The Sibling Discussion

About two years ago while I was dropping Kicky to the barnehage ('bar-na-ha-gay': kindergarten in norsk, you might as well have a crash course in Norwegian while you're reading this blog); so during one drop off, the kid asks me, 'Mama is there a baby in your tummy?' Don't blame her really, I actually look more pregnant now than when I was actually pregnant. No wonder people are offering me seats on the bus and are giving me that sympathetic look. Oh well, if they are so kind, I just oblige.
I had to tell her that I was just plump (that might be understating it, but it's impolite to say 'fat') and that though I had a big tummy there was no baby in it. She seemed to accept that, even though she seemed a little suspicious.
Ever since I randomly find myself in baby conversations with her.

One time she asked me how were babies born. Now in Norway I think they just present the facts to the kids; no mention of a big bird dropping you off in a soft blanket which is, magically, appropriately coloured and definitely none of the angel stuff, which I made up by the way. So I told her that an angel put her in my tummy and that's how she was born. Of course the actual foretelling was much more magical; I know that for a fact because from time to time I find myself narrating this story at bedtime and also reminded of the original text by an eager kid who remembers the first telling verbatim.

Once she heard the story of her birth, she wanted to know if the same would happen if she were to have a baby sister or brother. I told her that a baby growing in my tummy was one way of getting a sibling, but another way was also to bring home a baby who didn't have a mama or dada. Of course the efficiency of the angel could be questioned here but we didnt get into that. And then she asked, 'So can we buy a baby' The question was loaded with hope. Err, yes it could practically be a financial transaction but I was not going to bother her with those details. I had to twist the facts a bit and repeat the inefficient angel bit. Again in a loud voice, 'So are we going to BUY a baby?' Luckily we were at home and trusted that our doubled glazed windows worked also as partial soundproofers. I was not ready for child trafficking SWAT teams to raid my apartment.

Next day when I picked her up from the barnehage, I met her best friend's mom, who softly asked me 'I heard something. Are you expecting another one?' Took me a split second to comprehend, because I had completely forgotten our 'buying a baby' conversation. The only way to explain this was to repeat the whole story again. Yes, it's a bit awkward and strange when a person you don't know very well is talking about angels and buying babies. Too much information. Actually, too much weird information.

A few months ago, Kicky told the husband, 'Dada, may be Mama will have a baby in the summer.
Dad: 'Why do you think so?'
Kicky: 'Dada (rolling her eyes, frustrated that she had to explain herself), I said "maybe" '
The operative word being 'maybe' but again very hopeful.

Some days, she looks at my tummy which has now grown even bigger, and asks me if I am sure there is no baby in there. Sometimes I look at the tummy and wonder if something is gestating in there and might just pop through. Have you watched this weird show called 'I didn't know I was Pregnant'? There was a girl who popped in her car, in the car...! it was gross. Actually, it's probably gross even in the hospital but you cannot see it. Thank god for sheets and screens.

I don't think I am off the hook with the sibling discussion yet. I have been told (by Kicky) that it's unfair that she is the only kid and that all other kids have baby brothers or sisters. Some days she looks so sad and wishful I really wish it was easy to just buy a baby.

The 'Talking To Kids' Gawkiness Factor

Right,  I have now managed to break all my new year resolutions, successfully. My hands have involuntarily opened that bag of chips (evidence duly destroyed), I haven't stepped into my gym this year (this has been trending since sometime last year, but who's counting), though monthly payments are promptly made (this is the second organisation I support and no tax benefit even) and yes I have forgotten my blog a bit.

To think you can keep your blog alive and fresh everyday is being too ambitious. My life is not interesting, far from it. I have to rely on  my 5 year old for fodder for this blog and if I do that a tad too many times, I might come off as an obsessive mother; I think I am borderline obsessive already. For a girl who is not fond of kids, oh come on, it's not that I hate them, I am just very awkward around them.

When I pick up Kicky at the kindergarten, I see how other parents are so cool around kids, asking them questions and saying funny things. 'Oooh did you have a great time at ski scool today' 'Yaaay! We did!' Seems simple right. Not quite.

First of all I have this default look on my face, which seems to say, 'Lay off, unless you want to get punched in the face' I was born like that, my face looks grumpy, stern, serious, about 90% of the time. My actual feelings don't seem to manifest on my face instantly, so I know, I look a bit intimidating.
Sometimes I conciously remember to relax my face and maybe smile a little. Then I look like a psycho who has escaped the loony bin, and suddenly people are walking on the other side of the road to avoid an awkward ineteraction with the crazy lady.

The other hurdle is of course the language. My comprehension and knowledge of Norwegian probably is still at toddler level. I am quite sure they (the toddlers) know more words than I do, so basically I am one notch above a 2 year old in the 'dada dada' phase and a level lower than a bumbling village idiot.
One day on my out of the kindergarten I meet Kicky's friend who is coming in with her dad. She says something to me in norsk, in all that she said, I just heared 'Innika'. I reply, 'Yeah Innika is upstairs' She looks at me, then looks at her father and looks back at me again. She knew this was a lost cause, if she tried explaining her question that would make it worse, for her. At this point she was staring at me may be hoping for intelligent words to come out of my mouth. Her dad, sensing the awkwardness jumped in to translate. So what she actually asked was if Kicky could come over to her place for the evening. So imagine her surprised when my answer to that was 'Yeah, she is upstairs!'
I fled the scene, feigning 'late to work' syndrome.

This morning when I dropped off Kicky, one kid asked me if we were from England because we spoke English. I managed to hold a conversation for about two minutes, telling them in brief that we were from India and that there was no language called Indian (Indisk in norsk). Then they had me say something in 'Indian' (I give up!). Post that, there was that confused look and awkward silence again. That was my cue.

Also, you know how some people are suddenly extra nice when they talk to a kid. Yeah, that's not me. I can't fake affection (ask my husband). And kids are really smart; if you fake it, they know it. So I am down to playing it cool, speak when I am spoken to and not bother a seemingly busy kid. Else, my face will show that its being overworked with fake emotion and I might remind the kids of Chucky that weird killer doll. Oh wait, theres a new kid on the block in that department, Annabelle was it?