For fun, check out this link: http://unhappyhipsters.com

“This tastes sparkly! Nice choice Mama!”
Mama: Hmmm… Not quite, let’s try again.

M-H: “Are these all my shoes? I love shoes!”

M-H: “Ohhh! These denim ones look so good!”
Mama: “Ahem. Let’s try to concentrate here… Message for Grandma, remember?”
M-H: “Right!”

Mama: “Thank-you!”
M-H: “No problem! Mmmm… Shoes!”

And last night, Marie-Hélène surprised her Papa by sitting up in bed. When she does something new, she has a knowing smile, like she wants to say “Heh! This is new! Surprise!”. Christian promptly lowered the mattress. She’s growing up too fast, melting our hearts in the process… and now, we’re sounding like grandparents.

She can get insulted if we repeat her cries when she is tired. She gets excited to see herself at the end of the Peekaboo Kisses book. She likes blueberries, but turkey is the worst taste and texture ever. For the past week or so, she’s had her first cold. It sounds like this: cough, cough, atchoo.

She likes going outside, new noises but not the blender. And everything must be tasted, and hit, and drooled over. She’s so much fun! We love her to bits…

If you consider that for quite-a-few hundred dollars, you get four or five of these trips from September to April, during which you suffer piles of reading and papercuts on stacks of printed notes, only to experience 4 or 5 days of the elation of striking another project out of the ballpark – well then, University is your drug.

But about that Internet cable… We hosted a Saskatchewan camp-out in our basement. And before you admire our pluck, I’ll just say, it was quite easy. You see, it was Festival week here in Winnipeg, the only week which John is willing to sacrifice his pork-farm job for, in order to participate all the way. (He didn’t though… have to sacrifice his job, that is.) Two of his friends came from Saskatoon, and were I not a stay-at-home-mom, I might not have known what they looked like. Festival conveniently coincides with the University spring break. Could there be any better excuse to go out every night? It would be 11 in the morning, I’d hear the shower, then the dishes in the sink. I’d change Marie-Hélène’s diaper, our screen door would slam, and John’s friends would have disappeared for another day. Can you manage Internet deprivation like that for a week? Christian couldn’t even check the weather across Canada before leaving for school. Yep, we’re pretty steady users.

On Sunday, the last day of Festival, John was a guide. And hey, why don’t you come by Jazz? And just then, being a party-pooper nearly broke my heart. I have an essay to finish for tomorrow… If I’d have thought about it earlier, maybe… Maybe we could still go. But those invisible essay hands were choking my neck… Oh the conflict! Oh the regret! I should have organized myself better… (You want a translation? I shouldn’t have watched Lost on Friday night, then on Saturday night too. Did you know we were fans? No, neither did I. Not till a few weeks ago. Season 6 premiered with a short synopsis and Christian and I happened to be watching long enough between flicking channels to realize we’d been missing out! Rather than watch second rate movies on Friday night, we decided to catch up on Lost and have since finished the first season. No spoilers allowed! But if you ask us, that’s the way to watch a tv series! Wait until it’s almost over, than catch up on all the seasons over a few months!) But even though I didn’t end up going to Festival, John became the subject of a professional photo shoot for the Winnipeg Free Press.

The photo was taken by Trevor Hagan. The caption reads: John McAvoy, 20, has decided to ditch his shaving kit while working as a clerk in the trading post. He is thinking about entering the beard-growing contest taking place during the Festival du Voyageur.

Now, that last part isn’t entirely accurate, simply because it would take John over a year to grow a beard any length beyond a chin-covering. However, if there was a contest for “hadnsomest voyageur in costume” – or something like that – he might have a chance. Girls, I’M screening your calls…

Haha… Daddy, you’re so funny! from Jacinta Palud on Vimeo.

Chianti’s is a tiny restaurant with a cosy atmosphere that surprises you when you open the door. It is part of a strip mall whose main feature is the Dollarama a few plain doors down. A server made his way over to us through tables and padded wicker chairs.
“We have a reservation under ‘Chris’”
“Sure! I’ll just go check that.”
He comes back to say there is no Chris in the reservation book. Did we reserve under another name? How about our phone number? We see him flip pages and consult a woman, and the elderly couple between the bar that holds the reservation book, and us at the entrance, is hoping we’ll have a table. Our chances are visibly disappearing. The tables are booked, the reserved card is not for us. The reservation made that morning couldn’t have been – “we’re not open that early” the waiter explains, less charmingly.

We leave. Christian wants to check the number at home. I wait in the car, listening to the radio, checking my hair with manicured hands. He reappears in the driveway and mimes tears running down his face – Marie-Hélène is crying. We cancel our plans and come up with theories to explain why she missed us. In the short 15 minutes we were gone, Grandma and Grandpa had moved her from the Exer-saucer, to the window, to the Jolly Jumper, to a duvet on the floor covered with toys. We ordered pizza for the two of us and shared a glass of water. In lieu of chocolate, we bathed our princess and let Grandma read her bedtime stories, including a book of Touch and Feel Pets that has a cat whose wiskers Marie-Hélène has learned to pull. Grandma and Grandpa left, and we opened our cards over a cup of tea, before watching Lost and going to bed. Valentine’s – the family edition – is lovely… Our princess simply insisted on being part. Next year we’ll have her to pour the wine and light the candles.