???

My son, to his sister this morning:
- I’m gonna eat your butt!
No comment…

Maintenant ou jamais

Il y a déjà plusieurs jours que j’alimente mon nouveau blogue en français, qui est affiché sur Internet. Je n’ai pas encore donné l’adresse parce qu’il n’est pas “arrangé”. Ce n’est qu’un modèle de blogue WordPress en anglais, avec la photo fournie, sans rien de personnalisé. Il n’y a que ma bio et quelques billets de prêts. Sauf que si j’attends que le site soit prêt, je risque d’attendre longtemps puisque mon homme n’a pas le temps de s’en occuper. Et en attendant, je trouve ça plate d’écrire dans le vide pour personne…

Alors je me lance: venez me lire au www.farouest.ca

Et si vous pensez à d’autres personnes que ça pourrait intéresser, faites-leur le message. Personnellement, je n’ose pas parce que je sais que je serais déçue si je parlais du blogue à plusieurs personnes et qu’elles ne le lisaient pas. Mais si ça vient de vous, je ne le saurai pas alors je ne serai pas déçue :-) Je sais, je suis lâche! Mais je l’assume.

 

What do you think?

People are funny. They see what they want to see. I am talking here about children and their likeliness to their parents. I remember once reading about how people tend to see the resemblance between a child and the parent they know best. But I can tell you it’s not always the case, judging by how some coworkers tell me my daughter looks more and more like Zak. Except for those who say she looks a lot like me. And then there are those people who say that she doesn’t look like my son at all, and the others who say they are just the same.

So how about you be the judge? I submit to you three photos. Me as a toddler (one of the only photos that exist of me at that age, big thanks to my brother for scanning it), my son at about a year and my daughter at 13 months. Missing is a photo of Zak, so you can’t really judge who they look like the most. But do they look like me? Do they look like each other?

Me in my high chair... who knew I once had chubby cheeks?

My baby girl on Halloween

My son clapping at a friend's birthday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you want my opinion… I look like me. My kids? I can’t tell. I don’t find much resemblance between either of us on these photos – maybe if I could have found more similar poses?

Sleepwalking

My baby was sick. She started having diarrhea on Sunday and I was up at all hours of the night to change her. Monday she slept a lot and was out of sorts, but since it was Halloween we still wanted to celebrate a little. The next night was better, but I still woke up a few times. Yesterday, my girl was doing better and her fever was gone, but she was still tired. Then last night she slept straight through 4:30, but then cried until I gave up at 5:45. I was fine Monday and Tuesday at work, but today I am exhausted and I feel like I am just going through the motions. Let’s hope I get a really good night of sleep tonight or else I’m not sure I’ll be able to get up tomorrow!

We still had a grand time on Halloween. We trick-or-treated in the Coop, then since it was still early, we decided to venture out into the West End. I was amazed. It is mostly apartment buildings and condos, so I didn’t expect what I found. In Mole Hill and in the surrounding areas, where there are lots of houses (old, large houses divided in smaller apartments), there was a sea of people. So many kids that in some places we had trouble getting through the crowds. It was amazing.

My son enjoyed himself tremendously, my daughter was puzzled as to why she was outside in the dark and people were giving her stuff to put in a bag – although she trick-or-treated only in the beginning, then she was in a backpack half passed out. People thought she was a teddy bear, a raccoon, an ewok, even a cow – nobody understood that she was a cat. But she was cute, that’s the most important thing.

But I’m exhausted. Between the preparation of Halloween and now the lack of sleep, I can barely hold my eyes open. Wish me luck for tonight!

My baby girl as a cat-ish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My son the astronaut with his bat-shark friend. Don't ask...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bedtime conversation

- You seemed to have a great time with your friend today driving the boat at the playground. Where were you going?
- North-West.
- … It’s a great place to go!
- Yeah, because they have chicken.
- There are chicken in the North-West?
- Yeah, we brought them back in a bag. And they can’t fly because their heads are chopped off.
- …

I love my son’s imagination. Even when it involves heads being chopped off. And I didn’t even add that chicken cannot fly, head or no head. I’ll let him dream on!

I can’t cheat anymore!

I speak French to my son, and I want him to have as much exposure to French as he can despite the fact that I work 5 days a week and that I don’t spend all of the other time talking to him. That is why I have always tried to translate books I read to him. The fact that I’m a translator has helped me tremendously, but still, as he became older, books became progressively more complicated and I can’t always translate on the fly. So there were books I always read in English (things that rhyme or that are just untranslatable, like Dr. Seuss, or books that use a terminology I don’t know, like trucks and other construction equipment). Then there were chapter books, which are just too long for me to do the mental work of translating every sentence. And let’s face it: when I am translating a story mentally, it is much slower, I have to think about it, I make mistakes, and I’m sure it’s a lot less enjoyable for my son. I know it’s less enjoyable for me. Still, I did it because I felt I had to.

But now I find it increasingly hard to cheat because my son is learning to read! Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration: he doesn’t even know all of his letters yet. But he will often repeats the words I have said while underlying words on the page with his fingers, trying to match what is written to what I said. And I can’t very well teach him that Maman is spelled M-o-m-m-y, can I?  I can’t let him try to find, on the page, a word that is only in my head… And I want to encourage literacy, and I know that what he is doing is showing an interest in reading by trying to recognize words. So more and more often, I find myself giving up on French and reading in English so I can show him how sounds match letters.

Of course, an easy fix to that problem would be to read books written in French. And I do, but the choice at the Vancouver Public Library is a lot more limited in French so things get boring easily. Plus, since it’s usually Zak who goes to the library these days, he has a hard time picking good French books. Case in point: he purposely avoided an English book that talked about a boy with two daddies (he has nothing against gays having children, quite the opposite, he doesn’t want to point it out as “different” by reading a book about it) and ended up with a French book entitled “John has two mommies”.

So what’s a girl to do?

Fire!

There was a fire in our building yesterday! Luckily, the apartment was empty, the fire was quickly contained and put out so the sprinkler didn’t go off (which would have made more damage than the fire itself), someone had seen the smoke and called the firemen, who were there very quickly, and they used foam instead of water (which contained the damage). Finally, it happened during daytime while we were playing outside, so there was no mad rush to evacuate the building.

And I mean me rushing to evacuate, because most people dismissed the fire alarm and stayed put. Not me. I hate fires. They make my body go into full panic mode. Which I’m sure didn’t help with my baby’s behaviour: she was hungry because it delayed dinner, she was upset because I wouldn’t let her walk (trip) all over the hoses and play with the leaking foam, so she was generally crabby.

My son, on the other hand, was in heaven. He loves firemen. And they are always so nice! We went down to the street and the firemen left behind with the truck gave him a whole bunch of stickers. And after the firemen had left, the fire investigator, who stayed behind, chatted up my son and encouraged him to become a fire fighter.

Zak, as usual, was the one who saved the day: because he is the holder of the building’s master key, he was able to unlock the door prior to the firemen’s arrival. Another man went in, saw the flames, Zak ran to get him with an extinguisher, and the man – a brave visitor to the building – was able to contain the fire. That allowed them to verify the unit was empty and prevented said sprinkler to flood the three or four units taht

But here is a word of wisdom for you: do not buy extension cord at the dollar store. Replace them regularly, especially if they have become less pliable. And make sure they are not pinched, and not surrounded by flammables.

The end result could have been much worse. Life was good last night.