Archive for December, 2007

Gee, thanks Santa

December 31, 2007

Some recent things..


Our lurvely container-grown fraser fir. Yes, that’s a snowy owl in lieu of an angel. He had since been repositioned to look less in-your-face. At the moment, the tree is sitting bare downstairs, making my entry look rather gorgeous. I’m fond of evergreens, if that wasn’t apparent.


The curtain call of the kids’ performance of The Sacred Stone, a panto-style play that was created by the participants. The kids doing the hand jive to Rihanna’s ‘Umbrella’ was a surprise ending, must say :).


The gingerbread house party was at our place, and we successfully built them upright. I mean, as opposed to the ground-zero looking creations of the year before.


A fair representation of everyone after xmas dinner.


I might have mentioned that this was the first Christmas in I don’t know how many years that we were at home and I did all the cooking. I thought I managed fairly well. And then last night I was looking at my hair for noticeable roots and found the above–my first grey hair. Nice one, St. Nick, cheers.

A couple weeks ago we went to the local panto, which was actually quite good. A couple noticeable differences between this one and the ones in Oxford though. For starters, I don’t recall herds of boy scouts running amok through the theatre down south. They also made a huge deal of the accent here..a bit over the top I suspect, i.e. I’ve never actually heard anyone in real life say ‘coupon’ instead of face. The best though was this tiny child sitting in front of me in the second row. He must have been about four. In pantos, it’s traditional to boo and hiss when the baddie comes on. The little lad in front of me did not–he just flipped him off. It wasn’t a shy, quick little gesture either; he resolutely held his little middle finger right up the whole time the bad guy was on stage. His sisters giggled at him, and his mum didn’t look in his direction once the entire show. At least I think it was his mum. Equally it could have been a catatonic relation that they took to the panto in order to get her out of the ward for an evening. Could have been both. I mean if those were my kids, catatonia would seem like a good escape mechanism. I really can’t talk though. That particular evening I had not one, but two girls in my care, and I decided not to suppress Nyssa’s audience participation. You’ve heard her scream, yes? The bleached and flat-ironed teenyboppers in front of her spent a good portion of the show with their hands clapped over their ears, and I must admit I didn’t do a thing to diminish their discomfort. Rather enjoyed it actually. I’m not a nice lady anymore. Bua ha.

In news of the fantastical variety, Joseph recently declared that he believed in the tooth fairy, but not in Santa. He’s an empirical sort of lad, and he had been exchanging correspondence with the former but couldn’t remember anything remarkable from the latter. This Christmas, however, Nyssa had made some glittery oats for the reindeer and in the morning they found that the oats were all gone, save for a wee trail leading to the fireplace. This was substantial enough proof to rekindle Joseph’s faith, bless ‘im. It also helped that certain relatives labelled some awesome presents as being from the Jolly One. Of course now they don’t get credit for the gifts..for a few years anyway.

Oh yes, one last piece of wintry news. Nyssa went ice skating for the first time at a birthday party. If you know Nyssa, you can probably guess how that went. She was surly when she got back, had a sore bottom for a week, and declared that to be an activity she would never, ever repeat. Ah well.

Happy Hogmaney, everyone!!

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Sex ed gone askew

December 11, 2007

My children say lovely, horrifying things. We watched a fantastic documentary yesterday about the development of three different animals from conception to birth. The kids learned all sorts of gruesome and wondrous things. Excellent. Then Nyssa plaintively says to me, ‘Mom, I wish *I* had sperm inside me.’ I mentally smacked myself enough times to keep a straight face and to keep myself from saying, ‘Did you not see that bit about elephant copulation?!?’ I asked her if she felt quite prepared at this point to get pregnant. She admitted she wasn’t. I think she must have missed the bit about sperm having a short lifespan and saw it as good future planning to get the dna situation sorted and not have to worry about it later.

The kids also have strange conversations between themselves. I overheard Joseph saying that he wished he was emperor of the universe (this is a recurring theme with the boy) and then he would force that Taylor boy to marry Nyssa. Nyssa breathes emotionally, ‘but Joseph..I don’t want *false* love!’ Joseph doesn’t see her point at all. I don’t think he’s watched enough Barbie movies.

I guess I should be happy that they do things together, albeit in the slightly psychopathic manner with which anyone with my dna is bound to do things. They play Barbie, but it inevitably involves dismemberment and excessive nudity. I’m forever finding Ken heads and Barbie arms in the couch cushions. They play Sylvanian families, in which Nyssa enacts teacher/pupil abuse, Joseph’s favorite character to play has the charming moniker ‘Throw-up Lad,’ and it’s good fun to get the cats to stampede through the baby playpark. What makes it all a bit disturbing is that this was the sort of sadistic play I favored as a kid. Of course I ended up as a peaceable sort of grownup, so maybe it’s all going to be ok. If really, really odd. Hehe.

Will, meet Grace

December 3, 2007

Nyssa has been dreamily gushing for the last couple weeks about a certain boy from drama group named Taylor. Certain traits have stood out in my mind, tell me if primetime tv has made me quick to jump to conclusions. First of all, Nyssa says he dresses well. The boy, it should be noted, is perhaps 9? Second, she goes on about how exquisite his manners are. Now, I understand that these things don’t necessarily imply anything. Indeed, my own boy has similarly charming (and underappreciated!) mannerisms and has as yet only had wee crushes on females (without encouragement–I mean, isn’t a doting gay son every modern mom’s dream?). But then Nyssa describes his interests. Among them, young Taylor loves to dance and apparently Swan Lake is the light of his existence. Mmm hmm. I had to smile a bit at that point, but of course I wouldn’t spoil Nyssa’s little crush. It’s actually sort of an interesting break from her long-standing assertion that she’ll only consider marrying a girl, which I suspect is more a personal denouncement of how yucky little boys her age are rather than a romantic preference for females. Kids are funny–liberal kids even more so it seems!

We got perhaps the strangest thing yet in the mail today–usb ebay Christmas lights. A gift to reward our over-indulgence in the site? One of my first thoughts was, ‘wonder how many cheap bastards will pop these immediately onto ebay..’ Well, check it out! Hehehehe. At least a couple are good enough to give the proceeds to charity. Regardless though, it does speak volumes about a particular segment of the online population. I’ll mentally gloss over what it says about us in particular.

We’re movin’ on up

December 1, 2007

It’s good to know we’re moving up in the world. Yesterday my neighbor rang my doorbell to let me know that a package came to her flat for me. In the course of our conversation, she told me that the delivery man was good enough to urinate in our shared entryway. Lovely. Sure enough, when I left the building later in the day, a wee rivulet of pee was meandering along the concrete. I tried to be philosophical about it. After all, not three years ago, in a different part of Fife, we lived in a ground-floor flat that was immediately adjacent to a pub (rather than across the street from one). In that location we were blessed with soccer balls bounced against our windows, drunken brawls in front of the kids’ window, vomit on the steps, etc. I won’t even go into the dodgy car dealership in the basement, the Indian restaurant above us, the arsonist next door.. So life here, from our second-story vantage point, is much improved. I can tolerate the piss of a desperate delivery guy with a certain stoicism.