LP and his posse

Since my son is pretty much the only pint-size person in both our extended families, I don't get to see him interact with other children on a regular basis. Yes, there are my friends who also have kids, but we're all so caught up in the grand swirl of kids-routine-time-flies that we haven't seen much of each other for a while now. And of course, there is daycare, but usually during the five minutes I spend there daily, LP is in my arms, not playing with his peers.

So, it always fills my heart with joy to see him with people he must view as being "just like him," all the other children around us. From the time we bumped into a little girl from his daycare group and her father at Loblaws, and both kids were immensely happy to see each other, like Christmas had arrived early. Or the time we went to see one of my friend's cute new baby girl, and LP tagged along just fine with her 19-month-old sister, and the silly boogers jumped in her crib and giggled together for minutes at a time.

There was also the hilarious time when we had friends over for brunch and their baby, who is a couple of months younger than him, was lying on his belly on the playmat, while our dear son was crawling everywhere. At some point, he carefully creeped to the baby, and out of nowhere, delicately patted his head in a tender and slightly protective gesture.

This week, he even made a girlfriend while we were waiting at the clinic (for yet another ear infection), a little one-year-old named Anastasia, who downright chased him around with ecstatic coos, hugged him, took his hands, and bombarded him with kisses. In a Russian-accented yet pretty decent French, his mother explained that she was staying at home with her because she couldn't find a daycare spot, and so that's why she was that "emotional" when she finally got to see other kids.

This morning, M was going to Ottawa for a meeting and so I got to drop LP off, something I don't do very often. He had been very fussy and unstable ever since waking up, but as soon as we got to the daycare, it was all turned around. He loudly shouted "Allo, allo!" to no one in particular, and while I took his coat off, I could see him wave through the glass wall to a little boy having breakfast in his high chair, both kids smiling at each other and giggling. Then two of his friends came to the half-door to greet him, one of them happily blurting out "Allo, Wi-Fippe!" As soon as he was inside and free to play, the other boy who had been waiting for him at the door sat on the floor next to him, and LP actually reached out and hugged him for a second! That moment was all so cheerful and cute and on cue, that I was half expecting them to all burst into song and pull a tune from a musical or something...

I just loved how he was totally "in his element," how these kids two and younger, despite a lot of parallel play and probably much more interest in interacting with their "surrogate mommies," have still obviously formed an attachment to each other, and established some sort of a tiny society where each kid has a role. As I left for work, I couldn't help but feel just a tiny dash of pride, like I had just witnessed my child being the cool kid in school, whose arrival is a major event, cheered by everyone.

LP says hi

I didn't actually ask him if he wanted to say hi to you, but I just assume he does since that's all he's being doing for the past three days: blurting out "Allo!" to anyone and everyone...

When the dog bites, when the bee stings...

My days are generally filled with two favorite moments. The first one begins when I park at the daycare after my workday, knowing that LP will be in my arms in a few seconds. Like all of us, he has good days and bad days, and sometimes he's slightly pissed to have to leave his friends and toys, but most of the time he's SO happy to see me, and jumps over and hugs me real tight. While talking with the girls about his day, I kiss his little face dozens of time as he tries to divert my attention by giving me wet kisses, touching my face or stroking my hair.

My second favorite moment occurs after we bathe him and put his PJs on, when M says good night and it's only us two in the rocking chair. We read, we tickle, we drink a little water, we laugh, and then we turn off the lights and it's time to sleep. Sometimes I say: "Are we done reading LP?" and he looks at me as if it was anything but a purely rhetorical question, then replies "Non" very decidedly and seriously.

Holding my son in my arms and rocking him at the end of the day is, by far, the most emotional parenting moment I experience. I cannot believe that some people consider this sublimely tender moment a way of "spoiling" your child (I think anything stating that providing much-needed affection to your young child will "spoil" him really is crap). I feel like I spend so little time with him that I wouldn't give this moment for the world, for it is a rare one which only belongs to us two, in which I totally live in the present tense. While he sometimes wiggle a little, he's usually calmer and more "available" then that in any other time. It's hard to explain, but I feel that he's just completely there. He's secure, he's calm, he's serene; at this point, both our worlds are perfect.

Usually I sing, anything from real lullabies to all the songs I've liked in the last twenty years or so (sometimes without realizing it I start singing really inappropriate songs like Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" or The Offspring's "Self-Esteem", and I stop mid-way, smiling. It reminds me of a Friends episode during which Rachel and Ross sang "Baby got Back" to their baby, a hilarious old-school hip-hop song about big butts.) Sometimes, I feel uninspired and I sing nothing at all, and all we can hear is the nature sound from the Sleep Sheep (a GREAT invention).

During that time, I caress his little face and pat his little head and look at his little hands and feet (perfect, miniature replica of my own), and I silently tell him that he's the most perfect thing I have ever done, the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I'm completely drunk with love, my heart almost hurting with the force of these beautifully overwhelming emotions. I also can't help but feel a little sad. Because this magical moment at the end of our days will not last forever, since at some point he'll be too big to be rocked, and won't let me rock him anyway. I am more aware of time slipping by then than I ever was at any other point in my whole life. There's an ad on TV promoting a program where you can save for your child's education and have the government match your own savings. Its message is that kids grow up so fast, and it shows a mom saying goodnight to her tiny smiling baby as she turns off the light to his room. Then suddenly it's morning, and instead of a crib there's a lanky, awkward teenager in a bed, who groggily wakes up and takes the cup of coffee from her hands. I want to cry every time I see it. They have managed to perfectly illustrate my worst fear: to wake up tomorrow and realize that LP is all grown up, ready to go to college.

I don't know why I feel this way, I am well aware that it's part of the deal and I'm actually looking forward to see him grow up and be the man he is supposed to be. While I enjoyed the baby stage (much more than I expected to, actually), I like it so much better now, now that he's a real little person with a certain sense of what he wants and how to get what he wants, now that he constantly surprises us and tries to find ways to make us laugh. Now that he's walking around the house, really and fully inhabiting it, making it so full of joy and life.

Time will never stop but I guess the only antidote is to make the most of these moments, to fully appreciate how he is now, with his little body who still fits right into my arms, his unbearable cuteness, his smell. That's partly why I love this moment so much.

Go Habs Go!

They need all the encouragement they can get for tomorrow night...!!!

Three words is a sentence, right?

"Encore du lait" (more milk) was officially pronounced by LP this evening, right after we came back from the park, where he played in the swings and gleefully walked around in the grass, while posing for his daddy's camera.

There was also a small dog around, which we couldn't see but could hear yapping, and at one point he looked at us and asked: "Un chat?"

The Diapered Chef

In the last few weeks, LP has developed not only an interest in eating (when I ask: “Veux-tu manger?”, he often claps his hands and cheers), but also in watching me cook. Before, when we got back home after our day, he used to zoom to his toys in the living room and play for at least a few minutes, usually long enough for me to get busy in the kitchen and get dinner going, while keeping an eye on him. Then, he gradually moved closer and closer to the kitchen, and abandoned his toys to play with things around, from (safe) baking supplies to plastic containers, utensils and colanders. He loves to knock on things, to play peek-a-boo (Coucou!) with the most random objects, and is incredibly busy and serious about just handling stuff and moving it around.

Increasingly, he started to ask about what I was doing… And now needs to be explained everything. So I diligently abide, and provide a running commentary of my super mundane tasks, like “here, mommy is boiling water, so we can cook the pasta in it later” or “we’re gonna chop the green onion and add it to the skillet.” He wants to see and learn about everything going on. You can see that he listens hard, and surprisingly, seems to really pay attention. If he doesn’t appear to understand, he asks again three minutes later. The other day, he even advised me to put more cumin in order to bring out a particular dish’s smokiness.

His latest move is to “cook” too, by taking a utensil himself and sort of stirring things around in a skillet or a pan. Last night I made pad Thai, and when he realized what I was doing, he immediately opened the kitchen utensil drawer, then excitedly pointed to a wooden spoon. He insisted on being held and when I was stirring, he just had to do it too. I think it’s really cute but having him in my arms while cooking is far from ideal, since he’s becoming really heavy and well, I need my two hands!!! He won’t be put down, so my only solution so far is to sit him in his high chair besides me, so he can see while being out of the way. It usually buys me a few minutes, before the whole circus starts over (him screeching to get out, walking a bit, then coming back and wanting to be held again.)

When I was pregnant, I used to tell M that there were two traits I really hoped our baby would have: a love of reading and a love of food. Needless to say I now feel really blessed that he at least seems to be on the right path for both. I’ll do my best to feed (lame pun intended) his early interest in cooking and I’m looking forward to having real cooking projects with him when he’s a bit older. We’re watching a lot of the Food Network as well, so I hope he grows up thinking that it’s cool and even sexy for men to cook (although as much as I like him, we’ll have to cut off foul-mouthed Gordon Ramsay soon unless we want LP to start talking like a drunk Scottish sailor).

I’m thinking I should have wished for a baby who sleeps well too though…

A fabulous weekend

LP insisted on tossing the salad himself...

We’ve had a great weekend surrounded by a flood of visitors eager to see the little daredevil in all his walking glory. M’s parents, his two sisters, his aunt, my mom and my sister all paid a visit. It was also a no-brainer weather-wise, since our green grass, spring blooms, BBQ-ed meals and impossibly pleasant balmy days provided a sharp contrast to Quebec City’s never-ending winterish dreariness.

LP made phenomenal progress in five days; having a kid and seeing him develop really gives you a sense of wonder towards human nature. He’s walking better and better every day, and has already started to do things that books said were only supposed to happen after a few months of walking experience. Of course, this in no way means that he has superior abilities, only that since he started to walk later, his motor development was already a bit ahead of kids who start around one. He’s squatting and pulling himself up alone, stops and starts walking again in another direction, walks with toys in both hands, walks while looking the other way, and almost runs already! He also suddenly started to climb up the stairs, and is now able to sit in his kid-size armchair by himself pretty decently, and to pull himself back in an upward position when getting out of it. The sneaky little wiseass also immediately thought of a way to climb on it and reach the staircase railing in an attempt to jump over and fall into the house’s entrance, 6 feet below. Childproofing suddenly takes a whole new meaning.

I was just thinking lately that he hasn’t really come up with new words in the last couple of weeks. In retrospect I suppose he was concentrating on mastering walking, which is probably the most important milestone of your entire life, maybe even of the whole human evolution. It’s funny to see how language develops in bursts, and not really in a linear fashion…

Instead of words, he’s been into animal sounds lately. On Saturday he showed me his rubber duckie and blurted out: “Kaa-ka!…” which stands for “Coin-coin,” the sound a duck makes in French. He also pointed to a rooster and went “Ko...ko” (for “Cocorico”), and he sometimes imitates me when I do a pig, which sound in French is not really a word, more like a prolonged snort. While his grandmother read him a book yesterday, he correctly pointed to a lot more things than he usually does with me when asked, like a telephone, a fish, etc. He also uses the “Kaa-ka” sound (I’ve said it before, but the funniest thing is that it stands for poo in French) for cats, birds, dogs, penguins he saw on TV…

I never thought I would say that, but it's all making me realize that my baby is gone. I am thrilled to watch him become more and more autonomous, but seeing him with my mother yesterday gave me a bit of a shock. Who was that toddler in her arms, so tall and chattering away, entirely aware of the conversation going on around him? It couldn’t possibly be my tiny-teeny LP? But it was and it is… More to come on that topic another day, but boy, watching children grow sure is a constant reminder of the inevitable elapsing of time...

The Only Child Dilemma

Down the road, M and I might have another child. Or might not. It’s still undecided, mostly because I’m very ambivalent about it all. I know that M would be happy both ways, and there's no pressure. But as he would certainly be ready for another one in a minute, I’m hesitant. It’s all part of my all-or-nothing personality, I guess.

See, I’ve never been one of these girls who dreamed of having babies from their earliest age. I was overwhelmed by the idea, terrified by childbirth, and generally thought I was too lazy and selfish. I kept telling people that even though it wasn’t my thing, I also wasn’t naive enough to think that I couldn’t change my mind over time, and change my mind I did. When I got to about 28, 29, admittedly when my friends started becoming pregnant, I sort of caught the bug, too. But I never, ever saw myself with a large family.

First, I’ve had more than my hands full with LP. It’s much, much better nowadays, and even though he’s still not a great sleeper, caring for him is now like a pleasant, somewhat vigorous exercise under a gentle breeze, compared to say a lonely trek through a hellish desert without water or shelter. I’m very much enjoying myself now, but I still remember that period vividly, and I’m not quite that eager to go back.

Second, even if LP is a lot smoother now, he’s still quite intense and requires a whole lot of attention. How do people do this? How can you split your attention and love into two or three? I have so much admiration for the women around me who have more than one child; and if they work, I’m even more impressed, not because stay-at-home moms have it easier -I know it’s quite the contrary- but because working makes the logistics of it much more complicated. However, how they do it all is still a big mystery to me. I’m not complaining because I’ve had plenty of leisure time in my life, plenty of traveling, plenty of carefree fun and me time (it’s one of the advantages of having children later, you do not feel like you’ve missed out on anything) and I know that my job as a mother will not always be this intensive, but I still think it’s not easy, and I wonder how I could possibly stretch myself even more.

People who only have one child are generally viewed negatively. The parents will be construed as selfish and spineless, while the child can only be a spoiled brat. I’m sure this situation exists, but I also know lots of kids who have siblings and who are still brats. People around me who are only children all say that it sucked. I understand, I wouldn’t be what I am today if my sisters weren’t there, I know that. But at the same time, it’s clear that those people have an idealized view of ‘siblinghood’. They know nothing about the nasty fights, the bickering, the competition, the favoritism (yes, it exists), and the sheer unfairness and inequality of it all. I know a lot of siblings who hate each other, even as adults, and really aren’t close. These grown-up only children that I know may not realize it, but over time they have replaced siblings with a ‘chosen’ family of sorts, by surrounding themselves with other people they care about like cousins and friends, who they can turn to for help and support. I think the bottom line is you don’t necessarily need siblings, as long as you are not alone.

I tend to be offended by people who say that a “real” family can only be one with two children. I find this view extremely narrow, since it not only excludes very real families like mine, but a friend who wants a third kid told me she also gets perplexed looks all the time, as if she were crazy to want more than two. I strongly oppose this dangerous concept that the “real family” has two children, preferably one of each gender, and preferably with a boy as the firstborn… If I feel like I might not be able to do my parenting job properly with a second child, then wouldn’t it be best if this second child was never born? And if someone feels like they want four, shouldn’t they be praised for increasing the birth rate, instead of being perceived as weirdos? For having defended this point of view for a number of years, I also root for people who decide not to have children at all, a choice that should be perceived as legitimate in our society.

I’m certain we could make it without spoiling LP rotten, among other things by acting like his parents and not like his friends, not treating him like he’s a pint-size god, and ensuring that he is surrounded by other children so he learns what it means to share, to resolve conflicts, to behave properly among a group, to vie for the adults’ attention… There are also positive aspects to growing up with a lot of time and exclusive attention, and I find that most only children I know are extremely interesting people, intelligent, sensitive, confident, precocious, curious and aware…

On the other hand, I keep telling myself that LP might want to have a sibling... Obviously, his happiness is the most important factor in the equation, much more important that the fact that I might have to spend a few more sleepless nights, or even a few hundred more. Would it make his childhood more pleasant, would it teach him things that he would otherwise miss?

Larger families may not always be peaceful, but then they are also probably less boring. The more members a family has, the more diverse its “mini-society” can be. My colleague, who has one kid, wishes he'd had one more but never did because of a divorce, also told me something which is horrible but nonetheless rings true: if something ever happens to my daughter, I’ll simply become childless. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, not in the selfish way it could possibly entail, but just in the general sense that more family members mean more possibilities to eventually take care of someone who becomes ill, disabled, etc., and more people you can lean on, if, god forbid…

So, as usual, I’m way over-analyzing this. Now that LP is a toddler, there are more and more questions about the eventual second one. The truth is I just… don’t know. But there’s no rush. I have no problem waiting another year or even two before we make up our minds, and while I can perfectly see the rationale in having two kids close together, somehow it doesn’t work for us at all. Come to think if it, maybe we could wait until LP tells us what he wants himself, and make it a "family decision"…

HE'S WALKING!!!

LP suddenly appeared to 'get it' yesterday and started to walk. FINALLY, nearly 63 weeks after his birth, 13 weeks after pulling himself up, after cutting no less than 12 teeth and saying no less than 20 words, he friggin' WALKED!!!! We were just ecstatic, after having waited SO LONG for this ultimate moment of parental gratification... He's really funny, and totally looks like an old drunk. He's beaming with pride (so are we), and so focused on his goal (he spent the whole week trying again and again all day long, the daycare girls said), that it otherwise makes him extremely tired and cranky, but we couldn't care less...

Man, our little boy is all grown up...!

California, here we come...

It looks like our vacation plans will finally happen. If all goes well, we're taking the whole family to SoCal on the last week of June and the first week of July. I'm so excited (except for the taking LP on a six-hour flight thing)...

Why do we keep going there, I hear you say? Well, first because it's so great... I'm not part of the "I hate LA" crowd, I just love that city, and that state in general, and the Southwest as a whole. Second because we have dear friends there we want to spend some time with. No only their company is really pleasant, but they also have young (super cute) kids, which will make things much, much easier... I do hope that while there, I'll have some time to bake cupcakes with my friend Julie! Maybe the guys could take the children to Disneyland or something.


More details to come soon...

LPs first attempt at art!

Only a few weeks ago, he would have simply wanted to eat the chalk. Now he's going all Jackson Pollock on us, although as you can see the urge to taste his medium is still strong...

Ballon, ballon, ballon!

The balloons we put up for LP’s birthday more than two months ago apparently made a big impression on him. The word was among his five first, and it remains one of his favorites. “Ballon, ballon, ballon!” can be heard all the time at our house. He says it about his various round toys, he points at every ball and balloon in every book that he has, even if it’s tiny and kind of hiding in a corner, and looks super proud to say: “Ballon!”

In French, “balloon” is the same word as “ball.” However, there are two words to express the concept of “ball,” according to the object’s size (no sexual innuendo intended whatsoever). A golf ball or a baseball is a “balle,” while a soccer or basket ball is a “ballon.” We will have to wait for LP to grow up a little before explaining the semantics of it, though. For him, everything is a “ballon.” We blew bubbles this weekend, and guess what he kept calling them? He also watched golf with his dad, and repeatedly pointed at the TV when they had one of those supremely exciting ball shots, blurting out “Ballon!” At the grocery store, he even called a honeydew melon “ballon,” until I corrected him and he started to giddily repeat “melon, melon, melon!” We’re figuring he probably likes the way it sounds.

He also started taking more and more little steps in the last few days, up to five or six on several occasions. He’s gaining confidence, but unfortunately his balance still seems to be lacking. He is falling down so much, he even started spitting blood at some point yesterday after biting on his tongue. It was nothing, but it’s still never a great and carefree moment for parents. We are also starting to wonder whether his repeated ear infections could have affected his balance, after the pediatric ear-nose-throat specialist said last week that he has a lot of fluid buildup in his ears. He told us that he certainly has temporary hearing loss, which should resolve by itself when the fluid is gone. I said but how can he talk so much if he doesn’t hear? He looked at me like I was crazy and replied slowly, with the tone you use with lunatics: “Well, he only just turned one, he can’t be talking much, can he?” I opened my mouth, but my son unexpectedly saved my ass, for the first time in his life. I swear that at this very moment, LP pointed at a really cheesy picture of a cat wearing a rain hat and boots on the wall, and triumphantly said: “Chat!” Thanks my little sweetheart, for providing irrefutable proof that your mummy isn’t nuts…

Random things on my mind...

-I took my son to an exhibit at the Montreal McCord History Museum on Saturday. It was called “Reveal or conceal,” and was about the specific ways in which women have been showing or hiding their bodies through fashion and accessories in the last two hundred years. I figured it wouldn’t have been M’s cuppa-tea, and LP was still too young to protest. It was interesting to see corsets and very prudish bathing suits opposed to recent pictures of teens with thongs showing through their ultra-low-waist jeans, but the image I still have in my head is from a series of newspaper clippings from the ‘30s to the ‘50s, describing how thin women, who “unfortunately hadn’t been put at an advantage by Mother Nature”, could try and gain some weight in order to finally feel good about themselves. The title of one specific ad was “You’re looking so much better since you’ve gained those 15 pounds!” I can’t believe that in 70 years or so, we went from people who probably couldn’t always eat as much as they needed, to one of two equally depressing current scenarios: either people who eat way too much and have debilitating weight problems or people who are perfectly fine and still obsess that they’re not. I wonder what people would say if the same ad ran in newspapers today!

-I also saw a documentary on Japan which absolutely blew me away. It showed a garbage disposal/recycling plant in Kyoto and I couldn’t believe how clever and efficient these people are. The whole plant was you-could-eat-on-the-floor clean, and trucks quietly and rapidly discharged their loads onto machines that automatically sorted the recycling materials into different piles while sending the trash elsewhere. Matter that couldn’t be recycled was put into a gigantic tank where it was carefully and cleanly burned. Remaining ashes were then distributed all over the city and used as plant food. All the energy necessary to operate the plant was generated by solar panels on the rooftop. All the energy created by the fire used to burn the trash was somehow channeled and rerouted elsewhere. Finally, all the oily matter resulting from their different processes was used as fuel by their city trucks. Honestly, I’m speechless. In comparison, we’re still cave dwellers.

-Finally, LP has started to combine words over the weekend. There are currently five possible combinations: “Encore maman,” “Non maman,” “Bye-bye papa,” “Regarde maman” and “Let’s try to further reduce our greenhouse gas emissions please.”

The "first" haircut

LP needs a rock-and-roll hairstyle in order to go with his onstage persona...

LP was born with a head full of long, thick, wavy black hair. By three months, he had lost most of it, except for a large strip in the middle. By five months, his hair was still just growing back on the sides, but had become so long in the middle that he looked like a rebellious punk-rocker teenager. I gave him his first trim then, and after that for a few months he sported a too funny “faux-hawk,” with short hair all over except for a patch on top of his head, which was both spiky and slightly wavy. Over time, his hair also became noticeably paler, to the glossy shade of dark blonde it is now.

Since then, his thick, fast-growing hair was trimmed at least seven or eight times, but always either by me or my mom, who is a sometime hairdresser. Thus so far, we had avoided the salon haircut.

However, this weekend while M was gone I decided to book an appointment at one of those places where they only do children’s hair, which sign I had already seen on the road. I called and was surprised that they gave me a spot almost right away. As soon as I opened the door, I knew that I had made a mistake. The place was somewhat dirty and had a slightly, unidentifiable unpleasant smell, and was cluttered beyond a clutterbug’s wildest dreams. LP and I were also immediately taken aback by the sound, which made me wonder whether I was in the right place for a second: almost every child was not yelling, not screaming, not shrieking, but rather howling with all the strength of their little lungs.

I was afraid that it would make my son also want to cry, but after a second he seemed to kind of phase it out and zoomed to the ugly plastic toys. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before his turn came, and I transferred him to a propped-up beaten riding car for his cut. No staff member seemed to really speak neither French nor English, and so I explained to the hairdresser, in vain, that I liked his hair a little long and that I wanted to keep the “Beatles” form of his mane, but that I would like her to make the sides and back more even. She nodded profusely, and then proceeded to cut all his hair very short.

LP didn’t seem to care much, and I did my best to entertain him. I was definitely uneasy with all the screaming kids around. Two brothers, accompanied by their father who looked like he couldn’t care less, seemed in the depths of despair, shrieking so much they were choking, and yelling: “NO! NO! YOU’RE MEAN!!!!” But everyone was going at their business, the hairdressers running hair clippers on their heads as if they heard nothing. I was feeling noxious. Hearing a child shriek immediately brings me back to a dark place, gives me shivers and makes the world around me spin. It happens every time, and I’m sure it’ll keep on happening for the rest of my life, as if it were hardwired into me by now. It happened the other day while I was alone at the grocery store near work, a baby suddenly started to wail and my body immediately reacted, that dark feeling of overwhelming sadness set in, I got a rush of adrenaline, and I was in full emergency mode, having to restrain myself from jumping over and trying to help the child in any way I could. LP was a difficult baby. I feel bad saying this now but it’s nonetheless the truth, and in any case somewhat of an understatement. During those first few months, there were so many episodes of all day-long, out-of-control, hysterical, inconsolable crying that it still gets me in a way I can’t easily curb.

The kids at the hairdresser were not helpless babies, rather toddlers who could express themselves and understand things, but I was still feeling sick. Was it really necessary to use a hair clipper, a device which is sure to horrify ALL children? Was no one able to reassure these kids? I know there are worst traumas in life than having your hair cut, but I still feel no children should be left alone to deal with a moment of sheer terror, whatever unreasonable or ridiculous the cause seems to us. The father was just standing there making lame jokes, probably only feeling ashamed that his “wimpy” boys were not behaving like the stoical little soldiers he wanted them to be, shaved heads and all.

While LP appeared to be interested in the other children as usual, he did not pick up on the boys’ vibe and went through the whole thing without uttering a single sound, only looking slightly annoyed at this lady picking around on his head. The hairdresser then grabbed her hairdryer (which I swear was from the seventies) and started to dry his hair at the highest and hottest setting, which obviously made him burst into terrified tears. At this point, I just politely pushed her away. Hello again, people? Do you really need to do that to babies whose super fine hair normally dry in a split second anyway? Is it just me, or it’s simply bad thinking? I mean, weren’t they supposed to be well-attuned to the needs of children?

Anyway, I quickly paid and left, and needless to say I’ll never go back to this stinky place again. Despite having repeatedly told them that it was NOT his first time, they even gave me a “first haircut” certificate to bring home, full of spelling mistakes, and with some of his clipped baby hair unsightly stuck onto it with Scotch tape. By then, I didn’t even feel like explaining anything anymore. The Beatles hair is gone, but the good news is his hair is now so short that it's all cutely spiked up again when he wakes up in the morning.

A very important visitor!

Al Gore was in Montreal in the last few days to present a conference as well as a training session on global warming to local leaders. To see and hear about the power of this man to draw crowds is always impressive, especially for non-Americans, non-English speakers. He was the talk of the town, and righteously so.

I would have a hard time finding a person I admire more than Mr. Gore. He is so inspiring, that even if his message is alarming he gives me hope again. M and I have always been relatively concerned about the environment and have always tried to find little ways where we could improve the negative impact we leave on the planet, but only after seeing The Inconvenient Truth did we really start to take it to the next level and see environmental efforts as part of our day-to-day lives. We could do a lot more (we still have two cars, etc.) but the awareness brought by his actions remains priceless for me.

Gore, who speaks decent French, even lauded the Quebec government for his recent environmental initiatives, saying that Quebec was doing a better job than most places when it came to global warning, and even adding that the problem could be in the process of being solved if more countries followed on our footsteps. However, he refrained from commenting about the policies of Stephen Harper, the current Conservative Prime Minister, who recently got Canada booed worldwide for refusing to stand up to the country’ prior commitment towards the Kyoto Protocol. In this case, his silence spoke louder than words.

I’m sure anyone who’s seen the movie will agree that it is really inconceivable now to think that back in 2000 during the presidential campaign, Gore was dubbed the “no charisma” candidate. The substance, sharp intelligence, humor, closeness to people, and engaging qualities of this man are so remarkable, it is impossible not to wonder “what if”... It is only with profound, infinite sadness that I am able to imagine what the world would be like today if it was not for that historical lapsus, for the contrast it poses with the current reality is so striking it is almost too painful to bear…

Anyway, Mr. Gore was even seen enjoying himself at the Bell Center on Saturday night during the Canadiens’ last game of the regular season. He was accompanied by Vancouver environmental activist David Suzuki, and by André Desmarais, a businessman (and son of a local mogul), and his wife, who’s also the daughter of former Liberal Prime Minister Jean Chrétien. Since I had dinner in an Indian restaurant right by the Bell Center on Saturday night with LP and Martin’s sister Isabelle, I can testify that the atmosphere downtown was absolutely crazy! The Habs defeated the Toronto Maple Leafs, finishing their best season of the last 20 years on a high note, in first position of their division. Providing they’re any good in the playoffs, this town will soon be totally turned upside down by delirious hockey fans. In the last few weeks, it seems everyone installed at least one of those ludicrous team flag(s) on their car, as if people suddenly stop reasoning as soon as the Habs win enough games to give them even the slightest hope. I guess people need the hope, just like I need it from Al Gore.

At this point, even I become interested in the Habs fate. They will now play against the Boston Bruins in the first round of the playoffs. I love everything about Boston, which after New York is my favorite place (outside Europe at least), and where we usually go every year. I’m really looking forward to my next visit there, to the accent, the architecture, the intellectual vibe in Cambridge, and everything. But sorry, we’ll still beat the heck outta ya!

Bon voyage, mon amour!

M is off to Miami for work and will return on Tuesday. You'll have to admit that there are worst places where he could have been sent.

He won't walk the walk, but he'll talk the talk

Now fourteen months old, LP hasn't started to walk yet. We've been thinking that he was "very close" for a while now, so I guess all bets are off. He's pulling himself up really easily, stands well on his own, cruises all around the house as long as there's something to hold on to, and will occasionally take up to three unassisted little steps in between two pieces of furniture or into my arms, but it's actually more "controlled falling" than walking. On Monday, he apparently took three real steps at the daycare, but that's it. Generally, he still seems pretty wobbly and lacking balance.

I'm glad a lot of kids in his daycare group were rather late walkers (and no one seemed to be the least concerned about it), because before him, I thought all kids were supposed to walk by 12 months. My parents certainly seemed to think so, and there are still a lot of uncomfortable pauses in conversations with some people who first learn that he hasn’t achieved this milestone yet. I can also tell that the pauses are getting longer and longer as the weeks go by and he gets older. I suddenly feel a lot of sympathy for the mother of a little girl in LP’s group, who only started to walk after she turned seventeen months.

I know fourteen and even fifteen months is perfectly normal and well within range for walking, but it somehow makes me realize how little understanding and acceptance some people have towards even the slightest deviations. For me, it’s a well-deserved smack in the head, because I too have done it in the past, thinking that something must have been wrong with kids who were only asking for the right to do things at their own pace. We’re not stressed and know that all we can do is wait for LP to be ready, which will come sooner rather than later at this point. But I so feel for parents of disabled, autistic, or chronically sick children -for anyone who loves someone who is "different"-, since the awkward glances will be over for me as soon as my son is back into the acceptable paradigm, while they will continue to face them every day of their life.

On a lighter note, what LP currently lacks in the walking department, he more than makes up in the talking department! He is talking up a storm, much more so than I expected him to at his age. He's had a burst of language progression lately, and went from saying around 5 words a month ago to more than 20 now. We actually suspect that he is saying more, because he often repeats the same syllables together in specific contexts, but we haven't figured it out yet.

His language development has been by far the most fascinating part of this whole adventure for me, who has studied (and is working) in this field. I was happy to discover recently that I was not alone to be this excited in witnessing the day-to-day "entering of your kids into language," when I read this recent post by Jane Roper, a Boston writer with twin girls a month older than LP.


For me, it's like a little lab experiment or something. It's like seeing all the communication theories I studied in university come to life. Realizing that communication, in the end, doesn't rely that much on language, by seeing how we can now understand probably 90% of what LP wants, with only a few words, gestures, grunting, pointing, and facial expressions. Asking myself, as Ms. Roper pointed out, why he naturally started saying some words, like "ballon," even if if it's not such a big part of our reality, but still doesn't say other words we use much more frequently. Being fascinated by the fact that he has now entered into the world of concepts, where he is suddenly able to link a real thing, a representation of this thing (such as an image of it), and the word that connects to the two. Constantly being amazed by how he just blurts out more and more new words, sometimes two or three a day, when he wasn't doing it the day before.

Anyway here is a current list of his vocabulary. Obviously most of this is not pronounced perfectly clearly, he's fourteen months old people! But before adding a new word into the list, I always wait for him to say it more than once, in context, and without a doubt. Apart from these words, he's also just babbling ALL-THE-TIME, which makes his daddy and I think that a year or so from now, we will probably wish he had a mute button once in a while. He's always been an elaborate cooer and babbler, and I remember that even very early on he was already having long conversations with himself which perfectly mimicked my language intonations. When he gets his hands on a book, he'll turn the pages and point and I suppose tell himself the story as he sees it, for a period of time which seems interestingly long given his insanely short attention span. When we ask him a question, he often replies with what seems to be structured sentences, unfortunately just not ones that we understand.

-Maman and Papa (do I need to translate? He first said these on the same day, shortly before he turned 7 months. Only recently though has he started to really link the words and their meaning, and begun to use them in context. He says papa a lot more than maman. Papa is also always said with a cheerful tone, while maman in usually more whiny. Go figure.)
-Chat (Cat)
-Ballon (Ball, balloon)
-Non (No. He says that a lot, as a answer to things we ask or just as an expression of his disaproval in all kinds of situations he doesn't like. This surprises me, because I thought this would only come much later, with the terrible 2s. He also makes the appropriate head shake.)
-Bye-bye! (Also comes with the hand waving.)
-Coeur (heart. In case you're wondering, I decorated the house with a heart-shaped mobile for Valentine's day, and he kept pointing at it and "asking" what it was. He was also doing the same with heart-shaped decorations in stores, and he ended up repeating it.
-Coucou! (peekaboo! It sometimes sounds more like "cookie" or "caca," which incidentally means poo in French.)
-Bébé (Baby. It kinda sounds like when he says bye-bye)
-Allo! (Hello. He mostly says it to his favorite teddy bear or to his toy phone though, not really to us)
-Lait (Milk)
-Eau (Water. It sounds like "lo")
-Regarde (Look. My favorite, and his only verb so far)
-Chien (Dog)
-Bas (Sock)
-Encore! (More! The offical buzz word of the last two weeks. Usually said twice in a row.)
-Miam-miam (Yum-yum, but to him, just "food" or "eating". Also often comes with a sign I suppose he made up, consisting in quickly opening and closing his fist, as if he wanted to say "gimme, gimme, gimme"!)
-Tombé (Fallen, as in a toy or his cup)
-Par terre (On the ground, on the floor)
-Ça (This, that)
-Melon

Cute new things LP has been doing lately

LP turns 14 months today

-Hugging his two favorite teddy bears real tight, completely overjoyed to see them after a day spent outside the house

-Turning the lights on and off (again and again)

-Pretending to talk on the phone

-Attempting to feed himself with the spoon (we're not quite there yet though)

-Coming up with a new "dance" move, where he balances his head from left to right while "signing," and which sort of reminds me of an old-school hip-hop thang...

-Making coffee with his dad is one of his favorite things. Don't even try to make coffee without him! His ultra important job is to push the start button on the coffeemaker, and he takes it very seriously. He somehow also understands that coffee is only for Papa (I'm a tea person). Once I made it with him while M was showering, and he coudn't wait for his dad to arrive, pointing and directing him to the coffeemaker, giggling and beaming with pride.

-Saying “Ballon, ballon, ballon” (balloon, one of his favorite words) randomly while in my arms. When I put him down a minute later, he "ran" on all fours to the opposite side of the house to fetch his balloon, brought it back to me, and said "Ballon!" very emphatically.

-At the end of (our) dinner, I sat him on my lap while M gave him pieces of bread and cheese. Each time he grabbed a piece, he turned back towards me to make sure that I would not miss this "wonderful" moment, while showing me the food and repeatedly saying: "Regarde!" (Look!)

-While I read him a very succinct, toddler-friendly version of Alice in Wonderland, I explained to him that Alice was saying "bye-bye" to the (Cheshire) cat, while making the appropriate gesture. After I finished reading the book, I let him flip through the pages a second time and babble about what he saw. When he got to the Cheshire cat page, he immediately waved and said "bye-bye"!

One in a hundred million...

Could there be another writer in the family? LP loves to play with this vintage Royal typewriter, one of our most precious possessions. It was the first M's dad ever bought, when he first started out as a journalist. He just retired after more than 35 years at Le Soleil, a daily newspaper in Quebec City.

There’s an article in my latest issue of Real Simple stating that the number of blogs has gone up from a few hundred thousands in 2003 to over 100,000,000 now. As the article puts it, the vast majority of these are only really of interest to two readers: the blogger and the blogger’s mother.
I really do agree. I may not be the best example because I real a lot of blogs, but I’ve come to realize that I only really look forward to updates when they’re maintained by writers, or at least people that loosely fall into that category and have a real way with words. My interests have shifted in recent years, obviously as my life has. Blogs by writers who are also parents to young children are currently my favorite! I’ve found a great unconventional parenting website, which hosts several blogs of this specific type. I now read them every day, and they’ve more or less inspired me to finally launch my own.

The truth is I don’t care so much about being read. It would be fantastic, of course, but I just don’t really have high expectations towards people being that interested in my ordinary life. Not many people around me (friends and family) speak good enough English to want to make the extra effort of deciphering it, I think. This includes my mother, which come to think of it takes away one of the two potential readers I could have, doesn’t it?

I’m doing this first because I love to write, because writing brings balance to my life and because little snippets of content now seem much less daunting than the thought of undertaking that whole first novel thing. I’m also doing this because it gives me an opportunity to write in English, which is not my first language. Additionally, I’m doing this because it serves some “documenting” purposes, which hopefully will one day help me remember things like which words LP said at thirteen months, or the terrible winter we had in 2008.

I’m also figuring that it could eventually be used as a sort of portfolio to pitch writing work, among other samples. I am now an IT consultant in technical writing and I love it, working full-time at the customer’s site, but eventually, I’d like to do writing work that’s a little more personal and creative. My goal is that when LP is in school a couple of years from now, I can work mostly from home and be there for his lunches, homework, and summer vacations.