say my name

there are no accidents in the world:

magnificent and i recently flew UNITED airlines (not recommended)

magnificent and i try to create a UNITED front in front of our children

the result? our children have UNITED us, and created one new uber parent, named DADDY.

indeed, mummy is a name only sebastian uses, and that’s when he’s not calling me tess.

jasper started it. little lazy man suddenly decided it was too much effort remembering both mcs’ and my own parental monikers, and realised we both could nicely fall under the umbrella name "DADDY". so these days when he sees me, he is very happy to see me, smiles and raises his chunky arms to "DADDY!"

i thought it might be a really conscious thing, so this morning after a rousing four way chorus of "sleeping bunnies" made me realise they were up for good, i went into the nursery and was greeted with three voices shrieking, DADDY!

what IS this? would i be so upset if they were calling mc mummy? would HE be upset?

yes yes yes, it doesn’t matter what they call you as long as it is said with love, and no mistake, this most certainly is said with love. but this namelessness makes me feel rather bland. the triumverate just love elmo, and whenever i am reading their sesame street manners, clearing up or "happy and you know it" singing book, even the pages that DON"T have elmo on it, have my children happily declaring ELMO!!! ELMO!!! ELMO!!!

i am a second rate cartoon character.

for those of you wondering, i actually do a first rate elmo voice. it’s a gift. being in this nameless frontier is not. i am trying to put a positive spin on it, but need to blame myself a bit more first.

how could my kids do this to me? ingrates. they’re connecting words together, stumbling sentences usually featuring the words "no, share, me, pees, ‘nana, ta-too" .. and mummy is no where to be found. i thought we were having such fun lately!

i am a pathetic person. instead of exaulting about how great it is spending time with the kids these days (and it is a lot of fun), how they are learning to hail taxi’s, and the laughter we’re having, i’m banging on about how my name isn’t the one in headlines. i don’t deserve the name mummy, maybe that’s why they took it away. they sensed i was undeserving, the same way they know the difference between when i go into the pantry to grab a lightbulb and when i dash in there to stuff my gob with biscuits.

okay, i am beginning to see the positive…self pity is ending… wait, here it comes…it would make a great first line of jasper’s book:

i stopped calling my mother "mummy" before i turned two years old for the simple reason she displayed none of the characteristics that made her deserving of that cherished title.

i smell a best seller. and if he wrote it before he turned 19, taxes would be lower and he could pay his own university fees. the bank of dad is CLOSED jasper.

i could then write my own tell-all novel. the cover would have a tasteful black and white shot of me…my hair would be carefully draped over to hide the scars of my recent plastic surgery (good looks sell books!) and the title, "mummy loves you" would be in a carefully constructed curly cue font. i would also be holding an expensively framed picture of jasper and myself.

i love that i can see the positive.

and now i seriously need to exercise. i have been eating gummy bears since 6am and am bouncing off the fricking walls.

how are we ever expected to experience world peace when countries can’t even agree on word definitions?
if a blue/green eyed resident of, say, texas, was visiting hong kong, and managed to get herself arrested, she could find herself in the clink for a stolen passport or identification on the grounds that her id declares her eyes to be “hazel” in colour.
in many countries of the world, “hazel” means light brown. but in the US (and a few other locations) hazel means blue/green. moral of the story…don’t get arrested in hong kong?
moving on at a sharpish pace (have to take carys to physio in a jiff), i can see huge fights breaking out if at a peacekeeping dinner when it came time for dessert, the brits and many of their european compatriots, who had requested “pudding” in their menu cards, found bowls of thick cold goo (but tasty, i must say) placed in front of them, while the aussies and kiwi’s were celebrating with a gloriously decorated pavlova and other nations were gobbling down a cheeseboard and grapes. in the UK, pudding is dessert, not the goo.
of course, the hope lies with the children. so it’s time to get a few issues sorted out:
find one name for:
“pacifiers” : binky, dummy, soothers, paccies…sort it out folks.
“nappies” : nappies or diapers….one or the other
“bottle nipples” : teats is accepted in most commonwealth countries…but could the rest of the countries say the word without giggling?
school: is it level one, primary one or grade one?
shorts: i heard a great story the other day where a kiwi teacher walked into the change room before PE class and instructed the slow moving 10 year old boys, “come on boys, get your shorts off”. and so none of the boys wore underpants to gym that day. because in the uk, underpants are shorts. short pants are shorts.
i have to take the c now….but i hope you get the drift and send me further suggestions.
xo from mumma mia!

yay! im doing it again.

i am back in the saddle again.

in my hong kong saddle.

saddled with kids, obligations, and compensations for a week;s absence.

geographically, i felt right at home in texas. it was just like edmonton. quite windy and cold. it was heartwarming to be in attendance for the shower…..after the trials, sorrows, uncertainty and stress of infertility, friends karen and steve have adopted little miss marissa from guatemala. the bounty at the shower was incredible, but karen’s joy wasn’t at the piles of stuff, it was more that the piles of clothes, books, and toys represented joy from people around the world who love her and are so glad she is about to experience motherhood, and that motherhood has arrived.

at last

my lonely days are over

and life is like a song

and i got to meet carrie, who left her 2.5 yo b/g twins and hustled over to texas from minnesota. carrie is such a nuturing girl, she would sit in bed with charmaine and i each night and we would giggle, and then she would admonish us to get some sleep, and then tuck us in. charmaine and i would compromise by looking at the clock and agreeing we would only talk for 20 more minutes and then we would pray and then we would sleep. charmaine is so definite and so certain, and everyone loves her for it because her heart is so large and her generosity so immense. mac is her son, he is 17 months and absolutely lovely. so well brought up, signing more, please and all done. love him.

and it all seems a distant dream now that i am back in hong kong. this morning magnificent and i made the most of jet lag by snuggling and talking and planning…it necessary and good to catch up.

and as the hours stretched and pulled themselves towards dawn, i heard noises from the nursery and knew the day was really beginning. sela was first, singing in her cot at 7.05am. as quietly as i could i slipped in to the nursery and returned the sleepy massive grin she gave me when i lifted her up. but alas, the shadow knows, and carys and jasper (weren’t they supposed to be asleep?) poked up their little eyebrows and voices.

so the triumverate and charles and i cuddled in the bed, sang Jesus loves me, and the good morning song, and jasper didn’t evaporate even though we never got around to singing perennial favourite baa baa black sheep. (which he never sings but loves to hear…go figure???)

and then they were eating weetabix and warm milk and applesauce and i laced up, put on two jumpers and headed out for a run. just like i try to do three times a week. except, what’s this? ah yes, today i had my ipod. which made my breathing all knackered as sometimes i got too excited and messed up. but who cares.

90 per cent of me loves running in the rain. even if i am in a hate exercising mode, when i see people running in the rain i wish it were me. i just hate the slippy aspect of it. but i love the cold plunk of raindrops hitting my face combatting the wet streams of sweat sliding down from my forehead. i love the drops moistening my face, feeling my sleeves getting heavier, wondering when i hit little puddles and the droplets slap against my ankles why i was avoiding the puddles in the first place, and deciding "oh sod it, there’s no use avoiding the puddles all the time, my feet are going to get wet, so let’s just get them wet and get it over with." and then running through a puddle and feeling the coldness quickly seep through my shoes and quickly become warm.

when i look at people running in the rain i think, "my what a dedicated athlete". i hope no one out there is thinking that about me, because i am not. i run because i like it, i like feeling like i have accomplished something so early in the day, i like the way it makes my body feel, i like that it sets an example for my children that regular exercise is good, that later in the day i can look at my arms and remember how they looked swinging beside me some hours earlier. but there are weeks that i do not run. at all. or i will be halfway through a jog and then stop and walk, because i feel like being quiet and looking instead of racing past all the beauty. i like racing, but i also like the walking too.

i’m back in hong kong. racing and walking. welcome back to my life.

New pics…

New pictures have been added to the Sebastian and Jasper posts below.

last hong kong post for a bit…next time you hear from me i will be in texas where it will hopefully be a bit warmer!

for those of you who care … sela did a poopers (poopahs according to coach sebastian) and was rewarded 2 m & m’ s (no peanuts) for her efforts (i love "lemlems!" said coach sebastian).

i’ll write soon. quite melancholy at the thought of leaving the children. so will focus on something else, like this new mouth ulcer i have and is driving me crazy or that yesterday en route to the post office i acted like a total gobdaw and crossed the street without looking and nearly got hit (thank goodness cars in hong kong can’t drive too quickly due to the crowded streets.)

does anyone else find that wearing iPod’s or walkman’s, etc, make them less aware of their surroundings?

sebbie sebbie so so!!

timing is everything…yesterday sebastian told me that when he grows up, he wants to marry me. oedipus aside, it was a wonderful thing to hear. firstly that he wants to and secondly that he wants to. little man.

at 35 pounds, sebastian blake caldwell is much better looking than the 6.7 pound laddie he was on 30 november 2001. and louder. then, he was a very solemn tiny boy whose facial features were crammed into what appeared to be one square inch in the lower level of his bald head.

there was a teeny period of time where sebastian was not my favourite person in the house. breastfeeding was not fun. choose your word: cracked, bleeding, engorged, peeling…it all happened within the confines of my bra. and it was all sebastian’s fault. i remember avoiding charles as he would bring the wailing bundle from room to room, searching for me. our place isn’t huge, so i would open closet doors a fraction, and hide in the open space. and always display wide eyed surprise when a flustered charles and waahhhhing sebastian found me. oh, he was crying? sorry, didn’t hear him. hold my breath, count to ten, put child to breast, bite lip and clench fist.

thankfully those days ended, and before you know it, sebastian was an interesting little bald person.

the first time he saw a dalmation dog sebastian thought it was a cow, and ran up to it and said, MOO! MOO! he’s never been afraid of animals, although he is plenty skeptical of people.

we learned so much together, sebastian and i. when to hold on, when to let go. when to help, when to stay silent. the importance of disciplining your child in private, acceptance…his tabla rasa and my learning curve were massive.

his second day of playschool we were informed sebastian had taken off all his clothes and jumped into the full bathtub while the rest of the class was putting water into the fishtank.

his vocabulary was always endearing: she-shell, wappy, yum!, lemlems (m&m’s), jofeth (joseph), underpants were "bob’s", so many more than i am so scared i might forget.

toilet training was easy, and as quickly as he determined he hated vegetables, he liked them again.

his relationship with special blanket is based on adoration. special blanket is reserved for warm clean times, or when sebastian needs comforting. on occasion, special blanket shows up when we play school, or when sebastian is watching television.

he has yet to latch on a special shirt, book, toy..his intense adoration is focused on people. most particularly his father. one morning he realised what the rest of us have known for years, his father is an amazing person. daddy! my daddy! sebastian behaves differently when his father is around, subtley he acts up, he definitely toes the line when i am around. we have had amazing days together, but when mc and i are together, sebastian makes it very clear where his loyalties lie. what’s why the proposal, and times when seb is clearly thrilled to see ME ME ME are memorable.

he is aloof. as a young child several people asked me if he was autistic. he wasnt, but he is reserved. but once you are loved, you are loved for life.

his memory is spectacular. he can place buildings, names, meals (we ate this at annie’s house!) and other quirky little issues.

he comes into the master bedroom, and his fingers are apparently taken over my david helfgott. flight of the bumblebee…he’s touching everything on the bedside table, what’s this mummy, twisting off caps, pulling at tops, dipping fingers into creams, putting chapstick on chin and then on the sheets….oops as something drops, what’s this mummy? he touches everything. and puts them back awkwardly, and cries bitterly when they break. and he wipes tears out of his eyes with his left hand, thumb and forefinger in separate eyes, pulling away the tears. occasionally he uses a fist, but usually tears are removed with thumb and forefinger wiping the tears up to the bridge of the nose and then by rubbing the digits together.

he is shorter than average, and given his hearing impairments and dad like habits, is not the most social kitten in the bunch. but despite his affection for his much loved teacher michelle, sebastian is no goody goody. he can ignore instructors with the best of them, is learning to make little comebacks (like at gymnatics today where he asked the teacher, "if i do it will you give me candy?") and follow his own drummer. you have to respect independence and it will be our job to help him find a balance between being a team player and pursuing independent interests.

sebastian has the extreme advantage of being the first born, and has opened a new dimension to our world. his perspective, "this is a fun family activity", his ability to make us remember what is important, "i have the best family" and the firm cuddles (even when i have to ask for them) reinforce that we are doing good jobs as his parents. watching him run and explore tells me i am teaching him to embrace his world. even if he doesn’t stop the first time i ask him too, i know he knows there are boundaries. (at left as Santa in his school Christmas pageant)

seb has appointed himself as a deputy responsible for ensuring the triplets follow every single rule laid down for them. "jayjay! if you do not stop cwying i will come back here and give you a time out!"

sela!use your inside voice! it is your choice!

come on cawis..finish dinner or no yogurt!

some siblings of multiples tend to feel lost in the fray, but sebastian has never been an attention seeker and quite likes his position of older, wiser and the one who is granted more privileges brother. i turned away modelling opportunities for sebastian because i knew although he photographs beautifully, that he would NOT enjoy it. i don’t regret that decision at all.

he is so much like magnificent, that i often make mistakes. i was a kid that was either racing around with friends, or reading a book alone. seb is not a social dude, unless for a very few people. and this tough, until i remember that I AM ONE OF THESE PEOPLE! he loves riding the bus with me, walking to the shops, going to the wetmarket…he likes me. he loves me. sally field aside, seriously. i may be second fiddle to dad, but he really loves me.

i have my sebastian song, and he now sings it with me.

sebastian, you mean the world to me

sebastian, i love you completely

you are one of the loves of my life

one day i will choose you a wife

you will love her very much

but come home to me for breakfast

dinner and lunch

sebastian i think you are divine

i am so glad you are mine

(dah dum duh!)

the charm of the jay

when he grows up, jasper wants to be like The Jungle Book’s Baloo the bear.

baloo gets to sing, play around, laugh and eat. that’s pretty much jasper’s guide to good living.

although he’s our oldest triplet, jasper has a firm, unshakeable belief that he is the baby. and thus should be accorded privileges like being carried everywhere, not having to stand up in his crib when it is time to get out, and singing row row row your boat endless times in a, well, row.

if you understand jasper’s belief that he is the baby, you understand jasper. he doesn’t like to complicate life by thinking. that’s someone else’s, like a grownup’s, job. he spends a great deal of time looking perplexed by life’s odd ways.

you would imagine that jasper would very much desire to be spoon fed, but as a matter of fact, jasper enjoys feeding himself. largely because the size of mouthfuls shoved into his mouth (with straggly bits pushed in by fingers) his mother would not allow.

although he was the last of the triumverate to walk, jasper doesn’t walk or run a lot. unless he wants to, like when a bowl of popcorn is brought into the room. he has this helpless face that makes people stoop over him, lift him and move toward the direction he needs to go. his wail is pathetic, and considering how growly his voice is, very high pitched.

physically, jasper is a winner. his body shape is very much like sebastian’s, broad shoulders and stocky build. he is slimming down now that he can walk, but you know he is going to have considerable shoulders. jasper is the one child who has my mouth and my oval face shape. (carys’ is my dad’s, sela and sebastian have caldwell face shapes.) jasper can look like mcharles at times (the nose), but he also has a look of my brother about him. jasper’s hair is a blondey-ginger. his calling card is probably his big blue eyes. long ginger lashes surround the eyes, and jasper is not adverse to giving you slow flirtatious looks out of the corner of his eyes, combined with a half smile. he likes people, and he likes people helping him.

while jasper is very easygoing, he is also very quick to tears when life doesn’t go his way. being forced to walk is a prime example of life’s cruel backstabbing measures that reduce the jay to a mass of quivering sobs.

he is musical and amongst the helpers jasper and sela tie for the favoured baby award. sela because she talks and sings, jasper because he smiles and dances. they sound like a reduced jackson five, don’t they? he’s adoring of sebastian, and mummy. he’s not a mummy’s boy, per se, because jasper has realised that loyalities and labels like mummy’s boy limit his options as to who might carry him around. he’s anyone’s really. he likes younger kids and unlilke his sisters has no desire to play with older ones.

i gave quite a detailed description of carys’ personality, but i cannot do the same for the jay. i’m sure there are still waters running deep, but at this stage of the game, he is no shakespearean figure. he is quite simply, and lovably, jasper. with a grin, and a game for everyone. he is absolutely charming.

he’s not planning on running the universe,(or a marathon) unless you can do it sitting down, while eating. but he will certainly cheer on the person who does.

carys deeply cares

it surprises people when they realise that carys is the shortest member of our household. her long limbs and small frame lend her that illusion of height, as does her implacable will.

she is stubborn. and she is sly. while silence from jasper or sela means they are absorbed in something, unless i can see carys, her silence is disturbing, because it means she is up to no good. sela gives commentary as she climbs, while carys goes about her business quietly. remember she used to pull books of the bookshelves? she’s given that up. nowadays she pulls wine bottles off racks, drags out a pair of trousers, a sweater shoes for her mother to wear (she does get points because the clothes often match well), lines out of knitting. she is sly. and oh my, she is smart.

she doesn’t say much, but she concentrates. and fixes her laser beam glare on you. unblinkingly. with the expression never changing. she absorbs. she listens. she learns. scarily. i think carys will be the first of my kids to say a swear word.

she’s not adventurous, but when her mind is set on something, she is unstoppable. she is self-protective. she reveals little about herself, but knows exactly what sets others off.

she used to have tantrums in the playground and would emerge from them all grotty. those days have passed. these days if her wishes are not granted, she withdraws into herself. stores up the injustice, and carries on. revenge is best served cold, is it not?

her laughter is an explosion. completely unexpected. she gives polite smiles, or else her mouth opens and his hoarse little voice erupts into a belly laugh. she refuses to sit quietly in the bathtub, she smacks the water and screams when drops cover her face. she screams when we rinse what we optimistically call her "hair".

children who had the vent. for substantial periods of time often have hoarse voices. given carys’ fey appearance, her demi moore voice is a massive contrast. she doesn’t talk a great deal, her clear vocabulary consists of 15 words. but suddenly a mood overtakes her and she gabbles. she will give a one minute monolgue. often she will jump around at the same time. and then the full moon in her mind’s eye receedes, and she is done, and subsides again. i don’t know if she wants to reveal as much of herself and her passion as she does at those times, whether she can control it.

she is the child who most loves animals. possibly it is because she relates to them. i am a little untamed too.

although she has given us many stories for laughter, i don’t write about carys in the joking way i write about her siblings for the simple reason that she is not meant to be taken lightly. she is an intense personality. she is a velvety purple, changing shades as the material is moved back and forth, and as light catches different nuances.

carys is not an easy child. she is impassive, reserved and often i do not know what she is thinking. then there are the other times. when she belts across the room to me, when i am holding her and for no other reason then the fact we are together she leans to me and explodes into laughter, grasping my shoulders tightly, celebrating all she has earned and been given.

carys has fought for life. she doesn’t have memories of the fight, but there is a pulse, a place in her that remembers. i watch her running, and she is exultant. intense. she wants this life.

my candle burns at both ends it will not last the night

but oh my friends and ah my foes

it gives such lovely light

and she does.

she fascinates me.

i love my nosy parker

sela cracks me up. in the crack goes my heart sense of the word and in laughter.

i had made the huge sweeping assumption that it was only tough on the adults that all four children are racing around the place in diverging directions. well forgive me, because the walking apparently has created a huge challenge for sela, our diva in training. she has such a tough time keeping tabs on everyone this way.

i watch her crane her neck to see who is doing what. when i call sebastian for dinner, her head twists around in a way that would get an exorcist running and she pipes after me in a high worried voice, "sehhh-beeee! sehhh-beee!" and then with those defined eyebrows pulled slightly down, she scans around until her laser beam eyes focus on him. and then she relaxes.

some would call her extroverted, i would call her nosy. she needs to know what the others are doing and what they’re playing with. or what they’re eating. oy.

and there is no chance that this child will ever be bilingual…she doesn’t even grasp english. she has been screeching the word "share!" for a good five months now. but oh, what’s this…her definition of the word share is :

share (v): a derivative of the name "sela". originally a noun, meaning "property of sela". in contemporary english means, "give to sela".

the little madam will walk over to a friend, sibling or stranger, grab the item she is coveting, say, "share" and walk away. she is so definite.

and she is climbing everywhere. on top of the dining room table, courtesy of the chair. on top of the sofa, even. i suspect she is honing her climbing not for exercise or because the heights are there, but because she has realised the vantage point is superior and she can efficiently keep track of events from lofty heights.

yet this miss madam is also the girl i find climbing into her crib when she feels it is bedtime and never complains once in bed. this is also the girl, who if she is sucking her thumb outside of the aforementioned crib, will stop if i say, "sela" and motion with my thumb. and the diva in training is also the child who will dissolve into tears if i speak in "too strict" a voice (which as you can imagine i do on a semi regular basis). and she is the most helpful child when it comes to clearing up. (i think this is because she likes the praise, but possibly i am doing her an injustice.)

she dances and sings, she fights for sole proprietorship of my lap and gives me sticky kisses. at night when i creep into the nursery to check on my four, she opens an eye, and holds on to my finger for a moment, giving me a sweet blurry smile. she is demanding, yet easy to please. there’s nothing complicated about sela. quite simply, she loves, and she loves having what she loves all to herself.

check out  magnificent’s blog for the latest pictures.

meanwhile, i am sick  but the good news is i am on great medications and am feeling a lot better. plus, i was so sick today i didn’t have to take carys to her physio appointment. so by having swollen glands that made my neck painful, i didn’t have to see my daughter in pain caused by having her neck twisted.

there is a twisted sort of irony there.