Monday: bad parenting but with Christmas spirit
Everything off schedule. Still baking cookies when J-F and Helena arrive home. Helena decides to help, cuz it's just like pressing shapes out of PlayDoh after all, and this is wonderfully enjoyable and not nearly as messy as I'd anticipated. She loses interest only when the last sheet goes into the oven.
Helena's supper consists of cookies, chocolate, and some cookies for dessert. It takes her a little while to settle down for the night.
Tuesday: J-F's birthday
Passed almost unnoticed. He charges me with the task of dropping off the kid at daycare. Leaves message for me to pick up Helena, which I receive with just minutes to spare, rushing from one place to the next, checking the sofa for spare change for metro fare, and dropping dinner preparation. But he manages to pick up Helena after all, without telling me, leaving the premises barely minutes before I arrive. Minorly freaked out, majorly pissed off.
J-F enjoyed his office Christmas luncheon that day. Too satiated to further indulge in a properly celabratory birthday dinner. Too tired to enjoy each other's company.
Wednesday: parenting fuck-up number gazillion
Helena arrives at daycare fully clothed. But it's pyjama day. Fortunately, there are some extra communal pyjamas on site, which Helena happily changes into. When J-F called to tell me, I burst into tears. (I'd misunderstood the memo — damn my French — thinking pyjamas were reserved for "after-hours," during the cinq-a-sept wine and cheese for parents, which we'd decided not to attend.) I still tear up thinking about it.
J-F's mom arrives with our Christmas present — a central vacuuming system, which I simply cannot feel excited about, and I fear all my thanks sound insincere (cuz really they are). We don't even have any carpets. And really, it could've waited a week or two, but what's a couple extra gazillion boxes in the house when there's already an unassembled bedroom suite scattered about and houseguests due to arrive the following day.
The power is flickering off and on.
We wake up to cold. Cold! Because the power's off and our heating is electric. Only, weirdly, some lights are working, and even weirder, the computer is fine. But the phone is dead.
Hours later, Hydro Quebec trucks arrive. All the power goes off, which we take as a good sign, even though there are stacks of laundry and more baking to do. Phone service is back, whch compensates a little for lack of internet. Finally, power is restored, for about 20 minutes, long enough to get the next queued load fully wet. The electric cable that hangs across the street explodes, its two halves swinging back to their respective sides in full flame. I call 911.
J-F's cold, by the way, has knocked him flat on his ass, keeping him home from work and underfoot in our cold house. It's too dark to clean the bathrooms properly.
My mother comes to town, more or less according to schedule, even though she failed to meet her sister at the transfer point, causing all of us to wonder: how long before we file a missing person's report? She arrives more or less in one piece, though earlier in the week it was determined that the pain in her side she's been complaining about is in fact a fractured rib.
She arrives to our dark and now very cold house. Welcome to Montreal, Mom. So how do you like the condo?
Power is restored by about 10. Thank gawd.
The week's highlights
Stomping my feet, when I enter any building, even when not warranted.
Another shawarma at another food court.
The winter coat I bought for myself while I should've been shopping for presents for other people.
Helena's continued thrall with the Christmas tree.
J-F took Helena to the office this morning!
My mother seems more or less OK, with everything!
My sister arrives tonight!
And the best part: