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.

Days 4 and 5

The last two days of Chris's absence went fairly smoothly. Bela recovered slowly, Gill took her place but got over her illness quickly. Mae didn't get sick until several days later. And somehow, I was spared.

We managed to leave the house for a trip to Garfield Park Conservatory. We had lunch at a favorite spot. We dropped Gill off at her new daycare (more info to come!).

We even made something: Pine cone peanut butter bird feeders. Felt like the old days. Gill even joined in, and they hung them all in the backyard on the chicken coop fencing.

And in doing so we, to our surprise and delight, lured a rare and exotic species - we couldn't even find it in our Backyard Birds book. A real beauty.

This little bird likes our pine cones.

Well, after a weekend of some family time and circus classes and crazy 3rd grade girl playdate, Chris is packing to leave again.

Let the adventure continue.

Day 3

Bela was sick in bed all day, cuddled up to my (new!) computer watching our entire iTunes library's worth of movies. Swiss Family Robinson, The Little Mermaid, The Princess Frog, The Scarecrow.

Gill, Mae and I only escaped the house once to run a few errands. I'm on a roll with the wiring of the lights, man. Or at least a wavering, wobbly stumble. Today, I set out to install the lovely sconces I ordered a month ago from Etsy. Our dining room has had two holes in the wall with wires sticking out since I ripped out the ugly ones the day we moved in. That was almost 2 years ago.

I didn't accomplish the task. I got as far as Home Depot. Standing in the lighting aisle with zinc plated nipples in my hand, I struggled to find the "female loop" I needed to go with my nipples and my hickey. And I couldn't bring myself to ask.

After many minutes of chasing Gill and squinting at the offerings on the shelf, I found (I think) all the strangely named girly parts I need to illuminate the dining room. And I think I'll do it tomorrow.

Mae was a very sweet bedside assistant today, until she wasn't. That happened around dinner time. She came storming into the kitchen on another "errand" for sick Bela.

"Mom, I'm tired of always having to do what Bela wants! She asks me to do everything for her!"

I kneeled down to her height and said in my calm, wise mommy voice:

"Mae, you cannot control what Bela does. You can only control how you react to it. She will always ask you to do things for her. If you don't want to, then you have to say no."

"But she'll yell at me!"

"Again, you cannot control what Bela does. You can only control how you react to it."

I know, I know. I really choked on this as it came out, because I KNOW this is true, and yet I NEVER follow it myself.

Anyway, feeling very wise and very mommy, I went about my cooking and cleaning until it was time to wrangle the loose monkey in the house and put her to bed.

I called from the couch where I was nursing Gill for the night - "Girls! Please shut the bedroom door and turn down the volume on the movie. I'm trying to put Gill to bed!"

I heard Mae sigh and start to get mad, and then it was like a light went off. I heard her mutter to Bela: "I'm not going to do that. I can control me."

Backfire.

Muffin thief

Adventures in single parenting

I'm crafting a positive attitude about this upcoming single parenting bit. Thought I could document it for posterity here - the positive attitude and the single parenting part.

Chris has been gone for 36 hours.

We are still alive.

I knitted while listening to music last night (we currently have no TV), and the girls stayed up late playing with their buddy who spent the night. This was a good thing.

I'm 1 1/2 inches away from finishing Bela's Christmas Cardigan. I anticipate this will take me at least another 48 hours at the rate I'm going, and then it can join all the other hand knit sweaters at the back of her closet. But before she tosses it in, a photo session will be in order. Stay tuned.

Anyway, at about 4 am Bela crawled into bed with me, snuggled up real close, her germs touching my germs, and whispered: Mom, I feel really sick.

Today.

After circus class, after errands, after peanut butter and jelly, she threw up.

Now, Mae is the expert vomiter, always makes it into the bowl, can even reach the toilet. Not a drop out of place. But Bela? She is always so surprised by the whole affair. Remember a few years back when she threw up from the top bunk down into sleeping Mae's bottom bunk? Usually she creeps into our room at night, sidles up to the side of the bed and says "Mom?" blarchhhhchchchchhhhchchchhc. All over.

So today, she threw up on our cool old chaise lounge, and the carpet in the basement apartment, and the down comforter she was snuggled in. The smell in the basement is unspeakable; I refuse to go down there.

In fact, after scrubbing the vomit out of our carpet, I spent an inordinate amount of time hard wiring a new ceiling light fixture (ikea) in the girls room. It only took 1 1/2 years, but today we went from bare bulb hanging by some wires to cheap ikea ceiling fixture that almost cost me my sanity.

This was, ultimately, a good experience.

What shall tomorrow bring?

Party

We celebrated Bela's birthday yesterday with some so- so pizza, a big fat (store bought) cake, and a few presents at La Villa Restaurant. So much more manageable than 20 girls crammed into our dining room, or sleeping on our living room floor.

We've always done it up big for Bela come birthday time. The funny thing is that I'm absolutely NOT a party person. Don't get me wrong, I like to go to one, most times, especially if I don't have to get dressed up. But throw a party?  It fills me with horror and dread.

I don't know where this comes from.

So after the birth of our number three, I simply decided that I could not be forced to throw three big parties a year.

On the one hand, there's the dread.

On the other hand, even the simplest of parties that involves children coming to my house seems to cost a ridiculous amount. After factoring in the cake, the goody bags, the crafts and activities, the food.... not to mention the presents. Added to the fact that Christmas was just two stinking weeks ago...

There has to be some alternating going on. So this year, Bela was out. On a practicality level, she completely understood. But she still made us suffer.

Anyway, I don't want to get all emotional here, but guys... my first baby is nine years old. Next year she'll be 38. Nobody understands the enormity of this, until they do.

Well, the ladies and I are coming down off of birthday high, enjoying the long weekend, but missing Chris. He walked out the door this morning and we will not really see him for many weeks to come. He'd headed to India, Boston, Chile, Mexico, and China in the coming weeks and months.

At least there's leftover cake.

And wine.