Huh?

One thing we take for granted in (most of) our adult relationships is the ability to understand, and to be understood. This all gets stood on its head when your interlocutor is a 26 month old ball of chub.

Take for instance Gil's new word: at once indispensable and maddening, this word happens to be huh?

As in:
-- Gillian it's time for breakfast!
-- Huh?
-- Breakfast!

-- Mommy, uppee! 
-- Oh, you want uppee?
-- Huh?
-- Uppee. Uppee! You want uppee.
-- Huh?

--Bay-wah. Mae Mae!
-- Are you looking for Bela and Mae?
--  Huh?
-- I said, are you looking for Bela and Mae?
-- Huh?
-- You said you were looking for Bela and Mae. They are ..
-- Huh?
-- ...they are up in their bedroom.
-- Huh?
-- Their -
-- Huh?
-- I said, their bedroom. Do you want them?
-- Huh?

I get it. She learned it from us. We say it all the time because we can't understand her. And she gets it, too. Say Huh? and the people in your life will begin to repeat themselves over and over for a sanity crushing eternity.

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to come up with a plan, which has simply been to ignore all requests completed with the word huh? deemed unnecessary and of little use to her growing brain.

So now our exchanges go more like this:

-- Mermaid find!
-- You want me to find your mermaid?
-- Huh?
Silence. Wait. Wait. Wait.

-- Yes.

Leakage

Yesterday was a beautiful day, underscoring how cooped up we've been feeling this cruel, mean winter. The sun was shining, the air had the faint smell of thaw to it, and the girls proclaimed that Spring had arrived.

But I couldn't keep my eyes off my ceiling. All of this snow and ice (and soon, melting) has done a number on the back of our house. We have an attic bathroom addition - part of the girls' upstairs penthouse fantasy land. In addition to some plumbing issues in the shower that caused water to cascade down the kitchen walls and through the ceiling during that first polar vortex, we also have an issue with flashings.

Oh, what's that you say? Don't know what flashing is? Neither did I until I bought this 100 year old house. Where the roof line meets the exterior (dormer) walls of the addition, they failed to properly seal. So we have water, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, wreaking havoc on our kitchen and dining room ceilings.

When the babysitter arrived yesterday, I asked her for the strangest of favors. She followed me to the girls bathroom, where I proceded to tie her up in rope. I then tied the other end around my waist, and to Gillian's astonishment climbed out on the roof of our house, through the bathroom window.

I shoveled the foot of wet, heavy snow from our back roof.

Here's hoping the ceiling plaster stays intact until this mess is gone for good.

PS - on a brighter note, this happened too.

The middle child

Somehow Mae and I - amidst the craziness of having three girls, in spite of the fact that daddy has been traveling on and off for weeks - have managed to spend some good time together lately.

She's such a funny girl, a good conversationalist when given the chance to speak, which is rare.

The girls and I started reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone several weeks ago. They love it - Bela so much so that she checked the book out from the school library and blew us out of the water in terms of speed. She's on book two now, and has little interest in sitting down with me and Mae at night to read book one. So Mae and I have been plugging along together, and got up early this morning to finish what I just could not possibly read last night. (The chapters are a wee bit long). We have 2 pages left in the book, and have a post-school date to finish.

I've enjoyed the time with her, and it somehow seems to connect us more during the day as well. She has been helping more in the kitchen, cooking with me at dinner time while Gillian "washes the dishes."

This time together has produced some funny exchanges I want to record for future Mae. And here are but a few:

In a conversation about Grandma Paula attending a baby shower, Mae asked me to explain what a baby shower was. I said something about the expectant parents and a party and gifts to welcome the new baby into the world.

"You mean like Jesus?" (and the three wise men).

Yes. Like Jesus.

When noticing that my good friend Karen had purchased for me some beautiful scissors to wear on a chain around my neck while I work on projects she smiled with a wise old smile and said:

"Oh, you two are just so connected."

And the other night, after suffering through a dramatic display at the dinner table because she was displeased with my offerings (a crustless broccoli quiche, salad, roasted potatoes) she wrote me this:

Dear Beautiful Mommy, I love you. I'm sorry for complaining about the box tops and the dinner. you are the best mom ever. Thank you for making dinner. It was very good. Mostly the salad. I bet when you were a kid you were sooooo healthy! Can you write back please on the other piece of paper? You don't have to write back. Besides, Marine came and gave me my blankey back. Love you

Oh Mae. My sweet little Mae. My middle child.