RheostaticsFan and Mr. RheostaticsFan will be over in about 15 minutes for a visit, so I was just doing a quick house-wide tidy.

Earlier today we were making valentines, so there were sparkles on the floor under the table, along with scraps of multi-coloured paper and the backs of heart-shaped stickers.

The box from our magnetic letters was in the front room, filled with stuffed animals who took a trip to the moon this afternoon.

In the TV room, there were stacking cups under most of the furniture and a pile of blankets that had been used as the roof for a fort.

There was plastic food all over the playroom floor, left behind by several of the guests at a morning tea party.

In the sink I found a small plate with two partitions — one for baby cereal and one for mushy carrots — and eight little spoons, one for each hand of the eater, one for the Mommy, and one for each hand of the assistants.

Sometimes I feel like our house looks like bombed-out Beruit, and it’s discouraging. But today I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I love our house like this — I love it that it’s full of kids, I love it that it’s full of life, I love it that there are sparkles on the floor.

Our family lives here. It’s home.

Sir Monkeypants turns 37 today…happy birthday, dear! We’ve already had presents this morning and homemade cards that I coloured with the kids earlier this week. The Captain’s features a ninja turtle and Gal Smiley chose a dragon for hers. So cute!

Later today I’ll be making cupcakes with the kids, but it’s a surprise, so don’t tell Sir Monkeypants. We always have to make both vanilla and chocolate cakes here, because the Captain only eats vanilla but and Gal Smiley like chocolate (me, I’m not too fussy — sugar is sugar!). So there will be lots of extras for passing around the neighbourhood — come on over if you’re looking for cake!

I always like the arrival of Sir Monkeypants’ birthday because then we can finally stop pointing out that Mommy is a WHOLE YEAR older than Daddy. I swear the days between November 18 and February 8 are the longest of the year, and not just because we are snowbound. Now we’re both just plain old!

Back in October, I mentioned that the route of the school bus had been changed, at the request of me and some other moms on the street, so that instead of stopping just at the junction of our crescent and the closest major street, it actually comes onto our crescent and drives all around it. This route change was a huge deal for us, as now the bus stops at the end of our driveway, and if the Wee One is sleeping I don’t need to get her up to go out to pick up the Captain.

It didn’t seem like a big deal back in October, but now that it’s winter, I’m noticing that it does make life harder for the bus driver. Our crescent is a low priority for plowing, so it’s always more snowy and icy than the major streets, and it’s a harder drive than he had before. And that makes me feel really, really guilty, which is so typical of adult women, in that we always feel completely responsible for making someone go out of their way to make our own lives easier. Yikes, I can’t even type that sentence — admitting that I made someone else help me out — without feeling like I am going STRAIGHT TO HELL. No wonder my mother is so good at guilting me into things.

Today was a very snowy day in Ottawa, and there was almost a foot of snow on our street by the time I had to go out to meet the Captain at the end of the driveway. The bus was very late, and I was trying not to panic, when suddenly it came around the bend, from the opposite end of the crescent than usual. It turned out that our end of the crescent was blocked by two large moving vans — they had pulled to the side as much as possible, but with the big snowbanks and ill-defined curbs, there just wasn’t enough space for the bus to get through. The driver didn’t know how to signal to me that he couldn’t get through, so he came around the other way and was hoping for the best on his way out, since there was no possible way to turn the bus around.

So I put the Captain inside the house, then went back outside to make sure the bus got past the moving vans, because I felt just terrible that he had had to make this harrowing trip with a bus full of yelling 4 and 5 year olds, all for us (it seems that the other stops he used to make on our street are gone…and now he comes up our crescent just for the Captain…oh the guilt!).

And although he pulled as far to the side as possible, the bus slipped in the snow and ended up hitting one of the vans.

And it was clearly ALL MY FAULT.

So I ran inside and grabbed all three kids and bundled them into our minivan. Then I drove around the long side of the crescent out to the main road, to see if I could help. Naturally my guilt has now been amplified by the fact that the driver saw me in the van with the three kids. Why does she need the bus to bring the Captain home, when she has a car? WHY, LADY, WHY?

Anyway, although the bus is fine, the van had a bent mirror and man, the moving guys were WAY bent out of shape about that, like, CHILL OUT MOVING GUYS, we have a bus full of cold, crying, upset kids over here. The driver said he had it all under control but I think I helped out. While he dealt with the paperwork for the accident, I boarded the bus and calmed down the kids — wiped some tears, assured them all that they’d be home soon, provided last names for the kids I knew so the driver could call it in to the school. Then we had a High School Musical sing-a-long. That was some good times, right there.

After about 20 minutes another bus showed up and I helped the little kids off of the first bus onto the second bus, wiping some more tears along the way and passing out tissues. I hope the little guys and gals are okay. I can only imagine how hysterical their parents are all going to be when they hear about this tonight. I felt badly for the scared kids but it was actually quite hilarious they way they heard “accident” and immediately assumed that the bus was going to explode, or roll over, or both.

If it were me, and my kid came home and told me the bus had had an accident, I’d definitely call up the responsible parent, the one who insists on bus service to her doorway in the DEAD OF WINTER, like, DIVA MUCH, and give her a piece of my mind. Bring it on, parents! Your lectures and admonitions can only help me feel less guilty. I already feel like I should write a letter of apology to the driver, the company, the school, the parents, the kids, and everyone I’ve ever met ever.

Except not those moving van guys. They suck.

We’ve been trying to decide if we should have the Captain and the Gal take the bus home next year, or if I should go pick them up with the Wee One in tow. We were leaning towards bus, but now I’m thinking, maybe a year of hiding from my guilt would be a good thing.

I’m getting so fed up with toilet training the Gal. She wears underwear and pees in the potty all day long, but when it comes to pooping time, she asks for a pullup.

Some days I feel resigned and I just hand one over.

Other days I feel frustrated and I yell at her for a while and she freaks out for a while and then we call a truce, and I hand one over.

The really annoying thing is that she has pooped in the potty several times before, and yet, past poops do not seem to help her feel more comfortable or confident at all. With the Captain, once we broke the poo barrier, so to speak, that was it, he was a pooper. With the Gal, it’s one step forward, one step back. (Just watch what you’re stepping in.)

Today was so typical. This morning she asked for a pullup because she had to poop. I was busy with the Wee One and asked her if she would please, please, just try to put her poo in the potty this one time. Of course, she had a total meltdown and by the time I was done with the baby and ready to make nice, she told me that she was over it, not pooping, it was all gone, and never pooping again, thank you!

All day long I fretted about what the stored-up poop was doing to her system, and I offered her a pullup many times but was met with refusals.

Then at dinnertime, while I’m busy cooking in the kitchen, she casually strolls into the bathroom and poops in the potty. Which is sooooo incredibly aggravating, because why can’t it be that easy every time? Why can’t she just go ahead and be a potty pooper now? Why does this poop in no way indicate whether or not she’ll feel up to getting on the toilet next time? WHY WHY WHY?

About a half hour after the big poop — which was rewarded with lots of praise and a KinderSurprise — she comes over and tells me there’s more poo, so could she have a pullup please?

It’s like the whole potty part of her day never happened. Maybe she’s like that guy in Memento that could only remember things for like, 10 minutes after they happened.

More likely, she is a typical stubborn three-year-old. But I swear, if I live through this, there’s a KinderSurprise with my name on it!

Rick Mercer has a recent blog post up that talks about how secretive Stephen Harper is, how he’s spent the entire time in office trying to keep things from the press. Rick goes on to say this:

Funny, but also, oh so true. When I read that sentence I was rather shocked to find that it was totally, completely true for me. The only cabinet minister I could name was Gordon O’Connor, and that’s because he’s the MP for our own riding. I had to go look the rest of them up, and of the dozens of cabinet ministers, I’ve only even heard of three of them — Tony Clement, the health minister; Stockwell Day, the public safety minister (didn’t even know he was still in politics); and Peter MacKay, whose name I recognise only because he used to date Belinda Stronach.

As part of my Trivia Night training, I’m reading the major news stories of the day every day now on the Ottawa Citizen site and on CBC.ca. Rick’s point, however, is that just reading the news is not going to expose us to the members of the cabinet or the workings of our own government, because Stephen Harper is so secretive about everything. Cabinet members are rarely seen on TV or at news conferences making statements about anything. It’s interesting that, since things seem to be going well around here, I’ve hardly even noticed that I have no idea what the people in power are doing these days, what their positions are on things. Hm.

I’ve decided I need to start watching Rick Mercer’s show, if I want to get the lowdown on Canada these days. Consider it part of the training, mayonnaise!

Last night on Don’t Forget The Lyrics (don’t judge me!), one of the featured songs was “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Man, does that shit ever get stuck in your head.

So far this morning we’ve watched the video on YouTube about six times, along with other Backstreet selections. Let me tell you, those boys can rock a harmony. And surprisingly, they really were that cute.

Every one of their videos is the same — soft focus shots of the boys, then individual feature close-ups, one at a time, then ending with a montage of screaming girls. Ah, the good old days when pop was pop!

For Christmas this year, I ordered a copy of My Fun With Words Dictionary, Volume A-K, from eBay for SirMonkeypants. It arrived in pristine condition, and now our set is complete. I must admit I could hardly wait for him to open it on Christmas morning. Captain Jelly Belly was also super excited and the book immediately moved into his room, where it has been bedtime reading for the past month. I’ve only just now been able to nab it, while he’s at school, for a sampling.

I don’t find this first volume quite as hilarious as volume L-Z. It gets weirder as it goes on, but the opening letters in particular are pretty straightforward. I think maybe Mr. Ertel was working on this project a little too long, and as he got to the closing letters he got a little punchy, and just let it rip with his love of pork chops and hatred of roosters.

Here’s a small sample of the first volume, anyway.

Jolly – If you laugh a lot and are happy most of the time, people will say you are jolly. Turtles seldom seem to be jolly. Nobody can figure out why. People who are jolly have more friends than turtles do.

Job – “I can’t talk to you now. I have a job to do,” you say. You have to wash that pig until he is clean. A job is something you have to do. Do a good job of washing that pig.

Jar – A jar is a round glass thing with a fairly big top and a lid. Pickles usually come in jars. Never put your hand in a jar, unless you are sure you can get your hand out. If you have to walk around with a jar on your hand, people will stare.

Looks like Mr. Ertel doesn’t like turtles, has some bad pig-based memories, and has an interesting embarrassing story to tell about a jar. usually gets the job of putting the Captain to bed, so I haven’t had a lot of quality time with the book, but I’ll keep an eye out for more hilarity.

One thing that made getting the first volume totally worthwhile is the dedication. It really makes me want to track Mr. Ertel down and become his SuperFan/stalker. Or maybe just his adopted daughter. Here it is in its entirety:

Love it.

Apparently, a critical step in the making of valentines is the hiding. We spent yesterday afternoon working on valentines and now they are squirreled away throughout the house. I just know that, come the day in question, someone is going to come to me in tears because they can’t find the card they made for Daddy, and we will scour the house and come up empty handed, and then six months from now I will find it nuzzled inside a sleeping bag as I am getting out the camping gear.

I tried to watch all the hiding that was going on and keep track of what was where, because one of my chief duties in this house is the ability to remember where every little thing is at any given moment. Pop quiz, hot shot! Where is the Buzz Lightyear action figure, not the big stuffed one or the medium sized soft plastic one but the little hard plastic one from McDonalds? If we don’t find it right now, there will be a breakdown! You have 10 seconds…go!

However, there are just too many valentines, and not enough brain cells remaining. I’ve been trying to train for World Trivia Night, but it’s becoming increasingly clear — and increasingly frustrating — that I just do not have the ability to remember stuff like I used to. My brain is too full now with kid-related information. If World Trivia Night features a set of questions on Hi-5 song lyrics, or quotes from Pixar movies, or where in my house the Buzz Lightyear is located, then we are going to kick ass.

So to save me some sanity, I hereby record…

The Captain has hidden his classroom valentines in his bedside table. His card for Daddy is there too, and his card for Mommy is in the office where we keep the photo albums. His card for Gal Smiley is in the baby food part of our pantry, but that’s no secret as everyone sees it there every day and Gal Smiley asks for it all the time. His valentine for the Wee One is…dammit. Forgot already. Memo to self: check the office drawers and see if it turns up.

Gal Smiley’s half-finished classroom valentines are hidden in the office where we keep the photo albums. She made a few other valentines for her family but she’s really into cutting right now, and she could not resist cutting them into tiny shreds after we had spent an hour painstakingly gluing on hearts and glitter, so I had to throw them away. Oh well!

The Wee One is an absolute master at getting one sock off.

On Sunday we took the kids to the skating rink at the park. We were worried that the Wee One would be too cold so she had on socks, then a sleeper, then a fleece sleeper she uses at night on top of that. We added a sweater and then she had her snowsuit, complete with booties, on top of that, plus a hat and two pairs of mitts. Then we loaded her into our baby backpack and once we had fastened all the snaps and done up all the buckles she literally could not move. She couldn’t even turn her head, poor little thing. Luckily she’s a cheerful baby so she didn’t complain about being made to stare at the back of ‘ head while remaining completely immobile.

After 45 minutes or so in the freezing cold, brought her back home and peeled back all the layers. And there, under all the clothes, despite her complete inability to budge one millimeter…one sock was off!

has decided to call her Wee One Copperfield.

I realise this is so very Canadian of me to say, but can you believe the weather we are having this winter? First, a record dumping of snow in November and December. Then, record high, spring-like temperatures in early January.

This morning, as we were leaving the house to drop the Captain at school, it was -8 degrees…and raining. So very weird, I still cannot wrap my head around it. I’ve never seen freezing rain at such a cold temperature — usually it only comes around in -1, -2 degree weather.

The rain was freezing so quickly upon hitting the ground that within a minute or so of leaving, the van, which had been parked in the garage, was completely coated in a layer of ice. It totally reminded me of that scene in Fantastic Voyage in which Raquel Welch is attacked by white blood cells, and they have to zap her out of the guy’s body right away, then they have to claw away at the crunchy green layer of crap that completely encases her.

Ah, classic cinema moments. Oh look, you can see it on YouTube!

After dropping off the Captain, we dropped Sir Monkeypants at work (our other car is in the shop), and then I made a rather harrowing journey home with the two girls. The Wee One was overtired and crying, I was having trouble keeping ice off of the windshield, and of course, the road was a complete mess. It’s windy outside, too, and so the freezing rain was pelting the car so quickly that the sound was deafening. And there’s always one or two on the road who are confident enough — or jackassy enough — to weave in and out of slow-going traffic even when the street is covered in ice, which makes me very nervous.

We made it home, though, and some pretzels and cheese are making us all feel much better. Now to wait and see if the Captain’s school bus gets cancelled or not.

It’s been a crazy winter!