Chookooloonks

Still on sabbatical

We just got back from Tobago, and after I shower, we'll be busy packing for our roadtrip to Grand Riviere. Thought I'd post quickly, just to say:

1. Yes, I did finally get some sleep -- only 3 hours on the Night of the Serpentine Horror, and then only 4 hours the following night, since after the children went to sleep, Helen and I did some serious damage to a bottle of Trinidadian rum until the wee hours of the morning. Having learnt our lesson, we got a full 8 hours last night. Also...

2. ...several of you have asked for a posting of the picture of the snake; however, because there was NO WAY IN HELL I was getting out of bed to get my camera that night, we don't have any photographic evidence of the actual snake. Furthermore, as time passes, the disagreement between Marcus and me with regard to what the snake looks like grows. He insists the snake looked like this, while I am certain the snake bore a striking resemblance to this.

The fact is, we have no idea what the snake was. After doing a bit of research in our handy reference guide (purchased right before our move), we've narrowed it down to either a very young version of the local mapipire, which is highly poisonous, or a "horsewhip" snake, which eats nothing but frogs and lizards. Unfortunately, however, the truth died with the snake.

And finally, on a more pleasant subject...

3. ...here's a picture of Alex on the pathway to our hotel room in Tobago:

More soon.

An Even More Colossally Huge Downside to Living In Paradise ((shudder))

I interrupt the week-long Chookooloonks sabbatical to bring you this Ultimate Freak-Out.

Remember the tiger beetle?

Remember the Giant Heebie-Jeebie Dance of Disgust?

Well, my darlings, after tonight's drama, I miss the tiger beetle. I pine for the tiger beetle. I long for the tiger beetle. And as for the Giant Heebie-Jeebie Dance of Disgust, I've now officially moved far beyond that, into an Extreme State of Horrified Catatonia. Let's just say that were it not for the jaw-dropping heroics of Marcus tonight, I would've grabbed my child, gotten into my car with nothing but the nightgown on my back, driven straight to Piarco International Airport, and put us onto the next flight heading to an icy, snow-encrusted, tropical-animal-free country to live out the rest of my days.

But perhaps I should start from the beginning.

Earlier this evening, after we'd all gone to bed (Alex included!), and I was pleasantly and quietly drifting off to sleep, I stirred to Marcus mumbling, "I'm going to go check on Alex."

Let me pause here by saying that he NEVER does this. Ever. If the kid's asleep in her room, we just say a silent thank-you prayer to the Lord, and roll over and go back to sleep.

I rolled my eyes (as much as one can roll one's eyes when half-asleep), and tried to concentrate on returning to my dream state.

All of a sudden, I was rudely awakened by all of the lights in our bedroom snapped on at full wattage.

I sat up, ready to use my most colourful profanity, when I looked down at Marcus' feet.

There, wiggling away, was a three-foot snake.

A SNAKE.

IN MY BEDROOM.

Masking my intense fear of snakes, I ever so calmly, in my most loving voice possible, said, "DUDE! Is that a SNAKE?!?" My voice, incidentally, is in a sort of serpentlike-hiss itself, seeing as we have houseguests sleeping in the next room.

"Yes," Marcus hissed back (doing his own version of the Giant Heebie-Jeebie Dance of Disgust). "I stepped on it. I don't think it bit me."

"YOU DON'T THINK?!?! ARE YOU OKAY?!?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I have to try and catch it."

"WHAT!?!? Marcus, this is the TROPICS. You have NO IDEA what kind of snake that is!! I'm calling my Dad."

Yes, that's right: I'm a grown, 37-year-old woman, and at the first sign of trouble, I call my daddy. I'm a sad, sad person.

To continue: I get my dad on the phone, while Marcus has gone to get a Hefty bag into which, ostensibly, the snake is to be lured for its happy trip outside. The snake, meanwhile, has decided to check out our dresser.

"DAAAAAAAADDDDDDDYYYY!!!! There's a SNAKE in our house!"

"Well, KILL IT!" my father replies. He will not be winning any Excellence in Ecological Sensitivity Awards any time soon.

"HOW?"

"Get a broomstick! Whack it on its head!"

"Marcus! Daddy says to get a broomstick and whack it on its head!"

Marcus leaves to get the broomstick. The snake decides to investigate our bathroom.

My father: "What's happening? Does he have the broom?"

Marcus returns with the broom, brandishing it like Russel Crowe in Gladiator.

Me: "He has the broom!!"

My dad: "Well, hit it on its head! Hard! Right on the head!"

Me: "Daddy says to hit it on its head!!"

Marcus disappears into the bathroom, and a couple of whacks later, I hear Marcus:

"Oooh... sorry, snake."

My dad: "What did he say???"

Me: "He said, 'sorry, snake'!!"

Marcus emerges, with nasty-ass snake carcass wrapped around the broom handle. I begin to slowly slip into my catatonic state.

Me: "Ooooooooh, maaaaaaan...."

Marcus: "It's dead."

Dad: "What is it? What does it look like?"

Me: "Oooooooooh, maaaaaaaaaaaannnn..."

Marcus: "Honey, it's dead, it's okay."

Dad: "What is it??"

Me: "Ooooooooh.... " and I handed the receiver to Marcus.

Marcus talks to my dad. At this point, I'm generally incoherent, staring at dead snake carcass in my bedroom. I do recall hearing the words "very young snake," "maybe a boa constrictor" and "possibly a pit viper." I begin to curl into fetal position. Then I think:

Alex.

There is no way Alex was going to sleep through this much longer. I looked at Marcus: "You have GOT to get rid of that thing before Alex wanders in here." Marcus hands me the phone, and my father tries to talk me into having a glass of rum.

Just as Marcus carries the thing out, I hear: "Mummy??" and Alex walks into the room.

So now, as I write this, it's about an hour later, both Alex and Marcus are fast asleep next to me, and I'm still FREAKING THE EFF OUT. You have no idea how much I hate snakes. And the thought of what might have happened if Alex had been the one to step on it as she wandered into our bedroom....

...and the worst part?

I really have to go to the bathroom. But I'm afraid to get out of bed.

I now return you to the Chookooloonks sabbatical.

Island-hopping

This weekend, Alex's old friend Conor will be arriving to spend a week with us from Houston. He's bringing his mom with him, so it should be a grand old time.

Of course, this week has the potentiality of dealing a stunning blow to the progress being made by Christian and his relationship with Alex. As you know, Christian's charm and good looks are legendary; however, Conor provides some serious competition. To wit:

Not to mention, Conor is an Older Man. And you know how attractive an Older Man can be. I'm thinking that I'll have to invite Christian over sometime during the week to make sure that he stays in the running.

So anyway, with Conor and his mom (Helen) coming over, I'm likely to be away for a while. As part of next week's festivities, Helen and Conor and Alex and I are heading over to Trinidad's sister isle, Tobago, for a little R&R (props to Marcus: he has barely let it show how excited he is to have the house all to himself. Now that's class). When we return, we're all roadtripping back up to Grand Riviere to see the turtles again. Should be fun.

So in the meantime, I leave you with Alex and her latest architectural wonder for your enjoyment. She calls it "Nine Wooden Blocks":

See you soon.

Happy Birthday Granny the Great!

Today is my grandmother's 99th birthday. Ninety-nine. Do you know how long a time that is, people? I mean, when she was born, plastic didn't exist. Not until the following year, anyway. And it took 15 years after her birth for someone to finally come up with a Band-Aid. That's crazy.

Even more amazing is how completely coherent -- and frankly, funny -- my grandmother still is. It's not just that her mind is as sound as ever, it's that age doesn't seem to have impaired her wit, either. Case in point: the other day, as we were ending our phone conversation, my grandmother said, "Give Marcus a kiss for me."

"I will, Granny," I responded.

"And Karen?" she added.

"Yes, Granny?"

"Don't get jealous. It's just a kiss."

(Incidentally, for those of you who are still around when I reach my 99th birthday -- please make sure that I celebrate it in a red dress, with dangly earrings and a chunky bracelet. 'Cause, I'm sorry, that's just cool.)

Happy 99th Birthday, Granny the Great. May you have 99 more!

[Insert stunned expression and state of apoplexy here]

Last night,

for the first time in the History of Alexis,

Alex slept for 11 straight hours

IN

HER

OWN

BED.

I...I...I don't know what to do. I'm torn between doing the Happy Dance To End All Happy Dances, and rushing her to the hospital.

Do you think she knew it was our anniversary?

Happy First Third Anniversary

Is it bad that both Marcus and I forgot that today was our first third anniversary?

Happy anniversary, my love. You're the best.

Being Happy

"Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy."

-- Anne Frank, Diary of a Young Girl, 1952

Happy Father's Day!

From the home office in Maraval, Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, The Top Ten Reasons Marcus Earns The Number One Father of The Year Award:

10. He has never, ever, complained about changing one of Alex's diapers. Not once. And this is impressive because (a) flowers wilt in the mere vicinity of Alex's diapers, and (b) if there is one thing that's prodigious about that kid, it's her digestive tract. I'll say no more.

9. He gets down on the floor to play with her all day, every day, if possible. And since Alex is just under 3 feet tall, and Marcus is 6'5", I'm sure Alex appreciates this.

8. He cooks for her. Actually, he cooks for both of us. And he's an incredible cook.

7. If Alex learns to swim in the next few years, it will because of him. I mean, I swim, but Marcus is an absolute fish. And because of him, Alex adores the water. And she's fearless. I suspect she'll be surfing by the time she's 5.

6. He bathes Alex every night. It's become their bonding time together.

5. He puts Alex to bed every night. There's a reason for this: Alex won't go to bed with me. She refuses -- as far as she's concerned, if Mummy's in the room, it's playtime. But Marcus is like Obi-Wan:

Marcus (waving his hand in front of Alex's face): You want to go to sleep.

Alex (trancelike): I want to go to sleep.

Marcus: You have no use for these toys.

Alex: I have no use for these toys.

Marcus: You want to go to bed.

Alex: I think I'll go to bed.

Marcus: Goodnight.

Alex: Nigh-nigh, Daddy! Nigh-nigh!

(Of course, by 10 p.m., she's padded into our room, and tries to get into bed with us. But baby steps, man, baby steps.)

4. Five words: Peek-a-boo Champion Of The World.

3. Marcus is Mr. Disorganization; however, he will schedule time during to go buy Alex the latest educational toy.

That runs on batteries.

And makes lots of noise.

Lots.

2. He tells Alex "Let's make fun of Mummy." Then both of them will put their foreheads together so that they touch, pretend to whisper ("psst-sst-sst-sst-sst..") and then both look at me, put their hands in front of their mouths and say, "HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE."

Okay, this one's a bit annoying. And I do find it disturbing that this is One of Alex's Favourite Things To Do. But I suppose it's another bonding time for the two of them, and that should count for something.

And the Number One Reason Marcus Earns The Number One Father Of The Year Award:

1. He loves Alex, but more importantly, he really loves being around Alex. And he doesn't treat her like a "little girl," he treats her like a "little person." And I'm so grateful he's my partner in the Quest to Raise A Strong Woman.

Happy Father's Day, Marcus. You're Number One.

Pictures from the Second Annual Father's Day Photo Shoot to follow.

____________________________

UPDATE: As promised, here are today's Father's Day pictures. Note the lovely bracelet that Marcus is wearing. Alex requested he put it on, and now Marcus is wearing a pretty little girlie bracelet for the entire Internet-surfing world to see. If that's not a sign of devoted fatherhood, I don't know WHAT is.

Alex's Growing Vocabulary, and Our Diminishing One

Since I wrote this post about 8 weeks ago, listing all the words I could think of that Alex says, her vocabulary has further exploded. Now, she also says:

22. Eyes

23. Nose

24. Mouth

25. Bath -- and OH, how she loves a bath...

26. Ears

27. Hair

28. Foot

29. Knee

30. Elbow -- it sounds like "Albee," but it counts, dammit.

31. Outside -- Sounds like "SIDE??" and usually said beseechingly while she bangs on the door.

32. Milk -- Sounds like "Me-ook," but I think that's acceptable.

33. Pool -- Sounds like "poo," which is unfortunate. She kept coming up to me and going "Poo?" "Poo?" I, of course, would check her diaper, and vehemently deny that she was soiled. Finally, about 2 days ago, I was holding her and we were looking out over our balcony at the gardens. She said, "POO!" and pointed to the swimming pool. Poor kid had been wanting a swim for a month.

34. Dirty

35. Back-pack -- sounds like "Back-cack" -- and she's particularly fond of Dora's.

36. Bike -- sounds like "back," so you kind of have to look for the context.

37. Chest

38. Night-night

39. Bye-bye

40. Hi

41. Mummy's/Daddy's -- That is, she understands and uses the possessive of each of these words.

42. Yes

43. Rain -- sounds like "Ray!"

44. Ring -- sounds like "Rih!"

45. Lion

46. Belly-button -- sounds like "Bapm!"

47. Tea -- she's nothing if not a British man's daughter.

48. Horsey

49. Book

50. Block

Fifty words, and counting. "She's so smart!" we say. "She's prodigious! She's the Most Brilliant Kid That Ever Was!"

Then she takes a diaper, puts it on her head, and walks around going "Hat! Hat!" Just to make sure we stay grounded.

In the meantime, Marcus and I are starting to lose any semblance of adult language skills. To be more specific, we're beginning to speak in Dr. Seuss-ian -- particularly of his "A-B-C Alphabet book." For example, the other day, I got attacked by a horde of mosquitos (Reason #4 Not To Move To The Caribbean: mosquitos the size of bald eagles), and I couldn't stop scratching. I looked at Marcus.

"I'm Itchy-Itchy-Ichabod," I said, without a trace of humour. And Marcus, without comment, went to get the Cortaid.

And this morning? When I went to shower, Alex was calling for me, wondering where I was. I overheard Marcus solemnly tell her: "Mummy's in the washtub washing Waldo Woo."

Pray for us, people.

Chookooloonks Gear, and Why I Love That Wendy’s® Guy

As you guys may remember, a few weeks ago in this post, I asked you for ideas related to a creative outlet that I could do from my home, without taking too much time away from the Alex-monster. And, in your usual true form, you guys came up with some wonderful ideas, several of which I’ve taken to heart. I’ve got two major projects going on at home right now that I’m not quite ready to reveal yet, but will in due course. I promise.

One reader of that post, however, suggested that I open a “Shop” area on Chookooloonks, selling shirts/mugs/mousepads with my photos on them. While I liked how simple the idea was, the thought of my making money off of Chookooloonks made me a bit uneasy. It just didn’t seem… right. Still…

… then I had a brainstorm: what if, instead of my making the money, I made sure all of the profits went to a worthy not-for-profit organization? Perhaps an organization that’s adoption-related?

So I did a bit of research, and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. I was looking for an organization that supported the institution of adoption (preferably on an international scale), not an actual adoption agency. I almost gave up hope.

Then I discovered the Dave Thomas Foundation for Adoption. You guys remember Dave Thomas, don’t you? The Wendy’s® Hamburgers guy? Well, it turns out Dave Thomas was adopted. And back in 1992, Dave Thomas created this foundation dedicated to “increasing the adoptions of the more than 150,000 children in North American’s foster care system.” In Dave’s mind, he felt that every child deserves a permanent home and a loving family. In particular, the DTFA focuses on heightening the awareness of some very special foster care children – sibling groups, minorities, older youth and medically and emotionally fragile children – waiting for families and homes, both in the United States and in Canada. Also, the Foundation encourages corporations to provide adoption benefit plans, and provides guidelines for companies to establish such programs. I gotta tell ya, this impressed me. Even though, as a result of DTFA’s efforts, 65% of Fortune 1000 companies now provide such plans, my former employer (an organization well within the Fortune 1000 ranking system), as of the date of my departure, didn’t.

So I contacted the DTFA, and asked them if they would mind being the recipient of the proceeds of my little online store, and therefore allow me to talk about them on Chookooloonks. They graciously agreed. And so now, without further ado, I present to you:

Chookooloonks: The Shop

At The Shop (powered by Cafepress.com), you can buy lots of items to add a little Trini flair to your lives. Need a bright new coffee mug for your grey office? Look no further. Want a coconut-decorated apron to inspire you as you try the Chookooloonks recipes? Today’s your lucky day. And of course, you can buy prints for your office or home, and t-shirts for you or your little one. The best part? Cafepress.com does international shipping, and all major credit cards are accepted.

So I hope you’ll partake of the store, and remember: it all goes to a good cause. I don’t see a dime of the profits – the cheques are cut directly to the DTFA. Also, you may notice that I’ve added a new section to Chookooloonks – “My Life In Pictures" – where I upload a new photo daily. Take a look – if there’s anything there that you feel you have to have on your next mousepad, let me know on the comments section of that photo, and I’ll see what I can do. And clearly -- if you feel a pressing need to put a link to the store on your own website, by all means, go with it ... I'm sure DTFA wouldn't mind!

Thanks in advance for helping me support such a great organization!