Hard Truths

We, or I suppose in the spirit of truthfulness that should be “I,” have done enough of the osouji (big clean) to get away with. The nengajo (New Year’s cards) are in the mail. Christmas has been cleaned up and put back in the closet.

And I just with no warning told Me First that Santa isn’t real. So I guess we are as ready for New Year’s as we are gonna get.

Oh the Santa thing?
I can’t keep up this charade anymore. He was bitching-again-about how Sister got TWO toys and he only got one.

Her two dollies together were half the price of his skateboard furf@xsake. He did say he wanted legos, too, *two* days before Christmas, but this Santa doesn’t have a team of elves, you know?

He wasn’t really whining so much as just kind of confused, maybe because they were both monsters the day before Christmas and neither one deserved a thing. This led to an eleventh hour freak-out on Christmas Eve. I just…don’t want to do it anymore, I guess.

I wasn’t sold on the idea to start with. But kids just seem to absorb all this Santa nonsense before a parent has time to consider it. Then there’s the whole creepy elf on the shelf thing…It just…happens.

Like shit.

Anyway, I told Me First that there was a real Santa once, who was kind and brought a lot of children joy at Christmas time. Parents act the part to honor that good old man, and we give gifts to each other remembering the gifts the wise men brought baby Jesus.

That seemed like enough explanation and he doesn’t seem crushed that I lied to him for almost ten years.

I told him he could tell Me Too or he could join the grown-up team next year. He said he’ll hide the elf. Great news! I hate that arrogant goody-goody ceramic creepy head.

Down stairs

So I spoke too soon the other day when I said you were all caught up.

Me Too and I fell down the stairs at the station. Well, technically, she fell down and pulled me with her. Seriously, at what age will this child learn that skipping steps on the way down is to tempt fate? Unkind, ironic fate. Skipping steps on the way up = a good butt workout, on the way down = a sprained ankle, a sprained knee on the other leg, and a bruise on my ribs. Luckily, luckily I had boots on. It would have been so much worse if I hadn’t had boots on.

The ankle and ribs were sore for a few days, but now they’re fine. Me Too seems to have suffered no injury at all, probably because I broke her fall. Or maybe because she’s bouncy in that way little girls are, I don’t know. She cried for a bit, then yelled at ME for scaring her. So sorry your pulling me down a flight of stairs scared you, sweetheart.

Nah, we both know I totally didn’t say that.

Anyway, as soon as that got better, I immediately caught a cold. Fate…unkind, ironic, redundant.

Feeling a bit better today. I got the washing out at a decent time without needed to stop several times to watch TV, so that’s progress.

Catching Up

One scratched eye, one case of the flu, one iPod buried in the mud, one broken cell phone causing me to lose all my data, one fall down the stairs (by 2 people simultaneously) and I think we’re all caught up.

Splish Splash

I may have mentioned this before, but Me First is something of an animal fanatic. He loves animals, all kinds of animals, and talks about them constantly, often repeating himself. Constantly.

We live near an aquarium, Hakkeijima Sea Paradise. Well actually it’s an amusement park with an aquarium, a big tank full of dolphins and a sunfish, and an outdoor lagoon type area when you can climb around on rocks and touch the starfish and various other sea slimeys.

We have yearly passes to this place, mainly because that allows us to go and see one aquarium or do a couple of things without it turning into a long and drawn-out day of animal maniac kid wanting to see everything and spend forever there, while the kid with just average interest gets bored out of her gourd.

Recently, Hakkeijima acquired a pair of sea otters. Me First was, of course, eager to go see them. But since these are still young animals getting used to their new home, they are only display for a few minutes each day. We decided to go to the lagoon area, let the kids torture enjoy the animals there for a bit, and then offer our greetings to the new inhabitants.

Great plan. Until Me First slipped and fell, butt first, into the water, soaking his jeans and his shirt in the process. We ended up having to go home before the otters were brought out.

Never fear, gentle readers, we have yearly passes so we went back the next weekend.

Me First didn’t fall in the water this time, but he stuck both hands in without rolling up his sleeves. He also didn’t notice that the jacket he had tied around his waist was more than half submerged in the water.

Whacha gonna do, right?

It wasn’t too cold, so we stayed to watch the otters and then came home to change.

My husband said we should bring a change of clothes next time we come. I think perhaps we should just dress him in these.


Pumpkin Pancakes

Me Too has been nagging me a lot recently, wanting to know what I am going to make for “Halloween dinner.”

The answer of course, is nothing special.

Then she told me she really wants me to make pumpkin pancakes, please please pleeeezzz.

I’m all like, “You don’t even like pumpkin!”

Then she’s all like, “Not pumpkin flavored, jack-o’lantern shaped.”

Then I’m all like, “Awww helllll no.” But I just say that with my eyes.

But I mean, seriously (◎_◎;)?

When did Halloween start being a pain in the ass for me? Isn’t it all about kids looking cute and then eating their body weight in sugary treats? Store bought costumes and candy and then maybe the grown-ups getting sloshed later? We need to preserve our energy for Thanksgiving and lord-help-us Christmas, right?

I’m hoping this is just her taking a Japanese cultural thing and trying to overlay it on Halloween. I mean, I already know that any Japanese holiday thing is going to mean loads of extra work for me. (I’m looking at you, New Year’s with your oosoji big cleaning bullshizzit.)

This pumpkin pancakes preposterousness is not a worldwide phenomenon, is it?


Just eavesdropping on Me Too as she plays with her dolls in her room:

Doll A: Your castle is awesome!

Doll B: Thanks. We have someone to cook our eggs.

Doll A: (breaking into song) We can work together! Beeee who you arrrrre (talking agin) So what’s it like to be rich?

Doll B: Oh, it’s pretty good. Let’s get in my pink car

Oh, the cuteness! She’s slaying me.

Headless Fowl Syndrome

Are kids in schools in other parts of the world prone to suddenly running around like headless fowl in the mornings searching for things they must have for school that day, things that could easily be prepared if the parental unit was informed more than five minutes ahead of time?

We had a particular feather ruffling episode this morning, in stereo. Me Too remembered the night before that he was supposed to plant flowers in the park with his class this morning. He had a list of things he needed to bring, and he assured me he had them all ready. But come 7:50am, it becomes apparent that preparation had all just been mental imaging or something. Grr.

Cue Sister suddenly remembering that she needs two boxes and a toilet roll. I ended up letting her destroy my aluminum foil instead of desecrating the toilet paper.

No sooner had I got Brother sorted out (with a pink gardening spade, much to his horror,) then Sister starts in again, suddenly remembering that she needs to take her plant to school. The plant that has been here since summer vacation, it turns out, was supposed to go back to school. Shit. I should have known that; now that I think about it Brother used the same planter two years in a row. “Surely another day or two won’t hurt?” I suggest. I mean, it’s been six weeks. And the planter is heavy. I’ll have to carry it, and I’m still in my pjs. And, I couldn’t make this up, I swear to god at this particular moment it started to rain. Torrentially.


We set off (in the rain,) and halfway to school I wonder aloud what Me First’s class will do since it is raining and they obviously can’t plant flowers.

“Oh, I had a schedule and a list of books to bring in case it rained.”

Instinct told me that I really shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t resist.

“Did you bring any of those?”

Blank stare. Blink. Blank stare.

At this point we were at school, so I just let it go.

Then I noticed that there were tables set out in the foyer. “What is this?” I wondered, but as I approached a feeling of dread slowly swept over me, starting at my toes and working it’s way up my spine.

Observation week. When parents are supposed to go watch classes every day five days in a row, started last Friday.


I suppose the headless fowl syndrome might be hereditary.

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