This morning we took the Mad Whip to “The Park without the Playground” (as opposed to “George Bush”, “George Bush with the Playground” and “Daddy’s Park” which are all totally different experiences). We were worried about the RAV-4 being smaller than the Explorer as we tried to cram in the customary 3 kids bikes, two scooters and a Wave Board. They all fit. They never fit like that in the Explorer.

2. Cheapest Mid-Life Crisis Vehicle Ever

No, not the RAV-4. The Wave . It was the T-Bot’s birthday present, but it is The Daddy who has become the Wave-Master. He likes to wiggle his way past us shouting in a mock California-Surf-Dude voice “THE WAVE!“. As he did this at the almost-deserted park this morning I yelled back “I don’t think you are quite at the stage where 19 year old girls are going to be throwing themselves at you!”.

We turned the corner and guess who was standing there, open-mouthed.

Yes.

A gaggle of 19 year old girls.

3. Un-co? Try Ice Skating!

I have been promising Baby Sister ice-skating for such a long time. This weekend we finally made it to the rink. After all, she is about to turn 6.

Baby Sister is one of the most uncoordinated people I know. She trips over her own feet, knocks over anything in her path and only has to turn the handlebars on her bike to fall off it.

A little harsh maybe But once at the rink she did what we like to call an “Aunty Natty“.

(Sorry, Aunty Natty, but I promise you it is a compliment!)

She listened to the instructions, got up on those skates, and in 30 minutes was skating like a pro.

4. Fish and Chips

Yesterday we were at the supermarket and The Daddy left us by the donuts to go get some fish for dinner.

He returned brandishing cod wrapped up in white paper.

“Look!” he said, “Cod! And look at the price! We are going to eat fish and chips tonight!!”

Next, he put potatoes in the cart.

And then he tossed a deep fat fryer in there. Not kidding.

And before I knew it, we were at the checkout and he was trying to Google a recipe on his iphone, to be sure we had not missed any ingredients:

“BBC Recipe Fish and Chips“, he murmured urgently into the phone.

“Ah, not again! ” he sighed, as Google brought up “fishing trips”.

We never did get all the ingredients, and had to improvise. But the fish and chips were yummy. Yummy, if not good for the waistline.

Also,  I had to burn scented candles for hours afterwards.

He is talking about frying home made donuts next.

But I can always make a start: this past weekend I donated my SUV to the Salvation Army.

Here it is, being led away by a tow truck.

After almost two years of urging by The Daddy, I had to give it up. Because, although I was sentimentally attached to it, housed it, hand washed it and bought it anything it wanted (new battery and cables! new cooling system! sticky tires! new rear end! - and by that I mean a double hip replacement, not some sort of cheap fancy plastic surgery…) , it did not repay my love.

The sad and sudden end to our relationship began Tuesday afternoon outside Walgreens, when the T-Bot, The Wictor and I got back into the car only for it not to start.

Again.

My first thought? “This is a sign that I must stop visiting drugstores”. Because last time the car wouldn’t start it was parked outside CVS. And my mind works like that. I can make the connection between an emergency 9-pack of toilet tissue and $879 worth of repairs in the time it takes to click your fingers.

And clicking his fingers was no doubt what the Ford service advisor was doing as he processed my car. Clicking his fingers as he sang gaily “We’re in the money! We’re in the money! We gotta lotta whaddit takes to get along!” Although it took him precisely 30 hours to get to the point of gay abandon, at least over my particular car. Due to the fact that they had work “backed up” like nobody’s business.  Or like a clogged toilet. Choose the metaphor you prefer. Personally I choose the latter where my local Ford dealership is concerned, and yes I do consider it everybody’s business that you have sh*tty service, Ford. Actually I do.

(I would like to stop here to mention specifically the day I took my car in to Ford for an oil change appointment at 9am, informed the service advisor that I needed it back for the school run, was told it was no problem, heaved my 1 year old in his car seat into the courtesy bus, sat at home car less all morning, started calling at noon to be told each time that my car had “just gone into the shop” , requested the courtesy bus at 1.30, got into it at 2, and arrived to see my car parked out front. And then they told me there was nothing to pay - because they had not gotten around to doing the oil change yet.

I am not even going to go into the rear window hinge repair they did under a recall, during which they broke the hydraulic seal on the hinge and then refused to repair it because it was not covered under the recall. OK. I just went into it. Because I am mad.)

So, putting all rancor aside, before I could actually get my car to the service advisor I had to call some people I am very very familiar with. The AAA. I get on well with the AAA. We have been seeing each other quite regularly for over a year now. We are friends. They tow me. They don’t charge me (well, apart from my yearly membership fee) and we part company on good terms.

Then I went to see some other good friends of mine, Entreprise Rent a Car. Their office is on the Ford compound, you see. Which makes it very very convenient to rent a substitute car, at vast expense, every time my main ride refuses to start.

Only, not any more! This is how desperate I was to get rid of Ford, in fact, to never set foot on their premises again:

I took my family on vacation!

We spent two whole evenings at Disneyland! the Toyota Salesroom!

And we emerged with this:

(A stock photo! Because I am such an awesome Mom that I forgot to take a photo of my kids with the new car - until 10 minutes ago. At which point I discovered it was dark. And snowing.)

And yes, it may possibly take us hurtling down the highway with the throttle jammed open, who knows. I don’t take the hype all that seriously, considering the fact that for almost 5 years, until about 6 weeks ago actually, I was unknowingly driving a car which could have spontaneously combusted at any moment.

Or just randomly broken down.

So, here we are all happy happy happy, the car is quiet, just the right size and the seats are clean. I got free this and free that and even free oil changes. And it doesn’t guzzle gas.

It feels good - apart  from that big bruise on my shin where I keep kicking myself for not doing this earlier.

Can you say “Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish” here? Or does that sound like Hugh Grant should be mumbling it through his fringe?

Maybe, this being the USA, I have to say “Good Riddance to Bad Trash”?

I love getting a viewpoint of their daily life, whether it be their walk to work, or their kids.

Unfortunately you won’t see any daily photos from me anytime soon, but last night, after a stressful day which began by spilling a whole packet of couscous grains onto the kitchen floor, I felt relaxed enough to document a typical evening.

After seeing the results,

I think you will agree,

that Project 365 is not for me.

So, here goes:

Dinner Prep. The Fates are trying to tell me something. Probably that I am not meant to have a clean floor.

Moving on. Pre-dinner drinks to take away the stress of the endless sweeping:

First thought? I wish the beer companies would stop trying to be witty. That is not the slightest bit funny.

Oh…

I don’t think it says “p*ss off”. They actually want me to pry off the top.

I may need glasses.

The Daddy idly browses a magazine. Wonders if this homely looking specimen would agree to be our "au pair".

If you don’t get this, check out the photos on Great Au Pair, and count the number of applicants you would trust with your husband.

I promise, you have that many fingers.

It would be lovely to have an au pair though, because of this:

In the meantime there has been a lot of noise going on. No panic, it was just the kids trashing the upstairs lounge. So that's OK then.

Next, I try to distract myself from the mess by focusing on the cat. Or mostly, not focusing on the cat. To be fair, he is not a willing participant.

Smile, Fiji! I said smile, not sniff...

OK. Keep still animal, we’ll try one more time, OK?

Gee, thanks. Very attractive.

Whew. Dinner’s over, the kids are in bed, time for some peace and quiet.

Except, there’s a strange noise coming from the lounge.

It looks like we have an escapee…

...and he found himself a new toy.

Perfect end to a perfect evening.

Don’t you think?

Luckily we still have some silver hairspray left over from Halloween and she is going to wear her ballet tights ‘cos they go baggy.

“Hmm… ” I said, “…and I’ll see if I have something to paint some lines on you, to look like wrinkles”.

“Why?”,  she asked seriously.

“Because old people have wrinkles on their faces”

“Oh!” (studying me closely) “You mean like the ones on your face?”

“Yes. Like the (sigh)… ones on my face.”

“So you are going to draw wrinkles all over, all around my mouth and eyes -  just like yours?”

***

Talking of wrinkles, I have done something absurd. I just bought my first ever dryer.

To be fair, it is really only half a dryer - I bought the Euro model which as well as being half the price is a teeny tiny little number. I was hoping its small stature would encourage me to (cough) only use it when really needed or for emergencies, as my lack of dryer has, until now, been more or less my only contribution towards saving the environment.

But now I fear it will just have me swearing on a daily basis as I try to cram all the contents of my XXL Texas-Sized washer into it in one go.

And I bet all that cramming will negate the whole reason for the dryer, which was to eliminate wrinkles.

I mean, wrinkles in my clothes.

Seen here on the inside of a closet door.

So that the monsters can’t escape into the bedroom at night.

The Wictor started waking up in the night again. Probably a stage.

At first, I would take him back to bed. And then, one night as he crawled in with me, I was too tired to do anything about it. Doing nothing became easy. I would wake up briefly to him getting under the covers and cuddling up, and that was that.

As it became a habit, I started not even noticing any more. I started sleeping through.

Most mornings now I wake up to find him stretched out, snoring, beside me.

And I have no recollection of how he got there.

But that is not the problem. The problem is this:

This morning I woke up to find there were four of us in the bed.

When Baby Sister woke up, I asked her:

“Baby Sister, how did you end up in my bed last night? ”

Her eyes gleamed. She was still in awe at her lucky break. And she replied:

“Mommy, I woke up in the middle of the night and came down to give you a kiss. Then you leaned over and pulled me in!”.

We forget almost every year, but this year we remembered.

We will be celebrating with a family trip to buy SEAFOOD.

Had to shout, because, you know, LARGE QUANTITIES OF SEAFOOD.

Washed down with pink bubbles.

Shut Up!

I happen to LIKE pink bubbles.

Any excuse for a party.

Especially on anniversaries which come but once every few years.

Except when it is, like the threat of having to buy whole new wardrobes when the ones we have are not even halfway to being worn out.

The Daddy, trying to be helpful, found a diet for me in a French magazine which promised to have me looking like a young Kate Moss, in just 30 days! It involved, well, mostly not eating. I could probably fast for a month and it would be easier than following all the complicated routines laid out in the magazine article, like spinach and broccoli are OK for lunch but no green beans or tomatoes.

In any case, I have never been able to diet. My metabolism just doesn’t allow it. Plus my children do not enjoy being shouted at and the The Daddy hates the crying fits. (And that’s just when I miss my afternoon snack). So right now I am following a modified eating plan involving lots of protein throughout the day and just a little bit in the evening. I have had to reduce the sugar and carbs for this one, people and OMG this is difficult.

(Sugar in tea doesn’t really count. Honestly it doesn’t. Once it has dissolved it is not sugar any more, right? It becomes part of the tea! And yes, I am suddenly drinking a lot of tea, so what? Did you notice the weather is cold???)

After only two days I am starting to wonder if it is really worth it. It’s slightly less painful than planned exercise though. Exercise is The Daddy’s weight control method of choice, which is why he has decided to stay fat until it gets warm enough to start running again. Don’t laugh - he will run every day for a week during spring, after which he will have lost about 20lbs, following which he will run for an extra week to get a six pack.

It’s just not funny, having to live with him. It’s enough to drive me to cookies.

They should give up counting at that point and just call it miserable.

Of course, my experience of freezing is in past. Or was in the past, until this week.

I have been updated.

(Oh! Don’t freak out, North American friends! These temperatures are in Celcius… Our low was -7 degrees C which is just under 20 degrees F)

Last night my friend in Seattle told me I should detach all the hoses from the outdoor faucets or something drastic would happen to our pipes, but by the time I got out to do that the hose was frozen to the faucet. The Daddy told me to get back out there with some warm water, but wouldn’t do it himself. Oh, how I laughed at the futility of his request. And if a pipe bursts as a result, it will be his fault for refusing to complete a manly chore. There are times when all feminism needs to go out the window, and one of those times is when I am freezing my butt off.

So. I know some of you up North and abouts are reading this and then looking outside to the driving snow and laughing a bitter, hollow laugh.

I understand, I really do.

But it is all relative.

Exhibit 1: Furry Boots.

Have been in storage for the last 5 years, since we came to this hot and sweaty state. I pulled them out in the hopes of keeping my tootsies warm, only to remember that they can only be worn with mini skirts or skinny jeans. Hmm. Skinny jeans and mini skirts, I remember you fondly from another life. A life to which I can now only aspire  ;-)

Exhibit 2: Protesting Tropical Plants:

One thing I did manage to do was cover some of our many tropical outdoor plants with plastic so they wouldn’t get frostbite. But I had my Mom brain in at the time, and only looked after the children. All my teeny tiny little cheap-to-replace plants have been protected, thank you very much. Why did I think the more expensive mature plants would be able to protect themselves? Maybe find themselves a warm nook to crawl into?

(Yes, this is a very bad long distance shot. Due to my reluctance to step more than one foot out of my semi-warm house).

Exhibit 3: There is no exhibit 3. I just want you to know that I get very very cold very very easily. And now I am off to wrap myself up  in a blanket and sulk.

But if the king size duvet cover should win, I will not let it make me cry.

If by chance I do cry, I will not let my children see.

Because I know, that if they grow up believing that they can insert a king size duvet into a king size duvet cover then they will totally be able to do it.

And then I can get them onto bed changing duty.

******************************

And now for something completely different:

Here are a few of the things my children have made recently. The kind of triumphs which give me hope and confidence and prevent the whole duvet cover thing from keeping me awake at night:

A Pile of Leaves.

And then a Mess of Leaves.

Yet Another Gingerbread House.

(apologies for the poor quality photo. It was dark that day)

A Ugaglaon Wood (Congratulations Award) - try it with a Texan drawl and it starts to make a little more sense.

But only a little bit.

An Alphabet Crown. Yet another Very Useful Product from T-Bot Industries.

Inspired by Hero of the Rails, this is Niro of the Rails. Constructed of cardboard and what looks like a whole roll of clear parcel tape. Sigh. This is how my children keep me poor.

Oh, and here are some of the projects I didn’t show you. Be thankful. Be very thankful:

Happily, Baby Sister and The Wictor started back at school yesterday, so I will no longer have to virtually live at the office supply store. Although being at school does not prevent Baby Sister from using paper, and I still have to find places to proudly display all she brings home. I presume her liberal and enthusiastic use of A3 sized sheets is the reason behind the local elementary’s renewed fundraising efforts. So, indirectly - I am still paying.

The Wictor is also no longer tracking bucket loads of dead leaves into the house, but only because the trees are bare. Not that we would want to be out there anyhow, given that we have arctic winds and the promise of 4 consecutive nights of frosts. My team of furnaces is having trouble keeping up, although they make a valiant effort. And suck all the moisture out of the air in the process. I wonder if a cicada feels like this just before he sheds his hard dry shell. I am jealous. I want a new skin.

But otherwise fine. You may get more sense out of me when my friend the Sun makes his return.

Happy New Year!