Captain Jelly Belly’s birthday party is on Saturday, and one of the features of the party is to watch a movie, wearing jammies, eating popcorn.

We struggled for a long time, trying to pick a movie for the party. There were about a thousand criteria.

It had to be (obviously) suitable for a 6 and 7-year-old boy audience.

It had to be something the Captain had not seen before (his request).

It had to be around 1.5 hours long — anything nearing the 2-hour-plus mark was too long.

We wanted it to be something a little off the mainstream, in the hopes that the other boys would also have not seen it before, in the hopes that they would stay in their seats during the viewing and not wander off and destroy our house.

So I made a list of about 30 different movie ideas, and one by one we eliminated them. Some were too long; some were rated AA and we thought they’d be inappropriate. Some were too corny, some were too boring, some were too old and Sir Monkeypants felt that the kids of today would be too jaded for them (so long, my beloved Cloak and Dagger and The Dark Crystal!).

In the end we settled on Spy Kids. It looked kind of fun, was the right length, and was old enough that most of the boys probably hadn’t seen it. So we ordered the DVD and last night we watched it, to make sure it was an appropriate choice.

And HOO BOY, is that a bad movie. STINKY!

There’s nothing objectionable in it, it’s just so, so terrible that we feel we cannot subject our son to it, let alone all his buddies. The action is few and somewhat lame, the parents’ storyline contains too many adult-focused jokes, the bad guys are truly bizarre and not in a good way, the script is JUST AWFUL, the acting isn’t much better… SO! BAD!

And now we find ourselves, three days before the party, looking for a replacement. GACK.

At Gal Smiley’s party in September, we watched Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus. I’ve often said before that it’s the ideal 5-year-old girl movie, seeing as how it contains:

• a smart, spunky heroine
• who is a princess
• who is pretty, and changes her hairstyle often
• and gets to wear many beautiful gowns and other coordinating outfits
• and is a champion ice skater
• who has a pink pegasus to ride around on
• and a little baby polar bear as a sidekick
• who meets a cool dude who is smart and who helps her kick ass
• on an exciting and fun adventure.

So I was thinking, what would the boy-equivalent movie be? What would you put in a movie if you were making it for a turning-7 birthday party? I think you’d need:

• a smart, spunky hero
• who has many cool weapons, a sword/light saber being top of the heap
• who likes to make wisecracks
• perferrably about poop
• and has several buddies and sidekicks, all of whom have a unique skill or weapon
• (but no girls in the posse, unless it’s just one, and she is also sassy and bad ass)
• who drives a really awesome car (airplane and/or submarine also acceptable)
• that can transform into other cool shapes and has lots of weapons
• and there’s lots of running and climbing and jumping and narrow escapes from explosions
• ending with a big fight with the bad guy.

Hm. Seems I have just described every big action movie ever, no? Now why hasn’t anyone made that in a 7-year-old safe package?

Maybe I should just throw in the towel and rent Gone in Sixty Seconds or perhaps The Italian Job. We’ll just fast forward through the kissing parts.

I personally would choose The Princess Bride, but the Captain has seen it once already and so has nixed it. And yet, he is kind of interested in a party viewing of The Lion King, which we have watched no less than 25 times since returning from Disney and can now quote by heart.

Boys are so mysterious!

Anyway, suggestions are welcome.

So the Olympics are over, and I have to say, they were fantastic. I heard so many people from other countries say how wonderful Canada was, how excellent the games were, and how magical the whole experience was. Our athletes did amazing work out there, and there were so many uplifting moments and compelling stories and glorious playings of the national anthem. I felt really proud to be Canadian.

But I’m so very happy they are over.

You know, I used to think I watched a lot of TV. I’d say to our friends, “Did you see this week’s Lost? Are you watching The Amazing Race? What do you think of 30 Rock?” and it seemed to me that they’d always say, “Oh, we don’t hardly watch TV at all, I’d rather read or do something with friends.”

And then I’d feel like a total loser who is in a three-way marriage with Sir Monkeypants and the television.

However, it turns out that there are many, many more hours in the day in which I could be watching TV, as brilliantly highlighted by the 24-hour CTV Olympic coverage. These past two weeks, we’ve been obsessed. One of us would get up to a kid in the middle of the night, and instead of going back to bed, we’d pop on the TV to see what sport they were showing. Every evening, we’d stay up way past our bedtimes watching coverage of the good stuff. First thing in the morning, the TV went on so we could get an update on yesterday’s medals…and watch more highlights of stuff we’d already seen live.

Official CTV Olympic Motto: Why watch it once, when you can watch it three, four, or ten times?

Not that I’m complaining, I gladly watched events over and over again. More coverage! More! Prop my eyeballs open with a toothpick!

So last night after the big hockey game ended, Sir Monkeypants and I turned to each other like, “Oh, hey! You still live here?” It was like we hadn’t seen each other in two weeks…and indeed, I guess you could say that we hadn’t. We both felt this big whoosh of relief, a feeling like our life had been returned to us. Our fix is gone, and now we can actually get around to noticing our family again. Hey! Kids! There you are! How you been?

Still, the Olympics were amazing. Thank heavens we didn’t have the distraction of wondering what our representatives in Ottawa were doing — man, that would have spoiled my entire focus!

When will be the last time my son gives me a hug?

Oh, I’m sure there will come a time, after the difficult, alienated teenage years, when he’s an adult and he gives me a perfunctory hug when we are saying hello. Times when he gives me a quick embrace to celebrate a birthday, perhaps, or a wedding.

But when will be the last time he throws himself into my arms to show me how much he loves me? When will be the last time he curls up next to me on the couch, so we can watch TV together, entwined into one being? When will be the last time he runs to me for solace, knowing Mommy’s arms will make it all better?

He’s turning seven next week. Seven seems old. It seems big. He’s already so tall, so mature, so thoughtful. So grown-up.

But he’s still content to let me call after him that I love him when I drop him off at school. He still likes it when I get there in time to be the parent who helps with skates for gym class. He still wants me to sing him to sleep at night.

And he still wants the hugs.

The other day, I was doing the dishes and he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Just a little moment when he needed a little reassurance; just a moment when he saw me there and felt the overwhelming need to be close to me.

The other night, as I was putting him to bed, he asked me to stay a little while. He had a cold and was feeling achy and tired and lonely. I nestled in tight, and soon the warmth and comfort of having his mother next to him caused his breathing to go deep, and he slept in peace.

But I know it won’t last. I know there will come a time when he needs me, but has to act like he doesn’t. A time when he wants my help, but also wants to be his own man, to branch out, to grow.

I’ve waited so long for him to get just a little bit bigger, a little bit more independent. To make my life easier by taking care of himself every once in a while. But now that that day is fast approaching, I find I really want the opposite. I want to hang on to him longer. Keep him close.

Keep on hugging him, as much as possible.

Every time we snuggle up together, every time he gives me a kiss goodnight, I wonder now… was that the last time? Will tomorrow be the end? Will it be next week that he’s all grown up?

So I grab my hugs whenever I can, and hope that when the day comes, it’s been enough. For both of us.

Toilet training is going…okay. Some days we get the majority of pees in the potty, some days not; some days we catch the poop, some days not. But I’m sticking with it, because the dream of a diaper-free lifestyle LIVES ON. Oh, the places we’ll go!

Unlike Gal Smiley, who was completely unbribeable and only toilet trained when she decided she was good and ready, Little Miss Sunshine will do just about anything for chocolate. We have a big bowl of Hershey’s kisses here and I merely need to wave it in her direction, and she’s running for the potty. The other day I was cleaning out my baking cupboard and found some very old white chocolate chips. I was going to chuck them, but instead I showed them to the Little Miss, and whamm-o, pee.

It’s powerful stuff, this chocolate. It’s a good life lesson for her to learn early on. I raise my babies right!

The biggest problem with toilet training is the nakedness. Oh, how the Little Miss loves to be naked. At first it was cute. We were mildly worried about her getting too cold, what with the winter weather and all, but she seems to be a miniature microwave oven. Her toes are always nice and warm, and it was helping with the training, so we said, what the heck little girl, go for it. Rock on with your naked self!

But now, we can’t stop the naked. We’ve opened the floodgates, and the bare bottoms are rushing out all over the place.

At nap time and at bed time, we snuggle her in, read her a story, then turn out the light.

In about five seconds, she has her jammies and pull-up off, and is prancing around nude in her bed.

The first few nights, we went to check on her and found her fast asleep this way, like Lady Godiva taking a little break in a nearby garden. Sir Monkeypants got rather good at getting her back into her pullup and clothes without waking her.

But at naptime for the past few days it’s been naked…and then accident. oops. sorry mommy.

Yesterday the problems came to a head with a big old poop right there in her bed. All over her sheets. Her blanket. HER PILLOW.

Shudder.

So now I’m afraid to put her down for a nap. And at nighttime, we have to stand sentry at her door, listening for the telltale rustling of a girl undressing. No! Clothes on, Little Miss! Clothes on!

And that’s not even to mention the number of times we find a small, naked girl wandering into our room in the middle of the night, confused, with her round little tummy glowing like a full moon. The other morning I woke up to find her naked and sleeping on the floor next to me. Thank heavens there wasn’t a little puddle of something underneath when we picked her up.

Hopefully this is just a phase. Otherwise we can’t really let her go to university, can we? The combination of naked and chocolate-bribeable is deadly. We’re currently looking a basement cage, a convent, or medical school.

You know, just in case.

When I was growing up, we watched every single figure skating competition that was on television. My mom had been a competitive skater in her youth and so knew a lot about the sport, so we never missed a show.

I kept up the tradition when I moved out on my own, but it’s been at least 10 years now since I watched any skating on TV. Sir Monkeypants considers it the most boring thing EVER. He’d rather watch Cake Boss, for heaven’s sake. So, yeah, not a lot of figure skating in our house.

So last night I watched the Canadians going for gold in the ice dance competition at the Olympics, and I was so surprised to see that ice dancing is so very different now.

(Totally cried when the Canadians won, by the way — it immediately became the 100m dash equivalent for the Winter Games for me.)

When I was young, ice dance was about actual dancing. Even the free dance was expected to have some sort of tie to a waltz or tango or cha cha. The couple were never supposed to be more than six feet away from each other. The man was not allowed to lift the lady above his waist. I don’t remember there being any pairs-style spins and there definitely weren’t any “twizzles” (apparently a critical component of ice dancing now). There weren’t any big tricks and fancy moves.

But rather than being boring, it was always fascinating and incredibly entertaining — my personal favourite of the figure skating events. It was always so original, finding new ways to move, inventive formations and steps, and pushing edge skating to the very, well, edge.

I don’t get this new and “improved” version. I guess it makes it more exciting to have lifts and spins, and there’s more potential for mistakes and falls and DRAMA. But…isn’t it just a little bit too much like pairs skating now? Isn’t it just pairs skating now, without the jumps?

So…I am confused.

But still happy about the medal.

Sir Monkeypants and I agree that the men’s 100 metre dash is the premiere event of the Summer Olympics. It’s appointment television, and if you miss it, you’ll be completely out of the water cooler loop the next day. The winner is made famous by the race and earns respect and endorsement deals that the fencing champion and archery competitors can only dream of.

Do you think the Winter Olympics have a parallel event?

In Canada, I think the hockey gold medal is considered the most important thing — heaven knows there is plenty of hockey coverage on my TV every night. But I don’t think that it produces a star player, necessarily. And I’m not sure the rest of the world cares as much, but I could be doing a wee bit of projecting there.

I don’t suppose it’s the curling gold medal that is the most coveted. Although I did see Jenny Jones in a commercial for Scotties tissues during the Tournament of Hearts this year. Now she can quit her day job!

I think the top contenders to the throne are the downhill skiing event (the pure downhill, not the super-G or the slaalom, although all three events seem the same to me and have the exact same competitors, so I don’t get it), or possibly the long-track speed skating.

I keep hearing Shani Davis’ name being thrown around, even on Canadian TV coverage (he’s American), so I guess he’s cashing in as the biggest name-brand athlete to come out of these games. I always think of the long-track skating as more akin to the swimming in the summer games, though — I guess it’s because of the dedicated location and the athletes competing at many different lengths. So in my mind, Shani is more the Michael Phelps of the games, rather than the Usain Bolt.

Aside: it’s so weird for us to hear Shani Davis being said every thirty seconds on our TV, as “shani” is one of our nicknames for Gal Smiley, spelled exactly that way. It’s just odd.

Anyway. What do you think? What’s the big, must-see, famous-making event for the Winter Games?