It started sometime around Christmas, I’m not sure exactly.

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.

I saw a photo of myself the other day and the last time I had seen myself looking so puffy in the face was when I was 9 1/2 months pregnant. It was no surprise - The Daddy and I have been pointing and laughing at each other for months now, usually as we meet on the way to the kitchen for another cookie or bowl of ice cream. We know all about da fat. And it’s not really an issue.

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.

In my experience, it’s hard to differentiate between temperatures below freezing.

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.

My new years resolution: I will no longer let the king size duvet cover beat me.

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!

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.