Kaspar had to go without. At least he's a wise child and understood the crisis well enough to politely say to the flight attendant "Could I have some water, then?"

As I mentioned already, the flight was relatively painless. In Amsterdam we had a two hour layover and I was looking forward to letting Kaspar run around a bit and using the impeccably well organized bathrooms/baby care rooms they offer at the airport. As we got off the plane I discovered that one of the stroller tires had popped and had no air in it. And then we found out that the next flight leaves from the opposite side of the airport. Oh, just what I needed! It took us the better part of the two hours just to walk over to the area, where the next flight was leaving from, because the Amsterdam airport is huge! And pushing a stroller with a flat tire in itself is a chore. Of course, I had not thought of bringing a tire pump in my hand luggage. Who would? As it turned out, the pump would have done us no good, because the tire really had suddenly developed a serious hole. I wonder how that happens. It sure felt like sabotage to me!

The second flight to Riga was short. Maybe 2 hours in total. But by the time we boarded the plane, I was absolutely exhausted. So tired that I was afraid to drop Stella off my lap where she was sleeping peacefully, so I kept her strapped into the seat belt. Kaspar on the other hand had eaten a whole bunch of sweets and was bored stiff and wide awake. This is where the coolest flight attendant on the planet comes to the rescue. I swear.... this man was a dream! He should be given a medal. He must have noticed my occasionally bobbing head and felt sorry for my son, who had no idea what he was supposed to do with himself. The flight attendant kept chatting with him, made him a doll out of plastic forks and some tissues, brought him snacks and kept him interested for most of the flight. I cannot possibly explain how much I appreciated it. It was more than amazing. It's these little things that make trips like this bearable.

Our final leg of the journey was interrupted by Stella, who chose the time of deplaning as her q to poo. By the time I made it to the nearest change room in the Riga airport she was covered in yellow mustard like substance from her toes all the way to the nape of her neck. I get the toes part - gravity, you know. But to this day I cannot figure out how babies manage to have poo shoot all the way up their back. How is that possible? Anyhow. It took me at least 15 minutes to change her and clean her up at which point my mother was starting to get worried that I had gotten lost and went looking for me with Kaspar in tow. It's impossible to get lost in the Riga airport, but it's easy enough to keep missing each other while one or the other is checking out each bathroom along the way. When we finally made it to the conveyor belt of luggage pick up, our luggage arrived within minutes. We did have a minor glitch at the customs, because the customs agents did not believe me that I was not bringing in anything "new", but upon opening two of our bags, which were full of diapers and obviously used toys and such... they gave up the search. I guess we were not interesting enough, after all. At the very end as we were leaving the customs area I realized that the lads had thought all along that I was a resident of Latvia returning home and not a visitor. They became very perplexed and apologetic, when I said that we were traveling with our Canadian passports. Ha!

I guess this is where the story ends. We made it in one piece and God willing, we'll make it back to Toronto in one piece, too. But I'm glad I don't have to do it twice in three weeks!

kids, kids, kids...

This is Stella hanging out with her uncle and her cousins. The chick loves the attention she's getting here. She shure will be spoiled before I know it. :-)