Kindle doesn't realize that I am project-oriented. I like to be able to see the end of the book. And with a difficult book, that helps me to pull through to the end.
I am realizing that this may be why parenting sometimes feels especially hard. My kids - while not projects as such (though they feel like it at times), always seem to live outside of my vision for them. There is no page marker telling me that I have 'made it'. On one day Ysabeau is toilet trained. I check the box, project accomplished - and the next day she is not.
Like a Kindle book, the joy of a finished project is withheld. Thankfully, there a number of other joys that override this small annoyance.
We are also making some headway with toilet training. I am officially tired of having two kids in diapers - cloth diapers. We spend a lot of time on the potty, Ysabeau and I. We chat, we read, we do anything to at least create some time for something to happen.
Often she will tell me she's peed but when I look in the potty:
"I don't see any pee Ysabeau."
She looks in, "Oh, I guess I lost it."
"I guess you didn't have it in the first place."
"I guess not."
I have also mentioned in previous posts how sharing the Catholic faith with my children gives me some anxiety. Sometimes they get it and sometimes they don't. Regardless, it makes for highly entertaining play time.
Here Ysabeau has got this little green essential oil burner from my counter. In her mind, it obviously brought up some spiritual sensibilities because she began to pray.
But then she started "drinking her blood".
Before you are really horrified, she clearly thinks it bears some resemblance to the chalice the priests hold during the Catholic mass. To non-Catholics I will spare you the gory details, but effectively, this is when the priest turns the bread and wine in the body and blood of Christ. She simply took a leap of logic and decided it was her blood.
While I was thinking of giving her a quick mini-Church lesson and explaining why cannibalism isn't ok in our family....she was able to bring it down a level;
"Would you like to hold my microbot mom", and handed me the once bloodied chalice.
Phew. Thank God for Big Hero 6 (brought to her by The Mexican) From the sacred to the profane in a matter of a moment. I love toddlers.
Until it gets here, he seems happy enough with the small DVD player that sits at the edge of the couch and lapses into black and white every few minutes.
I was excited about getting some semi-adult conversation with having the Mexican around. Turns out the world of Pokemon is top notch conversation for 10 year olds. I don't get Pokemon, but I am learning to honestly find poo jokes funnier. Lord help me.
I made the big mistake of giving his finished lego car to his sister to push around while he was at camp. He told me that he likes to destroy his projects and build them into something new - so why not?
Turns out HE likes to destroy them. He doesn't like me to give his sister permission to destroy. That moment turned into a valley of tears and "I want to leave this country FOREVER". Oops.
Nothing inherently wrong with those phrases except that now I have a 2 year old constantly repeating them. I took her to the Salmon ladder and there were no salmon:
"Are you kidding?!!"
I went to get juice out of the fridge and then had to explain to her there wasn't any juice:
"Are you seriously?".
My two youngest do not speak French (ok, one doesn't speak at all), the language of my ancestors, but they might actually become ESL, idolizing the Mexican, as they of course should (older brother and all).