And They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love

I like to think that I have a well-honed gaydar for a middle-aged soccer mom. It came from years of having primarily gay male friends, me being a fruit fly and all.

So when I first saw James Loney talk, I immediately thought, "He's a friend of Dorothy's! Wow, that could have jeopardized his safety and the amount of well wishes that came his way."

Sure enough, the local daily here ran a front page article confirming my suspicions about the Canadian who was held hostage in Iraq. The article went on about how the media didn't mention that Loney was gay and has a long-term partner. His family and friends feared that if his sexual orientation were made known to his captors, they would kill him for sure because homosexuality is punishable by death in Iraq.

Now I'm expecting letters to the editor about how people wasted their prayers on a sinner.

When the gay marriage legislation was brought up in Parliament, letters against it and homosexuality in general were printed every day for about two months around here. Of course, all I thought was how unchristian their attitudes were. Oh, they hid behind their bibles and all but, in this case, it will probably be so boldly redneck to say something disparaging now after local churches had prayer services for the guy who they were praising as a fine example of Christian humanity.

Woo-pee!

I think I can safely say that Baby Boy is out of diapers. Sound the trumpets!

We're still putting him in diapers at night. Sometimes he needs them; sometimes he doesn't. However, he wore underpants throughout the day since last Monday, with no accidents.

Of course, he's telling everyone he wears underwear now - the cashier at the grocery store, our neighbour, a kid at McDonald's.

And we did it without Pull-Ups (they're just 50 cent diapers) or anything available at this link.

Pay It Forward

So March Break has come and gone and, yet, I can say it wasn't much of a "break" for anyone.

Throughout the week, everyone but Husband had some kind of flu. Baby Boy seemed to get two waves of it. Daughter had the worst bout, as she was feeling ill for about five days straight. And, of course, the day before two of us came down with it, I had a friend's child over who brought it back to his house. Amazingly, my middle sister and her kids came to visit us on a good day and nobody there got sick.

Apparently, though, many kids had it during March Break too, or so I learned once the kids went back to school this past week.

And, to boot, I took Baby Boy to nursery school and notice a sign reading that there was one case of Fifths Disease prior to March Break. "What's that?" I asked one of the teachers. "It's when the child has a rash on the face, sometimes the body, that makes them look like they've been slapped."

And all that time, I thought Baby Boy had wind-chapped cheeks. Mind you, I found the Glaxal Base Cream to work...

Anyway, now that March Break is over, I'm ready for spring. I just woke up and was greeted by a vista of snow. There's always one weird snowfall late in the season around here. I hope this one is it.

We had an eventful week, though.

We are officially poor. Husband signed away everything to buy a building on the main drag so he can relocate the business. He's scared but happy. Really, it should be okay in the long run but we've cut back on tons for now. It won't affect the kids too much, but they did stop karate which was $140 a month.

For a brief period of time, I lost Daughter. Her class was at a first communion retreat at the parish hall which happens to be across the street from our house. Her teacher told me that she didn't need to come to school; just walk her across and meet the class there at 9:30. Was that ever wonderful, if you have any idea what it is like to get three kids and myself ready for school/work.

It was a Tuesday, when Middle Child also goes to school (he goes full day every Tuesday and Thursday and then alternate Mondays), so I went to pick the kids up. No Daughter. I went to her classroom and learned that the teacher let her cross the road and go home. No, she didn't wait to see if she got in the house (which she didn't because I am the only person in this town to lock my doors). No, no one noticed that there were no cars in the driveway either.

So I raced home, expecting to see her shivering on the porch. Nope. I checked the backyard. Maybe she's playing in the treefort. No. I quickly drove around the neighbourhood to see if she walked back to school. No.

Okay, calm down. Maybe she went to Husband's work. It's about a 10 minute walk for her, right downtown, but she may have done it. I'll catch hell if she's not there, but I have to call him, I thought. Then I'll call the police.

I picked up the phone and noticed there was a message. "Hi Mum. I'm at the neighbours. I came home early and you weren't there, so can you pick me up when you get this message? Bye!"

It turned out my neighbour was walking past the house to pick up her kids from school and noticed Daughter. She asked what was going on, to which Daughter explained and said that she'd just wait; that I'd be home soon. "No you won't. I'm walking you back to my house. My husband is there to take care of you." And they set her up with some apples and cheddar while she waited. They're Block Parents so they were totally cool with it, but, shit, I swear that house glowed in my eyes that day.

I brought them a Dairy Queen Treatza Pizza the next day.

Bitchiness is Hereditary

It straddles on the border of good taste, I know. However, I'm hoping my über Christian mum will like it well enough. I contimplated getting one for myself, digging the kitch value.

Yes, there's a solar light that shines from Christ's feet up to the face.

And on the other hand, this is the shirt she picked up for Middle Child from her sojourn in Texas to visit my cousin. I guess there's a reason why my mother has momentary bouts of nasty quips toward me (ie. "Your cousin has lovely decorating taste. Not like you"). Because what did I say when I first saw this shirt? "'Texas kicks ... Democrats?' You got my little boy a Republican shirt?" Of course, I'm sure she, and most people, would read it as "Texas kicks ass" but there's me trying out some high-brow humour and it fell flat.

Thankfully, she bought it in, I swear, a men's small, so Middle Child may never have the chance to wear it.

I would try to shrink it but Husband broke the washing machine last night while I went out to buy milk.

He decided to wash one pillow. The thing was banging loud enough to wake the dead. He went in to get a new toilet paper roll and noticed water all over the floor. He checked the tubes and they seem all connected so I called the repair guy this morning because it would sooo suck if I had to go to the laundromat. If it was the Sparkle Brite in Victoria with the fish 'n chips place across Oak Street, that would be fine. Barely.

Death and Taxes

My twin is dead.

Yes, Slobodan Milosevic died of an apparent heart attack in prison. Whatever.

I say he's my twin in jest, really. During one of her manic episodes, Husband's mother was listing all the ways I am an evil, ugly soul. Her words were like water drops running off a duck's ass, so I don't remember any of what she said except for the exclamation that I was "no different than Slobodan Milosevic." Niiiice. The small-town mother of three of her grandchildren and the Butcher of the Balkans. Yeah, and what a great physical resemblance, too.

It's just one of those things I'll look back at fondly until the day I, myself, die.

Speaking of dying, I had the weirdest conversation with my father yesterday when he and Mum visited. He took me aside and said, "I don't think it would be a surprise if I go before your mum. So I'm asking you, as the oldest, to watch over her finances when I die." He doesn't want her to be giving everything away and he wants me to be the one to look after that.

I shrugged my shoulders and said that I don't know if I would have that kind of power over her; that I couldn't stop her from doing anything she wanted to do with money that, legally, would be entirely hers. "I could make you and your sisters co-tenants of our will..." "Without Mum knowing? I don't think you can do that on a joint will, can you? Don't you think it would be better if you just talked to Mummy about how you're feeling? About your ideas with me and the money and stuff?"

That's when Mum walked in. "What's going on? What did you say?"

Crap. Change the subject. FAST!

"Oh, I was just starting to tell Dad that (Husband) bought a building for the business." I mean, it looks like the deal will go through, but I know Husband kind of wanted to break the news to Dad himself, more for his opinion because the "building" is really just an old house on the main drag about four doors down from his leased space.

I got "the look" from Husband for my actions but I also got a vision of eternal gratitude from Dad because, as I expected, Mum got all giddy and wanted to throw on her coat and check the place out right away.

Maybe I'm more convincing than I think I am.

Nature in More Ways Than One

Raccoon foreplay, apparently.
Dinner was served and I left the family to hunker down and watch the Oscars pre-game show up in the attic family room.

I looked out the window and saw these two raccoons on my next door neighbour's chimney. Cool, I thought. I'll call up the kids.

Then they started to mate. Middle Child wanted to know why the bigger raccoon was fighting the littler one.

Sometimes, You Have To Be Your Child's Best Friend

All this week, Middle Child hasn't wanted to go to school.

This is odd behaviour because the kid just loves learning. He has a crackerjack teacher, a nice bunch of kids in his class, and it's time away from his brother.

After many talks and some coaxing, I think the problem is that he feels he doesn't fit in. This was a problem last year, too. I volunteer to help in his classroom and I can see that he is friendly and other kids are friendly with him. The teacher is well aware of my concern and has gone above and beyond to foster friendships.

Then it all clicked yesterday.

The little girl I babysit was over yesterday afternoon. She's in Middle Child's class and they get along great. Part of the reason why I agreed to look after her was to help out her mother, a widow, but also to have a regular playdate for my kid. Anyway, she innocently asked me if Middle Child was going to Mackenzie's bowling birthday party on Saturday. Ugh, I thought. He wasn't even invited. The kicker is that he considered Mackenzie to be his closest school friend. I guess it was only going one way!

It has to be difficult for Middle Child. He isn't interested in sports, particularly team sports (which sucks because every single boy in his class plays hockey). He's very bright and in many cases is head and shoulders above the other kids in his class (mind you, the teacher discreetly gives him more challenging work). His interests aren't typical of kids his age. It's no wonder that by third recess, he's seeking out kids in Daughter's class.

I suggested that he should approach it from another direction; maybe try playing with the aforementioned girl. But he said she's different at school; that she doesn't want to be seen playing with a boy.

I am open to suggestions.

Right now, I'm just going to hug the little guy.