They Really Are Tape Recorders, Part 2

I may have mentioned before that I tend to say the same stupid things to all of my babies.  One of those stupid things is a song that I call "You're Pretty Darned Cute," which is sung to a portion of the tune of "Baby Got Back."  Obviously, part of this song goes, "You're pretty darned cute and I cannot lie."  I kind of thought the kids weren't paying any attention.

Until Quarta chimed in, "It's TWUE!!!!!"

You Must Be New Here

Dear Quinta and Quarta:

Because it is clear that there has been a misunderstanding, I'd like to take this opportunity to share with you a list of things that will not ruin a little girl's life.

• Quinta:
• The bassinet.
• The car seat.
• The bathtub.
• Waiting 30 seconds for your bottle.
• Being put down for five minutes so that your assigned grown-up can pee in peace.

• Quarta:
• A freshly washed blanket.
• Denial of a 16th consecutive viewing of "Ah Les Crocodiles".
• Denial of a fourth consecutive serving of mashed potatoes when there are many other tasty treats remaining on your plate.
• Your brothers' closed bedroom door.
• The potty.  I'm sorry that Daddy and I laughed after you dropped the Enola Gay in there and freaked out.  We thought you couldn't hear us.

My migraine and my eardrums thank you in advance for your anticipated cooperation.  If you have any questions or concerns, please direct them to the management.

Busted!

Overall, I am enjoying France.  But OH MY GOD THE FLIES.  At this point, the flyswatter looks like a motorcycle windscreen; it is covered with fly guts and it's truly disgusting.  So when I saw Quarta running around with it this morning, I told her to give it to Daddy pronto.  The next thing I heard was running water in the sink and the sounds of vigorous scrubbing, obviously with a stiff-bristled brush.

Me:  "Honey, what are you doing?"

Husband:  "Cleaning the flyswatter!  Aren't you proud of me?"

Me:  "Uh, what are you using to do that?"

Husband:  "My hands!"

Me, after thinking about it for a moment:  "Secondo, what is Daddy using to clean the flyswatter?"

Secondo:  "The dishbrush!"

Aaaaand I'm on my way to the supermarket to replace that RIGHT NOW.  I asked Husband if he really thought I was that stupid, but he pretended he couldn't hear me.

Friday Fashion: What She Wore (I Made It!)

Postpartum was extremely difficult following Quarta's birth.  Making this dress (and a matching one for her cousin) made me feel better, although in retrospect I would question the judgment of any experienced mother who chooses raw silk for a baby dress.  Fortunately, because the so-called "camera" on my Touch is completely inadequate, these pictures don't show where the dress has been, um, christened:

Imagine a baby wearing this and giving you the Fonzie-style "Ayyyyyy."

Another what was I thinking moment:  these buttons are on the BACK.

Does anybody have a suggestion for a decent digital camera that will take better pictures than this?  Please advise.

Pattern:  Burda.  Fabric:  the late, lamented 27th Street Fabrics in Eugene, Oregon.  I wish I had picked up the iridescent purple version of this fabric too!  Jacket:  Baby Gap.  Tights:  Auchan.

Not Easily Discouraged: A Scene From A Very Long Car Ride

We had to drive to Royan today so that I could take the "obligatoire" French test that the immigration folks require.  Let me count the ways that this exam was scheduled for maximum inconvenience.

• First, it is Wednesday, a day when the kids are not in school.  
• Second, although we are pretty close to both Angouleme and Bordeaux, I was nonetheless required to report to Royan -- two hours away -- because it is in the same department as we are, and the closer cities are not.  Are you with me?  So far we are talking about four hours in the car, with four small children.  
• Third, although the test only takes an hour and a half, it is broken up into four parts.  The first three parts of the test are from 9 to 10:30 in the morning.  The fourth part is at 3:00 p.m.  So to review, we are getting four small kids into the car at seven in the morning, to drive to a city two hours away, so I can be tested for an hour and a half (and actually, because they for some reason are making me taking the way-too-easy beginner "A1" test, it only took me 45 minutes) and then sit around for more than four hours, at which time I take the 17-minute fourth section of the test.  And then drive home two hours.  With four small kids in the car.  

Good times.

And after all that, I had this conversation with Quarta:

Quarta:  "mom"
Me:  "Yes?"
Quarta:  "HEE HEE HEE."

Quarta:  "Mom."
Me:  "Yes?"
Quarta:  "HEE HEE HEE."

Quarta:  "Mom!"
Me:  "Yes?"
Quarta:  "HEE HEE HEE."

Quarta:  "MOM!"

Me:  "Yes?"

Quarta:  "HEE HEE HEE."

Quarta:  "MOM!!!"

Me:  "Okay, I'm done with this."

Quarta:  "Da da?"

Yes, I Really Mean It

So as my two readers may or may not be aware, we live in a seriously rural area.  And although France has been generally pretty congenial, OH MY GOD THE FLIES.  We went to Bordeaux for maybe four hours today to replace Husband's computer, and there were at least 25 of them buzzing around the picture window in the kitchen (ewwwwwww) when we got home.

I just don't understand it.  We are generally pretty clean--food doesn't lie around for long periods of time, we clean the kitchen every day, everything is really about as hygienic as it can be in a house with five kids.  Yet every time I go into the kitchen I do battle with at least half a dozen of the little @#$@#$.

Which brings us to this afternoon.  In the late afternoon, a blindingly bright sun shines right into my eyes through the Picture Window of Doom.  In order to get my business with the flies done, I therefore was wearing my sunglasses.

Enter the Husband, who thought I was cooking dinner.

Him:  "Uh, I have NEVER seen anybody cook wearing sunglasses before."

Me:  "These?  These are my KILLING GLASSES."

Him:  [Dies.]

Blog note:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY SECONDO!!!!!

Maybe You Had to Be There

Secondo:  "What kind of dad always says yes?"

Terzo:  "A PERROQUET!"

Perroquet = parrot.  Pronounced "pair-okay."  In French father is "pere," pronounced "pair."  Get it?  GET IT????

It took about four tellings for me to get it.