Yep, I get to celebrate this holiday twice. Ain’t it grand!

The first time around I was treated to a lovely hand-picked bouquet of wild flowers by the monkeys. That was back on America’s Mothers Day. Two weeks later the French get into the spirit and I got this lovely bracelet. Now, I am not about to knock the creative energies of my son. Nope, not at all. I ADORE this bit of find handicraft. But, look at it closely. Do you see it? Right there. That round bit of cork! Champagne cork actually, with its origins not even disguised in the slightest. That, my dear friends, could only happen here.

Oh, and mentioning to the other (French) moms at the bus stop that I get to celebrate this holiday twice? That’s a big no go. Oh dear, the looks of pure disgust I got! How very dare I be spoiled twice! So if you’ve not made this mistake yet, let me advise you against it. Mothers are a jealous sort.

In keeping with the mother theme, I figure an update on the three reasons I’m now allowed to call myself by that word are is in order. So:

Monkey-1, The Boy, The first-born. How I love this child! He’s in the beginning of the gross word stage and as agonizing as it is not to laugh at everything he comes up with (like “Ma, your soup smells like ass”, only said in French with a cherubic smile and those killer blue eyes), there are moments when I just can’t help myself. (He turned around and ate two bowls of the ass-smelling soup, so I’m not too concerned, however this has prompted his father to say “Smells like ass”, in English so the boy child doesn’t necessarily pick up on it, every five minutes or so.) School is going well, although he’s decided to forego the afternoon nap in pursuit of other pleasures, like hitting on the other school director and trying desperately to get her to fall in love with him. In the evenings he’s often very tired and honestly very easy to put to sleep. Unfortunately there’s one problem…

Monkey-2, The Big Little Sister, The Hellion. She’s too much, this second child of mine. She’s smart, and funny and absolutely perfect except, well, she’s a nightmare to get to bed, a nightmare that can drag on for hours some nights. We’re literally at wit’s end with this new manifestation of two-year-old will. She wants the door open, the door closed, the light off, the light on, to sleep in Monkey-1’s bed, to sleep in her own bed, with animal, without animal all at once and she will not go to sleep until she’s got it all! ARGH! OK, it’s a stage, and one we hope to get her past as quickly as possible, because it’s overshadowing all the cool things like how she counts in English (“one, two, three, poor, five, dick, seven …), how she plays with her brother (by letting him think he’s the boss) or her sister (where she actually tries to take care of her, which is why we often find the youngest one half naked and diaper-less and extremely happy about it), or how she gives the most fantastic hugs in the world—and that is no exaggeration—just ask her papa! She’s so tall, and so smart, and so far advanced for her age that we often forget she’s just two, not even two-and-a-half yet, and that’s almost as frightening as watching the screaming evil baby she was turn into the future world dictator she’ll probably be.

Monkey-3, The Baby, The Little Angel. I think she was truly marked for life by the over-abundance of sugar that cursed her pre-natal days. This last baby, and yes she’s still willing to be a baby, is pure sweetness. She smiles! She giggles! She’s happy just being alive! I know no two babies are alike, but she’s just been such a 180° turn from the second monkey that, if she didn’t look exactly like her older brother with chipmunk cheeks, I’d swear she was switched at the hospital. She’s in no hurry to do anything. And this has caused all its own set of problems. I’m used to wild monkeys, climbing over everything and in Seek and Destroy Mode at all hours and stages of their lives. Nope, not this time! So instead of forgetting how young this child is, I’m worrying that she’s falling behind when she is, in fact, right where most babies of her age are. She’s started creeping, not quite crawling, and now the world has turned into her play ground. And while I’m sad to see pass the days where I could put her down and still find her in the exact same spot hours or even weeks later, I am relieved that she’s getting around. After all, the other two, at the same age, were climbing stairs and clawing my nerves. Of course the other two also refused to say 'mama' for the longest time, and this one? Well, I guess I'm her favorite!