The artists formerly known as my children

Michael turned 38 the other day. To celebrate, I had the children finger paint him drawings of various things (princesses, boats on the ocean, and squiggles) and present them to him. I had put the drawings in an envelope and put them on the bench with the wine and gift I had chosen.
By the time Michael arrived home from work on his birthday, the kids were exhausted, still wearing their blue painted clothes, and I was sleeping on the couch with them.
Michael opened the door, took a look around at the pink and blue streaked table, poked his head at the bathroom sink covered in blue fingerpaints, and the fingerprinted fridge where Declan had tried to locate the apples.
"Ash?" he said, shaking me awake. "Every year the birthday surprises get stranger. I mean, last year the kids gave me a drooled-on-box. But this year, they gave me my house as a piece of post modernist art in progress."

Skip this post if my family scares you enough already

Long time, no blog.
As I write, my mother is sugaring up my children with the treats I told her not to bring from California. I tried using various excuses such as sugar is banned in Belgium. The children are allergic. I’m allergic. Michael is allergic. They didn’t work. The children dived in to my mother’s suitcase, sniffed out the treats and began devouring them.
I am the No Fun Maman who doesn’t do sugar.
My mother is now the best, according to Carmen. Even Conor, at the discriminating age of nearly 8 months, gives mom large grins whenever she walks by and holds up his chubby arms for her.

Plus, he is pulling himself up. Our Little Hacker is crawling and pulling himself up. Carmen reached that precious milestone at 10 months, Declan at 11 months. The first thing Conor did was reach for the TV remote to change the channel from current affairs to some romance movie. Michael, who was working and using the TV as white noise, looked up to see Conor grinning at Julia Roberts with the remote in his hand. What next, Playboy under his crib?

Carmen is putting in orders for her 3rd birthday. When she spoke to Michael’s mom, she said, “Mamy? I want books okay? Books and a new skirt.” She then paused and repeated the word in English, “Skirt okay? Jupe. Okay?”
Carmen is thrilled by how things work. Taking Declan to school, and balancing Carmen and Conor in the double pram off the tramway, Carmen says, “How does the tram work mommy?”
She wasn’t satisfied by my explanation, and asked Michael that night. Michael used big scientific words to skirt around the issue, and finally resorted to buying Carmen a book on how things work. At playschool, she showed her friend Manon (who has been speaking more French with Carmen) how trucks and cars work.
“Look,” Michael said when I showed him the photos, “Our daughter is a nerd. The best kind.”

Our family, known for our procreating abilities, have welcomed more children. I don’t know whether this pleases or worries my parents. Michael, an only child, gets a pained look on his face whenever I hear of another Covas baby.
My brother, Conversative Lucien, and his wife Sara welcomed their second daughter on the 8th October, named Elisabeth Marie.

My sister Sarita, and the Artist Known as Joshua, ie her on-off boyfriend, (apparently off since an argument over the name) welcomed their very early son Angel on 15th October. 5 weeks early.
Angel is “rocking” Sarita told me, while complaining that “all he ever does is cry.”
“I guess not all babies are born with hacker skills,” Michael told Sarita, as Declan and I threw couch cushions at him.

As for me, i'm doing fine. There are still Stressed Days where Michael waits in his office for hysterical screaming on the phone from the Wife. But Michael and I have counted our blessings, and the wonderful support we've had, and things are looking up. Lying in bed this morning, we had the whole family cuddled up. Despite the fact the children have their own perfectly good beds, they seem to enjoy ours best. Michael agreed to take a hard line on the kids sleeping in their own beds, but after three nights, of blissful solitude he said, 'This bed feels emptier. Where are the kids?"

Skip this post if my family scares you enough already

Long time, no blog.
As I write, my mother is sugaring up my children with the treats I told her not to bring from California. I tried using various excuses such as sugar is banned in Belgium. The children are allergic. I’m allergic. Michael is allergic. They didn’t work. The children dived in to my mother’s suitcase, sniffed out the treats and began devouring them.
I am the No Fun Maman who doesn’t do sugar.
My mother is now the best, according to Carmen. Even Conor, at the discriminating age of nearly 8 months, gives mom large grins whenever she walks by and holds up his chubby arms for her.

Plus, he is pulling himself up. Our Little Hacker is crawling and pulling himself up. Carmen reached that precious milestone at 10 months, Declan at 11 months. The first thing Conor did was reach for the TV remote to change the channel from current affairs to some romance movie. Michael, who was working and using the TV as white noise, looked up to see Conor grinning at Julia Roberts with the remote in his hand. What next, Playboy under his crib?

Carmen is putting in orders for her 3rd birthday. When she spoke to Michael’s mom, she said, “Mamy? I want books okay? Books and a new skirt.” She then paused and repeated the word in English, “Skirt okay? Jupe. Okay?”
Carmen is thrilled by how things work. Taking Declan to school, and balancing Carmen and Conor in the double pram off the tramway, Carmen says, “How does the tram work mommy?”
She wasn’t satisfied by my explanation, and asked Michael that night. Michael used big scientific words to skirt around the issue, and finally resorted to buying Carmen a book on how things work. At playschool, she showed her friend Manon (who has been speaking more French with Carmen) how trucks and cars work.
“Look,” Michael said when I showed him the photos, “Our daughter is a nerd. The best kind.”

Our family, known for our procreating abilities, have welcomed more children. I don’t know whether this pleases or worries my parents. Michael, an only child, gets a pained look on his face whenever I hear of another Covas baby.
My brother, Conversative Lucien, and his wife Sara welcomed their second daughter on the 8th October, named Elisabeth Marie.

My sister Sarita, and the Artist Known as Joshua, ie her on-off boyfriend, (apparently off since an argument over the name) welcomed their very early son Angel on 15th October. 5 weeks early.
Angel is “rocking” Sarita told me, while complaining that “all he ever does is cry.”
“I guess not all babies are born with hacker skills,” Michael told Sarita, as Declan and I threw couch cushions at him.

As for me, i'm doing fine. There are still Stressed Days where Michael waits in his office for hysterical screaming on the phone from the Wife. But Michael and I have counted our blessings, and the wonderful support we've had, and things are looking up. Lying in bed this morning, we had the whole family cuddled up. Despite the fact the children have their own perfectly good beds, they seem to enjoy ours best. Michael agreed to take a hard line on the kids sleeping in their own beds, but after three nights, of blissful solitude he said, 'This bed feels emptier. Where are the kids?"