Actions Have Consequences

Daughter got detention and Middle Child got a girlfriend.

Instead of bringing home her homework, Daughter dogged it and played at her friend's house (she said he had detention for the same reason. Hmmm). She finished her homework during detention and to add to her misery, I made her finish her nightly math question. The teacher gave her a sheet of 14 questions to be completed through the week. Instead of taking two questions a night, she did four earlier and that's that. Obviously, the whole thing needed to be done, but, gawd, the drama! And then there was the pull of Fairly Odd Parents and SpongeBob Squarepants playing just a littttle too loudly by the boys.

Your choices have consequences, I always tell her. Yesterday was another case in point.

I remind her to practice violin and do a little extra work every day when we're walking home from school. Does she do it? Not always.

So while I was getting a pencil for Daughter last night, I overheard Middle Child phoning his older (by two years) friend. "There's a girl in my class who likes me. What do I do?" I pulled him aside after and we talked about it.

He's flattered as can be but he's a little freaked out. "What if she wants me to kiss her?"

"Well, I think you're a little young to be kissing. You should ask her for a rain cheque for when you're 16, I think."

"Older Friend said I should give her something, like flowers or jewelry, but I don't want to. That's too romance, and I still want her as a friend and I don't want to make her sad. So I like the idea of giving her something, but what?"

So today, we packed an extra two cookies for the girl.

Funny thing is, she's one of those girls I'd be scared to date if I were a boy. She's the last-born child, the only daughter in a family of seven boys!

"Your shirt's on backward, Middle Child."

"Yeah because it's Backward Day at school. It's also Crazy Hair Day."

"Oh, too bad I didn't know before. I could have got something together for you."

So, I gelled his hair spiky at the top.

"It's not crazy enough, Mom."

So I hairsprayed the sides too.

"Still not crazy enough. How about some colour?"

Argh. Colour. What could I use? I decided on food colouring, so I put a few drops in and rubbed. And now I can't get it off my hands! Suggestions are very welcomed.

Husband and I are going on a vacation. It's our first - sans enfants - since our honeymoon, which is really quite sad.

My mum will pack up her life and take care of the kids for us. Must get the soup pot ready.

Actually, I have to get lots and lots of things ready. It isn't just hauling summer clothes out and stuff. I also have to do all the extraneous cleaning that my mum will nab me on. Sure, the place must be tidy and stuff (which is a huge deal when you have a messy family like mine), but I'm going to have to do all the little stuff like:

- clean and disinfect the fridge and freezer
- clean and deodorize the sink drains in kitchen and bathrooms
- wash down cupboards
- vacuum fridge coils
- thoroughly wash floors including corners

And if there's still time, I'll reorganize my closet.

If you have a Maltese mother, you'd understand my need. However, I'm really doing this more for me. I know my mum will keep the place tidy while I'm gone (and do a better job than I do), but if I do all this stuff, I know she'll be able to keep up with my kids. Cleaning up after them is like shoveling during a blizzard.

It's Spring!

The thermometer read 26C yesterday. I hung out my laundry and opened windows. Ahhh!

The Family That Drinks Together...

Last Monday, I thought I was ahead of the game and took my vintage suit in to the dry cleaners in preparation for my cousin's Saturday wedding.

"It'll be ready on Wednesday."

Wednesday came and I was told that, for some reason, it said it wouldn't be ready until the end of the day. Fine, I thought, I'll pick it up tomorrow.

Thursday came and I had planned to get it after I picked the kids up from school. Until I got the phone call.

"This is B---- Cleaners. There's a problem with your green dress. We had to remove all the beading so it won't be ready until the end of next week."

WHAAAAAAT????? "I was told it was going to be ready on Wednesday. Next week is too late. I need it for a wedding in Toronto this Saturday. You should have told me when I dropped off the dress that it was going to be trouble for you. I would have taken it somewhere else!"

So we bantered back and forth and I held my ground. I told them I would be there at their shop Friday at 4. And the dress will look awesome with the beading intact.

Of course, when I got there, I got, "The dress isn't ready yet."

"Well, then I'll wait here until it is."

I got the dress about 35 minutes later.

Why the big fuss? I really wanted to wear it because it matched so very well with my cousin's mother's silver cocktail purse. My aunt passed away and I know how much she and my uncle would have loved to be there to see their son get married (finally). And one of my relatives even recognized the purse being Auntie Mary's.

It was a great wedding. My family does parties very well. Mind you, I don't know how much input my cousin had in it because it seemed to be very bride-side-of-the-family, but that could be said of many weddings. It's all about the woman in the marshmallow dress.

Middle Child loved all the Jewishness of it. It was a big departure from the last wedding he went to, and, culturally, new to him. He liked eating the challah best of all, he said.

And though I love to eat well, drink lots and dance my feet off, the best part of weddings and all family gatherings is being with my cousins. We don't see each other nearly enough and, considering that we lived within the same block growing up, I'm sometimes envious of friends who have relatives that they can visit during the week or babysit their kids or whatever.

But despite the months (and sometimes years) that keep my family apart, when we get together, we're like slipping into a comfortable pair of shoes.

So, of course, when I got carded, I thought nothing of boasting to everyone. It must have been because I was wearing pink lipstick and foundation (retro dress needed retro makeup and hair).

Yeah, I got CARDED! The waitress was going around with wine at our table. My grandmother (the living one, obviously), my similarly aged Uncle P (did I mention we're Catholic?), and Husband were served and she walks right by me. "I'll have the red, please!" I waved at her. "Are you old enough to drink?" My eyes started to water and, I guess once I smiled, all my wrinkles cracked my face. I was served then.

But, get this, I'm used to us all getting kicked out of weddings after 1 am or something. However, everyone was starting to leave right after dessert. I talked to the bride before we left at 11:30, which seemed to be when the party ended. She didn't understand why everyone had left. I shared my thought that it was because the bar was outside of the hall and tucked away in the far end of the foyer.

I mean, we had a great time, I'd say. During the ceremony, I sat near my dad and my Uncle A who were cracking jokes the whole way through, as they always do. "J, take this cup, given to you by L, as a sign of nourishment..." And my dad, who is hard of hearing and may not have realized that he was pretty loud, said, "Oh, shit! She's already driven him to drink!"

I turned to my cousin F, who lives near Houston, and whispered, "Did you miss us?"

She slyly smiled and joked, "SOME of you."

Why I'm Going To Hell: Reason #23

I was raised in a relentlessly Catholic family. We went to Mass every Sunday. Mind you, I eagerly anticipated the after-trip to the Italian bakery nearby because my dad would always buy my sisters and me some gelati or some kind of treat.

As long as my sisters and I were in that house, we had to go to Sunday service. End of discussion. Even when I end up sleeping over there on a Saturday now with my family, I'm still expected to attend Mass.

But on my own? Yeah, I'm not that diligent. Last Sunday, I went to the local church for the first time this year (shhh, don't tell Mum) and the priest went off a bit on secularism and how it's a cancer on the soul of humanity.

I'm sorry. IVF? It's a good thing. Controlling the spread of STDs with the promotion of condom use? It's saving lives. And don't get me started on birth control. Pierre Elliot Trudeau's shining moment, in my mind, was when he said that the government has no business in the bedrooms of the nation. And, frankly, neither does any organized (or unorganized) religion.

I might just sleep in again next Sunday.

The Photo Screams, "I Need a Vacation"

Yesterday was the day one would re-register at Baby Boy's co-op nursery school. How weird was it for me NOT to saddle up to the desk? Very. I have had my children at that school since 2000, without missing a year.

In a small way, not only will a chapter in Baby Boy's life end when he graduates in June, but one in mine will also.

And after a photo taken of me at the end of the day shows, it may not be a bad thing.

Husband decided we all need passports. We aren't going anywhere, but having updated passports would make it easier to just get up and go. So, while he was working late, I rounded up the troops and took us to get the photos done.

I suppose with all the counter-terrorism fuckwad stuff going on, there are changes not only to the application but to the passport photo too. No smiling. No black and white. No closed necks. Apparently, the federal government WANTS you to look like a thug.

We got them done at a camera store downtown, where they have lots of very breakable things on low shelves. And, wouldn't you know, my kids went batshit all over the store, all running off in different directions. I'm tired. Spent all day going through old paperwork. Got slapped in the face with my mortality at nursery school. Took the car in and found out it would take two hours so I had to find places to occupy Baby Boy and I in the middle of the industrial section of town. And it's cold. And I'm just waaaaiiiiting for the kids to drop something very expensive. And I'm growing out my pixie cut and have very unfortunate hair today. And I forgot to wear make-up.

So, believe me when I tell you that I took the world's ugliest passport photo ever. I mean, Husband recoiled in horror when he saw it.

We're All Dying, Honey

If you have kids, chances are you have lost your sense of privacy.

The eldest is good about respecting the closed door, but the youngest hasn't quite figured that one out yet.

Wouldn't you know, it's that time of the month. The door was closed and I was juuuuust about to change the pad when Baby Boy walked in.

"Mum, can you WHAAAAAAAAA???!?!??!??!??"

And then he started to wail. Oh, jeez.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I ask while I'm still going about my business. Hey, a girl has to do what a girl has to do, first of all. Secondly, I was thinking that perhaps by getting the job done quickly, I can just sweep this matter under the rug, so to speak.

Baby Boy replied, still crying, "Mummy, you're DYING!"