Last GTA Barbie, I promise

SCARBOROUGH BARBIE: This Barbie now comes with stroller and infant doll. Optional accessories are a GED, cigarettes and a Metropass. Gangsta Ken and his 1979 Caddy were available but are now very difficult to find since the addition of the infant.

More GTA Barbies

MUSKOKA BARBIE: She's perfect in every way. Available only in the summer months and usually only on weekends. St. Joseph Dream Cottage available for a cool $10 million.












JANE AND FINCH BARBIE: This recently paroled Barbie comes with a 9 mm handgun, a Ray Lewis knife, a Chevy with dark tinted windows, and a meth lab kit. This model only available after dark and must be paid for in cash (preferably small, untraceable bills)...unless you are a cop, and then we don't know what you're talking about.










QUEEN'S QUAY BARBIE: This collagen-injected, rhinoplastic Barbie wears a leopard print outfit and drinks cosmopolitans while entertaining friends. Percocet prescription available as well as warehouse conversion condo.














OSHAWA BARBIE: This pale model comes dressed in her own Wrangler jeans two sizes too small, a NASCAR t-shirt and Tweety Bird tattoo on her shoulder. She has a six-pack of Bud Light and a Hank Williams Jr. CD. She can spit over five feet and can kick mullet-haired Ken's butt when she's drunk. Purchase her pickup separately and get a Confederate flag bumper sticker absolutely free.














OAKVILLE BARBIE: This yuppie Barbie comes with your choice of BMW convertible or Hummer H2. Included are her own Starbucks cup, credit card and country club membership. Also available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to afford any of them.

GTA Barbies

I was sent this from my friend Jules. Those of you who know me, you know I love Barbie and Toronto. I thought this was the best way to pass this awesome stuff on to you. Enjoy.
BAYVIEW BARBIE: This princess Barbie is sold only at Bayview Village Shopping Centre. She comes with an assortment of Kate Spade handbags, a Lexus SUV, a long-haired dog named Honey, and a designer kitchen. Available with or without tummy tuck and face-lift. Workaholic Ken sold only in conjunction with the augmented version.









BURLINGTON BARBIE: This modern-day homemaker is available with a Ford Windstar minivan and matching gym outfit. She gets lost easily and has no full-time occupation. Traffic-jamming cellphone sold separately.













CABBAGETOWN BARBIE: This doll is made of actual tofu. She has long, straight brown hair, archless feet, hairy armpits, no makeup and Birkenstocks with white socks. She prefers that you call her Willow. She does not want, or need, a Ken doll, but if you purchase two Cabbagetown Barbies and the optional Subaru Wagon, you'll get a rainbow flag bumper sticker for free.













CHURCH AND WELLESLEY BARBIE/KEN: This versatile doll can easily be converted from Barbie to Ken by simply adding or removing the multiple snap-on parts.

















HAMILTON BARBIE: This tobacco-chewing, brassy-haired Barbie has a pair of her own high-heeled sandals with one broken heel from the time she chased beer-gutted Ken out of Ancaster Barbie's house. Her ensemble includes low-rise acid-wash jeans, fake fingernails and a see-through halter top. Also available with a mobile home.












That's all I can upload for now. More to come! Anyone have any more?

Tagged

My friend Jules tagged me. I am to write six weird things about myself. But weird is relative, I'm sure. Anyway, here goes:

1. Since getting pregnant with my last child, I can't seem to sleep in. Stranger still, without fail, I will wake up around 5:20 (give or take 10 minutes). And, no, he wasn't born at 5:20.

2. I Google Earth friends' and relatives' houses. That's more creepy than weird, I know.

3. I was stalked for a few months, but in a heart-sick way. He didn't do anything mean, but he would leave things of his behind so I would know he was there. What is weird is that I kept the stuff because they were useful.

4. I don't think it's weird, but lots of people do: I go to the gym at the crack of dawn four days of the week to attend the 6:15 classes. Sometimes I'm there at 5:30 so I can get some extra cardio time. What I think is weird about this is that I still look pregnant.

5. I carry a pen or Sharpie with me at all times to correct public spelling and grammatical errors. I also carry a digital camera to photograph offenses to the English language. It's not Bridget Jone's Diary, people!

6. I shudder every single time I cross train tracks in the car. Some tracks are worse than others.

Now I have to tag six people: Baby Sister, Middle Sister, Purple Grape, the artist formerly known as Sunshine, my favourite sister-in-law and Slowplum. You can either post here in my comments section (sign in as "Anonymous") or just email me back, should you choose to admit to your inner weirdo. Slowplum, you can post on your own blog, chickie.

Surprise!

On Friday, I had 10 kids over for a birthday slumber party for Daughter. It went off without a hitch and ended in the requisite pillow fight. The last kid to fall asleep did so at about 2:30, which was kinda crazy because on the very next day, Baby Sister and The Boyfriend got married in Niagara Falls.

Let me backtrack. About a month ago, Baby Sister called The Boyfriend at work to complain about how tired she is and how demanding her job can be. She mentioned off-hand that it would be great to re-charge at a weekend getaway somewhere. She wasn't asking or anything.

The Boyfriend called back a little while later to tell her that he booked a weekend in Niagara Falls.

Fast-forward to Friday, February 9. They went to a pub. Boyfriend left first; Baby Sister dragged her ass home a bit later. How about when we go to Niagara Falls next week, we'll get married, Boyfriend asked. But let's keep it secret, he added.

Yeah, well, that lasted a nanosecond, I'm sure. But I have to tell my parents, Baby Sister said. Boyfriend agreed. And your parents? Okay. How about my sisters?

I was out having a few drinks with Jules when my house was called. When I came in, Husband said, "Call your sister."

"But it's after 10! It's too late."

"Call you sister."

"What's wrong?"

"Jeez, Jen, just call your sister!"

At the time, the plans were pretty sketchy. They didn't even know if they'd be able to get married, what with having to find someone to perform it as well as getting a license.

It was the day after, when Baby Sister was over at my house, when Boyfriend called to say it would be on Saturday February 17 at 4 p.m.

We went to my cousin's fiancee's shower, sworn to secrecy. Being a bridal shower, talk kept coming back to weddings and it pretty much burned our tongues not to say anything. Middle Sister didn't even tell her kids because she wasn't sure they'd be able to keep a secret (my mum told them later).

So the week went on. Everyone made their own preparations. Mum went blonde (!) and went to Michael's to make bouquets (including some flowers from her own headpiece into the new bouquet). I bought a dress for myself (think goth June Cleaver) and matching velour and rhinestone tops and taffeta skirts for Daughter and Niece who were flower girls. And, of course, also prepared for Daughter's birthday party. Baby Sister tried on about 50 dresses and settled on a purple chiffon Anne Klein from the Bay. Just so she could be like every bride-to-be, she had her obligatory meltdown when she found a stain on the inside of the dress when she took it home. Boyfriend got it dry cleaned and it looked great.

Saturday came. Mum and Dad picked up my grandmother and made their way to Niagara Falls, where Baby Sister and The Boyfriend were already staying since Friday with friends of theirs from the Ottawa Valley. My family met up with my parents and Baby Sister at the hotel, with Middle Child screeching in delight as we drove through Clifton Hill, noting all the places he wants to visit for his birthday. We overshot the drive time and got there about an hour early, but my friend came over to my house to do my hair and Daughter's, so that saved us some time.

We met again at the little chapel, not five minutes away (and really close to the Flying Saucer Restaurant which is shaped like, uh, a flying saucer. We really are going back to Niagara Falls for Middle Child's birthday and that will be my choice of attraction). The Boyfriend's parents were already there, as were Middle Sister's family. There was a wedding before ours so we stayed in the basement, where Baby Sister had her last freak out (a minor one) when she thought they needed to pay in cash.

Four o'clock came around and the pastor, or whomever he was, got us organized. Daughter and Niece were flower girls (and sooo thrilled to be) and were taught how to walk and reminded to smile. I think I remember a little giggling when the time came.

"Who's the maid of honour?"

"She is," Baby Sister and Mum pointed at me. I thought I was only going to sign a few documents after the ceremony. Nope. Up the aisle I went with a bouquet I borrowed from the chapel. It matched nicely with the ones Mum made, albeit the flowers were the ones with the fake dew on it.

The pastor dude had told Dad, who led Baby Sister up the aisle, that he'll be asking, "Who gives this woman to be wed?" Dad said, "And I'll say, 'I do.'" Baby Sister and I suggested, "How about saying, 'My wife and I do?'" And he replied with a curt, "No." Baby Sister sighed and we knew not to pursue it.

So with a click of the remote, the chapel filled with the sound of Pachelbel's Canon, creating the trifecta as now all my sisters and I walked up the aisle to that song. The pastor pulled out a brochure and read from it through the ceremony, with the exception of a little crib note he pulled out with the top ten bits of advice to a happy marriage (come together on financial matters, respect the past but look forward and plan for the future, resolve problems before bedtime, etc).

I noticed The Boyfriend's father weeping, but my grandmother, famous for her very loud crying at weddings, did not. I asked her later what she thought. "It was different, but it was still a wedding and that's the main thing. All weddings are nice and this one is nice most of all because your sister is so happy."

We signed the documents (wow, there was a lot) while some country song and then Ricky Martin's She's All I Ever Had came on, which was pointed out by Middle Sister in a stage whisper they must have heard in Norway. Niece was dying to toss her bouquet, but I advised both girls to stand as still as possible and not to say, as they planned, "Ewww gross" when the wedded couple kiss (and they didn't). In fact, all the kids were well behaved. Youngest Grandson was in the back playing with a potted plant. He was a little vocal, but not for long, and wasn't distracting. The others were quiet as anything, as I gave them all lollypops before the ceremony started. Gotta have something to occupy them!

And, as quick as that, the pastor said, "May I be the first to present to you the new Mr. and Mrs. Boyfriend's Full Name." Baby Sister giggled a bit, probably because she was deliriously happy and also because she's keeping her maiden name. We walked out to the back of the chapel (where there was another couple waiting to get married). The first thing the Boyfriend's mother asked was, "Are you really going to be Mrs. Boyfriend?" "No, you'll still be the only one," Baby Sister said, and then turning to Boyfriend's father, "I hope you don't mind." And, being reasonable and soooo nice, they said they weren't offended in the least and laughed it off.

(They did ask me later about my experiences having kept my name too, particularly when it concerns the children. I assured them that it isn't that rare any more and I haven't run into any problems at school or with other parents or children. "And as far as my own kids are concerned, they don't know me as Jennifer Last Name. I'm Mummy.")

From the chapel, we went to the Hilton where we had a private dining room reserved for us on the 33rd (top) floor. We were a little early, so most went to the lobby bar while Middle Sister, myself and our husbands watched over our kids who were longing to go for a dip into the hotel pool.

Before long, we made our way up to the restaurant, where the staff had the menu printed for us on the large banquet table where we all sat together. As I understand it, the selections were made by The Boyfriend, who has an exquisite palate. And the view! All I can say is that it was breathtaking! As tacky as Niagara Falls can be, you just can't deny the majesty of the falls themselves. Incredible.

So with Middle Sister bringing out the Playdough (God bless her) to occupy the kids, we started with some Niagara wine (of course) and all sorts of different breads. Then came a wedge of panko-crusted camembert with flat bread and red pepper jelly, which I had to share with Baby Boy. Then we had mixed greens with an herb vinigrette, which Boyfriend's mother gave to Daughter and Niece to share. We then had a choice between rack of lamb, two grilled chicken breasts or prime rib, followed by our choice of dessert (chocolate caramel cheesecake with dark chocolate holding it together in chocolate and caramel sauces, an ice cream truffle in a pastry cup with berries or a lemon curd tart with raspberry coulis. And coffee. The kids had a huge mound of chicken fingers and fries, with mint ice cream for dessert. The portions were HUGE for everyone. And the quality was excellent. Service was wonderful and they were very patient and accommodating with all of us.

I could also go on about how Daughter and Niece thought it was the world's most fanciest restaurant, mostly based on the waterfall faucets and fresh towels in the bathroom.

After prompting from Middle Sister ("Welcome to the family. Now, listen to what I have to tell you..."), Boyfriend added to the many lovely speeches (including Purehearted Nephew's, "You love my aunt because she's beautiful") where he thanked every single person at the table for getting him and Baby Sister to the altar. The only one that left me wondering was when he thanked Middle Child for the trip to the Science Centre because that day got him thinking about getting married.

Everyone had an incredible time. It was intimate. It was private. It really felt like we were permitted to witness the love Baby Sister and the Boyfriend have.

I guess I'm going to have to call Boyfriend something different now.

The Police and the Trots

I went to my cousin's fiancée's bridal shower on Sunday. It would have been really nice had Daughter not put on the drama quite so much. She's developed the ability to cry at the drop of a hat. I'm wondering if I should really, REALLY talk to her about menstruation. Ick.

It would also had been nice if I didn't get the trots afterward. Middle Sister was also ill.

She drove us there and back, which was nice. She was so excited because she was going to put the kids to bed early that night to catch the Grammys. "I gotta watch The Police, man!"

I told her I might or might just find the clip on YouTube after or something. I then reminded her what they were like in concert.

"Oh, yeah. They WERE kind of boring, weren't they?"

And then I told her I was hesitant because I really didn't care much for the musical wank Sting would put into the middle of songs (or at least that was what he used to do).

"But you'll watch it anyway, Jen, just like me. It'll be for old-time's sake."

And she was right.

And I was right, too. They were as dull as watching paint dry. Andy Summers looked fabulous for a senior citizen. I saw him recently on The Hour. I swear, he hasn't aged much. I was digging the glasses and grey hair on Stewart Copeland. He was always cool. And Sting. And musical wank.

Of course, news was released yesterday regarding - surprise! - a Police reunion tour. Tickets are $225. Yeah, right. I've seen them before when they were young and active. It cost me $30 and opening for them were The Talking Heads, The English Beat, Joan Jett and, er, I'm forgetting (Middle Sister: help me out).

Anyway, I turned off the Grammys earlier than Husband thought I would. I mean, it was like, "Welcome to the Grammys. I'm Jamie Foxx and, yet again, I'm going to spend the first few minutes here acknowledging all the African-Americans in the first couple of rows." Boring!

But, shhh, I was loving the Shakira/Wyclef show. Not very punk rock of me, is it?

Mommy, Wow. I'm a Big Kid Now.

Baby Boy turned 4 yesterday.

We bought him a bike with training wheels, which he needed and yet he probably wouldn't have ever asked for. He's been riding it around the house all day today. And he's good at it. He'll be doing wheelies by summer.

Someone must have told him that he'll be going to Junior Kindergarten when he's 4. Today, a nursery school day for him, we pulled up to the older kids' school, which is right next door. He was ready to get out. When I walked him across the parking lot to his nursery school, he flipped out. "But I'm 4! I go with them now! I'm big!"

Thankfully, it only took 10 minutes to calm him down and get him settled at nursery school.

I'm reading Bridge to Terabithia to the older kids. They really want to see the movie that's coming out in a week. I was read the book by my Grade 4 teacher. I know what's in it. I'd rather they find out before we see the movie so we can discuss the subject matter.

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.

Tis the Season

Everyone has their own Christmas traditions. Some are your standard stockings at daybreak and a turkey dinner with plum pudding and hard sauce for dessert. Others spend the day at a soup kitchen, helping out those who have nothing.

I found out yesterday that someone I'm related to (not by blood, thank God) plans to start a new tradition for herself. I should first start by saying that she's not one to believe in Christmas as she isn't a Christian. She kind of has a self-styled religion that she takes from Wicca, Shamanism, and Isis worship, if you will. And it changes at her whim.

That being said, one person she told her plans to feels that she may have her nose out of joint for not being included in anyone's Christmas celebration. "Why the hell should she be invited? She couldn't care less about Christmas and she isn't rational to start with anyway."

Whatever.

Anyway, this relative had told two people, on separate occasions, that her Christmas Day plans are to go around breaking other people's Christmas decorations and then going out for Chinese.

Bah humbug.

For a while, a big chunk of her family didn't buy that she is mentally ill with bi-polar disorder. We had a big ol' family gathering yesterday. Yeah, uh, that opinion has changed.

Obviously, the woman needs help, but she doesn't think she does. And that is the catch-22 of the illness.

All the same, and call me a total callous bitch (it's okay, I've heard worse from the person in question), but I am absolutely going to be screening my calls for the next little while.

New and Improved

We got a new hamster last night. It's a sweet dwarf hamster, dark grey in colour. Daughter is so thrilled, but still holds hope that she'll find Peewee. She's no idiot, though. She has entertained the thought that it might be dead, but she is an optimist.

Husband likes the new one. It's way more docile than the last. And it didn't bite him.

Three Wise Women

I had a lovely conversation with my neighbours today. Okay, it bordered on the blasphemous, which is funny because we were standing in the church parking lot.

"If there were three wise WOMEN, they would have asked for directions and have arrived on time."

"And they would have helped deliver the baby," my neighbour added (she's a nurse). "And then they'd clean up the stable a little bit."

"And forget about frankincense. They would have brought practical gifts." This neighbour works in retail.

"And made some casseroles for Mary to store for later."