I swear I wasn’t snooping

Mother’s Day is looming in France; it’s not one of those days that I am particularly attached to. I do love the poetry they teach my son at school, but I am pretty lucky, and I feel the love from my family much more often than once a year. My children are ridiculously into cuddles, and kisses, and saying things like ” I love you all the way to Santa Claus, and back ” (their personal twist to Guess how much I love you).

Because of this, it might be assumed that I would be easy to surprise, but this would be wrong.
I got in late last night after everyone went to bed; the lights were all out when I crawled into bed, and there was a very odd sensation at my feet. I reached down under the covers and pulled out a package, it was dark and I was tired, so I couldn’t tell what the crap was in my bed. As my fading consciousness woke up again, I realized it was something that was gift wrapped. I put two and two together and then had a difficult time falling asleep thinking of my adorable five year old who clearly hid my present in his own favourite hiding spot. 

Then this morning I was getting dressed for work and couldn’t find my belt. I looked all over for it, and came up completely empty handed. As a last resort, I checked under my bed thinking it might have been swept under there after I dropped it on the floor after the last time I wore it (I am really not great at putting my clothes away, even after years and years of nagging by parents, boyfriends, and roommates. I mean seriously people, I have more important things to do than clean up after myself, after all the TV isn’t going to watch itself).

I almost never look under my bed for fear of a dust bunny attack and yet today I did, to find another gift wrapped “thing”. 

It was a good start to a pretty great day; aside from the incident in which all the work I have done for the last year was summed up in front of all my peers and management as “giving access to a website” the day was pretty fantastic. 

I got home, made egg mcmuffins, ate them on the living room floor watching Kung fu panda with my babies and then put said babies to bed. Now I find myself with some time on my hands, so I started packing. 

Tonight I decided to pack the “high” toy shelf. I don’t know if you have one of these, but we have a shelf for all the loud toys, the ones that make your head want explode, the ones that could only have been brought into this house in the form of a gift to a child from either people without children, or people who actually really hate us. Their use is limited in both duration and frequency. I don’t think I have looked on that shelf in weeks, but I did tonight, and found yet another adorably gift wrapped “thing” . 

I don’t know what my “things” are yet, but I do know that my family through no fault of my own, are totally incapable of surprising me (also Crazy couldn’t wait any longer and recited his poem for us last weekend)…unless of course the actual surprise was this super crazy random fun scavenger hunt.



I often have a lot of words to say regarding the drivers with whom I share the streets around here.
I sometimes want to ask them why they think 1 minute (and sometimes even 10 seconds) of their life is so much more important than my or my child’s entire existence. I mean seriously, is it necessary to speed up at a cross walk to get through it before we start to cross? Is it necessary to drive 70km/h in a school zone?

I sometimes want to find out why motorcyclists think it’s a good idea to hang out in my blind spot, or why the cars behind me think that if they drive on my bumper I might go faster. It’s a 30 people, and it’s probably a 30 for a reason..hey look, there is a children’s playground.

I sometimes want to know why they think they are the only ones to notice there is a traffic jam, and why they think honking is going to help? Honking is for safety dudes, the horn was not installed to communicate your angry feelings at the world.

I have lots of words, that sometimes I unfortunately say out loud, triggering a lot of questions from the back seat (don’t worry Hubby, it’s nothing profane).

But sometimes I am left without words…because I cannot contemplate the beginning of a question to understand what goes through people’s minds.

Im promtu traffic jam this morning.

Im promtu traffic jam this morning.

Thank goodness my children’s care givers don’t speak English

Spring holidays were over this morning and they went out in style. When I left the house at 7:50, both kids were barely awake and both were still in their pyjamas (knowing they need to leave the house at roughly 8:10).

My kids spent last week with their father visiting their grandparents, which was pretty much a complete and total holiday for me. I had forgotten what it was like to only have to care for myself. I could take a shower without any kids telling me they want food…now, and I could go to bed at night without fear of a little voice waking me up at 3 am because she can’t find her soother in her bed (in fairness to the cute voice, it had fallen out of the bed and I didn’t find it myself until the sun was up). I got up 30 minutes later and drank my coffee sitting down; I could watch the entire set of Harry Potter movies in a single week, because I didn’t have to wait for the kids to be in bed before starting it; I was able to paint the terrace furniture without fear of having paint on child hands and therefore all over the couch, wall, beds, counters etc.

That said, I was quite glad to have their voices fill the apartment again. I was thrilled to get cuddles and kisses. In particularly I was happy to hear my daughters voice. She is learning new words and new phrases at an alarming rate and in the four days that she was gone, I felt that she grew by months.

She also insists on singing her whole life. Sometimes she sings actual songs, like the alphabet song (emenelopy), or some random French song she heard once at a play group. Sometimes she just sings her life, such as “I’m sitting on the toilet and my underwear is pink”.

Yesterday, she suddenly started singing “I’m freaky baby, yes yes” and I am pretty sure my eyes popped out of my head. Naturally she noticed this reaction, I wasn’t quick enough to control my face, so she sang it over and over again trying to get another reaction. I held it together, I didn’t react again until she started the highly inappropriate dance moves, then I burst out laughing. I managed to convince the kids I was laughing at something completely unrelated that I saw out the window; my son was most unhappy he missed seeing whatever was so funny and went on about it for like 15 minutes.

In the end, I tried to ignore it, cursed Pitbull under my breathe and thanked the heavens that my children’s care givers don’t understand English.

ASIDE: I also learned I need to pay much closer attention to all media that reach my children, radio, iPads, T.V., everything.