So This Was Christmas, and I Sure Did Get Spun

I know, I know. It's been over a week since I last graced the Blogosphere with one of my incredible posts. I was wrapped up in the whole spirit of giving thing (although the receiving wasn't so bad, either - just sayin'.)

But fear not, my weepy little lambs, because I am back with a vengeance. For, even though we did nearly $300 worth of groceries yesterday and came home without coffee cream (I should have my Coffee Lovers license revoked for that major infringement), my lovely Coffee Fairy brought me not one, but two extra-large coffees this morning. Oh, and some creamers for any additional coffee I might want to have after the consumption of the first two.

Not only am I going to be in fine creative shape for this post, but I can already hear the snap of my brittle bones breaking as the calcium is leeched from them. I understand there are good drugs for premature osteoporosis. Thank the gods.

I hope everyone's Kwistmakkah was enjoyable. (Incidentally, I don't personally know anyone who celebrates Kwanzaa. But The Brain on Arthur does and he's a cool dude, so it got smushed into my politically correct holiday address.) I hope the love was so deep you could drown in it, and that the gifts were bountiful, but not to the point of feeling like a commercialized whore.

I do have a way with words, don't I? Like little petals strung delicately together, they are.

We had a great Christmas, of course. I'm The Maven, after all. I have a great everything. Geekster took a couple of weeks off so as to provide tactical backup spend quality time with his family while everyone is home for the holidays. I thought his idea was a mix of sweetness and responsibility, with a thick coat of crazy. I said 'Look, I have to be here because I'm a stay-at-home-mom. That's my job. But you could take vacation any time. Why do it when you're not going to get any rest at all?!'

His coating of crazy is especially thick, because he has yet to lose his shit on anyone. I am obviously the sane one, as I've had at least two or three good yells at the boys over the last week. at one point, I even contemplated a lobotomy with Geekster's cordless drill, but the damn Christmas tree was using up all the wall sockets. Instead, I chose to break my sugar-free stretch and escape into the world of chocolate. It's been nice, but I'll be revving up the detox engines again soon. My waistline - or the spot formerly known as my waistline - will thank me.

On the 23rd, we took the kids to the Museum of Nature and over to the Elgin Street Diner for poutine. Lunch cost $65. Welcome to the reality of a family of five. The good news? The poutine was delish, and after a couple of hours of dinosaur-gawking, we needed the calories (or so I tell myself).


According to Gutsy, dinos are huge. I love the expression of wonder on his face. It's significantly more pleasant than his expression of anger, and much quieter than his expression of screaming.

The 24th was a day spent out and about with The Sister. The two smallest gremlins ran into Santa at her office. Spawnling wouldn't go near the dude in the red suit, but Gutsy was all over him. That charming little gremlin was just making sure the big guy remembered his face before he set out with a sack full of toys that night (it worked).




(Note how Spawn is sooooo not impressed.)

Then, we spent the afternoon at Rideau Centre, Ottawa's largest shopping maul (yes, I misspelled that on purpose - we were there on Christmas Eve, after all). I was finished shopping, but went along with The Sister to attempt to finish hers. Gutsy had a blast listening to some tracks at a music store.


(Santa and headphone pics courtesy of The Sister. There's a reason why she calls herself Photo Lush)

It sounds crazy, right? Dragging two small children through a maul a few hours before the stores close. It's something I never would have considered after my first - or even my second - child. But there's a method to my madness. From years of experience, I can tell you what the alternative would have been had we stayed at home all day:

When is Santa coming? Are we going to make cookies? Should we draw him a picture? How does Santa get around the world in one night, anyway? And does he come through the wood stove chimney or the furnace chimney? And what if it's hot? And can we open one gift before we go to bed? Please oh please oh please? Is it bedtime yet? No? What about now? No? What about now? Good, because I can't sleep anyway! And what about the gingerbread house? Can we eat that? Can I have the roof? NO! I WANTED THE ROOF! I SAID IT FIRST! MOOOOOOM!!! MY BROTHER IS TRYING TO HIT ME BECAUSE I SAID I WANTED THE ROOF AND I TOLD HIM HE'LL BE ON THE NAUGHTY LIST IF HE DOES THAT AND NOW HE'S CRYYYYIIIIING!


No. Thank. You. The chaos of busy stores filled with frantic last-minute shoppers has nothing on Christmas Eve at Casa Maven.

And Christmas came, bright and early (but not too early - 7:30 is an acceptable wake-the-parents time), and it was magical. Spawnling had crawled into our bed and whispered 'Merry Christmas' to me as he gently stroked my face, followed closely by 'See? I told you I was going to "merry" you someday."

That's the sound of my heart melting. Who knew it would make a sound?

And what did we do on Christmas day? Ready for this?

Absolutely nothing.

Yep, that's right. We did nothing. The gremlins three stayed in their pajamas and played with their new toys all day. We all ate copious amounts of fattening food. We did not clean the house. We watched movies and played video games as wrappings lay all over the floor. No stress, no fighting, no rush. It was a well-deserved break after a very long and stressful year. Watching Spawnling tear open his gifts was a sobering reminder that he was in a hospital not too long ago for one very terrifying week, and spent weeks building back up to the boy we know. Now healthy and happy again, he got the one thing he really, really wanted for Christmas: a Wall-E Laptop.


I breathed in every second of his joy, and I'm sure Geekster did, too. Our little Christmas miracle is he.

On the 26th, Spawnling once again woke me up with a 'Merry Christmas!', followed by 'Wait, is it still Christmas?'

'Sort of,' I replied. 'It's Boxing Day.'

Confused and worried, Spawnling said 'Boxing day?! Uh, can I just go bowling instead?'

I made that kid. I really did. He came out of me.

We headed to Peterborough, Ontario, for a visit with the in-laws. We had a fantastic time, minus the fact that four of us had colds and mine was at its peak. Just a minor bug, but not when you're driving four hours in bad weather and catching up with family you only see once or twice a year. That takes some serious energy. Thank goodness for coffee and diet colas.

We all got some really nice, thoughtful things this year, but I have to say my favourite was the donation to Plan Canada in my name for 10 home birthing kits, thus ensuring a safer delivery for 10 little ones and their mothers in developing countries. That did my heart some good. Geekster's parents symbolically adopted an emperor penguin in his name.

(We recently watched Happy Feet, and as soon as the boys discover the fuzzy little bird which came with that WWF kit, there will be fights, I assure you. It won't be pretty.)

The good news? I just got an adorable new camera to capture said fights in clear detail. Its frame rate will ensure that even the fastest flying fists can be captured clearly and easily on video.

Oh, and it's hot pink. Merry ho ho to me and only me, because nobody else will touch it on account of it being a "girl colour."

Well... I might have to keep an eye on Gutsy.

So that's the rundown 'round these parts. Now that the chaos is mostly behind us, I should have more time to post again. That is, after the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Cleanup, who will wave an ethereal hand and re-organize my home in the blink of an eye.

You know, the fifth ghost? There was the Ghost of Christmas Past, then Present, then Future, then that Death guy, then Cleanup, right?

I swear it's in the book. I'm going to sit here and keep waiting.