Notice Nicholas having one of his patented Freak-Out-Melt-Down-And-Dirty-Scream-O-Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong fits. This one went on for 45 minutes.

So long, in fact, that even Sebastian looked a wee bit exasperated.

Welcome home, Mama.

They understand me though. Way better than even I suspect. Today I told Sebastian to put his cracker on the table and he did. Just like that! And Nicholas can pick out various pictures of fruits in a book when I name them. All of this in French. English is not their forte. They don’t understand basic stuff like “come here”, “gimme a kiss” or “sit” in English. They DO understand in French, though.

Which brings me to the words that the boys DO know how to say. First there’s “hi”. We hear that A LOT. And there’s “bye” which is tragically mispronounced “die”. There’s “dada” which is so overused that we can’t tell if they really know what or who “dada” really is (everything they point to is “dada”). Nicholas has uttered a couple of “mama”s here and there but I’ve not determined whether he really means it or it’s just gibberish.

And then there’s the most recent development from Sebastian. Apparently, he listens to his mama… even when she’s not speaking to him.

Now, when Goose walks by, Sebastian says “sit” or “stay”… a couple dozen times. Kinda like Mama does. He is completely oblivious to what the words mean but he knows that those words are the words you speak when speaking to Goose.

So there ya go. So much for speaking French to them every waking moment.

Apparently, they’ll soon be fluent in Dog.

And in case you want more: here ya go.

Disclaimer: My sweet, SWEET WONDERFUL husband did his best. Most everything that went wrong was not his fault and he could not have stopped it from happening.

Javier made reservations at a new restaurant in the city. A restaurant whose chef we have “experienced” (to our delight) in that past. The resto’s schtick is comfort food… well-crafted, highly original comfort food. How can you go wrong with that for a mother’s day brunch, you ask?

Well, the greatest injury was the first. After having TWICE requested high chairs – once when reserving and again the day before mother’s day to be DOUBLY sure – turns out there were no high chairs. NO HIGH CHAIRS!!! Two eighteen month old children and no high chairs to sit them in. As we were told upon our arrival: “Oh, the hostess was mistaken. We thought we could borrow some from another resto but it turns out that no one has a high chair to spare on mother’s day”. NO SHIT! Really? OMGWTF? The woman greeting us continued: “But we’ve put you at a table with a banquette so the kids can just sit there, right?” HA! No, really, HA! HAAAA! Why, yes, of course my toddlers will sit still on a banquette… in a parallel universe… the same universe where my dog isn’t getting fat from all the scraps of food that hit the floor during lunch, thanks.

This lack of child restraining hardware was enough to have called the brunch a bust. We certainly didn’t need anymore help beyond that point but, alas, when it rains, it pours.

No menus for 15 minutes. Only to be followed by the classic moment where the waitress comes and says something to the effect of: “So you must have looked over the menus and someone’s taken them away?”. Uh, given that you’re our waitress, we were hoping that you’d be the one in-the-know here. In other words, NO. NOOOO. And we have a couple of toddlers squirming like greased pigs at a bacon factory so, please DO take your time.

It should come as no surprise that when we finally DID order, our food came about as quickly as mail on a Sunday. Everyone around us was eating AND LEAVING before we got our main courses. We got there slightly before noon and despite eating as fast as humanly possible, were in no position to leave until 1:30 pm. The service was a disaster. Which is fitting because of the aforementioned toddlers… you know the ones… the squirming ones. But, heck, they offered us a free plate of waffles for our troubles. Score!

Back to those squirming toddlers.

It goes without saying that when you restrain a toddler against his will, he’ll fight you with every fibre of his soul. Especially if he knows you’re a mere mortal and not an unyielding, unsympathetic high chair. So, a third of the way into our outing, Nicholas starts to lose his shit. He’s had just about enough of us plying him with Pepperidge Farm Goldfish and every utensil, placemat, shiny and/or edible thing within grasp. He’s ready to go now. NOW. GO. NOW. So he starts wailing. Wailing in that way that makes you, as parent in a public place, recoil in horror. But you know what? It’s mother’s day and it’s brunch. If ever there was a potentially sympathetic audience for this sort of meltdown, this would be it. I mean it’s not like we’re ruining anyone’s romantic supper, right? It’s not like we’re totally insane for taking our toddlers out on this of all days, right?

You’d think that.

Except leave it to the smug woman sitting at the table next to us, the woman with the single sleeping-in-a-stroller 13-or-so-month-old to actually get up, walk over to Javier and say: “Can you take him outside?”.

Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!? It’s mother’s day. Is there no solidarity between parents of young children trying to live a normal life? Are you so lulled into a sense of superiority by your sleepy little angel that you think you’ll never find yourself in EXACTLY the same situation hoping for the kindness of strangers? God almighty. If I hadn’t been so stunned, I would have punched her in the nose. Or thrown Nicholas at her.

(As slight consolation, this woman’s mother stopped to talk to us on her way out and told us how beautiful our boys are and how crazy it must be to have twins. I think even she was embarrassed by her daughter’s – daughter-in-law’s, maybe – gall.)

So that’s the gist of our mother’s day outting… except for one thing.

Javier took some photos so that we could remember this day. An opportunity we seldom get, capturing Mama with her boys

… with the camera on Manual mode.

Especially for Nicholas. It’s been hardest on him for some reason.

BUT, today, it’s as if an exorcism took place overnight. All of a sudden, my sweet, funny, giggly boys are back. Both of them. At the same time.

I’m SO happy.

If you click on the photo above and go to Flickr’s site, then click on “All sizes”, you will see a bigger version of this image. My reflection is in Nicholas’ eyes. I LOVE that.

Notice the box with “Height: 64 cm.” Since these cards don’t expire, I guess they’ll just pass as dwarves later in life.

I’d like to post something meaningful but I’ve gotta run to wine country with some friends for the day! Priorities, priorities.

I’ll try to write something more substantial later this week but, in the meantime, I give you this little snippet of life from a few days ago:

Worth noting: the boys aren’t really speaking yet. They’re a bit behind schedule compared to the norm but a lot of twins are so we’re not worried. As it stands, everything is “dada”. Dada is “dada”, Sarah is “dada”, Goose is “dada”, Sebastian is Nicholas’ “dada” and Nicholas is “dada” to Sebastian. Mama is no one. Oddly, they don’t call me “dada”. They don’t call me anything, actually. BUT, they say “hi” to me. First it was just Sebastian but now Nicholas says it too.

The manner in which they say “hi” is adorable. They’ve appropriated my over-enthusiastic, sing-songy tone and made it their own. The result is a very high pitched, drawn out, breathy “hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” which can’t be adequately described in words. I will try to video tape it for you all to see.

Stay tuned…

became an occasion

to feed THREE mouths.

As you can see, Goose has developed quite an appetite for blueberry waffles.

See for yourself (click on the photo for more images):

You can’t really tell from the photos but, despite the aprons, both of them were sopping wet (and COLD) by the time we were done.