I’m so excited right now I could just about pee my pants. And thus, this should be a pretty entertaining blog post. Every time you see a typo, DRINK!

So there is this band, from Scotland, who I love. And the only other person in the universe who I know who loves them is my sister, FameThrowa. And this band is called The Trash Can Sinatras. I own everything they have ever produced, which is a surprising amount considering no one else has ever heard of them.

They only ever played here in Ottawa one time, and that was September 24, 2004, and I had just had a baby three days before (Gal Smiley), and I STILL thought about going. If only I knew then what I know now about baby wearing.

Here’s how awesome FameThrowa is: she talked the band into letting her record the whole concert for me, through their sound board. AWESOME.

So there is another band that I love that slightly more people have heard of, and they are called Belle and Sebastian.

And if you are familiar with my “About Me” page, you will know that I have an unhealthy obsession with Ken Jennings.

Kay, I feel like the excitement is fading as I have to explain all this detail.

Plus, I have a feeling everyone else in the world is going to find this very anti-climatic.

My point here is that Ken Jennings blogged today (of COURSE I read his blog) and mentioned that last night he was at a Belle and Sebastian concert, and that the Trash Can Sinatras were opening.

SQUEE SQUEE SQUEE SQUEE.

On SO many levels.

Trash Cans + Belles + KenJen = Pants Peeing.

In other news, I spent almost all day today putting together a mixed CD of all my personal theme songs in celebration of my 40th birthday. I was going to make copies and hand them out to everyone but now I realize no one will ever, ever enjoy this CD except for me. I’m thinking that Sir Monkeypants probably won’t even let me play it in the car. So I’m not sure I will be doing that.

But while making this CD I spent hours, hours, listening to both these bands and so I’m just in the right nostalgic frame of mind right now for maximum SQUEE.

SQUEE! SQUEE! SQUEE!

I’ll try to calm down now.

There’s a municipal election coming up soon in Ottawa. I always vote, because I think it’s really important, and I always try to do as much reading as possible of the candidate’s websites so I can make an informed decision.

Although, it’s becoming less and less necessary now that the Captain is seven and totally politically active. He is extremely bitter that he won’t be allowed to vote until he is 18. Just one other thing he is being denied, like Coke and riding in the front seat and the ability to legally say no to cigarettes. Maybe he’ll be Prime Minister someday (rock on, French Immersion!), and then he can work on lowering the voting age to seven. It’ll totally happen.

Anyway, whenever there is an election he gets very interested and likes to know about everyone who is running. Then he picks out a favourite based 100% on what their signs look like around the neighbourhood. This year he is supporting Jim Watson for mayor, although in fairness, Jim is the only candidate to have any signs at all around here. How the other people think they even stand a chance of winning when they are not actively campaigning for the support of seven-year-olds in Kanata, I’m sure I don’t know.

(Funny side story: Jim is also the only candidate who has been to our door. He came by a couple of weeks ago and knocked. Gal Smiley runs to the door while I am packing up the Captain’s stuff for soccer and she’s screaming, “MOM! THE PHONE GUY IS AT THE DOOR!” while I’m screaming, “CAPTAIN! WHERE ARE YOUR SOCCER SOCKS! I ONLY HAVE ONE SOCK HERE! WHERE IS THE OTHER ONE!” and then Gal Smiley with the “MOM! THE PHONE GUY!” And so eventually I make it to the door after a million hours, and lo, there is Jim Watson, and I was so embarrassed. He graciously says, “I can see you are very busy, so I’ll just say hello and leave you my information.” I didn’t even get a chance to tell him that the Captain is totally voting for him, in about 11 years. Also, the other soccer sock turned out to be ATTACHED to the first soccer sock and I just didn’t realize it was two instead of one. I AM AN IDIOT.)

Anyway!

There is a big race for councilor in our ward because our councilor is retiring, meaning it is wide open. Six men are running and I haven’t had time yet to read about all of them, but of course, the Captain has strong opinions. He’s picked someone he wants me to vote for (and the pressure is ON, let me tell you), but mostly, he is horrified, horrified, at the idea that Aaron Helleman will win.

This is why:

The Captain hates his signs. He hates the photo. I would have thought that his seven-year-old brain would be easily swayed by large, flashy, expensive signs featuring multiple colours AND a picture, but no, Aaron is DEAD TO HIM. Every time we pass one of his signs, the Captain calls for a car-wide boycott — children must close their eyes and groan, parents must attempt to spit. And there are a LOT of his signs around. I’m spitting cotton.

At first I found this kind of amusing and thought it was immaterial to my own vote. But the more it happens, the more I find that I, too, am starting to find Aaron’s smirk just a little too obnoxious. Just a little too smug. Is it because I’ve read his website and don’t like his platform? Or is it because the constant barrage of anti-Aaron negativity from the backseat is swaying my judgment?

All I know is, I’m spitting with a little more enthusiasm these days.

Man, maybe the Captain really WILL be Prime Minister someday. Either that, or Canada’s answer to Jon Stewart. I can definitely recommend that future candidates in our area run their signs by him before going ahead. He’s tuned in to the youth of Ottawa, dudes!

Sadly, our outgoing councilor has thrown her support behind Aaron (her old campaign signs ALSO featured her photo, HARDLY A COINCIDENCE), so he’ll probably win. Since I don’t like Aaron’s closest competitor, I’ll probably be throwing away my vote on a smaller candidate.

With really pretty light blue signs, of course. Endorsed by my very own seven-year-old Political Pundit.

[I feel really badly about mentioning Aaron a million times in this post when I probably won’t even vote for him. So to even things up, here are the other five candidates for my ward: Allan Hubley; Marc Favreau; Rodney Tellez; Michel Tardif; and Perry Simpson, who is actively opposed to lawn signs and thus is NEVER going to get any support from the seven-year-olds in his ward.]

The only thing my tomboy six-year-old daughter wanted for her birthday was a Ken Doll. So we got her a Ken Doll.

World, meet Davin:

That’s DaviN, with an N at the end, not DaviD. DaviN. She invented this name herself and it’s been her favourite for several years now. She has many bears and dogs named Davin but now that Ken Doll Davin has entered the picture, all others have been forgotten.

She LOVES her Davin. He’s never far from her side while she is at home. The only reason why I have the above photo of Davin is that she started crying in the mornings when she had to go to school and leave Davin behind, so I took this picture and printed it out and put it in her backpack so she could sneak peeks at Davin all day long. It’s like her own personal Teen Beat magazine.

He makes a pretty good son-in-law, I have to say. He likes to sit on the couch with us in the evenings, sipping tea (he has a touch of the British about him, despite the surfer dude appearance) and making snarky comments about The Amazing Race. Any future boyfriends of Gal Smiley have a LOT to live up to, I tell you.

So after we’d had Davin for a week or so, Gal Smiley started making noise about having other outfits for Davin. We have tons of Barbie clothes, left over from when FameThrowa and I were children, but we never had a Ken doll so there are no Ken clothes. I naively told her that I’d get her some Ken clothes for Davin, but you know what? Mattel doesn’t make them anymore. They don’t sell separate Ken doll clothes, at all. NOTHING. What up, Mattel?

The major pattern companies don’t make Ken doll patterns anymore, either — just one or two Barbie patterns each. Ken is totally getting stiffed, I tell you.

So I hit up eBay and got myself an 80s era Barbie and Ken pattern. Then I spent all Thanksgiving weekend with a wicked cold, hunched over the sewing machine. I have lots of sewing experience – I’ve made lots of clothes for myself, from shorts to jumpers to blouses to prom dresses – but trust me, there is nothing so frustrating as trying to sew working cuffs on a shirt for a Ken Doll.

By Monday, I was hand hemming tiny sleeves on the world’s smallest blue velvet smoking jacket and wondering how my mother managed to remain sane. I’m sure I would have given up, but Gal Smiley came by on a regular basis with Davin to let me know that they both LOVED ME SO MUCH. So that made it all worth it.

And in the end, dude is STYLIN’.

When my kids were babies, we started them on a bedtime routine that included a story. They’d snuggle up on our laps and we’d look at a picture book — probably one we’d read a hundred times already — and we’d read out loud, then tuck them in.

Our older two — ages 7 1/2 and just-turned-six — are beyond the picture-book stage, though. We still love to read to them at night, but it is getting harder to find appropriate books. We’re looking for novels, longer books that will allow them to get involved with the characters and story, and also to have to remember what has happened from day to day. We want something that is family friendly and age appropriate – not too scary, not involving awkward dating issues. We’re also trying to encourage them to read by themselves at their own level, so we don’t want to read any bedtime books that they really could be reading themselves.

So these magical books have to be a) advanced chapter books but b) not TOO advanced and c) classics we can all enjoy. Not too much of a tall order, no?

I thought I’d post about this in order to get some ideas from anyone else in this spot. What are you reading your Grade 1 and Grade 2 kids at night?

Here’s what we’ve tried so far in our quest to move beyond picture books. Gal Smiley, at age 6, prefers books where “something happens” right away – she has no patience for a slow build. So, like her brother before her, we are finding that short stories work well.

So far we have read Louis Sachar’s Wayside Books (start with Sideways Stories from Wayside School) — each story is the perfect bedtime story length and your kid will find them hilarious. We also read the A.A. Milne Winnie-The-Pooh books (we have them all collected into one volume called The World Of Pooh). They’re also really funny (although that last one is QUITE the tearjerker, have tissues ready or skip it altogether), and the stories are long enough that they can be broken over two or three nights.

Right now we are reading Pippi Longstocking by Lindgren and it’s a big hit. It’s funny right from the first page and although it’s a novel, it reads more like a series of short stories. I’m not sure what’s next up for her – I thought I might try Little House On The Prairie, or I’ve heard really good things about The Magic Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton – does anyone know if that is action-packed yet not too scary?

The Captain has been through all the Flat Stanley books, and they were a hit, and he’s also read a few of the slower moving classics like The Mouse and the Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary and Stuart Little by E.B. White. He also enjoyed Freckle Juice by Judy Blume and he’s currently reading James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl, which is weird as Dahl usually is, but doesn’t seem to be causing too many nightmares. He also recently read the first Harry Potter book – I’m iffy on those in terms of scariness but he seems to be doing okay. I think he and Sir Monkeypants are going to tackle the second book soon, but after that we will take a break from Harry for a while until the Captain is old enough to handle them.

I have a list of other books I loved as a child that I’m anxious to share, but I’m not sure my kids are ready for them yet. Any suggestions for six and seven year olds?

So, some have asked for photos from the wedding but sadly, FameThrowa is the second most private person on Earth, behind Mr. Chatty. Followed closely by Sir Monkeypants. So there will be no public photos of my gorgeous sister and her gorgeous new husband or my own gorgeous husband and three gorgeous children.

At least, not their faces. Here is a shot of Little Miss Sunshine wishing at the fountain at the pre-wedding photo shoot. I really like the colours in this picture.

And here is a similar shot a few seconds later of Gal Smiley and Captain Jelly Belly.

The dress that Little Miss Sunshine wore was so very, very her. She loves pink and flowers and big, puffy, twirly skirts and sparkly shoes (did you notice the sparkle shoes?). She wanted to wear a tiara too and we were willing but we forgot it. She’ll definitely have a huge cream puff of a dress at her own wedding.

Gal Smiley was more of a wardrobe challenge. She’s our little tomboy and that’s a tough one for us sometimes. Both Sir Monkeypants and I were hoping she would wear a dress but that’s really unlike her, and more importantly, it makes her feel uncomfortable to be wearing girly clothes like that. I’ve been to more than one wedding where photos were ruined by a cranky child and the last thing I wanted was for Gal Smiley to be upset and refuse to pose for pictures because she was wearing some pink frilly costume.

So despite the fact that we did have a pink frilly dress on hand – just in case of a girly miracle – I made her a little yellow vest as an alternative, and she loved it right away. She wore it with a long sleeved t-shirt with a collar, brown pants, and some sweet black mary janes we got from our neighbour. In the end I think she looked quite adorable, and also, just like Gal Smiley should.

It’s odd sometimes, having a tomboy. We so want her to just be herself, to figure out what it means to be Gal Smiley. But there’s so much pressure from all kinds of sources on her, from her friends asking her why she wears boys clothes all the time, to people giving her gifts of frilly pink and purple clothing, to girls on the playground telling her she can’t play with the boys unless one of them is her boyfriend, to her younger sister wondering why she wants a Ken doll instead of a Barbie. We’re trying to help her walk the fine line between fitting in and being who she wants to be. I hope we’re doing an okay job.

I can definitely say this: I love that little girl, for who she is, for whoever she wants to be. Rock on with your tomboy self, little one.

Hey! FameThrowa got married! It was lovely, and everything went really well. FameThrowa was gorgeous, Mr. Chatty was handsome, I teared up a little during the ceremony, and the cupcakes were amazing. Success!

Our kids were well behaved but TOTAL lightweights. For one time only, we told them they could stay up as late as they wanted. No limits!

The first time one of my kids asked to go to bed: Gal Smiley, 6:45 p.m. PARTY ANIMAL.

By 7:30 both girls were begging to go home. Around 8 I finally took them down to our hotel room to get their sleeptime stuffed animals, thinking it would appease them, and they both tried to get into their jammies. I made them come back up to the party (mean, mean mommy!) but just after 9, Gal Smiley burst into tears and Little Miss Sunshine was already 80% asleep in Sir Monkeypants’ arms, and thus, we called it a night. They were both asleep approximately 30 seconds after their heads hit the pillow.

LIGHTWEIGHTS.

The Captain, meanwhile, decided he was going to stay up until 10 p.m. and he was determined to make it. He spent the hours between 8 and 10 standing on the dance floor — he refused to sit down — hugging his stuffed monkey and swaying gently back and forth with half-closed eyes. It was beyond sad. At 10:01 Sir Monkeypants brought him downstairs and he half-finished declaring he had made it before he totally passed out.

LIGHTWEIGHT.

So, you know, we didn’t exactly tear up the night or anything, but we had a nice time and rocked it in a very small, subtle kind of way. The kids sat very quietly for the ceremony, and were very polite, offering smiles and handshakes to complete strangers, and all in all, we couldn’t have asked for better.

As it turns out, Gal Smiley had picked up some sort of bug that was preventing her from becoming a Disco Queen. She spent most of the night coughing and then, for a Grand Finale, threw up in the wee hours of the morning. Yay. Last night, the Captain came down with the same cough and he showed up at my bedside at 3:30 in the morning with hands covering a mouth full of barf. Let me tell you, NOTHING gets a parent out of bed faster — Sir Monkeypants and I were both out of bed and shrieking – “TO THE BATHROOM! TO THE BATHROOM!” – in about .001 milliseconds. Good times!

Congratulations, FameThrowa and Mr. Chatty — you two are adorable!

This morning as we were driving to gymnastics class, “I’m Still Standing” came on the radio (sometimes I enjoy the comfort of Suburban Mom Soft Rock, WHAT OF IT?).

Little Miss Sunshine informed me that “when I was a baby, I used to love this song!”

I told her it was sung by Elton John.

The Little Miss thought that I had said, “Elt AND John.”

Then we had a five minute debate in which she insisted that it was being sung by only ONE person, and so why did I tell her it was sung by TWO people, when clearly, there was only ONE singer, and I was wrong, meanwhile I just kept repeating “ELTON JOHN” over and over again like an idiot, and wondered why, exactly, we were having this conversation, again?

It was one of those moments that are so exasperating and yet so adorable. This is what makes being a parent so cool.

Then some AC/DC came on and I had to shut off the radio because even I have my limits.

My good friend and professional writer, Lee Ann, got herself a book deal this spring and I am just BUSTING with pride for her. You can follow her journey from idea through to on-the-library-shelves in her new blog, Work In Progress. Stop by and say hi!

Back in May, I was swamped with PTA work, preschool work, and wedding planning assistance. We were totally overbooked with extra curricular activities and I had reached the limit of lunch-making enthusiasm. I remember thinking, if I can just get through to the end of the school year, then our schedule will be lighter and I can finally relax.

But then the end of June rolled around and I realized that the Little Miss had a birthday coming up, and I still had a ton of stuff to do for Blog Out Loud. Plus I had another wedding-related party I was planning, and the preschool packages – custom made for each of 50+ students – had to be mailed out. So I thought, if I can just get through to the end of July, I’ll be golden.

And in August, my sister came to visit for a week and we sat for their kids, and we went on many day trips and a couple of overnight trips. I had a wedding shower to plan and the kids had to get ready to go back to school and I knew that if I could just make it through to when school started, I’d have so much more time to myself.

Then September came and I had another birthday party to plan. Everyone needed something to wear to the wedding and I had some signage to make. There was gardening and weeding and so many little errands I had been putting off until the kids were back in school. And I thought, I just need to make it past the wedding into October, and then the schedule will settle down.

But now I’m looking at fall on our calendar, and I see Thanksgiving, which I have done no planning for, and then Halloween, which requires three costumes. And after that there’s my Month Of Turning 40, involving three separate parties that I’m planning. And after that we’re into December, which means Christmas decorations, and Christmas baking, and Christmas shopping, and our annual advent calendar of Daily Christmas Family Activities.

So when are things going to slow down, exactly?

Now I know this all sounds like complaining, but I’m really not. I know I do too much and should learn to say no a little more often. But the truth is that I really LOVE all this stuff, it’s all just a crapload of fun, and I would hate to have to say no to any of it. It’s busy and sometimes even frantic but it’s all just been wonderful. Every single one of these events is 100% worth it.

But I am starting to realize that there will always be something on the horizon, the Next Big Thing, that keeps me from focusing on some bigger projects I’ve had in mind. It’s all the usual stuff that mommybloggers dream about — writing, photography, baking, design — nothing unique, nothing fancy, nothing that is likely to make me a famous millionaire. But you never know, until you find some time to try.

Little Miss Sunshine started going to preschool three mornings a week this September, and next year she’ll be in JK. It is time for me to start thinking about what I want to do when I grow up. I am loving being a party planner, a run-around mom, a live-in nursemaid, a math tutor and a cook. But I feel like now is the time to decide if I want more than that. Something for myself, something that leaves a mark of “me” on the world.

And if I’m not careful, if I keep waiting for that One Last Thing to be over and done with…it’s never going to happen.

I need to find a way to balance all the stuff I do around here for this household with stuff I want to do for me. I have no idea how to do it, but recognizing that the need is there is the first step, don’t you think?

FameThrowa is getting married in a little less than two weeks. This past Saturday, our regular monthly poker game was at her place, which was the perfect opportunity for the other five of us to show up looking like this:

Being part of five brides walking through the downtown Ottawa streets was an awesome, hilarious experience. I think we should start a new gang. We had such an amazing time. FameThrowa was super surprised and delighted and it was quite worth it.

On the down side, we all found out just how much having babies changes the shape of your ribcage. It was the babies, we swear! All those years of brownies and pie at poker nights had nothing to do with it!

While we were playing, I got all nostalgic and weepy about poker night. It’s been almost six years we’ve been playing together now, and that makes these ladies like sisters to me. As a dollar or two changes hands on the table, we share everything with each other.

We’ve been through PTA drama, family drama, trip planning drama. We’ve started new jobs and made tough career decisions. We’ve supported each other through family-member illnesses, miscarriages, break ups, divorces, and being called Mother of the Bride (which has happened to TWO of us now).

When we started playing, we had eight children between us. We’ve since added five more. There’s been plenty of nursing at the poker table. There’s been plenty of swapping of parenting advice, and plenty of comforting pats on the back as we vent about our fears and concerns.

We’ve swapped recipes and Disney tips and cool new music. We’ve swapped clothes and jewelry and baby items.

I love you gals. See you next month when I take all your pennies.