O Canada

This weekend I went to Canada to be physically and mentally abused by Deirdre's children, some Belgian people and a woman with severe B.O. at the local marche. Binney's sister got married in Mansonville, on Lake Memphremagog. It was a lovely locale, but of course we left Burlington at 10:15 PM on Thursday night and the girls were completely out of their trees. All I know is Deirdre nearly drove off the road near St. Albans due to a veining-out screamfest. The oldest and youngest were both crying, but the middle one didn't start crying until Deirdre dropped the F bomb. She also told Johannah (10) that she would not be dominating this weekend and J shreiked back, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS BUT I AM NOT DOING THAT!!" That was a great ride.

Once in Canada we all stumbled in to bed, me sharing a dormer-type setup with the kids, who were forced to wear pull-ups and sleep on garbage bags due to a tendency to wet the bed. Another highlight - the sound of children tossing and turning on trash bags.

Eileen, Deirdre's sister, joined us the next night in full-Britney mode. She's 8 months pregnant and sports tube dresses, cowboy boots and popped-out varicose veins. While in the shower she read the body wash bottle, which was written in french, of course (gel pour la douche) and yelled "Am I supposed to douche with this??" So. Many.Things.Wrong. The next night was wedding reception time and I settled in to the
nice house while the party raged 200 yards below. Binney's sister had spent a year abroad in Belgium and her best friend from that time attended, and I was only too happy to watch her 18 month old daughter. The child was adorable and well-behaved, outside of the whole doesn't speak or understand English bit. I said the following things to her, ad naseum: "Ou est Sara?" "Va a dormir?" (I think that one was a Spanish/French hybrid) and "Belle Jolie Sara!" Ai caramba. Her mom said "she cough? So she take this?" as she gestured to a bottle of Tussin-like liquid. Then her husband arrived and said "That is for, you know, the ass?" Um, no I don't know, pal. "The Tussin?" "No, no, no. You know, how you say..." "A thermometer?" At this point all I can think is: Dude, it doesn't matter what all the item is, I'll not be putting anything in your child's ass, ok? "A suppository?" "OUI!" That is it." Argh. Turned out they hadn't packed it, or perhaps I chose not to acknowledge its existence.

Eileen made it up to the house shortly afterwards and I recounted the story to her. She shook her head, snorted and said "Those Belgiums." She's also threatening to name her unborn child Lourdes.

It just keeps getting better here in Vermont, girls!