he said, he said

Tuesday morning, both boys' classes went on a field trip to and eco-farm about 40 minutes outside of Bogota. When the bus dropped them off at home, we talked about school and how their day went.

Me: How did you like the farm, Simon? What did you do there?

Simon: (with gusto) I poured-ed milk OUT OF A COW!! 

Me: You mean you milked a cow?

Simon: Oh yeah. I milked-ed a cow!

* * * * * * * * * * 

Liam has two uniforms for school. One is his "P.E. kit" and is comprised of a pair of windpants and a white polo shirt with the school initials embroidered on the chest. His official uniform is a pair of navy dress pants, a white button-up dress shirt and tie in school colours, with a sweater overtop. He wears the P.E. uniform Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and the more formal uniform Thursday and Friday.

Last Thursday must've been warmer than usual because he took off his sweater and hasn't been able to find it since. We've looked everywhere at home, he's looked in all his different classes, and his teacher took him down to the lost and found. No luck.

We were talking about the missing sweater again this morning and he looked at me and said, "What size is my jumper?".

His jumper??

Next thing I know he's going to be talking about his trousers and calling Simon a bloke.

Welcome to British school.

Over the weekend, I took Simon and Andrew* to the mall in search of carry-on bags. There's a huge sidewalk sale going on this weekend, so I was hoping there were some deals to be found. I found four rolling carry-ons, regular price $440, for $145, but then there was also a "Buy 1, get the 2nd 1/2 off". So I ended up getting all four for $112. Not too shabby seeing as the regular price was over $400! They all have a 10 year warranty, too. 

We made our way out of the mall, me with two of the bags' handles over the handles of the stroller, and Simon pulling the other two behind him. Then this:

Simon: NOOOOW can we go to I-gina (Regina)?

me: No honey, not for about a month. We'll leave for Regina right after we pack up the whole house.

Simon: Are you kidding me??

me: (laughing) No, I'm not kidding.

Simon: (looking back at the bags we'd just bought) We're going to need a really, reeeeeeally big suitcase to pack up the whole house!

He takes everything we say so literally. Sarcasm is completely lost on him. Wrong family to be born into, kid.

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

One of the first things Peter did once he accepted this post is Bogota, was to find the name and email of another employee already posted there, who also has a family with young kids. In one of the first few emails he sent, he asked if it would be alright for his wife (that'd be me) to send a list of questions to his (the other employee's) wife.

That's how my correspondence with Patrycja started.

Not long after that, I posted on Twitter that we'd be moving to Colombia (there were several exclamation marks involved), and not long after received a message from Susie (who I "met" on thebabywearer and who runs The Extraordinary Baby Shoppe here in Ottawa) asking if I'd like her to put me in touch with another ex-pat living in Colombia. A lovely lady with two young girls, whose husband is also posted in Bogota.

A few nights later, I received both a message from Susie and an email from Patrycja saying, "Hey you already "know" Patrycja!" and "I'm so excited you're "friends" with Susie!". So both Peter's contact at work and Susie's ex-pat friend are the same person... Patrycja. For some reason, this left a HUGE smile on my face. I walked around the house with a silly grin on my face every time I thought of it.

Not only will our husbands be working together at the embassy, but their girls are just a month or so either side of Simon and Andrew (we're still working on finding some friends Liam's age). We seem to share many of the same views re type/quality of food (and although they're vegetarians, we've decided we can still be friends). She breastfeeds, cloth diapers, babywear... AND BLOGS.

Clearly, we are meant to be friends, Patrycja and I.

(Which just means that expectations are high and I'm bound to be at my most awkward when we do actually meet. Fair warning, Patrycja... I'm a hugger.)


* * * * * * * * * * * * 


So much still to do (SO. MUCH. TO. DO.) so I might start posting some of my to-do lists here for accountability. 


Today's list:

• drop off our broken Tassimo at FedEx (although huge props to Tassimo customer service for the brand new machine! woo hoo!)
• stop somewhere and buy more expresso discs for said Tassimo... I'm going to need them!
• call Mastercard and order new cards since ours will expire not long after we leave
• finalize next year's homeschool curriculum and order all the books I'll need for Liam and Simon
• hopefully find time to edit some more pictures from the two sessions I did the weekend before last (I'd need to have these done this week)
• clean up the DISASTER of a playroom and start the inventory of the toys
• have supper ready before picking Peter up so it's not such a mad dash to get Liam to soccer (like it is every other Tues and Thurs when we get home with Peter at 5:30pm and have to leave for soccer not long after 6pm.)
• tackle the mountain of laundry that is accumulating in every corner of the house

*Peter and Liam were camping this weekend with a group of kids from our church. They had a BLAST and came home full of dirt, mosquito bites and stories.

Sorry if I left you all with a lot of questions after that last post!

To answer a few questions:

• No, our time in Bogota will not be indefinite. The post is only for a year. It's a crazy lot of work and hassle to do this all for only a year, but we decided it will be worth it!

• We do plan to return to Gatineau in Sept '11. The only thing that would change this is if Peter gets offered a cross-post. Meaning we'd go from Bogota to another overseas posting. This isn't super common though. In the off chance that it does happen, we'd still come back here between posts, I imagine.

• Peter is with DFAIT (Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade). This particular post is as a political officer in charge of reporting on issues concerning educational links (or some such thing) between Canada and Colombia, and Human Rights issues. After being a desk officer for a year here in Ottawa, this will be much more fulfilling and exciting.

• The Mission in Bogota is responsible for finding us housing. The Crown leases them and we pay essentially the same thing we've been paying for rent/utilities here. While being in the Foreign Service is by no means lucrative (*snort* it is a Public Service job after all), they make sure that you'd never lose money by being posted overseas. Because Colombia is a Level IV (out of five levels) for "hardship", there are actually some surprisingly nice incentives for being posted abroad there. Especially with a family of five.

• We will be homeschooling. Yeah! Originally, Peter was adamant that we take advantage of the Government-paid private education that is offered to all overseas employees. In Bogota, there are actually some really highly rated bilingual schools. Unfortunately (I'mnotreallysadaboutthis), the school year starts before we'd arrive and it's far too late to enrol in any of the approved private schools. Nuts. So I've already started a list of all the materials I'll need for Liam and will likely look for some fun, simple workbooks for Simon as well. We will be eligible for a gov-paid French tutor (to keep up with both of Canada's official languages) and may try to find a Spanish tutor as well. Clearly -CLEARLY!- this whole homeschooling thing was meant to be.  *grin*

• We're still undecided about what to do with the house. This is definitely our biggest stressor right now. Neither renting it out nor selling it are great options. Not with such a short time frame. Not will all the unfinished projects scattered throughout. Projects we assumed we'd have the summer to finish. I just know it wouldn't show well right now. There are pieces of drywall and stucco missing (where we took out a window and installed a door), painting that needs to be done, some x-small gaps in the flooring since the earthquake last month. Things that we live with, but wouldn't inspire anyone to fall in love with the house on initial viewing. *sigh* This is the biggest decision we have to make.

• And we still don't know when we're leaving! I know when I'm leaving for Regina with the boys, but not when Peter needs to be down there. Without a start date, we can't schedule packing/moving/loading dates. We can't make travel arrangements. We can't do a lot of the STUFF we have to do. I'm really hoping the decide this soon. I know what would be easiest for us, but ultimately it's not our decision.

So lots of decisions to make. So much is still unknown or still up in the air. We did have a good meeting with our trip/move/FSD (Foreign Service Directives) Client Advisor and she was able to answer a lot of the questions we had, so that was helpful. We also have some workshop/briefings scheduled for this week that will give us even more information.

But still...

SO. MUCH. TO. DO.

And less than a month (likely) to do it in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

Since my last few posts have been picture-less (even after promising picture-heavy posts... I'm such a liar!), I'll share a couple of pictures from when Peter's parents -Papa and Nana, to the boys- were here in May. We had lots of fun with them, riding bikes, going to the Aviation Museum and the Museum of Agriculture, and jumping in puddles. And worked them like dogs. But even with the amazing (and yet-to-be-blogged) deck (THAT NOW WE'LL HARDLY HAVE HAD THE CHANCE TO USE! *sniff* ) and the house full of clean, freshly folded laundry THAT WAS ACTUALLY PUT AWAY, these pictures are my favourite thing about their time here,

(except that I look a little pregnant here...)

This one is also a huge -HUGE!- favourite. I love how Liam and Simon are laughing and I love Andrew's little tongue sticking out. Man, my kids are cute!


Their flights out of Ottawa were very early morning flights, so they were up and gone by 5am. When Simon woke up and found them gone, he asked us where they were. After hearing that Peter had taken them to the airport, he yelled at us, "WHY DID YOU LET THEM LEAVE?!!" Poor little guy.

We miss you Papa and Nana!

bits and pieces

Last night we took Liam and Simon to see Toy Story 3. It was only Simon's second movie in a theatre (the first being "How to Train Your Dragon"), and it was both boys' first 3D movie experience. To say they enjoyed it would be an understatement (except for the part where the toys are facing a fiery death in the bellies of the landfill... although Liam assures us that he knew they'd be okay). 

Simon loves the three little green aliens and can often be heard repeating the word "Da-ddeeeeeee" in the same kind of creepy monotone they use. It's funny though.

Less funny (or more funny depending on if you're me or Peter) is when he shouts, "GET OUT OF MY BUTT!" For those who haven't seen the movie, it's a line spoken by Mr Potato Head (you know how they open up to store all their accessories?) near the end of the movie. Of course my kid had to latch on to that particular sound bite.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Because of the recent smokin' hot, 100+ degree, swimsuit/pool weather I decided earlier this week to do some not-as-routine-as-it-should-be swimsuit/pool-type hair removal-type maintenance. You follow? Good. So with six kids here this week, personal care time has been at a total premium and thus my need for speed and efficiency... and my unfortunate decision to use a new razor. 

Being an adult woman, and having been at this type of grooming for a few years now, you'd think I'd know better. You'd think I'd know how my skin -that sensitive skin- would react to a new razor. But no. I was blinded by the shiny packaging and the promise of a sharp, exacting blade.

(sigh)

I don't know if it is all the blade's fault or some combination of heat, humidity, and the friction caused by the elastic on certain unmentionables... All I know is what I have now is not so swimsuit/pool ready. Not so pretty. 

And this is certainly one "area" of my life (double entendre) that I will not be photographing.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

There was so much that we did in May, June, and now the beginning of July that I haven't blogged... not even Liam's birthday! I might just have to accept the fact that I don't have enough time to type out a long/thoughtful/funny/sentimental/informative post for every moment of our lives. Pictures alone might have to do. 

So expect some picture heavy, light-on-words posts in the near future.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As I type this, Peter is likely on the phone for a final interview/conversation/question period for a new job that will mean some huge, HUGE changes around here. Like uprooting-our-whole-family-and-home-and-moving-to-another-continent kind of huge. 

When this opportunity came up, it kind of freaked me out, but seemed like the chances of Peter being offered the job were relatively remote. When, after the interview, it appeared that his chances might be better than we thought, we started reading up on the country in questions and became more and more intrigued and excited. Now if he doesn't get it we'll be a bit disappointed.

Not too disappointed though. Or at

We love our friends here and our life and our new life-changing deck (that I've alluded too, but still need to properly photograph).

Now Peter just needs to wrap up the conversation AND CALL ME ALREADY!

(They'd better not just be sitting there talking about soccer and the World Cup final... speaking of which, what a boring game, eh? Neither Spain nor the Netherlands seemed good enough to be there. Super anti-climatic end to the tournament. *yawn*)

like father, like son

Before I get to the meat of the matter, a few of the things that Liam shared that he has in common with Peter:

• we both like to burp without saying "excuse me"
• we both like getting our feet and back rubbed
• we both like cleaning our noses before bed
• we both like spaghetti and garlic bread
• we both like to take showers
• we both have blue eyes
• we both love mommy and like bringing her home special things

I love the first one.

And the last one.

Ah, seven year olds.

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

A letter to Peter, on this Father's Day, listing (some of) the ways that you bless us:

We are blessed by your incredibly strong work ethic and the way you provide for our family.
We are blessed by your fierce devotion and loyalty to our family.
We are blessed by the sacrifices you make.
We are blessed by the compromises you make.
We are blessed by the steps you take to become the best father and husband you can be.
We are blessed by the steps you take to always grow in your relationship with God.
We are blessed by the time you spend with us and the effort you put into making ordinary days fun (even if they involve more treats than mom would normally allow).
We are blessed by your supreme grilled-cheese-making skills and your mastery of egg-in-a-hole.
We are blessed to be your top priority.
We are blessed by your strength, protection and the unconditional love you show us daily.

On days like Father's Day, everywhere you look in the stores (every greeting card, every cake top, every over-priced coffee mug) and everything you read online (every Father's Day related blog post, Facebook update, or tweet) is claiming their father or their husband as "the World's BEST Dad". In a way, it seems kind of empty. Like something we say because we're supposed to.

What I do know is that you are the best, the #1, and the World's greatest dad for this family. For these boys. For Liam, Simon and Andrew. In as much as they were each a gift to us, you are a gift to them. Peter, I can't imagine how different this day would be had our lives taken a different path. The mere thought is pretty terrifying. You are a gift to our boys and you are a gift to me. And today we celebrate you.

* * * * * * * * * * *

A little slideshow of pictures from this last year... the least silly ones. I wonder that Liam can't make a nice face for the camera, but after looking back at a year of pictures of Peter, the reason is now clear. One last item that Liam and Peter have in common:

• can't seem to take a nice picture with making a face/sticking their tongues out/making a gun out of their fingers/adding jazz hands.

Like father, like son.

Before our first meal together was even half way through, Liam was already asking if he could get out his bike to show Papa and Nana how he could ride a two-wheeler.

(at least there were no jazz hands)

Annnndreeeeeew! Come ba-a-a-a-ack!

BEFORE

AFTER
(luckily there is no scraped knee that a kiss and cuddle from Nana can't fix)

I love the shot on the left, even though it's blurry

Sometime Tuesday, while driving around, we must have passed a traffic cop, or at any rate a police officer who was directing traffic. 

Almost unnoticed by most, it clearly made an impression on Simon. Later that day while shopping for flowers to brighten up our guest room for Nana, I noticed him acting rather peculiar (read: stranger than normal).

What he as doing was standing in the store aisles, with his hand shoved in his mouth, screaming. A high-pitched, shrill scream. Then he would hold out both arms, palms facing towards the oncoming shoppers and their carts. When they got closer he would wave them through.

At first I was a bit confused, wondering whattheheckisthatnoise, but when I realized what he was doing it was impossible not to laugh.

Less funny was him running into the middle of our street and blowing his "whistle" at REAL uncoming cars.

"Liam wisdom"

While making pancakes this morning:

Liam: Is that my plate?
Me: Yup.
Liam: I love syrup... and I love you.
Me: Hmmm, you must love syrup more than me because you said it first.
Liam: Well... no... (pause) I love syrup cause it's sweet. JUST. LIKE. YOU.


Little charmer.

* * * * * * * * * * *

While discussing the plight of widows and orphans in West Africa (yes, I'm serious):

Peter: There are a lot of widows AND orphans in Africa because so many parents and husbands have died in wars or from sickness.

Liam: Are there orphanages?
Peter: Some. But a lot of the orphans have to take care of themselves.
Liam: Are there widow-ages?

* * * * * * * * * * *

I really need to take the time to write down more of what he and Simon say. Simon's been coming up with some doozies lately!

Andrew, at 15 months, still staunchly refuses to say anything other than "ta ta", which he says when he's giving us something (usually something that he knows he shouldn't be playing with) or when we're handing him something. He won't even say "mama" or "dada", preferring to simply point and grunt. Everything is "gugh".

the one in which history repeats itself

Overheard yesterday afternoon...

Simon: (wailing-WAILING!- as he walked up the stairs from the basement) "Mommyyyyyyyy! Liam killed all my guuuuuuuuyyyyys!"

Liam: (unabashedly) "Well, Simon, you said you wanted to play with me..."

The reason this was so funny is that when Peter was young, he and his older brother, Tim, would spend half the day picking out "teams" for their GI Joe adventures... only to have it end in tears when Tim -older and more highly skilled in GI Joe warfare- would capture or kill all of Peter's favourite guys. I'm sure that the scene I witnesses yesterday was played out a hundred times in Peter's parents' home when he was growing up.

And I'm sure it'll be played out another hundred times in ours.

things I don't want to forget

A few things I don't want to forget about what my boys are doing and saying right now:

Liam

• Whenever you have a particularly good or clever idea, you'll exclaim, "I know! It's Liam Wisdom!" like Quack's "Duck Wisdom" from Peep and the Big Wide World.
• I'm amazed at how well you can read, considering that four months ago, you could barely read a word. I'm also amazed at how your tiredness level effects your patience for it. But still, you're reading. AND I TAUGHT YOU.
• You would talk to Xavier every night on the computer if we let you. And you would talk of NOTHING ELSE, other than your Lego Star Wars games and who's unlocked who, and who's beat what level, and blah blah this colour lightsaber and blah blah droids and blah blah free-play and blah blah canisters and... Seriously? How can you not get tired of it?? And the thing is, neither of you two is really listening to the other. You just talk at and over each other until I can't take it anymore and say it's time to hang up. At least you have some sort of outlet though so that I don't have to bear the brunt of it. P.S. I still love you, my little gamer geek.
• You want to learn to play the trumpet, so you can play the tuba when you grow up... like grandpa did.
• You are becoming a huge fan of mysteries. Stories (the Bobbsey Twins books), episodes of Adventures in Odyssey, movies, anything where there's a mystery. You love it.

Simon

• Instead of saying someone, you say everybody. As in "Everybody needs to open the gate!" or "Everybody needs to help me eat! or "EVERYBODY NEEDS TO WIPE MY BUM!"
• Your best friend changes daily, if not hourly. Sometimes it's Liam, sometimes it's Andrew, sometimes mummy is your "best friend in the whooooole world" (awww!). And sometimes it's the guy standing behind us in line at the grocery store, who no doubt gets a huge kick out of the little english kid in the bright green toque whispering that you're best friends.
• There are several things that you repeated talk about doing when you grow up, the top two being to stay up all night and have Liam teach you how to play his Lego Star Wars computer game.
• Every day when daddy leaves for work you yell, "Have a good day at work with your friends!" (except it's more "HAVEAGOODDAYATWORKWITHYOURFRIENDS!") and as soon as you see him at the end of the day it's, "Hi daddy! How was your day?"

Andrew

• You are teething. ALL FOUR PRE-MOLARS. I just hope we survive.
• Your love of cracks (yes, you read that right) is hilariously funny (ie, how you like to sneak up behind me when I'm squatting down playing with your brothers and try to stick Lego down my butt crack*... while giggling madly), yet often embarrassingly ill-timed (ie, trying to stick objects down my shirt during worship time at church.... while giggling madly).
• At your one year check a couple of weeks ago, the doctor gave us quite the scare. But don't worry, she was wrong. And it'll make for a good story when you're older/at your wedding.

*a disgusting amazing rainbow-colour butt crack after the spectacular fall I took last week. I'm shocked I didn't break something. I am all shades of red/purple/blue turning green/yellow/brown. IT'S UUUUUGLY. I'd post a picture, but I don't think your father wants his wife's butt crack posted online. Pity too, cause it's rather impressive.

mummy is a boy? mummy is a squirrel??

holiday snacking

Last Christmas, I received the book Nourishing Traditions as a gift from myself. One of the recipes/food preparation methods I've added to my kitchen routine is that of soaking and drying nuts. The issue with raw or dry roasted nuts, is that nuts have a high amount of enzyme inhibitors that make them difficult to digest. In nature, these enzyme inhibitors are useful as they prevent nuts/seeds/grains from sprouting and growing prematurely (ie, the middle of a Canadian winter). Unfortunately, the enzymes in our stomachs that digest our food are also effected by these enzyme inhibitors.

Soaking nuts in warm water with a little bit of salt will neutralize the enzyme inhibitors and also help to encourage the production of beneficial enzymes that will help our stomachs digest nuts AND increase the availability of many vitamins (especially B vitamins). The nuts become easier to digest, the nutrients more easier to absorb.

The basic method for soaking nuts:

• dissolve salt in water
• pour water over nuts (or seeds) with enough water to cover
• leave in a warm place (time varies for type of nut)
  
• drain and spread on a pan (stainless steal is preferable)
• place in a warm oven (no warmer that 150 degrees) for specified time
• turn occasionally until thoroughly dry and crisp

For pecans (my favourite!) the soaking time is at least 7 hours (or even overnight) and it can take between 12-24 hours to completely dry them out.  I know this is more work than just tearing into a bag of roasted pecans, but they are soooo good when soaked and dehydrated. Seriously. It's such an improvement. They're beautiful and buttery and DE.LI.CIOUS.

Nourishing Traditions also contains a recipe for what are called "Holiday Pecans", as opposed to the simple Crispy Pecans as described above. Unfortunately, I couldn't remember the recipe and I didn't lug my copy of the book along to Regina. So this morning, I called Peter and asked if he would write out the recipe and email it to me. Here's what I found in my inbox this afternoon,

Holiday Pecans (makes 4 cups)

4 cups crispy pecan halves
3 egg whites
pinch sea salt
1/2 cup maple syrup
1 Tbsp vanilla extract

Beat egg whites with salt in a clean bowl until stiff. Slowly beat in maple syrup and vanilla. Fold in pecans until well coated. Spread on 2 buttered, stainless steal baking pans and place in a warm oven (no more than 150 degrees) for several hours until the egg white coating hardens. Store in an airtight container in the fridge. Save some for Peter.

Recipe to come... Holiday nuts coated in festive sack.

And my response?

I'm totally re-posting this on my blog. WHERE YOUR MOM WILL SEE IT.

Your loving wife, Amy

It's clear to me that, in the absence of my stable and calming presence, my dear husband has returned to his  pre-parenthood, pre-marriage, PRE-ADOLESCENT self sense of humour. Hopefully I won't have to put up with weeks of fart jokes while he reverts back to his grown up self.

he said

After lunch today...

Simon- Mummy, I never gonna nap again. EVER.
Me- Oh no?
(pause)
Simon- Pleeeease I never gonna nap again?

After spending two hours in his room -NOT NAPPING- I finally went in to let him out...

Me- Simon, did you sleep?
Simon- No. I reada book. I yook outta window. I sit onna floor... (in a sing-song-y voice)
Me- Why didn't you sleep? You were supposed to be sleeping.
Simon- I sorry, mummy. I didin mean it. Id wassa addident. (he has a cold and this is also his new response to everything, "I didn't mean it. It was an accident.")
Me- Riiiiight.


Lucky for him, he's cute.

I cried right along with him

Back in September when we first decided to do school at home with Liam -the week before school was to start- I found myself somewhat unprepared in regards to materials and curriculum. Our decision was made, however the logistics took a few weeks to fall into place. In the interim, I decided to just start reading with him and settled on The Chronicles of Narnia as a starting point.

After breezing through The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in less than two weeks, we borrowed the film version to watch together. I waited until an afternoon when Simon was sleeping and settled onto the couch with Liam.

While the book starts straight into the story of the Penvensie children's arrival at the Professor's house in the country, the movie sets the scene more, with bombs dropping on London while the children and their mother narrowly escape to their bomb shelter. The next scene sees them on a crowded train platform (among hundreds of other children being sent away from London) while they say goodbye to their tearful mother.

At this point in the movie, I turned to find Liam with his face buried in the couch cushions, choking back tears.

WHAAAA???

His reason for crying? IT'S JUST SOOOOO SAAAA-A-A-A-A-D. So sad. The opening credits weren't even finished and he already wanted to shut off the movie. And he knew the story! We'd just finished reading it the day before!

Fast forward a few weeks, we'd read through the second book of the series, Prince Caspian, and decided that the movie version would be a good choice for a family movie night (minus a few scenes that we skipped). And it seemed to be going splendidly. ALL WAS WELL.

Until the end.

At the end of the movie, as in the book, the older two Penvensie kids, Peter and Susan, are told by Aslan that they won't be returning to Narnia. They then say goodbye to their Narnian friends and proceed to walk through an opening in two trees, back into our world. During that scene, there is a song playing. A song by Regina Spektor entitled "The Call".

Here it is, if you'd like to listen:

This song absolutely WRECKED, Liam. My poor boy. I looked over with a big smile on my face, ready to say, "What did you think, Liam? Wasn't that GREAT?". What I saw first was the quivering chin and before I knew it he was sobbing in my arms, his whole body shaking. IT'S JUST SOOOOO SAAAA-A-A-A-A-D.

This boy of ours, he feels things deeply. He FEELS things DEEPLY.

You may ask yourselves then, as I later did, what exactly I was thinking this morning when I casually mentioned to Liam that today was his grandpa's birthday. Rather, it would have been his birthday because my dad died last December.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when, shortly after my off-handed remark, I found this deep-feeling boy of mine curled up in a ball with his head buried between my back and the couch cushions. When I asked what was wrong, I was met with a muffled, "I miss graaaaandpa!"

After extracting his head from the couch, I was able to calm him down enough to ask if he'd like to watch the video I made for my dad's service. Grandpa's video. Yes, he responded, he would. But without the music.

So we settled into the couch, Liam on one side of me and Simon on the other. We did, infact, watch it with the sound ON, and Liam did very well until the very end when we got to the pictures of my dad when he was sick in the hospital, accompanied by this song,

As I held my little boy, who loved his grandpa so much, I found myself fighting back the tears that I was telling him were okay to let fall. Not because I didn't want my son to see me cry, but because I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop once I started. So we sat there and had a good cry together. I reminded him of the love he shared with his grandpa, and how that love won't ever change. How it's always going to hurt a little bit when we think of him, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't think about him. That grandpa would want us to think about him and want us to go on loving him and loving each other.

And Simon? Well he insisted on sitting with us the whole time and "cried" right along with us. Completely fake and completely forced, but very sincere and genuine in his desire to sit and cry and be sad with us. As he said to my mom on the phone not too long later, "We're crying. We're crying cause the song made us sad." WE. WE're crying. Solidarity!

Romans 12:15 says, "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn". I'm amazed and impressed and thankful that I have such feeling little boys. Children who not only have strong emotions, but who also feel free to express them (for better or worse!). It's humbling and a great responsibility to properly nurture that in them. Empathy. To understand and share another's emotions. This is one of my greatests desires for my children.

I know that my dad would be proud of them.

We miss you, dad. Happy Birthday.

just desserts

I know I just wrote a post recording some of the memorial things that Simon has said recently, but I can't NOT write these down.

Me: Simon, are you ready for some yummy apple crisp?

Simon: Yeah! Apple christmas!

(except it was more like "Chriskmus" because he kind of clicks his 's')

Me: Simon, would you like apple crisp or lemon pie?

Simon: Um... I want lemonade PILE!

(or rather, "melamade")

Yes, we do eat food other than dessert, it just so happens that I made an apple crisp this last Friday (with some of our delicious apples that we picked at a local orchard last week) that was gluten-free and dairy-free for Simon to make up for the fact that his older brother got to go to the church with our homeschooling friends and he didn't.  Then today -AFTER SPENDING 7+ HOURS AT THE GATINEAU HOSPITAL, AKA THE WORST HOSPITAL EMERGENCY ROOM IN CANADA, ONLY TO GET AN ANTIBIOTIC THAT I'VE MOSTLY DECIDED NOT TO USE- I decided I needed a bit of a pick me up. In the form of lemon meringue pie, of course.

Of course.

Thus the two desserts.

And thus Simon's insistence on calling it pile instead of pie.

(I realize that that last "thus" doesn't really work there, but I choose to leave it. I am exercising my right to be grammatically incorrect.)

they said

While Liam was reciting his memory verse earlier this week:

"So God created man in his own image,

In the image of God he created him;

Male and email he created them."

                   -Genesis 1:27

I about peed myself laughing! Clearly he's heard the word "email" more than the word "female".

* * * * * * * * * *

Simon is forever confused by the pronouns "our" and "their".

When he's listing off people we're going to see at church/park/pool/friend's house it will go something like this: "Imma see Joriiiick and Eduaaaaard and Loulouuuuuu and our moooooom and our daaaaaad." or "Imma see Leaaaaa and Melooooo and our baaaaaaaby and our mooooooom and our daaaaaaad." In both examples, "our" actually means "their".

I think it's super cute. He'll figure it out eventually, so I don't  bother to correct him.

We run into trouble, however, when I tell him that someone is coming to our house to play, forgetting that he'll interpret that to mean that we are going to their house to play.

* * * * * * * * * *

Andrew, now 8 1/2 months old, has two new favorite activities both of which can be done in the bathroom:

• Unrolling the entire roll of toilet paper. He does this not by spinning, but pulling, pulling it down, hand over fist. Gleefully. Twice I've found him sitting proudly in a fluffy mountain of toilet paper, squealing and grinning from ear to ear; 
• Playing with the door stopper. It would be more accurate to say that he has a love/hate relationship with the door stoppers. He does enjoy the sound they make while he's whacking and batting at them, but his ultimate goal is to pull them clean off the wall. Because chewing on things trumps hitting them.
  

Much to Andrew's utter dismay, the door stopper in Peter and my bedroom present a serious challenge. Once easily removed, it has now been screwed in extra tight (thanks, daddy) and will not come off.

No matter how hard our little man pulls. No matter how loudly he grunts or how piercing his screams . No matter the heights of his aggravation, that door stopper will. not. budge. And the ensuing trantrums -8 month old tantrums!- are hilarious.

And what do his father and I do while our infant son is in the throws of frustration? We stand back and watch. And laugh.

Remind us of this when he's two and throwing dishes at our heads.

* * * * * * * * * *

Things that Simon says that I don't want to forget:

• ipok = iPod
• ob-lobs = Loblaws (grocery store chain)
• I need a so high push. = wants to be pushed on the swing
• el-ah-peen = machine (we have no idea where this came from)
• day-ber = Xavier
• Mummy, please you say we watch Cars? = at nauseum every time we drive anywhere
• Andrew is my friend. = Awww. But it's more like, "Andwew id mah dweeeend."

There are more that I've been meaning to jot down, but I'm drawing a blank.

can girls eat this?

To set the stage a bit, the boys and I were eating lunch yesterday and Liam was finished, but still hungry so I told him to get himself a yogurt from the fridge. He chose a mixed berry one. On the front of the container, it was obvious that the printing machine had missed the mark with the red ink, so the raspberry ended up looking a greenish yellow.

Liam: What kind of berries are green?
me: (not really paying attention since I was nursing Andrew) I'm not sure.
Liam: boysenberries? (at least that's what I thought I heard)
me: Sure.
Liam: Maybe this is boysenberry yogurt.
me: Hmmm, it could be.
Liam: Well are you sure I should eat it? IF THERE'S POISON IN IT??
me: (paying attention now) Poison?? (cluing in) No, Liam, it's BOYSENberry. With a 'B', "buh".
Liam: Ohhhh, BOYSENberry.

(a short pause, then)

Liam: Can girls eat boysenberries?

hey Beavis

Peter came home early the other day. We were all downstairs watching Yo Gabba, Gabba and playing Lego (for those not familiar with it, Yo Gabba, Gabba is also known as" toddler crack"). Paul Williams was the guest and, in this particular segment, was sitting at the piano singing a song.

By the time I saw the glint in Peter's eye, it was too late.

Peter: Liam, do you know what they call someone who plays the piano?
Liam: No.
Peter: A "pianist".
Liam: A PENIS??

This was, predictably, followed by fits of laughter.

Peter was laughing hardest.

Cause he turned how old this week? THIRTEEN??