Elroy is my Homeboy

I knew the day would come that Middle Child would ask me a question I couldn't answer.

I thought it would be about chemistry or quantum physics or calculus. But no. He got me on vocabulary. Me! On vocabulary!

"Mum, how do you spell 'acolyte?'"

I had never heard this word before.

"Er, could you put it in a sentence?"

"Dr. Frankenstein's acolyte was meddling."

I confessed I had no clue. We were at Baby Boy's nursery school at the time and I didn't have access to a dictionary. Needless to say, Middle Child wasn't impressed.

I told this story to Baby Sister. "So, Jen, are you prepared to have a son who is smarter than you?"

"But he already IS!"

And on a different note, I have an excuse to watch the Grammys. The Police will be playing. If you knew me when I was a preteen, you would understand my excitement. I went to The Police Picnics. I still love Outlandos D'Amour, good stuff before Sting got all academic and boring. Andy Summers was recently interviewed on The Hour. He's still so damned cool. And he's as old as my mum.

Majhor Loss

Do you remember watching Toronto Rocks after school in the early 80s? Every kid my age from the Hogtown region did, just as we also watched The Flintstones on CFTO when we were home for lunch.

The host, John Majhor, went barefoot behind the desk. I didn't know this until he was interviewing Julian Cope of The Teardrop Explodes. Cope couldn't concentrate because he couldn't get over the fact that Majhor wasn't wearing shoes. "I'm a radio guy," he explained.

Anyway, Baby Sister told me that John Majhor died from cancer on Tuesday. He was 53.

The Best Slumber Party Invitation Ever

Come on! How cute is this?!?

I printed the invitation on coloured card stock (8.5 x 11" in three columns). Using scrapbooking paper, I made a sheet (with a coordinating strip of paper for the edge) and glued it to the bottom of the invite. The "sheet" is cut a third of the way down. With regular white paper, I cut a pillow shape and glued it on to the top. Using a regular black pen, I "embroidered" the invitee's name, using a mix of dots and dashes.

Husband watched me and Daughter make one. "What a waste of time," he said. "Why didn't you just go to the store where they have general invitations and fill in the blanks? That would be the easiest."

I'm sorry, but wouldn't you love to get an invitation like this? I think it's inventive, cute, makes a point, memorable and personal.

Or maybe it's just a girl thing.

Meat My Husband

Remember that foray into vegetarianism/veganism that Husband tried for, oh, two days?

He's put it in reverse.

Now, I don't cook meat every day. Coming from Maltese stock, where meat is at a premium, I didn't grow up eating meat- vegetable-potato meals. So, like my mother, I alternate meat and meatless meals through the week. I make a lovely grilled tilapia in lemon, garlic and olive oil.

Well, Husband's new year's resolution is to gain weight. He re-joined a gym near his work (I give it until golf season warms up) and has gone back to making these protein shakes. A bucket of the powder costs $80. Of course, to keep his title of World's Most Expensive Husband, he has to buy the premium stuff sold at the gym.

And, with that, came the request to cook red meat every fricking day.

I try to introduce the kids to new flavours all the time. I cook a new recipe every week - maybe even two. I want to cultivate in my children a varied palate so they don't end up being picky eaters or have eating disorders or whatnot. Enjoy food, babies mine. So to cook only beef, er, that's a little too limiting for my plan.

On Monday, I made a curried beef with lots of tomatoes. On Tuesday, I made penne with a "meat" sauce (it was actually soy). On Wednesday, we had hamburgers and sweet potato fries. Thursday's dinner was Yves veggie tacos.

He figured it out that day. The jig was up.

On Friday, I made beef stew.

And then my mother came over on Saturday with a hunk of slow-cooked roast.

And here's a clip of what dinner is NOT like at my house: A Date With Your Family. Why not? Because I can't break Husband of the habit of reading the newspaper at the table. He was raised by wolves, you see.

Middle Child's Big Day

It will probably be one of those days he'll remember his whole life.

Baby Sister and The Boyfriend took Middle Child to the Ontario Science Centre for the Marvel Comics exhibit on Saturday. I had to wake him up a little after 6 that morning in order to get to her place at Bathurst and St. Clair-ish. He just bounded out of his bed and quickly got dressed in the clothes he laid out the night before.

By all accounts, it was a great exhibit, which explained the science behind the superheroes' powers. Of course, Middle Child also had them walk through every square inch of the Science Centre itself; not just that exhibit.

The Boyfriend always thought that there was something in the boy that might find magic appealing. So they also took him to a magic shop and bought him a few easy tricks. He was going to bring them to school today to perform in front of his class, but the buses were cancelled due to icy roads. He'd rather have a full class.

Science and magic. That in itself should have made the day wonderful for Middle Child, but I think the fact that he was singled out (this was his Christmas gift from them) and got some "alone time" with his auntie and sorta-uncle made last Saturday just incredible.

He's Bringing Sexy Back

I know it's not very punk rock of me, but I enjoy Justin Timberlake a teeny tiny bit.

No, Up YOURS

So James Kopp is being retried, of sorts.

Kopp was already convicted of the murder of an ob/gyn who provided abortions. He's currently serving 25-years-to-life but American federal prosecutors want to make sure they guy stays in prison forever.

Good, I say. And I hope he gets raped and then pregnant and needs an abortion.

Oh wait! Men can't get pregnant! They don't need to make that abortion decision!

But this fucker wanted to make the decision for me and womenkind.

I still stand firm that it really is a woman's choice. It may or may not be something I'd do, but who am I to tell another woman what to do? And I know what it's like to be pregnant, to go through labour, to raise children. Outside of the last thing, how many men know? Not a one; not even the best male ob/gyn. And THAT was paraphrased from the great guy who delivered my boys.

I Still Sleep Well at Night

After years of complaining, Husband finally agreed with me that we needed a new mattress. We bought one last week and had arranged for it to be delivered yesterday.

They came, alright. The older guy came in first.

"We take another set out, yeah? Where it be?"

Geez, bozo. Look at my house. Where do you think the bedrooms would be in a two-storey home?

When I told him, he shook his head and went outside. He helped the younger guy, talking busily in an eastern European language. And as someone from an immigrant family, I'm very conscious of two people speaking in a language foreign to others nearby. It's a huge exclusion and, frankly, rude. My parents never do this (a concerted effort on their part) but other relatives were famous for it.

Anyway, they left the new mattress set in my front hallway for the time being and went upstairs to bring down the old box spring. For a couple of big guys who move furniture for a living, there sure were a lot of grunts and groans. And they were being really ginger about it.

"It no fit. We damage your home, we bring this down. We no want to do that. It not good for you or us."

"Well, it fit going up."

"You buy house with bed already?"

"No. How about putting it down over the bannister? We moved only three years ago. I'm pretty sure that's how it got up."

"No. Movers took out bannister."

"No. Nothing was removed or damaged in any way. They took the mattress up the stairs and the box spring went over the bannister. I could help you."

They laughed at that. "No, maybe you not see. They take out bannister." Completely dismissed like some cat purring for attention. I asked them to try again, but they continued to ignore me and talk to each other.

"You get husband and strong friends to get new set up and bring old set down. You call Sears and we pick up." Very professional. And they left. Yeah, I'll catch you later, bitches!

They weren't in the house for five minutes. They didn't even TRY to bring down the old mattress. So, to prove a point, if only to myself, 51 lb. Daughter and short little me brought it down and put it on the porch. Our home is now looking very Sanford and Son, by the way. Anyway, after that, there was no living with Daughter who was going around feeling very tough and wanting to high-five me all the time. "Girl power! Eh, Mum?"

Of course, she was a little freaked when the delivery guys were here, practically coddling me while steam was coming out of my ears. She called Husband for a play-by-play.

So against my mother's advice ("If you do it and you get hurt, Sears can't be held responsible"), Husband came home after his very busy day and we did the job. Husband, who is 140 lbs. soaking wet, and the little wife who has an opinion.

And then I called Sears.

And the new mattress is great. For the first time in three years, I slept undisturbed.

Pat and Chris

Bet you didn't know they made lesbian Cabbage Patch Dolls now.

Actually, they're boys; Christmas gifts to Daughter and Niece, and quite loved.

Egg Carton Creche

Egg Carton Creche
Originally uploaded by Nimcheena.

Of all the presents given and received, I think this one is my favourite. Middle Child made it for my mum. He told no one what it was and wrapped it himself.

I think I looked just like Mary after I gave birth as well.

Yes, it was even better than the gag gift Baby Sister gave to Middle Child and Eldest Nephew: canned snails and a styrofoam head.

Christmas was good. Hectic, but good. Daughter woke up on Christmas Day at about 5:55. And so our day began.

We got to my grandmother's a little after noon, where we had dinner for the whole extended family (save a few people). We played a little bingo, drank a little wine, had to listen to my Colombian aunt whip out her guitar and rip into Feliz Navidad again. Daughter got to be Santa this year (she called out the names of the gifts' recipients), which thrilled her. It was my grandfather's job. When he died, it went to my eldest uncle. And last year, the first Christmas after his death, probably the shyest uncle I have was told to take the chair. He was more than happy to relinquish the job, I think.

Slept over my parents' place. My mum had lots of work lined up for the kids to do in preparation for our celebration on Boxing Day. Daughter, Middle Child and I made Christmas crackers (I found the snaps at Michael's). I put a bit of thought into buying the prizes, ensuring they were going to be suitable for boys, girls and adults. But that was for nothing because my niece ended up opening them all. I didn't even know until I walked into the kitchen, garbage everywhere and I catch her tossing a pore strip, saying, "Garbage present!"

Needless to say, I was livid. Mostly, I was upset with Daughter who, for a time, helped her. Angered me on many levels.

But I digress...

Yesterday was spent again at my parents'. Mum actually cooked a big honking meal. Baby Sister and I brought some appetizers and dessert, but, really, it's the only day of the year that my mother doesn't mind being chained in the kitchen.

No one was sick, which was nice because Middle Sister's boys were quite miserable on Christmas. I guess they're carrying on her torch. She was always sick through Christmas when she was little.

We had a little party with friends on New Year's Eve. I fast forward the clocks three hours so the kids can count down to midnight, but it didn't matter this year. At about that time, my friends' youngest was puking. Party over.

Daughter and Middle Child were still raring to go. "Please let us stay up to midnight for real," they pleaded. Sly mumma that I am, I said they could and I turned it to Newfoundland TV. God, I love the satellite.

I was surprised to see them still awake. The night before, we had all attended Husband's lab tech's vegan wedding reception. Daughter, who remembers my cousin's wedding three years ago, was a little shocked to see a buffet, a cash bar, and that no one was dancing. We had a great time, though. Daughter and Baby Boy immediately made similarly-aged friends. Middle Child was happy to sit with me and drink forbidden pop for once.

And now, Husband has gone back to work and the kids still have one week before school starts. They had a playdate mid-last week and will have at least another one this week. But they aren't going nutty. And there's lots of left overs.