Last night I once more forgot I was wearing my slippery socks, which led to me falling down the stairs. Don’t worry, I wasn’t hurt - at least, no more than usual.

But I did think it would be nice to take a warm bath afterwards, in the hopes of getting some of the feeling back in my left shoulder. Also, to warm up. The temperatures around here haven’t improved much. The T-Bot is predicting another Ice Age and I quite understand why.

I probably hadn’t taken a real honest to goodness bath for over a year but thanks to my family-in-law (thank you!) I was very lucky in the bath salts, soaps and body lotions department this birthday. A long, scented soak seemed very appealing.

And the long, scented soak proved to be all it promised. I didn’t even get bored as I usually do. Next Christmas can someone please send me one of those bath pillows so I can just sleep in the tub…

Feeling very pleased with myself I got out, dried myself, and took a deep sniff of my new scented hand lotion. Unfortunately, as I inhaled, somehow I managed to squeeze the bottle.

No idea how that happened, but the experience was second only to the time I had got the giggles while drinking a beer, and it all came pouring out my nose. And wouldn’t stop. It was very embarrassing. People were present.

Fortunately no people were present for this event, unless you count the cat. But the inside of my right nostril must now be very soft, supple and appealing. If anybody would care to look.

Like many families, we are having a couple of weeks of “downtime” Inzaburbs. I know you are thinking vacation and family time and doing stuff! but actually this downtime really means the kids are off school, Mommy looks after them and tries to think up fun! activities! during the day, and then when the Daddy gets home in the evening both parents give themselves permission to drink the good wine and watch bad TV. Or movies. Or bad movies, if The Daddy has chosen them. Ah-em.

So, it’s been a long time since I watched Supernanny. I am not much of a fan. I mean, we all love Supernanny don’t we, with her suits and her cheeky english ways, but for me her tried and true formulas are getting a little…. Oops, sorry, I think I dozed off there.

Anyway, we sat down in front of “Naughty Kids” as my kids like to call it (we are very into Naughty and Nice right now and no I did not teach them this but a favorite game is playing Santa, making up a naughty list and a nice list, then giving somebody… coal. Which usually involves the Wictor coming downstairs wet with tears wailing “Baby Sisa say I nawy but I not nawy!”). And I don’t normally do this but I have to comment. I mean on this Supernanny episode not on the Santa game. I know I can be hard to follow.

It looked like it should have been a juicy episode. Four children under 5! Three of them are triplets! but, apart from feeling really really really bad for this woman - only three children under 5 had me crying in frustration at times and one of those was a baby, and honestly, nobody should be forced to look after more than one 2 year old at a time - the whole show left me puzzled. Why did they choose this family? Are there no real families in crisis left in America? My goodness, has Supernanny worked her way through them all?

As far as I could see the mother in this case was doing an amazing job. Especially when you consider she worked full time and came home to two year old triplets. I mean puh-lease. Even she said herself that what she needed really was a clone of her. Her kids didn’t seem to be running wild, they were just normal kids, multiplied by lots. Which kind of left the producers scrabbling for something else, I guess.

If I had been the producers I would have said “strap em in the stroller for outings and here’s Anymommy’s number for any other questions. Now go away. You are not worthy. Or rather, too worthy for our show.” But maybe they were committed by then. So they came up with:

1. Put more authority in your voice .

2. Use naptime to lie on the couch with your feet raised. The duplo blocks will clear themselves off the floor.

3. Make Daddy do more chores and plant flowers with the 4 year old.

4. Confront your father about why you feel you always need to clean up those duplo blocks.

5. Force your kids to eat their dinner.

That doesn’t sound really interesting does it? Really, it wasn’t. Not like that episode way back where the toddlers refused to sit at table so they were eating dinner squatting on the kitchen floor and counters… Now that was worth watching!

You know what was the most unintentionally hilarious part of the show? The advice snippet just before the commercial break. According to Supernanny not only must you make your kids stay at table until they have finished their meal, they also need to stay at table until they have finished their sippy cup. I agree hydration is important but honestly, Supernanny? Do you not know that is why the sippy cup was invented? SO YOU CAN CARRY IT AROUND.

Some good has come of this show. I have Supernanny to thank for introducing a new game to our house to supplant the awful Santa game. It’s called “Stay at Table Until you Finish Your Sippy Cup!”. And usually involves the Wictor coming downstairs wailing and wet with tears…

Thanks, Supernanny! For nothing.

Random Photo:

The T-Bot as “Pierce”. Thought his sister wouldn’t recognize him that way. Strangely, she saw right through this brilliant disguise.

***

Random Clothing Fact:

Baby Sister begged me for Christmas socks. So when I came across a pair at the supermarket, I threw them in the cart. Except when I got them home I discovered they were an adult size 9-11.

I am now the proud owner of a pair of classy Ho! Ho! Ho! socks. And my feet, by the way are a size 7.

***

Random Excuse:

In the Wictor’s world, everything hops.

The ornament hops all by itself from the Christmas tree and shatters.

The T-Bot’s favorite toy hops into The Wictors room.

The plate full of food hops into his lap.

The leaf of the plant mysteriously detaches itself and hops down to a new adventure on the lounge floor.

Oh, and Number 2 hops from the toilet all over the bathroom floor. Hoppity Hoppity Hop.

***

Random Roleplay:

“Curious George, I have cancelled Christmas. Do not celebrate. Do not share it with anybody. Do not get ready. Somebody will be keeping an eye on you so if you do something about Christmas she will tell me about it and I will put you in jail. “

(Baby Sister - and we haven’t even seen A Christmas Carol this year…)

***

Random Conversation:

The Mommy: ... well she cut my hair OK the last few times, who knows what happened here, I am going to have to wear it in a ponytail for months or wear a cap or something, I mean just look at it…”

The Daddy: You need to go to a latino hairdresser. All the latina girls in town have good hair.

The Mommy: I have never seen any. You have been watching too much Cuidado Con El Angel. I have never noticed anybody in real life with amazing hair.

The Daddy: There are. Tons of them.You should see them. Woof.

The Mommy: Well for gods sake, you need to stop one of them and ask her who’s her hairdresser!

The Daddy: Yes of course, I should just stop one of them.

The Mommy: Why not? You should!

The Daddy: OK. I’ll stop one of them.

I’ll say who’s your hairdresser? My wife needs her hair cut and she doesn’t understand me.

Today is my birthday. If you like you may try to guess how old I am.

First Prize will be My Undying Gratitude. The winner will be the person guessing “29″.

You may wonder why “29″ and not “21″ . Well, because I officially stopped the clock at 29 and so if you say “21″ I will know it is a lie and you are just trying to flatter me. I don’t take too kindly to being played for a fool. Even if I did get ID’d when buying beer a couple of months back.

So, 29 it is then.

You may also wonder why I don’t say “40″ especially as I have always maintained that my best age will probably be 40. The answer: I am as vain as the next person. I want to be 40, not look 40.

Actually,  now I come to think of it, I have been reviewing the “29″ thing. I think the hands of the clock have crept a little. What did I know when I was 29? I was still so immature, such a baby. At 32 I was much more wise without being too, too wrinkly.

OK, let’s make “32″ the new “29″.

Good. Lots of clues there. How old do you think I am?

(P.S. It’s my birthday, remember. I am counting on you to be flattering)

P.P.S. No, you do not get a photo. That would make things too easy.

One reason for moving to Texas?

I really, really, really, really don’t like the cold.

So I wanted to live somewhere where it doesn’t snow.

Slight fail.

The snow started to fall around 10am.

Real, live snow, just like in books and movies! And then it settled. I was starting to worry we would be snowed in

Remember what I said before. No hats, no gloves, no galoshes. Not that I even have a clue what galoshes are, but I have read about them in books. I know that if you live in America, you need galoshes for going out in the snow. It is probably highly irresponsible to go out without them.

Which is why I preferred to stay indoors. Indoors was warm. Every five minutes I opened the door to take some brief video of the boys frolicking, and every ten minutes the boys would run in demanding a hot bath because they couldn’t feel their hands.

Baby Sister got out of school about 2pm. And then we built a snowman!

I didn’t grow up with snow either. By the time I encountered it I was too old and cool… so this was also my first snowman experience. I remembered how to build one from an old episode of Caillou (sometimes, I amaze even myself…)

Turns out though, there is a limit to how big you can roll a snowball with no gloves.

(The pain! The pain!)

And here’s a shot for perspective:

Awwww…. He’s small, but he’s sweet! And he’s all ours! At least… he was until he melted…

Well, it was great while it lasted. Big plus, the Daddy got to come home early before we would have had to bust out our snow chains. The kids demanded hot chocolate (where oh where did they learn so much about snow? That would be Caillou again. Honestly, does it ever not snow in Canada?) so The Daddy risked his life driving through the snowdrifts to get some.

By 3pm it was all over. And now we are left with only sweet memories.

Oh, and a garden full of dead plants.

Alert! Alert!

Zaburbs have moved to Condition Orange! Severe Weather Conditions are forecast for Friday, and school may be shortened, or even canceled.

Tell me what is better than a White Christmas? A White Christmas, early, with no school.

Yes folks, up to 1 inch of snow should be falling on us by this time tomorrow. How I wish now that I had given in to the temptation to stock up on hats and gloves from the Target $1 section.

Which brings me to something very much related. Does the whole of America give a simple hoodie the very warm and fluffy sounding monniker “Jacket” ? Or is it just Texas? My children have this type of jacket but that is all they got. Also, no hats or gloves.

One girl-scoutish thing I did do though. I got the furnace checked this fall, for the first time ever. I thought the price was a bit steep but better safe than sorry, after all these things do spew out noxious gases at will if left unchecked. Then, when the technician ascended to the attic to check the thing he announced that the furnace had multiplied. Or invited its friend to the party or something. Our furnace was now two.

And the maintenance bill also. Ouch.

I am smiling about it now though. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Serious Explanation About Crossing The Road, as Imparted Seriously to My Children, in a Very Serious Fashion :

(abridged version):

“Once, when I was a little girl, Grandpa was crossing the road and he didn’t look properly for traffic. A car ran him over and he fell on the road and had blood coming out of his head! He was very hurt and had to go to hospital. This is why you must always look carefully for cars when you cross the road. I don’t want you to get hurt and end up in hospital.Or worse.”

“Why was he crossing the road, Mommy?”

“Um… well actually we were on a road trip and he was crossing the road to go peepee behind some bushes”.

What My Children Have Retained:

Three Year Old: (Deep, gruff voice) “Hello, I am Granpa! I like to go peepee in the bushes!”

Seven Year Old: “Why Did Granpa Cross the Road? To go peepee in the bushes!”

(Cue mass hysteria)

Our Tooth Fairy has to be the worst tooth fairy ever.

A few weeks ago, I woke up at 6am with a horrible feeling that maybe she had forgotten my little boy and he would be horribly disappointed. Unfortunately as I was sliding my hand under his pillow to confirm whether or not the Tooth Fairy had, in fact, paid him a visit, he woke up. Briefly. He didn’t seem to remember this in the morning, but if it all comes out later during regressive therapy you know who I will be blaming.

Then - don’t ask me how I know this but I do - last night around midnight the Tooth Fairy was idly browsing Etsy when she clicked on Owly Shadow Puppets (one of my personal faves and obviously she likes them too) and happened to catch sight of the Tooth Fairy Puppet. It was only then that she remembered she was supposed to be at work and flitted off to collect teeth from all the boys and girls. Whew. Close call.

It’s just lucky that our Tooth Fairy is so generous or I would fire her on the spot. You see, it seems other people’s tooth fairies have not been keeping track of inflation and are still giving out 50c coins, which is approximately what I used to get in 1978. If I had known this from the beginning I would probably have hired a cheaper winged wonder but it’s a little late now.

So. A math quiz for you.  Each of my three children presumably has 20 deciduous teeth. Each of those teeth is worth $5.00. How much money will the tooth fairy have to fork out altogether?

*Thunk*  *Crash*

(That’s the sound of the Tooth Fairy fainting).

I have decided that the only way I can get this blogging show back on the road is to be short and to the point.

I know you are all hanging out for some serious, in-depth news so I will give you this:

The mosquito which I squashed this morning as it was making a meal of my arm.

To clarify: those are inches.

Yes, apparently time does fly, I blinked twice (or maybe twitched my nose, just a little) and it seems two weeks have passed…

We have been occupying ourselves with the usual things. Playdates, pool, a little TV, the occasional outing, ( plus a fair amount of “Mommy is working, why don’t you kids go and play” ) …

And then, one day there was this:

I bow my head in shame. I allowed all three of my children to watch Coraline.

(Although I blame The Daddy - he paid good money for it and I just wasn’t about to let it go to waste. Was I ?)

I wouldn’t recommend you try this at home. I think something is wrong with my kids. Instead of being traumatized (as I was) all they did was clamor to make dolls with button eyes. I was feeling soft, and also as if - on a scale of 1 to 10 of mothers who keep their kids home all 2.5 months of summer vacation and singlehandedly entertain them -  I probably, at that moment, deserved a 0.

So I gave up a (don’t laugh) whole day of my life (well, I have never made a doll before) in an effort to redeem myself. I truly believe that with this project I did just that. And also, I will be reminding them of it until I am 102.

So. Dolls. Of course, the kids weren’t the ones doing the making. I got out my old sewing machine, which I don’t think has had an outing in a couple of years or so, and got down to it. I gave them old pillowcases to draw on:

and then I just sewed vaguely around the shapes:

stuffed them:

and did my childrens’ bidding as they chose eyes, facial features and hair.

I have been surprised. They made these dolls in their own image (except - I hope - The Wictor) and unlike the hundreds of Barbies and action figures littering the place, they seem to be loving these to bits.

Me? I am still exhausted. Somebody send reinforcements!

Ahh yes, that would be Aunty Natty, who arrives Saturday. I think I will leave her to it, and sleep for two weeks