out with the old and in with the new ?

Oh boy! December came and went. I don't know where it went. I've been trying to catch a breath and I still cannot figure out how time can fly so fast. I have an inbox full of mail. I have a pile of laundry waiting to be done (well, if I were to be honest that's been the case for months now). I have a list of orders that are late, as usual. I've got phone messages that have not been answered and mail unopened ... perhaps the only thing that's up to date are bills and that's only because I know that not taking care of those in time can cause more grief then I can handle at given moment. But today I'm taking time to do some stuff. Finally.



Stella is coming into her own these days. She has figured out not only how to push Kaspar back, when he does not let her play, but also how to frown when she does not want something; how to fall on the ground in hysteria, when someone takes her toy away; how to open doors of all sorts; how to open the lid of the toilet and go fishing; how to make an angry face, when she does not want to pose for a picture (as you can see in the attached image); how to pull her shoes off and then have a fit about not being able to put them back on herself; how to crush grapes on her mother's head; how to bite, when she's not getting my attention; how to pick her nose with both hands; how to sound convincing even if she cannot manage to say a whole word; how to pull her mittens off no matter what the weather is like; how to kiss (drooling and with her mouth open!); eat snow and paper amongst a slew of other more edible items; drink from a glass; hold a spoon; pick all the seeds out of a watermelon slice (by the end of it the slice is mush, of course); point at things she wants; Alright, that's it. I'm getting bored with this list. It's good enough for now. I'm learning from my kids to have the attention span of a three year old or younger.

certifiable

It's one of those nights, when waiting for a polisher to stop tumbling in just another ten minutes seems like an impossible task. Even though it's only 1 am, I'm so tired I could fall asleep standing. I've had about three nights of 3-4h of sleep followed by intensive three hour mornings with the kids - making and eating breakfast, making lunch, prepping dinner stuff, bottles, getting ready for work... that kind of a thing. Then 9am-4pm - work. After... get home, make dinner, do bath, books, bed, laundry, dishes and begin my usual studio hour shortly after 9pm and work as late as my brain and body can handle. Usually it's till about 2am or 2:30am. Then a few hours of interrupted sleep and a wake up call around 5:45 or just after by a cheery, bushy tailed and bright eyed Stella. My studio sale is this week-end and so is Kaspar's Christmas pageant. What a week-end! Sunday night my awesome "manny" (male nanny) of the last six weeks leaves and I'm left to make do for three days with friends and fellow locals to take care of the kids while I'm at work. I cannot wait till all this is over and I can breathe again. I better go and sleep now. After this week-end I might attempt to find my camera cord and plug that thing in and post some pictures, too. Right now it's too hard to even think about that! Good night.

what happened to blogging?

Well. I'll give you three guesses. No! It has nothing to do with the picture above. The gorgeous little fellow in the above picture is Max (Maksimillians) my sister's baby boy born just a few days ago. But his birth has nothing to do with my lack of blogging. I just had to brag and let you all know that I have a gorgeous little nephew and I'm proud to be an aunt and he was born on MY name day! Talk about an awesome gift! As a matter of fact, the world of blogging had to be put on hold while I get acquainted with full time work once again and a new babysitter and in general a whole new situation here at home. It's been an adjustment! Let's just leave it at that. Or else I might start spilling my guts and not be able to stop. Ha, ha!

In the mean time, over the course of the last four weeks a lot has changed. Stella has now six teeth (seven and eight about to cut through, any day now) and is beginning to talk. I mean - she's serious about talking, even if I do not understand a single word of it. I'm sure she's using words, though. I'm sure she knows what she's talking about. You can tell from her expression that she's not just mumbling sounds - she's talking.

Last week Stella also began walking. The first three steps in a row she took a couple of months ago, but last week she began walking and knowing that she's walking. Last Sunday, in fact, we were having dinner with some friends and she stood up, took about four little steps and looked at everyone and grinned and then squealed... It was very cute. Almost as if she was saying: "Everyone, did you see that? I did it! I can do it!" From that day on she has been walking more and more every day. She gets into the "downward dog" like yoga position and slowly lifts herself off the ground, (stands up in a way that I could never manage) balances herself for a few seconds and then dashes forward, two, three, four... sometimes five or six steps before she falls forward, always catching herself on the palms of her hands, with her bum up in the air. Sometimes, if the "walk" has been fast enough and the momentum is still going she manages to fall right on her forehead, because her head still seems to be heavier then her bum. But she never complains, just gets back down on all fours and continues to her destination crawling. If she feels extra strong, she sometimes gets back up on her feet and walks...

Well, I better just cut myself off. I have to make it to work before 10am. Ciao. I hope to write more, soon.

not so proud

Well. I have to admit that every time I give into the temptation I feel bad. So, no! I'm not proud to admit this.... and... this comes from a mother who is proud to watch her kid's blank face at shcool, when most of the other kids hoo, humm and haaaa at the word "McDonald's". Indeed, only a week ago I asked Kaspar if he knew what McDonald was and he responded "Maybe... it's a truck driver? What do you think, mommy?" But we do have a Pizza Pizza in the neighbourhood and Kaspar must take after me, because he loves pizza, chips, french fries, sausage, salami and pretty much anything savory and salty. So, today after spending over an hour running errands with Stella and Kaspar in tow I resigned to having lunch at PizzaPizza. I was pleasantly surprised by their Thai Chicken slice myself and Kaspar had just the best time picking the pepperoni off his own slice. But the most surprising thing was a large flat screen TV in the corner of the shop (which I admit, I had not noticed before) and as we were waiting for our order it was showing a channel called PizzaTV and I felt like I was having a total breakdown, because the first thing I noticed them showing was Elliott Brood's video called "The Bridge". At first I thought - I must be seeing things! Is that what happens when your hubby goes on the road for weeks at a time? Then it dawned on me... no, this is for real. And I thought - Oh shoot, the artist must have needed cash pretty bad to sell the same cartoon to PizzaPizza. But it turned out to be the real Elliott Brood video with the name and caption at the end and everything legitimate, even the Six Shooter logo and name appearing as their label. So, I worry for no reason one again. But it really is weird walking into a PizzaPizza and watching an Elliott Brood video with no sound as I'm placing my order. Weird. I just do not get it.

let me tell you

Let me begin by telling you the story about Al. He lives two doors down from us. He's a really nice fellow in his fifties, who lives alone and is always ready to lend a helping hand. He loves his leaf blower and his beer. Al has always put up the most extreme Christmas decorations on his huge tree in the front yard. But we wait to see what will happen this year, because the tree was just cut down a week ago. The city deemed it too old and sick to leave standing. Sadly. But that's another story. Al is tall and skinny and sports what I could describe as the Kim Mitchell look. You know, the long thin hair, the trucker's cap (with mesh in the back and in some hideous colour), aviator's glasses, a well worn t-shirt, old leather jacket or windbreaker, jeans... you get the picture? A few days ago I decided that it was time to give Kaspar a hair cut. His hair had grown long enough to pull into a mini pony tail and was bothering his vision in the front. What did he reply? "No! I want to grow my hair like Al's!!!" Who was I to argue? He knew what he wanted. We had to come to some sort of a compromise. So, Kaspar ended up with a mullet. I think the "mullet" style runs in his blood. His dad had a mullet for years, after all.

lost

This morning I found myself in one of those situations, where you begin questioning your own sanity.

It was a relatively calm morning. Kaspar was once again playing garbage man and unloading ALL of his toys onto his bed (the garbage truck). Stella was happily playing with the zipper of my purse. All doors and safety latches were done up and closed. So, I decided that it was safe for me to lock myself in the bathroom for about three minutes to do the things that people do in bathrooms on their own. Sometimes I don't have the luxury of privacy in my bathroom... but this morning I thought I'd take the chance while everyone was calm and happy.

Upon reentering the bedroom I realized that Stella had managed to get into my zipped up purse and pull out everything onto the floor. So what! A few ripped bills? A destroyed lipstick. Nothing worth worrying about. The day goes on.... until.... I pack the kids up and get ready to go to the store. And I cannot find my wallet.

I search. I tear the house apart. I get the kids dressed and undresses several times. I go back and forth between the house and the garage several times. In the end I tell myself that I'm 99.99% sure that it was in my purse. Back to the indoors. I rearrange the entire bedroom. Go through clean and dirty laundry. Go through everything that Stella might have gotten into. I start to feel like I'm going crazy. Nothing. Two hours pass. Nothing. Three hours. I'm still searching. In the middle of it all, the phone rings. A very apologetic voice on the other end asks for me. It's or RESP fund manager calling and being very sorry about disturbing me on a Sunday. I'm so frustrated I want to yell at her. I take a deep breath, take a break from searching and try to deal with whatever is about to come my way. I'm already expecting some tragedy, but She's only asking me to check my son's birth certificate, because of some mistake SHE has made on the application. Thank goodness that's all! So, I'm opening the "filing cabinet" which is really just a cardboard filing box under the desk in the bedroom... and yes... my wallet is right there! Sitting amongst the first few files. Nice and neat.

I yelled so loud that she must have thought I was nuts. I felt so happy about her calling that I almost invited her for dinner and called her an angel. She definitely thought I was nuts! I even made her listen to my entire sob story about my wallet and shed a few tears of joy while telling it. Madness!

Stella must have managed to pull out my wallet, go through everything else in the purse as well as stuff the wallet through the banker's box handle hole into the box, all within minutes of leaving her alone in the room. How is that possible? And the hole is only an inch bigger then the wallet.

I don't get it!

tais vecos labos laikos

"Tais vecos laikos, es reiz spēlēju hokeju!"

Last night my three year old sits down next to me, sighs a deep sigh and tells me: "Back in the good old days I played hockey." I sit there, perplexed. Even though he's telling me this in perfect Latvian, it sounds so ancient. So old and wise. Especially coming from a three year old kid. It almost cracks a smile on my face. But I cannot laugh. He's being totally serious. I'm pretty sure I know this phrase does not come from a movie or a book. I hardly have any books on hockey in Latvian. I have to admit, I don't even know what he's trying to tell me. With all seriousness, I begin to quiz him. And after a while the meaning dawns on me. He remembers last winter, playing hockey, skating and watching the hockey players in the park. But last winter to a three year old is like "good old days" to a seventy five year old, I guess. The things you learn being a parent. But, I still have not figured out where he came up with such a wise old way of wording it.

things we do

I'm enjoying a brief moment of quiet. It's Saturday morning and Kaspar is in school until 1pm. It's relatively calm at home, when he's away, I must say! He's not just a fast paced, on the go, non stop kind of a kid... he's also become very competitive as far as his sister is concerned. Even though I try to take time that I spend with him and only him, every single day, I think he still secretly thinks that mommy belongs to HIM and only HIM and he's not willing to share. Or does it only because he has not figured out a way to NOT share, yet. Some days I feel like I need some circus lessons to be able to keep both of them happy and occupied.

I started work part time last week. Even though for the time being I have to go only once a week, I realize that my mom will have her hands full with the kids while I'm gone. The other day she practically collapsed when I walked in the door after work. I've applied to another two co-ops in our area for some daycare time for Kaspar. The waiting lists in our part of town are unbelievable! So, it's probably unlikely that we will get in before he begins school next fall. I'm only beginning to learn about all these things... and what a steep learning curve it is! Any programme that is geared for kids ages 2-5 in Toronto and is affordable is full. Every waiting list is a year long. Every spot is spoken for. Every seat is taken. It's amazing, really! I have to remember to register him for JK at our local school within the next month or I might not get a spot there either. I'd hate to have to ship him accross town to another school on a school bus at age 4. Oh, the things I have to learn to keep up with!!! !!!

abuse

If you saw a woman (let's say on a beach or at a pool) and she was covered in small, penny size, round little bruises, her torso, arms, neck, parts of the rib cage... all covered in little varying brown and yellow little bruises. What would you think? Abuse? Torture? Self inflicted torture? HA! I bet you the last thing that would come to your mind would be BABY! Right? I was standing in front of a mirror this morning counting them all (14 visible at the given moment) and applying "Arnica" tonic to the spots. Stella is a pincher and the older she gets the harder she pinches. And recently she has begun to pinch' n' twist. The pinch' n' twist leaves the darkest bruises. Maybe if I did not bruise so easily... but, boy, does it ever look weird. I'm starting to train her not to do it, but it's not as easy as you'd think. The pinching is a sort of a calming mechanism for her it seems. When she's really upset - she pinches. When she's really tired and falling asleep in my arms she pinches. When she's really hungry - she pinches. When she eats - she sometimes pinches, too. And the more she pinches the faster she calms down. Strange bird!

breakdancing?

Judging from the third picture in the series you might think she's break dancing. No! She noticed me with the camera and tried to take a step towards me without holding on to the couch. Need I say more? Stella is close to walking, but still long way to go before she figures out the balance thing on her own. Of course it does not help to have a "bear" hiding under the couch and cheering (or should I be totally honest?) more like "roarrr-ing" her on. Kaspar is constantly pretending to be a bear, a moose, a lion, a wolf, a big bird or .... a garbage man. Sometimes he lets me pick which I want to see. But for Halloween he's going to be a giraffe. He's got no choice in the matter this year.