Able to Prepare Thanksgiving Dinner: My own kitchen

Able to Cook a Family Dinner:: My mother’s kitchen, but mostly because she still lives in the same house I grew up in, and almost everything is still in the same place it always was; also LittleSis’s kitchen

Able to Put Away All the Clean Dishes, Even That One Weird Appliance That Only Gets Used Twice a Year: My mother-in-law’s kitchen

Able to Prepare a Bowl of Cereal For the Kids: My sister-in-law’s kitchen

Able to Help Myself to a Glass of Water: Mrs. Carl Sagan’s, MyFriendJen’s kitchens

Able to Stand Around Looking Confused Until Someone Helps Me Find A Glass of Water: the kitchens of FameThrowa, Lucky Sevens, MyFriendAgi, RheostaticsFan

Able to Carry Completed Trays of Food to the Table: Kitchens of most of our other friends

Able to Point in the Direction of the Kitchen: at McDonalds, Lone Star, Swiss Chalet

Able to Sense that a Kitchen is Possibly Nearby: at Tim Horton’s, The Works

Able to Believe that Food Appears Through Use of a Magic Table and Mysterious Chanting: at Costco, the Superstore, and every hotel wedding I have attended

So! We’re back from a trip to Southern Ontario to see the folks, and it went…well. Everyone behaved – adults and children alike. As it turned out, being around extended family and eating my own weight in cookies was all I needed to finally feel a small spark of Christmas spirit.

And they said her heart grew three sizes that day! Well, either her heart or her butt. Six of one.

The lowest point for me, actually, came when we were talking to the Captain about New Year’s Eve, and how the year would be changing from 2010 to 2011 that night. And he shouted out, “And then, we’ll GET SMURFED!” I just about had a heart attack caused by the Evils Of Marketing, like, the next Iron Man movie should totally have him battling advertising execs and their ability to use trailers to convince seven-year-olds that a Smurf movie is a really good idea. EVIL.

(Also in contention for the lowest point: when the Captain asked me what F-U-C-K means while we were stopped at a gas station on the way home. I’m sure Sir Monkeypants had some idea of what was about to happen when he oh-so-graciously offered to pump. Good parenting: it’s all about the timing!)

We also saw some commercials over the holidays for the new Yogi Bear movie, also known as The End Of Everything That is Civilized in This World. The kids thought it looked interesting but I had to give them the smackdown. Any movie that combines animation with humans is to be feared, feared with all your soul. That includes that Jessica Rabbit movie and anything starring Shaq. ESPECIALLY anything starring Shaq.

Later over the holidays, we were watching Step Up 2: The Streets on TV with my teenaged niece and nephew. The movie was actually my own recommendation, as I’d watched it back in the fall and found the dancing fantastic, the acting tolerable, and the storyline ridiculous but not totally incredible, and so, that all adds up to INSTANT CLASSIC. Word of warning, though, I did find myself laughing uproariously at Date Night when we watched it two weeks ago, so my tastes in movies may be a weensy bit less discriminating than when I reviewed movies semi-professionally. Just saying.

(Instant-side-review: The dancing in the original Step Up does not even come close to its sequel, although, it did produce the immortal and quotable line, “For Skinny [fist bop]“. It’s become a family battle cry.)

Anyway, my niece Red was saying that she had gone to see Step Up 3D in the summer with her mom, my sister SocialButterfly. Red said that she had really enjoyed it, but SocialButterfly thought it was stupid, therefore, the official verdict was stupid, but secretly Red still thought it was great. And then I thought, who am I to be slamming the Smurfs movie, when maybe the kids will think it is amazing?

Although, I would have to think less of them. My own Date Night reaction notwithstanding.

So THEN, on the way home we stopped by my other sister’s house, LittleSis, and she gifted the kids a copy of Alvin and the Chipmunks, which as you may know, mixes animation and live action in a dangerous fashion, in addition to co-opting a classic cartoon in a way that is just wrong, wrong, wrong. But we have a DVD player in the car, and it was going to be a five hour drive home, so we figured, what the heck, let’s pop it in.

And damn, if those kids didn’t think it was the funniest thing ever. The peals of laughter from the backseat were only interrupted by the occasional head bopping to the tunage. They occasionally had to talk over the movie to quote to each other lines from the very movie they were watching. Even now I can completely crack them up by shouting, “Dirty underwear!” at them.

It was like their own personal Star Wars experience. Years from now we will see them making YouTube videos of themselves in costume singing The Christmas Song, or worse, dropping thousands of dollars on “authentic” Alvin merchandise. YIPES.

So to sum up, marketing is evil, mixing cartoons with live action is evil, Date Night is potentially evil, and I know nothing about the minds of six and seven year olds. For Skinny!

Gal Smiley and I finally reached the end of Little House on the Prairie last week. She loved it, and I loved it, and we had many great conversations about the differences between life on the prairie and our life – and the remarkable similarities between Gal Smiley and Laura. I guess six-year-old girls are six-year-old girls, regardless if they live in surburbia or the open plains. There’s still the love of animals, the resistance to hair brushing, the rush to help your mother douse fires in the chimney. Well, maybe not that last one.

The whole book is about a year in the life of the Ingalls family on the prairie. In it, they build a house from scratch, furniture from scratch, a hearth from scratch. They cut through virgin soil with a plow and lay down all kinds of fruits and vegetables from carefully preserved seeds. They dig a well and one of their ponies has a baby and they forge and uneasy truce with the Indians nearby. It’s a whole year of work, work, and more work, just to establish the most fragile of homes.

And then – I really hope this does not spoil the book for y’all – in the very last chapter, they…MOVE ON. Seriously. They find out that the government is going to zone the land as an Indian reserve (the Ingalls were squatting there and did not own the land). So what does Pa Ingalls do? He just throws everything in the wagon and off they go. Bye bye house, bye bye stable, bye bye well and garden and fireplace.

I was so upset. I had BONDED with that prairie house. I felt every inch of work they did to build up that place. And then one day, POOF, it’s over. WTF, CHARLES INGALLS?

But while I was exclaiming and exclaiming about the horror, oh the horror, you know what Gal Smiley said?

She said, “Did they get to bring their special friends [meaning, their stuffed animals that they sleep with]?”

And I said, “I’m sure they did.”

And she said, “And did their Mommy and Daddy come, so they were all together as a family?”

And I said, “Yes, they were.”

And she said, “That’s okay, then.”

Ah, wise, wise Gal Smiley, That is okay, then.

Our next door neighbours moved out yesterday, and I’m finding it hard not to take it personally. They say they just “wanted a change.” I’m convinced it was something I said, or did, or didn’t say, or didn’t do. I’m doomed now to live the rest of my life drowning in neruoses, all because I can’t figure out how I managed to drive out the neighbours.

The new family moved in last night, and as of yet we know nothing about them. It’s kind of a First Contact Situation here – we need to approach delicately, with enthusiasm, but not too much enthusiasm. We need to make them feel welcome, but not stalked. I’m not sure if we should bring over treats, or just go by to say hello, or wait to bump into them in the driveway. I don’t want to blow this one! We already scared away another family!

So while we deliberate on the best approach, we’ve been spying. The kids and I spent most of yesterday hanging out at the window in our office, which faces their house, trying to peek in their dining room window. We’ve been trying to catch a glimpse into the back seat of their minivan to see if there are any boosters in there; we’ve been watching the snow carefully for footprints and/or pet prints.

At first Sir Monkeypants made fun of us, and then he got worried that we were going to blow the Contact Situation. But now we’ve totally swayed him to the dark side, and he’s being a Peeping Turtlehead too.

So where we used to gather before the TV after dinner, now we grab snacks, dim the lights, and head for the office window. Then we bond as a family over the odd glimpse of slippered feet going by (damn dining room curtains obscure the top half of the viewing area), while we chat about our day and imagine all kinds of crazy and exciting things about the new neighbours.

That’s not weird, or anything, right?

Yesterday I had to go out of the house and come back home again eight times. I counted.

And since it is negative a million outside, with a windchill of negative a billion, that means eight times putting on The Suit.

Eight times on with the snow pants, the Frankenboots (TM), the giant puffy full-length coat that feels like you are walking around in a sleeping bag. The hat, the scarf, the mittens made for people scaling Mount Everest, now used by suburbanites walking their kids to school.

And then, eight times off with the snow pants, the Frankentboots, etcetera. OH MY GOD, THE ETCETERA.

This weather, needless to say, is not exactly improving my grumpy mood.

Did you know that when you have to get dressed up like an astronaut just to run down to the corner store for whipping cream, it takes a lot longer to get out of the house? And every kid that you add to that exit strategy – another whole set of snow pants, coats, ETCETERA – more than doubles your prep time?

I was telling my friends last night that what I really need for Christmas is a t-shirt emblazoned with “SORRY I’M LATE.” It’ll just save me having to repeat myself.

All that in-and-out yesterday meant I did not have time to clean up the kitchen last night. So now I must go and sweep the floor, and wipe the counters, and wash bowls, and spoons, and measuring cups, and frying pans, etcetera. OH MY GOD, THE ETCETERA.

I don’t understand why, at pickup time, it takes me eight minutes to walk to the school, but 45 minutes for us to get home.

I don’t understand why an hour of waiting for Gal Smiley at skating class, with the Captain and the Little Miss, just flies by, while an hour of waiting for the Captain at soccer, with Gal Smiley and the Little Miss, feels like an eternity of torture in the depths of hell.

I don’t understand why, after yoga class, I feel like I’ve been beaten by thugs.

I don’t understand why I keep going back to yoga class.

I don’t understand why, on laundry day, everyone has seven pairs of underwear, seven undershirts, and yet some completely random number of socks. Gal Smiley typically has three or four pairs of socks, except for every fifth week when she suddenly produces 14 pairs of socks. The Captain regularly has 12 pairs of socks in the wash but Little Miss Sunshine has, at most, five.

And finally, I don’t understand why candy cane Hershey kisses and coffee do not qualify as a nutritious breakfast.

Despite my sad post from yesterday, I’ve been hanging in there with Andrea’s 25 Days of Christmas this year. Obviously I would have skipped the whole thing, but the older kids were excited about it. They’re young enough that three years running cements it as an unbreakable tradition.

Plus, Little Miss Sunshine was having serious issues understanding that Christmas was not today, and also, not today, and not today, either. So I thought having a visual countdown would help us all survive until the 25th with our sanity intact.

Side note: If ever you’re having a problem getting into the Christmas spirit, may I recommend Sarah McLaughlin’s CD Wintersong? Not only does it feature a cover of Joni Mitchell’s River, the saddest Christmas song of all time, but it also includes such upbeat tunes as Wintersong, In The Bleak Midwinter, Song for a Winter’s Night, and the world’s most downbeat versions of O Little Town of Bethleham and Silent Night. Cheery!

Anyway, I have to say, the one bright note in this troublesome month is that the kids have really thrown themselves into the Christmas activities. They’re loving it, and that’s really just so nice.

Today was the best day yet, I think. Our activity was to make puppets and put on a show for Sir Monkeypants. I thought we’d make a Santa and a few reindeer and do the story of Rudolph, but Captain Jelly Belly insisted on doing The Christmas Carol (as he calls it). That’s because he wanted to make a puppet of Marley in particular, but the only version of A Christmas Carol that he has seen is The Muppet Christmas Carol. In that one, Marley is actually “Marley and Marley” and is played by Stadler and Waldorf, who are the two cranky old guys who throw insults at Fozzie Bear. So his “Marley” puppet is actually two guys, held together with a “chain” made from a piece of string.

See if you identify the other characters in the photo — Ebeneezer, Ghost of Christmas Past (aka The Princess), Ghost of Christmas Future (Gal Smiley made him extra scary by adding lots of teeth and holes in his outfit), Santa (who played the role of Ghost of Christmas Present), and Rudolph (who played the part of someone asking for charity at the beginning, and then again at the end).

We wrapped up the play by singing Jingle Bells and I think I am safe in saying, it was the Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Take that, Alistar Sim.

I’m having a hard time getting in the Christmas spirit this year. Storms a-brewing in the extended family are getting me down. I’m ready to curl up on the couch with a giant box of chocolates and block out the world.

I usually run to put up the tree, put on the Christmas tunes, get out the ribbon and tape. This year I’m dragging my heels. Everything feels heavy and dull. The usual comforts feel stressful and superficial. I don’t even feel at home when I’m at home.

A week or so ago, we were driving the kids to their Saturday morning swim lessons. When we left our house, the day was chilly but clear, and the sun was shining in a blue sky. When we turned onto the pool’s street, the road suddenly disappeared about 500 metres in front of us. There was a dark grey curtain as far as we could see to the right and left, covering the entire horizon from heaven down to road.

I was driving, and I almost couldn’t believe what I was seeing. All around the car was sunshine, but we were rapidly approaching a wall of black that looked almost solid. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening, and it seemed too unreal to stop the car and turn around. So forward we went, into the darkness.

Suddenly we passed through the boundary into the snow squall. All light vanished and the car was surrounded by huge snowflakes, whipping around in strong winds. We could barely see the pool building even though it was less than a block away. We were lost to the storm.

The slighest dusting of snow on the ground causes a lot of excitement around here. The kids can’t wait to get outside and celebrate the coming of winter. There are sleds to pull, angels to make, snowballs to throw. They’re eager to shovel the driveway, even.

I should take my cues from them. There is joy to be found in even the smallest of annoyances. Otherwise, this Christmas will be lost to the storm, too.

We’ve been watching Jamie Oliver’s show about changing food in schools, which we recorded back in the summer. I think you’re supposed to come away from the show feeling resolved to question your own diet and to be shamed into improving it. But I’m having quite the opposite reaction – watching the show makes me feel smug and superior about how great my diet is.

Did you see the family in the first episode whose freezer was 100% packed to the brim with frozen pizzas? I’m not that mom! Ergo, I rock.

Lately I find I hear Jamie’s voice in my head all the time, commenting on my food choices. He’s like a tiny angel on my right shoulder, with a tiny camera crew in tow, watching my every move and nodding approvingly.

Scene One – The Grocery Store

Jamie, with camera crew: Hi there! We’re patrolling the store today looking for moms so we can point out what terrible shoppers they are. Can we peek in your cart?

Me: Knock yourself out.

Jamie: Well well well! Carrots, apples, and cucumber! You’re doing a great job!

Me (modestly): I know.

Jamie: And is that a spaghetti squash I see? Are your kids actually going to eat that?

Me: Anything is possible.

Jamie: What’s for dinner tonight?

Me: Chicken stir fry, with vegtables and rice. I don’t like to brag, but I make my own sauce.

Jamie: You are AMAZING. Now, is that a frozen pizza I see at the bottom of the pile? And a box of Captain Crunch?

Me: These are not the droids you’re looking for.

Jamie: Oh, no problems here, those are minor infractions. Overall, you make for bad TV but you are so inspiring, we will of course put you on the show. Bravo!

Scene Two – Making Dinner At Home

Jamie, with camera crew: Knock knock!

Me: Um, hello?

Jamie: We’ve randomly selected one house in Canada to visit and critique their food. And you’re the chosen one!

Me: Come on in.

Jamie: What’s for dinner tonight?

Me: Chicken fajitas.

Jamie: Wow, are your kids really going to eat all those vegetables?

Me: I’m going to say yes to that. One out of three ain’t bad, right?

Jamie: Not at all! I have absolutely nothing negative to say here. You are AMAZING.

Me (modestly): I know.

Jamie: Maybe you should be the one running school lunch programs! Ha! Ha! Ha!

(We laugh because it’s funny, and we laugh because it’s true.)

Scene Three – Watching TV After Dinner

The phone rings.

Me: Hello?

Jamie: It’s Jamie Oliver! We’re randomly calling families to slam their eating habits!

Me: Bring it on.

Jamie: What are you doing right now?

Me: Watching your show on the PVR.

Jamie: I’m sure the viewing audience of my show will believe that is a total coincidence!

Me: I’m sure they will.

Jamie: What are you eating right now?

Me: Well, I cleverly brushed my teeth and flossed immediately after dinner. So although I feel snacky, if I eat anything I’ll have to brush and floss again and I hate that. So I’m actually just having a glass of water, because although I would like to eat I’m too lazy to re-floss.

Jamie: AMAZING.

Me: Laziness trumps snackiness. It’s a life motto.

Jamie: You are simply brill. Give this woman her own show! The camera crew will be right over.

Me: Um…Just let me tidy up a bit first.