BAH! HUMBUG!!!

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO Y’ALL!!!

There’ll be no traditional Christmas in my bush this year. No tree. No feast. No gathering of the clan. Worse...much worse...no rug rats. Another story for another time.

Mentally it has been awhile; physically, I just got back to civilization, the last three days without electricity...so without water, without computer, without phone....not a sound at night but the wind and the crackling fire. The days were spent melting snow to flush toilets, carrying wood to keep the fires going, shoveling the 4 feet plus off the gallery before it collapsed, lovely long walks with the doggies, wading through all that beautiful white stuff, laughing as I watched Smooch bury his whole head in it while trying to find his squeaky ball. It all reminded me of my brother, of the life we shared on the farm where we spent most of our childhood.

During the past month I was in and out of Blogit, commented here and there....except for Kabu’s post on snakes, and thank you, dear lady, for warning me in your title – I steered away. The 3 days without power has made me fall further behind, so I anticipate hours of pleasure in the catching up.

The parakeet is still here. I kept him alive and warm by placing his cage beside the fireplace during the power failure. I’m teaching him to say ‘B_tch’...in the likely event that he moves back home. It would be a pity – I like that bird and don’t really want to lose him, but he’s not mine.

But, hey, it is Christmas for y’all after all – and I have my power back – and the world didn’t end – and I’m sending you all huge, warm SMILES for this special day!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

TESTING 1...2...3

My youngest Rug rat.

“You have to give us our breakfast right now!”

Attempting to shake the sleep from my brain, I turned to look at Bali, my 5 year old rug rat. The expression on his face was as arrogant as the tone of his voice.

It was the first night that I had slept on the couch at Mummy’s house, as per our new arrangement, and it had been quite late when Morpheus had indulged me, so I only woke when the boys rolled down the stairs and into the living room. Now I wasn’t sure that I had heard him correctly.

“I beg your pardon?” I answered him groggily.

He repeated his demand, the voice louder this second time... and the chin went up a little higher. I stared at him for a moment, but it was too funny coming from a little lad his age. In spite of my zombie-like state, I started to laugh.

“Yeh. Right, kiddo! Don’t hold your breath.” I answered. “Mémère needs coffee.” I headed towards the kitchen. When he said it again, louder still, I stopped laughing, looked back at him.

“My mom said...” I didn’t let him finish. I needed to end this before it went too far.

“You realize you’re talking to Mémère here?” I glared at him. Brave little dude – he held my gaze, but his arrogance was gone. He was uncertain now.

“Good.” My displeasure was evident. “Mémère is getting her coffee, then I’ll make your breakfast.”

Unfortunately, this encounter was only the first of the morning. I had the oldest boy tell me that I needed to wash my hands before serving him, this after an accusation that Smooch had attacked him in the hallway at my home and that I had done nothing to help him, then the youngest yelling loudly and boldly that he wanted out of his highchair NOW...followed by just plain disobedience altogether.

Seething, you ask? Well, not quite. I still wasn’t awake enough to be much more than stunned. These were my Rug rats! What was happening here?

By the time Mommy arrived from work an hour later they had quit with the innuendos, largely due, I suspect, to my warning them that I wouldn’t accept any more of it...or else! Remember our chat about consequences?

“I don’t want any more consekences!’ declared Bali. If he meant to imply that he didn’t HAVE to take them, I quickly set him straight, reminding him that the only choice anyone really has is if his consekences will be good ones or bad ones.

I mulled it over as I drove home. It’s normal, I guess. Their attitudes were similar when they first starting living with me. Testing. They’ve been back home a week now, and the change in their rules has brought on the need to test again.

I glanced in my rear-view mirror at my baby Rug-rat. Daycare was on my way home, and I would be dropping him off each morning to save Mommy the trip. He had been something of a terror since he’d been out of bed, but was now happily chatting to himself.

At our destination, I removed his coat and boots, hung them on the hook provided, and said goodbye as I turned to leave. Two chubby little arms were thrown around my knees, I was hugged tight. His head snug against my leg, my baby piped up, “I lub you, Mémère!”

Trust an innocent child to put everything into perspective! We had adjusted once; we would adjust again, no matter what. These were my rug rats and our mutual ‘lub’ was strong enough to get through whatever came our way.

I was full awake now, and I was SMILING.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.