Update: I've never been happier to be out-geeked! Warf is actually spelled 'Worf' and he's 100% Klingon, according to Astarte and Wikipedia (two sources I trust). So I guess his 'internal struggles about race' had more to do with being raised as a human and still getting in touch with his alien side. Thanks Astarte! I'll take you through a dungeon in honour of your insight and knowledge, as well as in celebration that I'm not nearly as much of a nerd as I thought I was. Horray! Coffee and cute pictures coming up post-Astarte-home-illness.

Were you eagerly awaiting to find out whether or not I got the one thing I really wanted for Christmas? Of course you were. I can tell by the overwhelming response to my last post that mass amounts of SAHMayhem fans were quivering with anticipation. Well, I shall keep you in suspense no longer: The first present I opened on the morning of the 25th was Stadium Arcadium from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Angels were singing everywhere at the news of this most holy of gifts.

Getting three children (two on a chocolate high), a dog and her accessories, a suitcase filled with clothes, three gift baskets and a large bag of presents into a van on Christmas day is no small feat. Driving three hours to the in-laws' house afterwards was surprisingly easy. That's because of my wonderful friend, Mr. On Board DVD player. If you've recently purchased a vehicle for your young family and opted not to get one of these little gems, please email me with your address so I can send you a sympathy card and a recording of the noise in our family vehicle before and after leasing a van with an entertainment system.

Before: fighting/crying children, lots of 'are we there yet?' type questions, sounds of frustration coming out of the mouths of parental units as we try to come up with yet another road trip game or find yet another book to read or snack to throw into the back seat for the gremlins to squabble over.

After: Quiet conversation between parental units, Coldplay drifting out of the front speakers, and the occasional guffaw from children who are enjoying Lilo and Stitch with wireless headphones and a screen far too small to be enjoyable in any other environment.

The critics like to say that on-board DVD systems are ruining the family road trip by discouraging conversation and distracting children from the beautiful scenery.

I say that if "ruining conversation" means not having to hear 'HE STOLE MY APPLE JUICE!!' one more time and the "beautiful scenery" is me saying 'Look, guys! More....cows...again.', then paint me yellow and blue and call me Blockbuster. Movies during long trips are where it's at.

So anyway, the trip itself went very well. The gremlins' cousins came over (the gremlinettes) and I managed to get my girl child fix. We talked about clothes and dolls and pretended to drink tea. That should do me for another few weeks. Then I might have to steal Jobthingy's daughter for a couple of hours so we can go browse the sales at Sears. I love having three boys because I'm more of a knights and Lego and console game kinda gal anyway, but every now and then it's great to have some estrogen bonding time. There's nothing like brushing a My Little Pony's mane to melt away the stress.

Last night I took Spawnling to visit The Sister and The Madre. My poor mother has now had seven of the ten iron transfusions she needs to battle her anemia. She's looking a lot less like Corpse Bride these days and much more like her old self. Spawnling gave her an unlimited amount of smiles as she lectured me on how hungry my baby was, how he was tired, needed to burp and 'it's ok baby, grandma knows what you want'. It's a good thing I have my mother around or my children surely would starve, stay awake for days on end and possibly have their stomachs implode.

I was telling my female family members about how hilarious the guy at our local video store is. He's black (can I say 'black'? Do I have to say African-Canadian? A person of colour?) and said he would love to marry a white girl (Caucasian? A person of um, very little colour? Wonderbread?) because he loves the look of children who have a mix of both races.

My mom says 'Oh! Like Worf.'

'Um... Worf?' I ask.

'Yeah. Worf.'

'What?'

'Worf! That guy, right there.'

'Mom, this is C.S.I...' I'm starting to wonder if the hospital can put a rush on the rest of those iron transfusions.

'I know. The guy right there. That's Worf.'

'Uh, mom. That's not Worf. Worf is the Klingon on Star Trek: The Next Generation.'

'No. That guy is called Worf, isn't he?'

(This goes on for several minutes until my sister jumps on the computer and looks up CSI character names.)

The Sister says 'No, mom. His name is Warrick.'

I think we laughed for about ten minutes straight. Then, about fifteen minutes later I nearly fell over laughing again.

The Madre is awesome. She's so funny in that special, iron-deficient way.

In her defence, Worf was born a Klingon and raised on plant earth.: Many of the episodes focusing on his character had a lot to do with the internal turmoil he felt by trying to honour both ancestries.

Now I must go polish my pocket protector before I head off to the roleplay convention. When I come back maybe we can swap comic books.