At the very last second, I’ve decided to take Gal Smiley and Captain Jelly Belly to see The Nutcracker at the NAC. We got tickets in the very back row of the upper balcony. Two hours trapped in seats with two small children, miles above the stage! Should be a good time!

This weekend I took Gal Smiley to the library and she checked out a beautiful picture book about The Nutcracker. We talked about how it’s really a ballet with dancing and music to tell the story, then we listened to a few excerpts from the music that I had on a Christmas CD.

Out of sheer curiousity, I searched the NAC site and was surprised to see it is playing this very week. It seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up, so I decided what the heck, I’ll try it. The Captain misses Dance! Show! (which I don’t watch with him anymore, too many uncomfortable questions about why the boys are never wearing shirts) and so he asked if he could come too, so the three of us are off.

I hope it’ll be fun — I love The Nutracker and it’s been a while since I saw it. I’m completely prepared to leave early if need be, though. And oh! I have to remember the binoculars.

If you’ll be there for the 1:30 show on Saturday and you see me doing a craft in the lobby before the show, come say hello!

In other news, my blog has been nominated for a Canadian Blog Award for Best Family Blog. If you’re so inclined, you can vote for this blog to be a finalist here. Scroll down until you find Turtlehead in the list, and then use the drop box to the left to rank me 1st. Or, you can rank any and all of the blogs listed in the order of your choosing, then click “vote” to submit all your rankings.

We had a rough night last night, so by the time Sir Monkeypants and I dragged ourselves out of bed this morning, it was an hour later than usual. We had to run around doing everything in half the time.

Usually Sir Monkeypants gets himself ready in the morning in time to drop off the kids at school on his way to work, but this morning, there was no time for himself as he rushed to get the kids dressed and fed. So when school time rolled around, I threw on a coat over my PJs and drove Gal Smiley and Captain Jelly Belly over.

Gal Smiley hopped out of the car at the kiss-n-ride just fine.

The Captain, who did not sleep well last night, had a small meltdown.

The poor boy was simultaneously upset by about six different things and by the time he climbed out of the van, all he could do was stand on the sidewalk sobbing. I hopped out of the car, which you aren’t supposed to do at the kiss-n-ride, to try to comfort him. Luckily the vice principal came over and sympathetically told me to just leave my van, as traffic was dying down anyway, and walk him inside.

Which I did, and he calmed down quite a bit. By the time we got to the building, he was fine.

I was a total mess, though.

Seriously, I don’t know how Sir Monkeypants survives drop off every morning. It was like the first day of school all over again. It sure didn’t help that the Captain was crying, but even seeing Gal Smiley playing happily in the kindergarten yard made me well up. My babies! Going away for the day! Into the big wild world all on their own!

Oh my God, excuse me while I get ANOTHER tissue.

Clearly, I need a nap. And a cup of tea. And possibly a lobotomy. I mean, they LIKE school! They are happy there! They are learning things and growing up to be lovely people!

I miss them. Sniff.

I just wrote a long post, complete with links and pictures, about some of the deals I’ve found around town for the kids’ Christmas presents. But then I had an attack of writer’s remorse, and couldn’t post it. For some reason, talking about presents you are getting for your kids seems too close to the big taboo — Talking About Money. So I’m thinking it over. Maybe I’ll post it next week if I get over myself.

In other news, I went out this morning to the IKEA to get one last little thing I need for the advent calendar activities (which start tomorrow, whee!). I have to pick up Gal Smiley at 10:30 and the IKEA doesn’t open until 10, so Little Miss Sunshine and I were at the door right when it opened. Along with FIFTY OTHER PEOPLE. When I am ready to go back to work, I am totally getting an IKEA franchise. I bet I could open one a block away from the current IKEA and still pack them in.

While I’m at it, I may as well add a Tim’s franchise inside. GOLD MINE, I tell you.

Between the IKEA this morning and a “quick trip” to the mall on Saturday afternoon, I think I’ll be fleeing to the safety of exclusive internet shopping in the years to come. I love you, internet!

My shopping this morning also included a trip to Lee Valley, which meant that my list was much done. DONE. I still have Christmas cards to write — if I get around to it. I’m a Christmas card FANATIC, but for some reason, I’m having trouble getting motivated this year. I think it’s Giant Fundraiser hangover.

But other than that I’m am now free to do the fun Christmas stuff, like wrap presents with the kids and decorate the tree and sing cheesy Christmas songs at full volume and make mixed drinks with creme de minte.

Time to get festive!

Dear Angelina Jolie;

You must have some kind of powerful inner strength just to get out of bed in the morning. Every time I am at the grocery store, I see a picture of you or your kids or your life partner on the cover of some magazine. One week it’s all, “We love her!” and the next week it’s all, “She’s a fake!” One week it’s, “Angelina loves all the children of the world!” and the next it’s, “But she feeds them Cheetos and that makes her EVIL!”

How do you do it?

Sure, I know you’ve got those impossibly cute kids and a mansion ten times the size of my house. You’ve got nannies and a chef and millions of dollars. You’ve got sex appeal and a killer wardrobe and a handsome-if-childish life partner. You’ve got film work for fun, and humanitarian work for self-esteem.

But Jesus, I cannot imagine what my life would be like if I had to worry about someone watching my mothering skills every single second of every single day. Sometimes I lose it, and I snap at the kids. Sometimes I am tired so I let them have cereal for dinner. Sometimes I’m not quite done my blog post for the day so I let them watch an extra episode of Caillou.

Sure, sometimes I take them to the park or play games with them or help them with their homework. But you’d never see that on the cover of a magazine, if I were famous. No, they’d only be interested in publishing that one time, ONE TIME, I spun around too quickly and knocked Little Miss Sunshine over with my backpack. ONE TIME, people.

And heaven forbid my husband come home late one night, or casually say hi to another woman at a party, or go on a work trip. No breaks from routine in any way! ANY WAY! Otherwise, it’s certain doom for your marriage. How do you learn to ignore those kind of rumours? How do you stop your mind from letting in even the tiniest, weeniest, sliver of doubt?

My life as a mother and wife could not possibly handle that degree of scrutiny.

No matter how much money or fame or beauty I had.

You can keep your life — I’m happy over here.

(But if you have any hand-me-downs for me or the kids, I’d be happy to accept them.)

All the best,
Lynn

Here’s a mystery. Sometimes we get Swiss Chalet take-out for dinner, you know, when we’re feeling very upscale and chi-chi. When we do, I order a quarter chicken dinner with rice on the side, while Gal Smiley orders a chicken-on-a-kaiser sandwich with rice on the side.

Whenever we get home, however, our rice side dishes are not the same.

My rice is always mushy and overcooked. The individual grains of rice are huge and bloated, and the overall taste and texture is unappealing.

Gal Smiley’s rice is always light and with perfectly divided grains. The grains are a bit on the hard side but for some reason, this makes them impossibly delicious.

Both Gal Smiley and I agree, her rice is good, my rice is not worth eating.

Fast food. It’s just so unfathomable.