One More And Then I’m Done Preaching

FameThrowa reminded me that there is one more Black Box no-no — one that I screw up all the time — and that’s boxes with waxy coating. Apparently the paper recyclers of the world hate wax-coated boxes with a passion — it’s all they can talk about!

Wax-coated boxes are usually used to hold freezer food. Even if the food inside is encased in a plastic bag, the box itself is usually treated with a wax coating so it does not get wet in the freezer. You can tell if a box is wax-coated by dragging your fingernail across it — a little wax will build up under your nail. If you’re not sure, and the box held any kind of freezer food, then it’s definitely better to put it in the garbage than in the recycling bin. The black box recyclers of the world will thank you!

And while I’m on the subject, cups from fast-food places, paper coffee cups, and dixie cups aren’t recyclable either, for the same reason — they have a slight wax coating to protect the paper from getting wet.

And don’t even THINK about recycling boxes from ice cream. No!

Black Bin Blue Bin

There’s nothing I like better than garbage day. I love putting out crap and having it carted away. Less stuff in my house! Yay!

In the past couple of years I’ve tried to reduce the amount of waste we produce and I am pleased with my progress, although there is still a lot more I could be doing. One thing that I’ve really tried to do is to recycle everything that we possibly can. I did some research about a year and a half ago to find out exactly what could and couldn’t go into our recycling bins, and now I try to make sure we follow all the rules.

I think some people think that it’s better to put something in the recycling bin than the garbage bin, even if you’re not sure that it belongs there. They figure, better safe than sorry, and if it isn’t actually recyclable, then they’ll just sort it all out at the plant. But this is not true! If our city’s recycling bins are too contaminated with garbage, then the city will not be able to sell its recyclables for a good price, and so it will no longer be worth their while to pick up the recycling. Then we’ll run into situations like a couple of years ago in Ottawa, when they stopped picking up #5 plastics like margarine tubs and yogurt containers, which was just weird. Also, bins with too many contaminants will just cause the whole batch to be junked — maybe even the whole truckful — so my efforts at recycling are wasted.

So I do have mild concern when I see a lot of stuff out in bins on garbage day that probably shouldn’t be in there.

Here’s a little recap for Ottawa. Black bins can take all kinds of paper, including fliers, magazines, hard and soft cover books, all wrapping paper (Jesus, I remember when my family used to fill two or three garbage bags of wrapping paper every Christmas morning…so tragic!), greeting cards, envelopes and other fine paper (you may wish to shred this stuff first — shredded paper should be placed in a paper bag and stapled shut), egg cartons, and the tubes from paper towels and toilet paper. Window envelopes are okay (the window part is usually made from cellulite, which is recyclable). A little bit of tape or staples on your paper or cardboard boxes is okay, but if you can remove as much of that kind of stuff as possible, that’s good, because the fewer the contaminants, the better the price the city can command. Foil paper, bows, and ribbons are strictly NOT allowed. Tissues (used or clean) and napkins (used or clean) are strictly NOT allowed. Pizza boxes are okay as long as they are do not have any food (i.e. stuck-on cheese) inside. In general, anything contaminated with food is not allowed. Little crates from clementine oranges are also not allowed.

Blue bins can take glass jars or bottles of any colour, metal cans of almost any nature, plastic pop bottles, juice bottles, or shampoo-like bottles marked with a 1 or 2, and wide-mouthed margarine and yogurt containers marked with a 5, milk and juice boxes, tetra packs, and spiral-wound containers with metal ends like frozen juice containers. You can also put clean (non-greasy) aluminum foil in there, and the lids from plastic tubs are okay too. Here in Ottawa, you CANNOT add any hard plastics (like toys or plastic cutlery) or any plastics labeled with a 3, 4, 6, or 7. You can’t put in any clear thin plastics like the kind used for cookie/cake containers you get from the grocery store, or the kind that is attached to the front of packages, like when you buy a toy and its package is a cardboard sheet with a plastic bubbly-bit on the front (the cardboard part is recyclable if you tear off all the plastic bits). You also can’t recycle any plastic bags or styrofoam cups or packaging. So cut it out, people on my street!

Good Teacher

I had a PTA meeting on Tuesday. It was a more casual meeting than usual, with a bit of a reception at the beginning featuring socializing and yummy snacks. The treats were provided by Sugarplum Fairy Homebaking, by the way, and HOLY CRAP were they good. I am definitely going back there next year.

Anyway, I’m new to the council and I haven’t really had a chance to chit chat with people before now. I was surprised to hear a few council members make comments that implied that they are less than happy with the teachers their kids have this year.

Now I’m wondering…how do you know if your kid has a good teacher or not? Mine are both in kindergarten and they seem to be having a good time there. Their teachers both seem nice and can sing songs and do crafts with enthusiasm. So, does that mean they’re “good”? I thought so, but now I don’t know. If my kids are happy, is that enough?

As they get older, if they get good grades, does that mean they have a good teacher? Do bad teachers have students with poor grades?

I’m mystified.

Maybe parents out there with older kids can explain to me how you can tell if you’ve got a good one or not.

Second Week of Advent

We’ve been having a lot of fun doing our advent activities…it’s been fantastic overall. Here’s a few highlights from the past week.

Several days ago we made books about Christmas. It was super fun — I think it was the best activity we have done so far — and we’ll definitely do this one again next year. I asked the kids to think of things we do at Christmas — a lot of their ideas came from things we’d done because of the calendar — and then they drew pictures of their ideas with pretty sparkly markers. Then we made a cover page and stapled it all together.

Here’s some pictures from the Captain’s book:



That last one there is not actually a pregnant Santa, but rather, Santa carrying a bag of toys (very close to his body) with a doll inside. Just in case you were wondering.

And here are some from Gal Smiley’s:



Aren’t they adorable? I’ll definitely be keeping these forever. I should mention that for many of the Gal’s pictures, I drew her an outline — the outline of a tree, say, or a stocking or a gingerbread house — and then she “decorated” it. The Captain was able to draw most of his pictures himself.

The Captain also decided to make a book about Star Wars, of course. Check out his totally awesome picture of Jabba The Hut:

These are definitely keepers.

Another thing we did was make gingerbread houses. I used graham crackers for the sides and roof, so we didn’t have to do any actual cooking. The Captain is allergic to eggs so we could not use the traditional royal icing for glue. Instead I made up a mixture of icing sugar and orange juice (1 cup sugar to 4 teaspoons juice) and it worked okay in that it dried hard and solid, but it was very runny at first and our houses kept falling over. Next year I’d give the icing 15 or 20 minutes to harden up a bit before assembly.

Once we got the houses to stand up, we braced them with cups and let them dry for an hour or so. Then the kids went nuts with the decorating:

And also the eating. They didn’t last long.

We also built a fort. Here are the kids inside it:

At first the kids were like, okay, nice fort, what the heck do we do with it? But once I gave them flashlights they were totally hooked. We left the fort up for a week and I barely saw them during the day — they were always off reading books or playing games in the fort. With flashlights.

See? Advent is fun!

Yesterday our activity was to make this:

This is called Peppermint Bark. IT IS GOOD. Also, it’s surprisingly easy to make and a very fun activity for kids of all ages.

I’ll put the instructions after the jump, since this post is already long enough!

Continue reading “Second Week of Advent”

Child Proof

Little Miss Sunshine is teething (evidence: swollen gums, reddened cheeks, loss of appetite, and hella cranky). She’s 17 months old now and STILL only has the middle two bottom teeth, so really, it’s about time she got some more. Yesterday after many, many hours of constant fussing we finally broke down and gave her some Tempra. It was absolutely the right decision as she magically morphed into a sweet-tempered, charming little baby who was able to pack away almost two whole slices of pizza.

It was the last dose of Tempra in the bottle, but we had a new one on hand so I wasn’t worried. When she woke up crying at 1 a.m., I decided I should go and break open the new bottle of Tempra before going in to comfort her, just in case I decided she needed more medicine to settle down.

Fifteen minutes later, the Little Miss had settled herself back down…but I was still fighting with the childproof cap!

I usually find childproof caps to be annoying and sometimes frustrating, but this one was unbelievable — like trying to crack into Fort Knox. It took me more than enough time just to pull off the plastic shrink-wrap around the top of the bottle — I had to use my teeth in the end. Then it took FOREVER to work out the little push-down-turn-clockwise thingy. Even after the Little Miss stopped crying and went back to sleep, I refused to give up. There was no way that little bottle was going to beat me!

I almost went and woke up Sir Monkeypants to open it for me. In the end, though, one last ditch try worked — I covered the top with a towel (the little words and picture printed helpfully on top had almost ripped my palm to shreds) and put the bottle on the floor, then threw my whole weight on it…and finally, it turned.

The irony is that I immediately replaced the child proof cap with the screw-on dropper that it comes with, and threw the other cap away. There’s no way I could go through such a battle every time I need to give my screaming, sick child some medicine, and besides, I’d lose the dropper if it wasn’t with the medicine bottle.

So now it’s totally not child-safe at all.

But at least I can get it open!

Stay or Go

A while ago I was reading a post on Quinn Cummings’ blog about how some kids are Stay kids and some kids are Go kids. Stay kids are homebodies who will stick close to home as they turn into adults; even if forced to move somewhere for school or work, they’ll put down new, deep roots and refuse to go anywhere else. Go kids are born with the wanderlust in their eye; they’re always looking away for the next big challenge, the next new adventure.

Since I read that post I’ve been thinking a lot about my own kids. Captain Jelly Belly is definitely a Stay. The other day he was helping Sir Monkeypants tidy up after a house project, and Sir Monkeypants showed him where to put the marker he had been using. The Captain said, “It’s a good thing you showed me where we keep these markers, so I will know where to put them when this is my house some day.”

I’m not sure if we are alive or dead in this dream scenario of his — think of it, the markers AND the drawer will all be his — but he’s made it quite clear that he is never moving out, ever. Ever.

Gal Smiley is a bit of a harder read, but I think she is a Stay too. I can tell by the way she gives us hugs — so tight, it’s like she can never be close enough to Sir Monkeypants and me. She is the one who feels responsible for everyone else’s well-being and I think she would worry about us too much if she were off travelling the globe. I think she’d like to have her own place some day, but maybe just the house across the street. With the Captain as her roommate.

I like to think of her taking care of me one day. She’s bound to be a better cook than I am, at the very least.

As for the Little Miss…she’s a Go, for sure. She loves the people, she loves new places. She likes to try new things and be independent and eat exciting new dishes. A day when she doesn’t get to go outside and see something new or meet someone new is a dark, cranky day for her. When we’re out and about, she’s never looking over her shoulder to make sure I am there — she’s always just pushing forward, looking for whatever is coming next.

I miss her already. It’s good to imagine it, though, I think — otherwise I just won’t be prepared for the heartbreak when she announces that she’ll be going to British Columbia for university, or marrying some Australian dude she met while on vacation. Sniff.

Did you Stay, or did you Go? And what do you think your kids will do?

Fuzzy Wuzzy Wuz A Bear

So! Yesterday I had my hair fixed.

A couple of days after the infamous First Choice haircut of a couple weeks ago, I was trying to do something, anything with it. While I was looking in the mirror I noticed that it was really short on top, while still really long at the back. And I had a horrible, awful, terrible realization.

I HAD A MULLET.

And it wasn’t even just a mullet. I was missing a whole chunk of hair on my right hand side over my ear — there still is a little bald spot — so the longer hair was thick on the left, and stringy and thin on the right.

A DRUNKEN MULLET, if you will.

Thus began several consecutive days of baseball hat wearing and major fretting. Eventually I decided to risk getting it cut again, to see if it could be cleaned up at all. I followed the recommendation of my friend RheostaticsFan and booked an appointment with Veigh at Spahara.

I can’t believe how nervous I was going in. During the hair washing segment I was actually kind of shaking. I had my cavity filled last week (more on that some other day) and it was actually more calming to have a drill in my mouth than to imagine someone going at my head with shears. What the heck is wrong with me?

Anyway, Veigh was awesome. I liked her very much. She admitted to my hair issues without making me feel like I had a squirrel on my head and she did an amazing job of fixing things up. She cut about two more inches off the bottom to lessen the two-layer effect, and she trimmed everything else so it was even and sleek. She even did some sort of magic to even out the two sides so now you can hardly tell even detect the bald spot.

Yay!

It’s been a long while since I had such short hair but with the quality of the cut, I think it looks kind of professional and mature, yet still sassy and young. In fact, I feel sort of Martha Stewart-ish in it.

At the end of the cut I told Veigh to skip the blow-dry. I hate having my hair “set” — I hate the goop they put in it, it takes me three days to get it all out, and I hate sitting under a hot dryer for half an hour, immobilized while fretting about all the other things I could be doing with that time. If the blow-dry made me feel all glamorous I suppose I’d go through with it anyway, but I usually prefer my hair when it is air dried, and besides, I’m going to stick a toque on it and go home and change a poopy diaper, so what do I need to look all done up for?

And since I skipped the “set” part, I only paid $35! AWESOME.

There’s no freakin’ way I’d post a before picture of myself on the internet, but here’s what I look like after:

My twin Martha Stewart

Oops! That’s Martha Stewart! I get the two of us mixed up sometimes now.

Top Gear

Some guy at Sir Monkeypants’ work (thanks, Ken) gave him a DVD full of episodes of some TV show called Top Gear.

It’s a British show where three middle-aged dudes take really fancy cars — BMWs, Astin Martins, Ferraris — and drive them at full speed on a closed course. Then they gush about how awesome it was to drive such a fine vehicle, all the while using cute British sayings and putting each other down like a pack of frat boys.

I seriously do not think I have ever found a TV show so incredibly boring.

I cannot fathom for the life of me why anyone would want to watch someone else drive around in a car, and then talk about it. A car that we are never, ever going to get to drive ourselves. Especially not on a closed course in top gear. I guess it’s kind of like car porn? Like, not at all like actually doing the deed, but titillating just to watch it? I guess? I don’t know, I still don’t get it. It’s not like I can watch Top Gear and get all wound up and then go out for a drive in my minivan just to get off.

Sir Monkeypants is totally over the moon for this show. The other night he stayed up after I did so he could finish the episode he was watching and then first thing in the morning, before I had even unstuck my second eyelid, he was right there giving me a scene-by-scene play-by-play. Over breakfast he started up the episode even though I told him I was too busy to watch it, then provided scene-by-scene commentary while I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher. With lots and lots of giddiness! and joy! in his voice.

And I saw his passion, and his love of this show that I am completely, totally indifferent to, and I had an epiphany.

“Oh! This must be what it is like for you when I watch So You Think You Can Dance! Got it.”

Lock Up Your Daughters

I had to go over to the school today for more PTA stuff. This time, I was taking an inventory of prints in the art classroom. I had Little Miss Sunshine with me, and we were there over the the first “nutritional break” — me to take photos of artwork, and her to execute another phase of her master plan to take over the world with cuteness.

I know she’s my kid and everything, but seriously, Little Miss Sunshine is totally adorable. She has her father’s big brown doe eyes and long lashes, and she uses them to full advantage. She’s super friendly and outgoing, which means she’ll smile at just about anyone and makes friends instantly, which is just irresistible in a 17-month-old toddler. It’s like she’s constantly out there on the campaign trail, working the crowds to win the title of Most Charming Baby Ever. And trust me, she’s going to win, hands down.

So while I was working, she was busy making friends with several 13-year-old girls who were having their lunch. Man, did those girls LOVE the Little Miss. They cooed over her and told her she was just so cute and shared their desserts with her. The Little Miss accommodated them by chattering away — every time she said an actual word, they swooned — and sitting at their table like she was an obvious member of their clique. Her newest tricks are to say, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” and point when she is excited, and to say, “Wowwwwwww” when she is amazed, and she is so very cute when doing so that the girls could not resist.

I’m pretty sure we set back about five years of health class education for those poor girls. When their parents are busy tearing their hair out over their daughters’ teen pregnancies…I’ll know who is to blame!

Love The One You’re With

Last Friday I took the kids for a playdate with my two good friends, Andrea and Andrea. Andrea The Red has two boys and Andrea The Brown has three boys; neither one has any girls. Both of them were saying that they are often confronted by friends, family, or strangers alike who tell them that they simply MUST keep trying until they have a girl. Recently someone told Andrea The Red that if she grew old and never had a daughter, that she’d really regret it. Andrea The Brown confirmed that she gets comments like that all the time.

For the record, though, they are both quite finished with the baby having.

I didn’t say too much at the time but as a parent of both boys and girls, I must say, I emphatically disagree with these random people and their freaky attitudes. I do admit that being the parent of a girl is different than being a parent of a boy. But I think it’s being a parent, period, that is the beautiful, wonderful, crazy experience that changes you and makes you a family.

I can get that some people really feel like they want a boy or a girl because they envision the kind of activities they’ll do together, the kind of sharing they’ll do, the kind of bond they’ll have. But really, every child is their own person. If you have a baby and try to impose expectations on that relationship — we’ll play ball together! she’ll be an artist like me! he’ll be a doctor! when she grows up, we’ll bond over motherhood! — then you’re in for a heap of trouble. Maybe your son won’t like to play ball. Maybe your daughter won’t ever have children. Maybe they’ll call every day, or maybe they’ll move halfway around the world and you’ll only see them twice a year (sniff). Maybe you’ll be close with them, or maybe your personalities will clash and you’ll argue and he or she will spend their whole life making choices specifically designed to piss you off.

You never know.

So boy or girl, you just have to raise the kid you were given. Let them be the person they are going to be; get to know them and appreciate them for who they are. Build as close a relationship as you can and keep them close for as long as you can.

And love your boys or girls, and tell those other people to screw off.