It doesn't take much to thrill me

I was at Winners the other day to buy teacher gifts (with five to buy at the nursery school alone, I was all about the bargain). In between the $20 Silpats - which was very tempting - and the stacks of Bodum coffee and tea stuff was a french fry cutter.

It's niiiiiccce!

I used it for the first time yesterday. The kids thought it to be as groovy as I did.

You put a potato into this chamber, throw back this lever which presses the potato through a metal grate and, voila, perfectly cut french fries.

I tossed them in a little olive oil, threw on a bit of sea salt and baked them. Good stuff. Husband enjoyed them on many levels: good because they're fries, good because I made them with salt (I very seldom cook with salt), and good because they were natural and therefore healthier than the stuff McCains puts out.

The next time I may parboil them and then bake them, just to speed things up a bit.

I could probably use this with carrots and zucchini. Oooh, I could make sweet potato fries too, not that I'd eat it mind you, but it would fit nicely into my "make one new thing each week" vow.

And after showering last night, I used something called a Soft Coeur made by Lush that my sister V gave me for my birthday last week. It was kinda like rubbing chocolate on you but was invisible. It left such a nice feel to my weary skin and it smelled mmm-mmm-good. Middle Child sat on my lap and just snuggled his face into my neck. It was a sweet moment but imperfect as I could hear from his breathing that the boy had some big boogers up his nose.

The four-day long birthday

Middle Child's Star Wars birthday on Saturday went swimmingly. The three kids arrived and I introduced myself as a Jedi Master and they were all Padawans here for Jedi training. The weather held up and we did a lot of running around outside. We only went in to play "Pin the Staff on Yoda" (which I did a damned good job drawing). This way, Husband could fire up the Wookee Cookies (hamburgers) with no fear of kids running into the hot barbecue.

I made a cake. Just a sheet cake with white frosting but I got some stuff that's like black spray paint for cakes. I made a stencil of Darth Vadar's head, sprayed it and then piped the details in black icing. Not quite as divinely creative as the cake I made to look like a box of crayons (with iced twinkies as the crayons!), but Middle Child was very tickled.

The next day, my parents, sister L, and sister V and her whole crew came over to celebrate Father's Day/Middle Child's birthday/my dad's birthday. I wore a dress and got a ton of backhanded comments. Anyway, sadistic humour runs on my mum's side of the family, a bunch of big-time teasers. We had middle child open all his presents and promised him that his Auntie V got him something extra special. He opened up a couple of pairs of shorts and a striped shirt. We made it look like that was it for his gifts and I asked him to stand up and make a speech of thanks. Then, as arranged Daughter and my neice, in Oscar-worthy performances, announced they found another gift under the table. He opened up his most coveted Darth Vadar Voice Changer mask. And all was well in the world.

The next day, Middle Child's real birthday, he woke up and asked to open his gifts from his immediate family (and grandparents from far away). A change from tradition, but it worked out because when he came home from school, he konked out on the chesterfield.

That put a damper on our other family tradition of the Birthday Dinner. This is where the birthday person gets to choose what they want me to cook or go out to a restaurant. So we saved that for yesterday where Middle Child picked a diner that serves Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes. This kid can pack away a half-dozen pancakes, I swear.

And all this and my friend and I put together the elementary school's yearbook and put it to press. Crazy.

Everybody was kung-fu fightin'

We were able to have a relatively civil birthday celebration. No more hands in cakes.

Daughter made me a vase from a paint-your-own place, but it's not ready yet. I also got a very decent digital camera and if I can ever learn how to post photos on this blog, ooh, the creative messes I could get in.

Another very excellent gift was from Baby Boy who announced he had to pee and took off his diaper and had a wizz in the potty. I should probably be more pro-active about his potty training. But you know, it's always something.

Like on Monday, despite my rule of No Bringing Toys to School, Daughter smuggles her Tamagotchi and...she lost it. Oh, was she ever miserable, I was told. I actually saw her at last recess, walking the perimeter of the school yard with her friend, searching and searching. I was at my friend's house working on the school yearbook (holy time-sucker) and her backyard faces the school yard.

Anyway, at dismissal, she comes out, sees me and starts to cry. I suggested she ask the principal to make an announcement in the morning to see if anyone found it. So she went back into the office and explained to the temp secretary. "A pink Tamagotchi you say? Does it look like this?" The look on Daughter's face could have supplied electricity for a dancehall. She still wanted an announcement: a note of thanks to the anonymous finder.

Yesterday was more running around for the yearbook. We had asked for candid classroom photos from teachers months ago. We received a scant few so I just went in and started snapping. Wouldn't you know, the teachers then all reached into their desks. "Yeah, I was meaning to get these to you..." Now we have too many photos.

This morning was spent looking for black icing for Middle Child's Darth Vader cake (I found some!) and general doo-dads for his little party. Maybe I should have held off because just after I picked him up from nursery school, I got a phone call from his "big school" principal.

It turns out he and Daughter, along with two boys in Daughter's class got into a fight with three Grade 4 boys. And would I please bring Middle Child to the school during third recess where this will all be sorted out and dealt with?

The principal had them all discuss the fight together. They shook hands and for detention, they have to write a letter of apology and future course of action. Then he got them alone to see if there was anything they were hiding. Well, Daughter let it all out.

Her best friend brought a Lego figure to school, which he was not supposed to do because his parents would ream him out if he did. Anyway, he, Daughter, another boy and Middle Child were playing Star Wars with it when these "big boys" walked by and grabbed at the figure, taking its cape. The biggest stuffed it in his pocket. Now this kid and the other boy Daughter was playing with (we'll call him Todd) have been known to fight eachother before. Some teasing, game playing went on, when Todd said, "I know karate" (which he doesn't). Of course, Daughter, her best friend, said, truthfully, "So do we." Grade 4 boys teased them for not being able to retreive the cape so they said, "We're like black belts then. Bow down to us." Not to be outdone, Middle Child said, "I know karate too. Wanna fight?" And they did. Punches, shirt pulling, taking off the little kids' shoes and throwing them over the fence. Then the bell rang and that was that.

Thank goodness I cut their nails this morning

What was that Chapters-esque smell up here in the attic? It was coming from the new portable air conditioner which was leaking water and soaking the carpet. Turns out Husband set it up incorrectly but he won't let me touch it. I didn't get a close look but it appears that he followed the instructions, but we still called in a technician to have a look. And since it's still under warranty, the wait will be two weeks!

Meanwhile, it just got blisteringly hot up here. The kids were just bummed because this is their playroom.

However, yesterday, Husband decided to celebrate my birthday early. He mistakenly bought a huge Dairy Queen cake, so he figured we may as well stretch it out a couple of days. We'd do the cake thing and then spend the afternoon out and about.

He set the table with my precious Fiestaware which Middle Child decided to play Old West Saloon with, sliding plates down our dining room table like shuffleboard disks. None of them broke because we caught him doing it just as one was precariously perched on the edge.

Daughter decided she was going to sing at the top of her lungs, despite our pleas for "normal voice." Worse off, she thinks she sounds good when she tries to sing operatic, which for Daughter, translates to some weird high-octave that doesn't even sound like her. Oh, and she was doing this while dancing.

And Baby Boy took all the birthday candles and started to bite them or snap them in half.

We managed to get the cake to the table, find an unbroken candle and light it. Baby Boy kept blowing it out. After the fifth match was blown out, we tried moving things around, but that, I guess, made the kids think they could get their keisters off the chairs and start chasing each other...

...which ended when two hands went into the side of the cake.

Birthday over.

Husband and I cleaned everything up. The cake is salvagable so we said we'd try again tomorrow. Daughter started to cry hysterically, "Give us one more chance." Nuh-uh, as we explained that we asked each one of them to settle down many times in that past few minutes, including a reminder that my top request on the birthday wish list I wrote was "well-behaved children". Anyway, Daughter flew into a rage and ran up to her room screaming, "I want cake! It's no fair!"

This crying of hers went on for about five minutes, when I finally went into her room and said, "You know what is most disappointing about your behaviour now? It's that you're not crying because I missed out on a nice moment with my family. You're crying because you didn't get sweets."

She shut up after that and came back downstairs where the boys just went on playing X-men meets Sharkboy. And I gathered up my stuff and went grocery shopping.

When I came back, their rooms were relatively clean, they were quietly watching a video together, and Husband was in the attic, put a huge bin under the portable air conditioner to catch the still leaking water, and had painted the bathroom ("Bermuda Pool", which I bought two weeks ago but never got around to the job).

Today is my actual birthday. We'll see what is in store. I'm not expecting much.

Possibly the most mangled Lord's Prayer ever

Middle Child did the morning announcements over the school intercom yesterday. Though he can read very well for a 4-year-old, the principal read the announcements. He just read a cute little prayer and then said the Our Father.

It went something like this:
Our Father, whose art's in heaven, hello be my name.
My king has come and will be done on "erf" as a heaven.
Give us today a daily bread and (mumble, mumble)
As we forget those who dress past again us.
And (mumble, mumble) but deliver us some email. Amen.

And this is the child who, last Christmas, put on a play and then came around and blessed us all. Or the one who makes us genuflect in front of my mom's Mary statue every time we pass by it in my parents' garden.

Oh, and then they played the national anthem off of a CD player. The principal holds the mike near the speakers which was also near Middle Child. The little patriot sung O Canada REAL LOUD.

I walked with him back to his classroom, wiping the remaining tears of laughter I peeled with the school secretary out in the hall. Teachers popped their heads out of their classroom giving Middle Child high-fives. "Best announcements EVER!" "Great job!" and "That was worth coming to work for!"

Hot monkey love

Can't sleep. Too hot. And this room smells like Chapters with that mix of paperie and ground coffee. Don't know why, though.

Daughter had a field trip to African Lion Safari yesterday. Nothing like riding on a school bus for hours in a heatwave. And then, they stay on the bus while they drive through the zoo, letting monkeys climb all over. I'm told the kids loved it.

Apparantly, the driver inadvertantly left his window open and a monkey got in. I would just freak right out if that happened to me...but it wouldn't! Hello, guy. Though I appreciate the fact that the bus is hot, think about it: open window + monkeys = not good.

Thankfully, there was a splash park. It was about 30˙C and then something worse with the humidex. Initially, I was worried about the actual travel to the park (field trips just aren't the same after "The Sweet Hereafter". Damn you, Atom Egoyan). As the day wore on, I was just praying that Daughter was wearing her hat and drinking enough fluids.

She had to be at school by 7:45 (which was a major undertaking because it also meant that I had to get the boys ready too). They returned at 4:30. A long day, to be sure. Daughter ended up sleeping the whole way back.

There are better places to sleep in public. My middle sister, Charming Husband and I had to sleep once at YVR once. Long story. Husband's fault. The description of the Victoria, British Columbia airport is bang-on.

Jesus Kenobi

I bought myself my own birthday present for Charming Husband to wrap. I picked up this swell red handbag - nothing too large. I'm looking forward to the day when I don't need to carry around my diaper bag, however much I love the corderoy zebra print with the hot pink lining.

I also picked up some gifts for yet another birthday party daughter is invited to this Saturday and Middle Child's birthday present. I bought the Star Wars game that you plug into the tv and challenge different characters to light sabre duels with an actual one the player holds. Middle Child has it in his head that he'll play with it while he's wearing the Darth Vader voice changer mask.

My middle sister said she'd get it for him. "I'm his godmother so let me be the hero this year." My mum heard about her plan to get it so she volunteered to pick it up at the department store she works at because toys were 10 per cent off.

She called me the next day and told me she picked up something else instead. "I didn't want to get him that evil mask! It's all about darkness. It's horrible!" Yeah, but it's what the guy is truly hoping for. "It's okay. I picked up a Star Wars spacecraft instead. It belongs to the one who looks like Jesus." Of course. However, Middle Child doesn't have the corresponding Obi Wan Kenobi action figure and, well, anyone who knows Middle Child would remember that the kid has no interest in vehicles of any kind. Weird for a boy, I know, but we go with it.

Anyway, my sister said she'd just return it and get the voice changer mask herself. I'm dying to see Mum's reaction when Middle Child will end up trying to blow out his candles with it on.

This probably dashes her hopes of him becoming a priest.

Why Middle Child and Woody Harrelson would get along

Husband took the two older kids to see Madagascar at a big jumbo multiplex on Saturday. I guess we're just used to our small town theatre where one adult, two kids and popcorn and slushies would come to $25 total. When he came back to my parents' house where I was visiting my grandmother (who was also visiting), the first thing he said was, "I can't believe it cost me $50 to see such a mediocre movie."

The next day was better. We took his grandmother to her favourite place in the whole world: Centre Island in Toronto. This woman is 86 and she went on all the rides with the kids. She was just hilarious. And she kept up with us all. The kids were angels, which is also nice.

Saw lots of people there bringing their bikes on the ferry. Man, that would be so great. I'd love to cycle through, go see the hippie houses there (I'm sure they aren't tie-dyed or anything, but that's what my dad always called the island residents. Yet, I'd love to live there). Sure enough, as we were getting back in our car, some guys were lighting up a spliff. I should be scared because Middle Child exclaimed loudly, "What's that nice smell?"

Yellow stripes and idiotic moves

The older kids were awarded their first yellow stripe in karate today.

Why do I encourage them in karate? I owe it all to my love of Hong Kong Fooey, number one superguy.

As a congratulations gift, I got them these awesome 3D t-shirts of Sharkboy and Lavagirl, which they loved. But, get this. I left my car keys in the ignition and then locked the car. Thankfully, I called the Mazda Roadside Assistance number and some guy came within 10 minutes to jimmy the lock, free of charge for my bonehead move.

I've never done that before but when I was pregnant with Baby Boy, I once left the minivan's door wide open while I took the kids to the toy store for an hour. Nothing was amiss when I got back, except my self-esteem.

Will Frodo slay Vadar?

I tried to upload a photo I took of Middle Child's homework assignment but I just couldn't figure out how. I'll keep trying, then I'll bother a very computer-literate friend of mine.

Anyway, his assignment was to draw a picture of himself under an umbrella. He drew himself with...a light sabre. This Star Wars obsession is something else.

My sister was a little upset because she worked really hard to get him a Nightcrawler X-Men figure for his upcoming birthday. In her defence, she bought it at a time when he was koo-koo for X-Men. He'll still love it, though. The X-Men obsession is still there but it's waning a bit. That's the thing with Middle Child; he goes through fits and starts.

I can already see the end of Star Wars. Husband let him watch five minutes of The Lord of the Rings and now he has a million questions about it.

But in the meantime, I've gone price-checking on various Star Wars toys for Middle Child. Man, Toys R Us ain't cheap. Their big ticket items were a good $10 more than Zellers'. Mind you, the selection was vast.

While I was there, Baby Boy saw a toy garbage truck. I ended up buying it for him. He slept with it.

I actually spent a bit of cash yesterday: gifts, a Star Wars t-shirt for Middle Child, lunch, money for field trips, a cushion, postage, and then Husband suggested we all go to Dairy Queen after dinner. Poof! It's just about gone now.

See where your Wilfrid Laurier has been.

Jen's School of Faulty Parenting

"In my day, sonny, kid shows were just on Saturday mornings from 7 to 11. Unless you could stomach The Hilarious House of Frankenstein at 6:30 and whatever drivel came after Fat Albert at 11:30."

Usually, if my kids are watching TV, I prefer them watching one of the channels that don't air commercials during children's programming. But the gloves seem to come off on Saturdays.

Middle Child was watching cartoons this morning and finally saw a commercial advertising Star Wars toys at Burger King. Needless to say, he became a one-track minded child after that. We. Had. To. Go.

NOW!!!

We held him off for a little while but then decided to pile everyone in the car and drive 45 minutes away to freakin' Burger King. Man, our parents would NEVER have done that, which makes me fear for whatever kind of behemoth we're creating. Anyway, we had to go to Canadian Tire and Future Shop at some point so we made a family excursion out of it.

Wouldn't you know it, there were 31 different toys offered and they let the kids choose. Great. Because there's nowhere I'd rather be than spending an entire Saturday afternoon at a fast food joint.

They actually picked faster than I thought they would. Middle Child was determined to pick a bad guy (he ended up with Darth Maul) and was soooo happy. He was even the first to finish his veggie burger kid meal.

Momentum was good so we ran in to a CD shop. I left with Ben Folds's latest (see? I can be mellow, too) and Husband bought the best of Morrisey and some Antonio Carlos Jobim jazz stuff. Why Jobim? Because "Antonio Carlos Jobim" is the title of a Heatmiser (Elliott Smith's old band) song and Husband found that intriguing enough to investigate further. Couldn't he have downloaded some song to see what Jobim was all about? Isn't that the Canadian way? I swear, he is the straightest arrow there ever was.

Didn't see any of these at the CD shop. Wish I did though. You MUST give a listen to the Little Marcy songs!

Lloyd and Duckie told me years ago

I was listening to the radio in the kitchen while I folded laundry (ah, yes, my glamourous life!) and it was a repeat of a Valentine's Day interview with some anthropologist.

Now, I love anthropology. I could just eat Desmond Morris books with a spoon. So, I grabbed my tea, stopped playing sock lotto for a bit and sat down.

It was a neat interview. They were talking about the physicality of falling in love: what happens to your body. In short, you get elevated levels of dopamine, which is a neurological thingie that transmits messages and bombards your brain. It makes you feel giddy and, I guess, gives you that blind high you get when you first fall for someone.

The anthropologist, Helen Fisher is her name, went on from there, giving examples of how one would use this knowledge to win someone's heart. They were all a little out-of-the-ordinary; stuff like take him for a swim after dark or go explore an unfamiliar place. Different, unexpected, exciting and somewhat dangerous actions changes the baseline levels of dopamine.

So as they're talking about her book, I got to thinking about Pretty in Pink again. When did I think Andie was dumb not to have chosen Duckie? The dance at the record shop! And then I thought of Say Anything. Man, my heart still burns for John Cusack because of that movie. And what do I remember most? When he stood outside her house holding the boombox while Peter Gabriel sang In Your Eyes.

All these movies I've watched, all these books I've read, and not to mention experiences I've been fortunate enough to have (only one with Husband, but it was pretty good), it's all been there. I just wasn't really watching.

And then I went back to folding my true love's socks.

May two-four and no beer was ingested

My Charming Husband didn't leave me for his mistress Big Bertha Saturday after all. He spent the morning cleaning the kitchen and the attic while I worked a little on his loudmouth golf pants.

Then we took the kids to the beach.

We love Lake Huron; the vastness is astounding. I can't vouch for other parts of the lake but the beaches we go to have clear blue water. The only problem is that you never know what the shoreline is going to be like from year to year. Once the winter melts, is it a sandy beach or a rocky beach? This year, it looks pretty rocky, which made Baby Boy reeeallly happy. He spent about an hour throwing rocks in. The other kids went in and out of the water, collecting stones to paint and looking for fossils.

But then I was a golf widow on Sunday.

My baby sister came over for a visit, but mostly to see Revenge of the Sith. (My review? Great movie. Too bad we had to suffer through the first two to get to this one. Oh, and sooo not for little kids. There were children as young as 4 in the theatre but I wouldn't show anyone under 10 this movie). Baby Sister wanted to see the last Star Wars movie with someone she saw the first one with. And I was grateful because I still had a few questions after the movie, and she was a little more alert than I was.

If there's anything Star Warsian you've wondered about, it gets answered in Sith, but often in just one sentence, so you really need to be attentive. Why did Obi Wan practically allow Darth Vader to kill him in A New Hope? Answered. If C3PO was in all six movies, why does he have no memory of the beginnings of Anakin Skywalker? Answered. The only question I had left unanswered really was why did they bother putting in Chewbacca in Sith? Wookies, fine, but why Chewbacca specifically?

It probably has everything to do with merchandising. Even Baby Boy enjoys Chewbacca. He has this song he sings like a litany. It's the "I Love..." song where he just names all the people he loves. And he does sing "I love Chewbacca" somewhere after "I love Granny."

Star Wars toys that never were. But I think Bike Buddy Kenobi is a million dollar idea. Has sound.

A week of blog

Only now have I been able to muster up the energy to the attic to post something. I had been coming down with a cold all this week but it really hit me on Thursday. I was weak, couldn't eat a thing, couldn't even keep plain clear tea down. Baby Boy and I ended up spending the whole day napping, gathering just enough energy to pick the older kids up from school.

I get there and my friend's son has this thing where he likes to grab my keys and run to the other side of the school. Usually, I let him do what he feels he needs to do, but I just wanted to make a clean getaway, in case I spewed chunks right there in front of the principal. And what does this little guy do? He grabs the keys and puts them in his mouth. I think I may have caught this bug from him but if not, ewww, I guess I'll be hearing from his mother.

And then husband comes home after a day of golf with my uncle. I could barely keep upright, let alone try to be entertaining.

It's funny. I used to think I was a lousy housekeeper but it really has nothing to do with me, I've learned. I caught one of them (though no one confessed) pouring about half a box of Shreddies into a huge bowl with about three cups of organic 2% and then WALKED AWAY. Then Baby Boy grabbed it and dumped it on himself and the kitchen floor.

But that's not all. After my one day of convalescing, the Friday sunrise lit for me a house in utter disarray. Dirty dishes everywhere (what happened to Mummy's rule of no eating anywhere but the kitchen and dining room?), toys and clothes all over the place. Today, in the attic, I now see that they really saved the best for this room. Husband is golfing again today. I'm thinking of buggering off for four hours on my own when he gets back and telling them, "Here's some garbage bags. There's the washing machine and the dishwasher. This here is a vaccuum and this is a bottle of Fantastic. See you!"

Oh, look! I can see someone's karate gee under the sofa.

The older kids had a Kick-a-thon at their karate school Monday. I held the bags for them as they had to kick it higher than their waist and flat-footed. I sponsored them for a penny a kick, thinking there's no way they could do that much. Wrong! Daughter kicked 690 times. Even my uncoordinated anti-athelete Middle Child cleared 440 kicks in 20 minutes. Half way through, he stopped and wiped his face on my jeans (yeah, thanks) exclaiming in utter disbelief, "Mumma! I'm sweat! I'm sweat!" Seriously, it's probably the first time my little slowpoke has ever perspired.

And yesterday gave me a bit of an adventure, too. Daughter spent the night barfing and suffering with this wicked cold and a barky cough so I kept her home from school. She was totally fine by 10 am but I still thought she should stick around. I took them downtown to buy my mother-in-law a birthday present (I leave it to my husband to get her something - she's HIS mother, after all - but he always leaves it to the last minute and then asks me to do something about it in a panic), and then to Middle Child's favourite restaurant in town. It's a place where they serve all-day breakfast. Man, my kids can pack it away. Combined, they ate four pancakes, four sausages, four strips of bacon, two pieces of whole wheat toast, about two scrambled eggs (that was just Middle Child), and a handful of hash browns each. Oh, and downed with milk. I ate a slice of toast. I'm still a little queasy. Lost three pounds though.

We got home and I thought I'd do a little gardening. I bought some kong coleus, a raspberry bush, some ferns, a hydrangea bush and some boxwood hedging. The previous owners of this home really did nothing but mow the lawn so we had all kinds of five year old maple saplings that I've been removing. However, our next-door neighbours are very elderly. Lovely people but their garden is overgrown with weeds and saplings. Daughter "discovered" a path behind our shed between the chain-link fence that cordons off the two properties. Daughter and I have done our best to keep that back part there clear of weeds but the neighbours? I swear, I want to offer my services but they're very proud people. They get upset when we shovel the snow off their driveway for them.

So daughter is playing in this pathway when she walks into a twig. Poked her right in the eyeball. "Mumma, I'm seeing all blurry." Called this after-hours provincial government number our family physician wants us to call before going to emergency. Was on hold for 25 minutes. Meanwhile, I put some Polysporin eyedrops and that gave her some relief. And the government nurse recommended? Go to emergency. Duh. What a waste of time. Anyway, she was seen pretty much right away (I love living in a small city sometimes) where the doctor checked for a scratch. There was one. Her course of treatment? Polysporin eyedrops for two days.

Maybe it's the black hair but I'm feeling like Wonder Woman.

I'm still not cleaning this room, though.

Quick! Stash the WeedEx!

We went, en famille, to the Dandelion Festival yesterday. Husband's lab tech is involved in the organizing (or the guy she's currently "having relations" with is and she's there for the, er, ride). Husband felt that if we didn't show our faces, it would make for a rough week.

It was very, uh, West Coast. I didn't realize our little city had so many hippies.

The highlight was when Little Miss Drama (my Mini Me, as it were that day), graciously accepted a piece of dandelion pizza. It was just a crust with tomato sauce and some grilled dandelion leaves placed on top. She walked away, and, with a talent that would rival Olivier, faked this sneeze in order to tilt the pizza so all the dandelion leaves fell to the ground.

I'm teaching the kids to precede their requests to me by saying, "I beseech you, my queen!"

Even Paul Hunter looks fed up

I'm boycotting the news.

If I have to watch any more parliamentary bullcaca (is it me or does Stephen Harper look like he's wearing makeup?), I fear I will develop narcolepsy.

And don't even get me started on the Gomery Inquiry. Hasn't politics always been a who-you-know business? And Canadian History 101 taught me that appeasing Quebec has been a pasttime for all political parties for hundreds of years.

Isn't there something more important for us to know?

Yesterday, I was watching The National with the husband. Right at the beginning, I predicted what stories would be reported and at what time. I was uncannily accurate, which leads me to believe that I don't need to watch anymore.

Bugged

I am having a war on ants and, therefore, a war on lazy-ass family members who:
a) forget the rule of eating only in the kitchen and dining room
b) listen to other family members who say, "I'm sure the rule doesn't include snacks in the playroom"
c) leave beer bottles and coffee cups just about anywhere
d) think it's perfectly fine not to get rid of tree limbs on the lawn after pruning and take almost a year to call a mason to look at repointing

but I digress.

I'm the schmuck that has to stay in this house all day. I'm not into camping or roughing it one bit so bugs of any kind where I live is completely repulsive to me.

Looking online, I gather my problem isn't as bad as it could be but seeing even one ant in the kitchen is enough to consume me, obviously. I bought ant traps (four different kinds) but I'm finding the silicon dioxide to be better. They walk over the powder and track it back to the nest where it will dehydrate them. I've seen less since using the stuff, but my next step will be a homemade borax and icing sugar mix that they'd feed the queen. Only problem with that is it would be toxic to the kids, where as the silicon dioxide isn't.

If this isn't over by the end of the month, I'm calling an exterminator and crashing at a friend's house. Eww. Eww. Eww.

Husband thinks I'm going nuts (and he could be right). He even went to bed early and missed the finale of The Amazing Race which, I think, was the happiest ending possible. After years of watching reality TV, never had I been able to pick someone to cheer for at the beginning and see them win at the end. Hearing about Uchenna and Joyce's problems conceiving a child and how they'd use the million dollars to pay for invitro fertilization, how could your heart not bleed for these people? And then they're at the finish line but they didn't have enough for the cabbie so they continued to beg strangers for cash? Man, that's so upright, or maybe just forward-thinking so the cabbie wouldn't come back and watch the show then sue their asses off.

I was even thinking of them and other childless people on Mother's Day as I was weeding my parents' garden. Neighbour kids were being loud and generally obnoxious: "Not for one thousand million money." "Oh yeah? Well I'm not for FIVE million hundred money." I can kind of filter out kid screams by now, knowing when my attention is critical to the situation. But this time, I was listening to the kids and thought, "I can think of a bunch of people who would give their eyeteeth for the priviledge of children." Whennnnnn, a woman came out and gave them big time hell for being "little brats" and "ruining the day for others." The kids were then sent to their rooms and I was left with boring silence.

Five dollar ralph

I took Middle Child grocery shopping yesterday. It was really sweet because we seldom ever get to do anything just him and me, you know?

Of course, I'd be tempting fate bringing any kid grocery shopping, what with the "buy me this" and "buy me that."

However, Middle Child is, well, a unique piece of work. He nearly had a fit when he saw apricots, jumped up and down over applesauce and, amid all the chocolate covered whatever in the bulk section, he begged me for banana chips.

He also implored me to buy blackberries. I swear, there was only about 30 in the container and they wanted $4.99. Man, I remember living out west and filling up buckets and buckets from bushes off the side of the road - but only once a year. You could do it every day for months and months if you wanted, they're so abundant.

Anyway, bought the blackberries. Took them home and washed them because the kids wanted them as their "Survivor" treat (yes, it's the one day a week we let them stay up). Baby Boy started getting really territorial about them and just pounded them back two at a time.

While my husband was upstairs on toothbrush patrol, I had Baby Boy on my lap while I flicked the channels. "My tummy hurts. Put cream on it," the little guy cried. So I did. And then he barfed blackberries and organic homo milk all over me. Lovely.

And a happy mother's day to you all.

Check out this Swedish guy's magnificent collection of airline barf bags. A fine lesson in good graphic design AND geography!

It was either that or a telescope

After years of collecting Air Miles, the husband blew them all away on a trip to visit his family. Do I need to add that we're all going?

What we didn't know was that only a certain percentage of seats are reserved for Air Miles people so instead of going in July, we're going in August. Why July? Well, one of the women my husband works with wants a couple of weeks then so she can entertain friends coming in from Alberta somewhere. But, more pressing was because Husband wanted to alieviate his brother from having to entertain their father who has decided to take a "vacation" to his city, which is just a 90 minute drive (if I remember right).

Anyway, so August it is. I've taken a page from parents of autistic children and have begun preparing Baby Boy with stories about airplanes and long waits and being nice at other people's houses.

We'll be staying with the aforementioned brother and his family, which will be nice. I'm sure Baby Boy is going to get along great with my nephew, whom he only met once when they were really wee. And my husband absolutely loves his brothers. But I sense the golf clubs are coming on the plane. Gawd, I just hope we are all on our best behaviour.

It's the call no parent wants to get

My daughter forgot her lunchbox at school. Doesn’t sound like a calamity, right? Well, apparently it is when you hadn’t eaten anything but the three leftover chicken balls you mum packed.

“But I’m starrrrving,” she complained on the way to karate from violin lessons. She was expecting to save her food for this time. I sent her into the karate school with Miss Dramatic clutching her stomach.

So I wasn’t very surprised to get a call not 15 minutes later from the Sempei. What was surprising was that he was talking about Middle Child.

The guy sounded really upset, totally freaked out that Middle Child’s hands were purple and ice cold. Sure enough, when we got there, his hands were just as he described them.

So I called the government’s health help line and they said he was just cold. I took his temperature as the nurse requested and it read 33.3 C. She then told me to put his hands in a bucket of lukewarm water. They pinked up a bit. She suggested I throw him in warm clothes after a nice bath and see a doctor tomorrow.

We’ll see a doctor later today and his hands look totally normal now. But, ooh, a little freaky.

I just got some wicked plaid fabric to make the husband a pair of these.