The mouths of not-quite babes

I am LOVING this overly talkative stage that Cadence and her peers are in at the moment.  Whether it is playground antics, thoughtful musings, or "DUH mom it's obvious!" explanations, they come up with the most amazing stuff.  Here are some examples of each:

A few months ago, I accompanied Cadie B's class to the playground, and while I was there I overheard the following conversation between two of her four year old classmates:

Isabel (runs up to Orion and says):  Excuse me, but are you part of the world?

Orion: Yes.

Isabel: Ah. Well then, I'm sorry but I'm gonna have to conquer you!

(exit.)

Earlier today, after a long, festive hide-and-seek tag type game, Cadence spontaneously turned to me and said, quite thoughtfully:

Cadence: Some four year olds are really big, but they're not very responsible.  But I don't think I'm like that.  I think I'm a very responsible child.  Do you think so, Mama? That I'm not a not-responsible four year old, but a very responsible four year old?

Why yes, Cadence, Yes- yes I do.

And then this evening, well, I'll provide just a snippet of the very long, involved conversation that took place over the course of several hours that was SUPPOSED to be bedtime.  Cadence had successfully gotten James and I off on a tangent by asking about sleep cycles, but she was quick to reign us back in when the conversation risked moving on without her, and she did so in the most bone-chilling way she could have in the eyes of her arithmaphobic mother who is already intimidated by her baby's smarts:

James:  How long would you say my naps usually last?

Kate:  about 3 hours?

James:  Maybe I got through 2 sleep cycles per nap? Or I just have really loooong sleep cycles?

Kate:  I don't know, you'd have to talk to a sleep specialist about all that.

James:  I've actually wanted to do a sleep study - 

Cadence (clearly annoyed):  MAMA! I've been waiting for my turn to talk. I was going to tell you that baba's naps are 180 minutes long.

...

So yeah, either a mathematical genius that scares the crap out of me, or a reeealllllly good guess!

THE FLU, part II

...well, it was kind of MOSTLY over...we made it through that night alright except that Hazel woke up at 4 am thinking it was time to paaaart-aaayy! and the next day both kids were fine in the morning and got increasingly fussy throughout the day, and then spent that night being fussy, fidgety, whiney, and NOT sleeping really, I think because of opportunistic upper respiratory bugs with the sniffling coughing yuck which means I didn't sleep, either...Sunday we tried to lay low, and thought we were finally in the clear...until James' belly rebelled and I spent the night waking up with him. At least the girls are ok, now, I thought, until early early in the morning when Hazel unexpectedly vomited ON MY FACE AND IN MY HAIR...and James had moved the bowl so I couldn't find it and by the time he woke enough to figure out what was going on and retrieve it well...it was time for yet another bed sheet, pajama, pillowcase, and blanket change.  Oi. The next night  - last night - I stayed up after the ladies went to sleep to catch up on some work and such, so went to bed late.  The night itself was a bit restless but ok, until the girls again rose at the crack of dawn, and I haven't had a full (or even half?) a night's sleep since last week sometime. (I bet you can tell just reading this.  I doubt I'm at the peak of my wordsmithy skills.)

Here's hoping tonight will be better.  (nevermind that Cadence JUST finally fell asleep about 10 minutes ago.)

THE FLU

We made it 4.5 years of parenting without encountering the horrors of the dreaded Stomach Flu, so I really can't complain, but when it hit, it hit HARD.



Night one: Hazel wakes up horrendously sick.  She recognizes her lunch in the mess and spends the rest of the night recounting how her "noms came back!" and that it hurt and made her cry. Over the course of the (very long) night, we went through every bed sheet, mattress pad, towel, blanket, and set of pajamas in the house.  Cadence somehow manages to sleep through everything, even when James had to physically relocate her to change sheets while Hazel was shrieking bloody murder.

Day one:  It's clear that we can't drag a nauseous Hazel on the subway, so James takes Cadence to school and we arrange a playdate with a classmate for the afternoon so he can collect her after he's done with class.  Cadence is ecstatic that she gets to go to school with just Baba and that she'll get to play, and bounds off in an awesome mood.  I stay home with the poor sick little baby.  You know what's NOT home?  Running water.   The building turned it off. I had just enough warning to fill all the teapots and pitchers and fill the tub to use for cleaning things up, but all that laundry we'd amassed the night before had to be put on hold...and I neglected to stop up the bathtub drain as we did during the hurricane, so by the time the water came back on, the tub was almost completely empty.  Luckily we make it through, and Hazel seems to improve by evening.  I get a text from Cadence's friend's mom saying no rush to pick her up 'cause they're having fun, and decide we've weathered the worst of the storm and start with the post-sickness deep cleanse. Hazel and I finally emerge from the shower scrubbed and fresh, and discover a voicemail on my phone.  We listen to it together; it's James, reporting that he's on his way to get Cadence, who evidently just threw up a couple times at her friend's home.  "Oh, no!" Hazels declares, meaningfully, "poor jie jie!  Jie jie come home, Stay."

Night Two:  James and Cadence, armed with some borrowed clothes and a disposable tupperware container, embark on a long and nauseating taxi ride home.  They arrive home sometime after 7:30, smelly and unhappy, and we get them washed off and start prepping for bed.  James is scheduled to host some friends for a guy's night this evening, and now it's too late to cancel.  My noble plan of getting the girls into bed before they arrive doesn't stand a chance, and the guys (who are, thankfully, all lovely people who are totally understanding of a little girl's plight) are greeted by a pale 4 year old huddled under a blanket occasionally wretching into a silver mixing bowl while I scramble to get some food into the now-hyper 20 month old with a new lease on life, who is insisting on rearranging furniture as James tries to clean a little bit for his friends.  I finally get everyone down, and spend a few hours tending to Cadence as she tries to get some rest between bouts of sickness...I will say, it is easier dealing with her illness since she's older and can ask for the bowl in advance, but the poor dear seems to be a bit more affronted by the experience, having amassed a bit more dignity over the years to be lost in the betrayal of her belly.  There was much more emotional fallout, if fewer sheet changes.  Until, that is, Hazel vomits in her sleep again. Since I foolishly thought she was done with that, she wasn't on a bed of towels and we are back to changing sheets, this time moving a queasy and definitely not sleeping Cadence around as little and as gingerly as possible to do so. Oi. I spend the rest of the night fussing over my two poor sick girls, a maniac with a big metal bowl and a pack of wetwipes.

Day Two:  In the morning, after Hazel bounces awake and right onto Cadence's tummy, Cadence stretches, smiles, and responds to my inquiry into how she's feeling with a jovial "good enough to get my own breakfast this morning!"  And they're off.  A bit weak, a bit fussy, and they both crashed into nap-land about an hour ago, but I think, knock on wood, we may have survived this round.  (as long as James and I don't get simultaneously sick while these two rebound into CRAZY HAPPY HEALTHY KID-dom.)