Distractie

Ca urmare a postului precedent, un exemplu de traditie in familia noastra. O sa incerc sa descriu cat mai bine haosul, dar va trebui sa va folositi imaginatia...

Scena: patul parintilor
Personaje:

• D., 4 ani (sau, cum spune el "am patru ani. Eh, de fapt patru ani si ceva acum"). Numit "Dada" de fratele lui cel mic
• M., 1 an jumate. Vocabular limitat.
• eu

Toti trei in pat... si distractia incepe.

Si daca suntem insecte? Cum adica insecte? Tata! Eu o sa fiu o insecta care se urca aici si tu o sa fii alta. M.! O sa ne intalnim si o sa discutam. Tata! M! Salut, insecto, ce mai faci? Salut! Tata! Ai vazut ce de loc avem? M! Cred ca o sa fac o siesta. Booo! Ah, m-ai speriat, M! Oh, nu, vine o insecta rea! Ce insecta rea, fratele tau? Booo! Aaargh! Repede, sa ne ascundem! Dada? Tata, ia patura si pune-o peste mine. Tata! M! Tata, acopera-ma cu patura! Da, da, te acopar. De ce? Booo! Pentru ca sunt o insecta si trebuie sa ma ascund de M. (sub patura) Shhhh! *ma trage de par* Acum ascunde-te si tu. *ma trage de par din nou* Aiie! Repede, ascunde-te *rade* Acum iesim de sub patura. Asta? Ochi Ah, insecta rea! Asta? Nas Acum sunt o broscuta. Asta? AAAAAiiiiieee! Am sarit pe tine! Gura! Asta? Oac-oac! Ureche. Aaaaiiiieeeee! Am sarit din nou pe tine! De ce sari pe mine? Pentru ca sunt o broscuta *ma ciupeste* Credeam ca esti o insecta. Nu, nu mai sunt o insecta. Sunt o broscuta care sare. *se tavaleste pe pat razand* Oac-oac! Asta? Parul lui M. Aieee! Ce s-a intamplat? Lampa? M-am lovit de pat cand am sarit. Daca nu esti atent... E ok, broastele nu simt durerea. M!, nu trage de lampa! Acum hai sa ne ascundem sub patura din nou. Asta? Ochi! Iubii!!! Nu mai pot!!!!

Cred ca asta intra la definita de 'petrecut timp de calitate cu copiii tai'

Timp. Si copii

(post original 03SEP, acum tradus in romana)
In sfarsit, de ieri pot sa ma odihnesc un pic la birou. Ultimele saptamani au fost destul de incarcate la servici, ceea ce in general inseamna ca nu prea am timp de multe chestii personale, nici nu pot sa ma odihnesc. Stiu ca pare ciudat, dar lasati-ma sa ma repet: da, eu chiar ma duc la servici sa ma odinhesc.

Nu m-as duce la munca daca nu as fi platit, dar sunt destul de fericit cand se termina weekendul. Vinerea e ok, nu mi-e prea frica de weekendul care urmeaza. Sunt chiar entuziast, fac planuri sa fac o groaza de chestii prin casa. Planuri inutile, cum ar spune nevasta, caci spre duminica seara, nu numai ca nu am avut timp sa fac jumatate din ce mi-am propus, dar ma mai si simt obosit si cu nervii la maxim.

Motivul? Binenteles, toata lumea impreuna... COPIII. Da, da, ii iubesc, sunt fericit sa-i am, si toate alea. Dar nu ar putea sa doarma si ei mai tarziu in weekenduri? Nici macar nu cer pana la ora 9 sau ceva asa de extrem. Orice mai tarziu de 7 dimineata ar fi extraordinar! Si nu ar putea si ei sa se joace singuri? Cum se face ca in momentul in care ma asez pe canapea in fata televizorului, in mai putin de 2 minute am doi copii pe cap (la propriu), tipand si urland, ciupindu-ma si lovindu-ma pe mine sau intre ei?

Ceea ce ma epuizeaza nu e ca nu am timp sa fac ce as vrea in weekenduri, ci senzatia ca ma bat cu morile de vant. Dau cu matura? Dupa aia mancam si e mai rau ca inainte. Pun jucariile lor la loc (sau ii pun pe ei sa o faca - haha, tare gluma!)? O ora mai tarziu podeaua e un camp de mine din nou. 

Deci da, copiii ne trezesc devreme si ne tin ocupati tot weekendul. Si tot ce reusim sa facem e rezultatul unei planificari si negocieri foarte precise. "Tu duci copiii acolo ca eu sa ma uit la meci". "Sa speram ca unul doarme, tu petreci timp cu celalalt, iar eu pot sa fac un dus". Si asa mai departe. Binenteles, reusim sa facem chesti prin casa, de la clasicele gatit, curat, spalat, la uitat la un meci sau la un film. Dar intotdeauna cu un sentiment de reusita, de a fi reusit sa facem asta in ciuda tuturor pronosticurilor. Sa facem ceva in weekend pare a fi o reusita, nu normalul.

Ceea ce ne face sa ne simtim mai bine, insa, este cand vorbim cu alti parinti. Care au aceleasi probleme ca noi. Asta chiar e placut! Si linistitor, oarecum.

Cam atat in acest post. In curand ma duc sa-l iau pe primul de la gradinita (prima zi dupa vacantele de vara) si pe al doilea de la cresa. Si apoi acasa, pentru a petrece o seara tipica impreuna, jucandu-ne si aruncand jucarii peste tot (ei), mancare pe jos (tot ei), vorbind fara oprire (ei din nou, plus nevasta), lovindu-ma (mereu ei, cateodata si nevasta) si la final culcandu-ne (toti).

Si stiti ce? De-abia astept sa petrec seara cu familia mea. Sunt un fraier, stiu - dar ce sa fac, ii iubesc.

Tata encore dodo. Paaa tata

D. a inceput sa vorbeasca foarte devreme. Si de atunci nu a mai tacut, dar asta e alta poveste. M., in schimb, a inceput ceva mai greu. In afara de clasicele tata, mama, avea destul de putine cuvinte pronuntate. Pana acum doua saptamani, cand vocabularul lui s-a imbogatit brusc.

A inceput sa pronunte bine destul de multe cuvinte - sau poate doar am inceput noi sa le intelegem mai bine. Unele in romana (tata, papa), altele in franceza (encore - inca, bus - autobuz), altele mai simplificate (miau - pisica, muu - vaca, iaurt), iar unele pe limba lui (vruvru - masina, ganga - cal/elefant/crocodil). In plus, ca si D., incepe sa fie bilingv, stiind un concept in ambele limbi si stiind ca cele doua cuvinte reprezinta acelasi lucru. Clasicul paa e inlocuit de un 'auvoir' cand il spune cuiva care vorbeste franceza. Si bietul de el a trecut in sfarsit peste confuzia 'papa' care inseamna doua lucruri diferite. Era amuzant cand la cresa i se spunea 'uite-l pe papa' si el cauta mancare...

Insa nu vocabularul mai bogat m-a impresionat de curand, ci faptul ca a inceput sa faca fraze. De la asocieri simple gen 'vruvru mama' sau 'papa miau', la descrieri de situatii. Cand se trezeste dimineata, striga 'mama'. Dar daca ma duc eu la el in camera, se uita la mine si zice 'tata? mama paa...'. Iar daca eu ii spun ca mama nu a plecat, doar face dus, intelege si corecteaza 'mama nu paa. mama apa'.

Chestia care m-a impresionat insa a fost ieri dimineata. O. l-a luat din patul lui si trecand pe langa camera noastra, i-a aratat ca eu sunt inca in pat. Evident ca a descris situatia: 'tata encore dodo'. Si a fost suficient de dragut sa propuna sa ma lase linistit 'paa tata'.

Pe moment am fost chiar fericit, dar acum ma tot gandesc cu frica la ce ma asteapta. Daca o sa devina la fel de guraliv ca fratele lui, eu chiar n-o sa mai apuc sa scot niciun cuvant in casa...

Daddy still sleeps

D. has started to speak at an early age. And since then he hasn't stopped, but that's a different story. M., on the other hand, has had a slower start. Besides the classic (daddy, mommy), he was using only a few words. Until two weeks ago, when his vocabulary has suddenly become richer.

He started to speak correctly quite a few words - or maybe we have started to better understand them. Some in Romanian (tata - daddy, papa - food), some in French (encore - again, bus), some made easier (meow - cat, moo - cow/yogurt), while some in his own language (vruvru - car, ganga - horse/elephant/crocodile). Even more, like D., he starts to be at ease in both languages, knowing that two different words mean the same thing, but in a different language. The classical 'paa' (bye in Romania) is replaced by an 'auvoir' when talking to someone French. And the poor guy has finally managed to get past the 'papa' confusion. That means 'daddy' in French and 'food' in Romanian. It was funny when at the nursery they were pointing at me and saying 'look, there's daddy' and he was looking for food...

It's not the richer vocabulary that impressed me lately, but the fact that he starts to build phrases. From simple associations like 'vruvru mama' (mommy's car) or 'papa meow' (cat's food), to describing situations. When he wakes up in the mornings, he yells 'mama'. But if I'm going to get him, he looks at me and says 'tata? mama paa...' (daddy? mommy bye...). And if I tell him his mother has not left, she's just taking a shower, he quickly corrects it to 'mama nu paa. mama apa' (mommy not bye. mommy water).

The thing that triggerred this post happened yesterday morning. His mother got him from his bed and, going pas our bedroom, showed him I was still in bed. Of course he described the situation: 'tata encore dodo' (daddy still sleeps). And he was even nice enough to suggest I should be left alone 'paa tata' (bye daddy).

On the moment I was quite happy, but now I am starting to dread the future. If he will become as talkative as his brother, I won't get a chance of placing one world in this house...

Cowboys and indians

Daddy, tell me a story with cowboys and indians.
What should happen in the story?
An indian girl is being rescued by cowboys.
Ok.. Once upon a time there was a little indian girl who...
No, let's say that she is older.
An older indian girl who wanted to leave on an adventure. Her parents, however, were afraid that too many dangers were expecting her if she left the family wigwam, so she decided to sneak out one night.
No, let's say that she can do whatever she wants.
Ok. Her parents encouraged her to leave the family wigwam and go on an adventure. Is it ok like this?
Yes.
She took her father's horse and
No, she had her own horse.
She took her own horse and travelled and travelled, beyond the known pastures. One day she reached a farm, where she met some cowboys. At first, the cowboys were afraid of the indian, but when they saw she's a girl, they
No, the cowboys should enter the story later
D, do you want to tell the story?
No, you tell it!
So the indian girl travelled far until she met a tribe of bad indians, who captured her.
How did they capture her?
I don't know, she was in the forest and they ambushed her.
No, let's say they made a trap for her.
Ok, the bad indians had digged a hole in the ground and had covered it with branches and leaves, so that when the indian girl walked
No, it was a trap with a rope that lifted her up in a tree.
D, do you know the story? Have you heard it at school?
No, I dreamt about it.
And don't you want to tell it?
No, you should tell it to me
Ok, so the bad indians made a trap out of a rope attached to a branch. When the indian girl walked past it, the rope caught her leg and soon she was dangling from the tree. The bad indians got her and took her to their village.
With the tree
WITH the tree?
Yes, the bound her to the tree and carried her with the tree.
Ok... and then they laughed at her and told her she'll never be free ever again. Then the cowboys came, correct?
Yes, the cowboys came to rescue her.
The cowboys came, shot all the bad indians, dettached the indian girl and
No, they saved her with the tree
Bloody tree!

Fun!

As a follow up to yesterday's post, here is our recent family tradition in the evenings. I'll try my best to describe it to you, but you'll have to use your imagination too...

Scene: our double bed
Characters:

• D., 4 years old (or, in his words, "four years old. Well, four years and something now"). Called "Dada" by his little brother.
• M., 1.5 years old. Limited vocabulary.
• and myself

All three of us in the bed... and the fun starts.


And if we were insects? What do you mean, insects? Daddy! I will be an insect that climbs here, you will be another insect. M.! We'll meet up and discuss. Daddy! M! Hello, insect, how are you? Hello! Daddy! Have you seen all the place we have here? M! I think I'll take a nap. Booo! Ah, you scared me, M! Oh, no, a bad insect is coming! Which bad insect, your brother? Booo! Aaargh! Quickly, let's hide! Dada? Dad, you take this blanket and put it over me. Daddy! M! Dad, cover me with the blanket! Yes, yes, I'll cover you. Why? Booo! Because I'm an insect and I need to hide from M. (under blanket) Shhhh! *pulls my hair* And now you hide too. *pulls my hair again* Aiie! Quickly, hide! *laughs* Now we go out. This? Eye Ah, the bad insect! This? Nose Now I'm a frog. This? AAAAAiiiiieee!  I jumped on you! Mouth! This? Ribbit! Ear Aaaaiiiieeeee!  I jumped on you again!
Why do you jump on me? Because I'm a frog!  *pinches me* I thought you were an insect.No, I'm not an insect anymore, I'm a frog and frogs jump. *rolls on the bed laughing* Ribbit!  This? M's hair
Aieee! What happened? Lamp? I hurt myself on the bed when I jumped. If you're not careful...
It's ok, the frogs don't feel pain. Don't pull the lamp! Now let's hide under the blanket again. This? Eye! Honeyyyyy! I can't do it anymore!

I think this is what it is usually called "spending quality time with your children"...

Time. And kids.

Finally, since yesterday, I can finally rest a little at the office. The past weeks have been quite consuming at the office, which generally means I don't get many personal things done, nor can I get some well deserved rest. I know some of my work colleagues are reading this, so let me assure you: yes, you have read that right, I actually come at the office to rest.

While I wouldn't go to the office if I was not paid for it, I really am happy when the weekend is over. Fridays are fine, I am not dreading the upcoming weekend too much. I am usually enthusiastic, making plans to do lots of stuff around the house. Useless plans, as my wife is saying, as by Sunday evening not only I haven't had the time to do half of what I would have liked, I also feel very tired and with my nerves stretched to the maximum.

The reason? Of course, everyone together now.... CHILDREN. Yes, yes, I love them, I'm happy to have them, and all the other crap. But couldn't they just sleep late on weekends? I'm not even asking for 9am or something like that. Anything later than 7am would be great! And couldn't they just play by themselves? Why is it that when I sit on the couch in front of the TV, in less than 2 minutes I have two kids on my head (literally), yelling and screaming, and pinching and hitting me or each other?

It's not just a question of having time to do stuff during the weekends, it's uselessness of what I do that gets to me. I swipe the floor? Then we have lunch or dinner and it's worse than before. I range their toys (or make them do it - hah, good one!)? 1 hour later the floor is a mine field again. I don't do their laundry, buy my wife is complaining she is washing 15 t-shirts of one of the children every week...

So yes, children are waking us early and keeping us busy the entire weekend. And every bit of stuff we want to do is subject to very careful planning and negotiation. "You take the kids there so that I can watch the match". "Let's hope one sleeps, you spend time with the other, so that I can take a shower". And so on. Yes, we get things done around the house. The typical chores, but also "fun" stuff like watching ASSE (football) and RC Toulon (rugby) weekend matches. But always with a feeling of defiance, of having managed to do that despite the odds. Managing to do stuff for us is the exploit, not the normality.

What make things better, however, is that when we talk to other parents, they have exactly the same problems. That feels good! And reassuring, somehow.

Anyway, the above is not only a vent, but also an explanation of why I haven't posted lately - too busy at work, too tired and busy at home. I am simply not so naive anymore to believe I can have one hour at the PC at home without them coming to ask me for a story or simply to play with them. It's also a question of priorities: I think it is less important to blog than to spend time with my kids. And, of course, a lot less important than to watch a match while drinking some beers - I need that for my sanity.

Well, I'll soon go and pick the oldest from the kindergarden (first day after the Summer holidays today) and the youngest at the nursery. And then at home we'll spend the typical evening together, playing and throwing toys everywhere (them) and food on the floor (them again) and speaking without stopping (them again, plus the wife) and hitting me (them again, sometimes the wife too) and then finally going to bed (all of us).

And you know what? I am actually looking forward to spend the evening again with my family... Silly me, I know - but love can't be helped.