Monday, January 30, 2012

I'm Coming Out!

It's about time, really. I mean, it's hard, living with a secret. So here it is:

Hi. My name is Skwishee, and I'm ... a blogger.

When I started writing this blog, I didn't tell anyone -- not even my husband. He was playing a show while working a full time job, so he was never home. The girls were 1 and 3, we were stuck in our tiny apartment all day, and it was hard.

I wasn't very happy.

I started writing as a way to reach out without bothering anyone; a way to feel like someone was listening without having to admit to my family that I felt like a complete failure. A place to vent -- anonymously.

We still live in a tiny apartment, my kids still wear me out (although, in new and interesting ways), and I still come to this space to vent a little; but now, it's much more than that. It's a place I can go to be creative, share an idea, or just tell a funny story.

It's something I'm proud of.

And so, the next time I'm on the phone with my mum and she says, "You know what you should do? You should write a BLOG!", instead of mumbling incoherently, maybe I'll say, "Well, actually..."

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Stuff I Made Today.

The best thing about this weekend -- and every weekend -- is that if it becomes necessary for me to be alone and work out my crazy a bit, I usually can. So this afternoon, while the husband watched "Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue" with the girls, I hid in my room for a while and made things.

A sleeve for a tin can. I saw the idea at Attic 24, and decided to make one to hold the girls' pencils and things.*

I've mentioned that there are several kids in Beege's class with intolerances to several different things? Well, I'm not the only one who just gave up trying to come up with an acceptable snack and started sending pencils and stickers instead.

At this point, Beege has about a million pencils, and they've been piling up in corners, thrown in random drawers and stacked haphazardly on shelves; they needed a home. It's not quite as snazzy as the ones Lucy made, but it's definitely an improvement.

These things. I saw the idea on Pinterest**. Although, the ones I saw on there were all fancy, and I think they were purchased in a store. Well, I'm all about re-using things (and not spending money), so I decided to make my own version.

The "to go..." container is filled with river rocks, in the amount of weight that it might be nice if I lost. As the pounds slink away (hopefully never to be seen again), I move a rock into the "down!" container. You can use it for any kind of count down - maybe I'll make one for Beege next time she has something exciting coming up.

Beef Stew. (I had to come out of my room for this one.) It was totally yummy. What I liked best about it was that all I had to do was saute some onions, throw a bunch of stuff in a pot, and remember to stir it every once in a while. Hooray for crock pots!

I also made lunch, but it wasn't worth taking pictures of.

*Just a side note: I removed the lid with a can opener that doesn't leave any sharp edges. I don't know if other companies make them, but ours is a "Star Frit". Also, I put a circle of craft foam into the bottom of the can so that the points don't break every time they shove a pencil in there. Also, as Kee pointed out, the foam makes it quieter.
**Ohmygod. I'm so addicted to Pinterest! I could waste my whole life on there if I didn't have small people asking me to feed them and stuff.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Today is a P.A Day.

A Coward's Lament

They've emptied every bin and shelf.
Strewn toys upon the floor.
Will they clean up this freaking mess?
No. Mummy gets that chore.

They've run in circles 'round me.
They've tied me to a chair.
They've chanted incomprehensibly,
while yanking on my hair.

They've fought, and yelled, and kicked, and screamed
'til I thought I'd lose my mind.
There must be something we can do
(other than nag and whine).

An outing would be nice!

The window shows it's sleety;
the ground a sheet of ice.

Who swoops in unexpectedly,
to save me from this hell?
(Barely) Dressed in green, and belching sparkles,
Ah! The lovely Tinkerbell!

"How about a movie, girls?"
(That'll stop the bitching!)
Meanwhile, my book, my tea, and I
will be hiding in the kitchen.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Crap on My Desk.

So. Today, we will be discovering the answer to a question that I have been asking myself for a very long time:

What, exactly, is all this crap on my desk?

Every time I sit down to write, I first have to shift things off the keyboard. Which distracts me* and I forget what it was I was going to write, so I surf for inspiration, and end up looking at pictures of cute baby animals and wondering what I would name my baby tapir**.

Right. My desk. COVERED in crap. Although, I choose to blame my husband. Or the children. Because they're messy. Obviously, none of this junk is mine.

Well, my mug is on here, but that's because it's my special tea mug, and I'm drinking tea while I write. I'll probably move it when I'm done. So it doesn't count.

Okay, so that snowman over there is mine too. I suppose I could get rid of that. It's a thank you note from Beege's teacher though, and it's always nice to be appreciated.

And the USB cord and the camera. Well, but I need them to be out. I use them every day! How else could I upload pictures of my favourite mug? Geez, this keyboard is dusty. Ignore that.

A few of these envelopes are mine, but mostly they're the husband's. That guy has some serious paper hoarding issues. He really does need to learn how to clean up after himself.

The box of tissues is totally his. Although, I do use it. Nothing worse than reading something sad and not having some tissues close by.

Pipe cleaners! AHA! For them, I blame the children! And the paper bag panda? So nothing to do with me.

Okay, what the hell is this doorknob doing here? That's weird. Do we really not have a place that we keep stuff like this?

You see, Kee was swinging from her doorknob a while ago and the damn thing fell off. Husband got a new one, but it was one with a key, and I didn't think it would be a good idea for the girls to be able to lock us out of their room. So they just don't have a doorknob.

But this new one doesn't belong on the desk.

Neither does the art kit, the rhythm stick, the pencil case, the dinosaur, this pile of coasters, the stale gingerbread house, the butterfly net, the Halloween bucket, the miner's headlamp, or the stack of thermometers. (Why do we have a stack of thermometers?)

And none of that is mine.

Which really doesn't matter, because I'll clean it up anyway. Then maybe I'll be able to write about something other than the crap on my desk.

Wish me luck, because really, I'm doing this for you guys.

I'm very magnanimous.

*Not like that's hard, I mean... oooh! Shiny!
**I'm thinking "Captain Jack".

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Boy Legs and Bribery.

Due to the huge mess that was yesterday morning, I wanted to leave plenty of time to get ready for school.

Here, by the way, is a picture of the three different kinds of horrible, barbed wire covered underpants that I tried to torture her with yesterday.

The barbed wire is invisible.

Offensive, right? After some consideration, I realised that the thing they had most in common, (they're different sizes, with different types of elastic, and different widths of gusset) was that they weren't diapers.

Yes, I know that's obvious. But the shape of them is completely different, and that's what I think was bothering her the most. The girls' underpants (that she picked herself) don't provide nearly as much coverage as a diaper.

Now that I think about it, asking her to try something new (or letting her, I guess, since it was her idea) in the last twenty minutes before we have to be out the door was just plain stupid.

We do have some training pants, but she wouldn't even put them on, because "they're not pretty." The thing about the training pants is that they're for boys. Which means that they have more coverage on the sides, and fit around the legs more like a diaper would. But if she won't even try the damn things on, we'll never know if she would like them better.

We already lost our day care spot in September* because she wasn't potty trained; I will go completely insane if she's not ready to start kindergarten. Completely.

So, this morning, I bribed her.

"Okay, honey. We've got lots of time, so how about this? How about, you try on these underpants? Just try them on?"
"No, thank you."
"How about if we set the timer for five minutes, and you just keep them on for five minutes?"
"Uhm... no. Thank you."
"How about if you keep them on for the whole five minutes, Mummy will give you some smarties?"

Five hours, six successes, and three accidents later**, she is still wearing underpants.

Training pants and Smarties: The winning combination.

The last pair. We've only got four pairs of these; a problem that will have to be remedied over the weekend. I've been washing them in the sink, and using a hair dryer to blow them dry. Which, obviously, is a little less than ideal.

And my house smells like pee.

I can not WAIT until this is over.

*I may be a little bitter. Just a bit.
**Is it normal for a kid to pee this much? Because I'm starting to wonder if I'm being Punk'd.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Today is the Greatest...

Okay. No. It's not. Today has sucked donkey butt. I'm patting myself on the back for not having killed any children, and it's not even lunch time.

Kee is having some issues with her clothing. Issue #1: Diapers do not fit comfortably into pants made for 3/4 year olds. Issue #2: Apparently, underpants are made from special fabric that scratches, and itches, and is possibly coated in acid. Issue#3: Mummy will not let her leave the house in the middle of winter wearing nothing from the waist down.*

This made for a fun half hour (during which, I was also intermittently yelling at Beege to finish up in the damn bathroom) before we finally got out the door to drop Beege off at school; late, of course.


I am, apparently, someone who can't hold her shit together in the face of a screaming three year old. I lost it. There was yelling, there was pleading, there were threats. All of which made me feel like a complete crap mum. Which did not help the situation.

I was so angry that I started getting angry about how angry I was.

I had to eventually stuff her into her clothes and carry her outside, where I unceremoniously dumped her in the stroller and started walking. Certainly not one of my finer moments.

Well, we'll just see how co-operative I am when I'm old** and they're trying to change my diaper, won't we?

*Although, to be fair, she has finally conquered the evil foot eating beasts known as socks, and will wear them without major uproar.
**At least, I hope I'll be old before I need to wear diapers. Or maybe I'll never need to wear diapers; that would be nice. I'll just find something else to be ornery about. Because I totally plan on being ornery.

Monday, January 23, 2012


I believe I mentioned that I've been crocheting a lot.

Well, aside from dishcloths and slippers, I've been making a lot of hats. I think part of the appeal is that I can sit down and make one in an evening. Not only do I get the lovely feeling from starting something new, I also don't find it stuffed, half finished, in a box six months later! Excellent.

The thing that I'm finding I like most about crocheting is that you can just adapt any pattern once you find a basic one that you like. The hats in the picture on the left, for example are all from the same basic pattern.

The crowns* are all the same, but once I got down to the brim I tried out a few different things.

[If you don't really care about the specifics, don't read this part:]

The white one has no brim at all, I just did a scalloped edge where I would have started on the brim. So, cute little beanie (which did have a sunflower attached at the side, but that's what I get for leaving them where the children can reach them).

The black one is more like the original pattern, but the ruffled edge on the original was a bit too... ruffle-y for me, so I lengthened the stitch (double crochet instead of half double) and did fewer of them.

The blue one is different again! I did a row of triple crochet around the base of the crown to allow room for the ribbon to thread through, and on the second row of the brim (also dc instead of hdc), only did one dc in each stitch, so no ruffle effect. More of a bucket brim.

[Okay, you can start reading again.]

And of course, now I've got all these hats.

I have no idea who all these hats are for, because I'm not much of a hat person, but I can't stop making them. I've already made one for myself and both the girls, and (luckily for everyone) I don't have a cat.

I suppose I could just stop, but if I find myself with a spare minute, I can't help starting a project. Can you be addicted to yarn? Should I call someone?

*Here is more than you ever wanted to know about hats.

Friday, January 20, 2012

The Birthday Party.

So far, in my career as a mother, I've only had to go to one child's birthday party that wasn't family. Yes, that is correct, "had to". I'm not really a "party" person.

I am shy. I am nervous around new people. I am especially shy/nervous around new people who are the parents of children that my daughters would like to play with, since I feel I need to make an especially good impression so that they will let their kids play with my kids again.

That's a lot of pressure.

We made it all the way until Christmas without having to even think about going to a birthday party, but just after school restarted, this snuck home in Beege's backpack.

I'm a little leery because, not only do I not know the family (or even the kid), but it's at Chuck E. Cheese. Which I've been told is like hell. A loud, flashing, germ infested version of hell. With giant, singing, animatronic animals. Sounds awesome.

I was considering telling Beege that we couldn't go to this one. After all, it is kind of far away, and it's on Sunday so it would mess up bath night, it also ends right before Kee's bedtime so she'll be pretty pissy, and I'm not going to be home at all on Saturday* to make sure that party clothes are clean, children are bathed, and gifts are wrapped.

Then she hugged her friend in the lineup at school the next day and said, "thank you so much for inviting me to your party! I can't wait!" Oh, fine.

So. I emailed the girl's mum to say that we would be coming and ask what her daughter might like for a present.

And got no response. I don't even know this kid! How should I know what she might like? I was talking to my friend about it and we decided that I ought to go find a Nerf gun. One that flashes, and makes "peeeoooo peeeooooooo!" noises, and maybe blows paint bubbles.

After about a week, I finally got an answer:

"Great. She likes craft things etc. Lego Barbies. Whatever your daughter likes will be fine. J."

Which I thought was funny, because her name begins with "C". Also, I don't think Lego makes Barbies. So, not actually helpful.

Anyway, Beege and I went to the big toy store and (because I'm not really as mean as I pretend) got some plastic playset thing with a monkey, that she is positive her friend will like.

We will be making the pilgrimage out to the middle of nowhere on Sunday for this thing. Beege is sooooo excited. I'm just trying to be positive. I'll take some ibuprofen before we leave and pack the gravol and hand sanitizer in my purse. And maybe some barf bags; just in case.

I also have to keep reminding myself that the other child's party we went to was actually fun. Kee and Beege had an awesome time and I met one of the only mums that I've actually invited over for a play date.

It'll be fine.

And if it's not, you'll hear all about it on Monday.

*Due to my lack of superior sistering skills, my sister didn't have a baby shower. It may also have to do with the fact that he was due right before Christmas and they were moving December 20th, but I'm pretty sure it's because I suck at the whole party (planning and attending) thing. Anyway - there's a welcome Spud party tomorrow that will keep me from my (nuclear) familial duties.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Leap Blog Day: You Know You Wanna.

So. There's this thing going on. It's called Leap Blog day.

What, exactly, is this "Leap Blog Day", you may ask. Well, let me tell you!

The ladies at We Band of Mothers, Just Inappropriate, Southern Fried Children, and Mothers of Brothers decided to start up a day to celebrate other blog writers. Which is great, because we all deserve a little celebration now and again.

Here's what you do: Join up by clicking the frog icon over there on the right. This will take you to the sign up page where you can register your own blog. Have a look at the other blogs listed, take some time to get to know everyone. Then, if you want to, ask someone to do a guest post on your blog! (And someone might ask you to do a post on theirs!)

It's a great opportunity to have your voice heard by some readers you may not have reached before, as well as bringing your readers a new voice that they may not have stumbled upon themselves.

Simple right?

I (despite my innate fear of joinery* and/or rejection) have signed up. You should too. Totally. It's gonna be fun.

I mean, no one's asked me yet, but it isn't for a while. *cough*

*As in, joining things. Not cabinet making. I'm actually pretty interested in cabinet making. If I can manage to convince the husband that I should get the garage (as well as a room in the house to call my studio), I may open a shop. I'll let you know.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


Everything is better with bacon on it.

For example, when I got stuck with making the yams for Christmas dinner this year, I thought, "great. No one ever eats the yams, and I'm going to be stuck with buckets of leftovers." Upon further consideration, I decided that there were usually a couple of issues with the yams.

First of all, everyone (in my family, anyway) always pours in a bunch of maple syrup, which makes it too sweet. Then there's the fact that they tend to mash/whip them until they look like diarrhea.

So. I cubed and boiled them until they were a little soft. While this was happening, I sauteed some diced onion in a bit of butter, and cooked some maple smoked bacon. (See what I did there? They get their freaking maple, but BACON.) Crumble/shred/chop/whatever the bacon once it's crispy. Throw it all in a casserole dish (or in my case, tin foil lasagna pan) and bake, covered, at about 350F for 15 minutes. Toss together, add more bacon if you feel like, and throw in the oven again, uncovered for 15 more minutes.

The result? Super yummy yams that I didn't have to bring home again. Although, they were super yummy, so I wouldn't have minded if they'd left me a little bit. Like locusts, my family.

Back to bacon. Today, I got out a healthyish freezer meal for my lunch. Then, I happened to see bacon sitting in the fridge. Bacon sandwich it is. I put the healthyish thing back in the freezer, and threw some bread in the toaster while I made Kee her sandwich.

Only, I didn't put the healthy thing in the freezer, I put it in the microwave. I did notice that the microwave was going, but I thought that it was my Magic Bag(TM, probably) so I left it. When I opened the microwave and realised I'd made toast for a sandwich and the sesame chicken freezer thing?

I continued to make myself two lunches.

Yeah, I suppose I could have put one or the other of those things in the fridge to save for dinner, but that would mean remembering that it was there so that I didn't end up throwing it out in a couple of days. And I really don't have all that much faith in my memory right now.

Besides, bacon.

Incidentally, I found my Magic bag. It was in the fridge.


Censorship sucks. Even Vader thinks so.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Crazy for Crochet.

I've been a knitter since grade school. I decided I'd like to try since my mum was a knitter, and it looked kind of fun. Or at least like something to do. I taught myself to switch colours and do cables. I discovered stitches and textures, and fell in love.

It fell by the wayside a bit when I was in University, but since the girls came along, I've picked it up again. There is something extremely satisfying about sitting down with a couple of sticks and a big ball of yarn, and ending up with a sweater.

I was never really into crochet though. At one point, I gave it a try and made a great big granny square. Granny squares are nice and all, but I didn't know how to finish it, I didn't know what to do with it, and I have no idea what happened to it. Thus ended my brief flirtation with the noble art of crochet.

Fast forward to the birth of my beautiful nephew. My brother-in-law's grandma has made Spud some gorgeous baby blankets. Crochet, of course. Soft, and pretty and lacy looking; I couldn't help wanting to see if I could make one. I don't really have the time to pick up any new hobbies though, and these blankets are a little more complicated than a granny square, so I wasn't really going to bother.

I happened to mention my interest in front of my mother, who said, "Knitters don't crochet."

What? Apparently, it is a common belief that knitters can't crochet and crocheters can't knit. Like they're mutually exclusive fiber arts or something.

Well, that sounds like crap. Armed with some directions for basic crochet (with helpful things like what the heck all those abbreviations mean; hdc in next 2dc*?) I decided to teach myself to crochet.

I started out with some slippers. I found a pattern that looked fairly simple and got started. Sadly, they turned out lumpy and strange looking, two different sizes, both of which were too big**. Not to be deterred, I decided to try making some slippers for the girls instead, because even if they turn out a little lumpy, small things are cute.

I didn't try to use a pattern, since I am apparently patternally challenged; I just tried to make them look like the little ballet slippers that Kee already has.

These are Kee's; I made Beege some in black, and they both love them.

This experiment convinced me that I can indeed crochet functional things... the problem seems to be that I can't follow a pattern. Or maybe the problem is that I can't count.

Alrighty. Time to try out some big people slippers again. No pattern this time, I'm just going to go with it. Cute, right? And they totally fit, and stay on, and everything! Ooh, and I learned how to make flowers, too.

Since making my totally cute slippers, I have crocheted 8 dishcloths, 3 hats***, and something that was supposed to be a draft blocker for in front of the door, but I ran out of yarn so it's too short. It also kind of looks like it could be the Jolly Green Giant's penis. It is green and stripey though, so I added eyes, called it a caterpillar, and gave it to Beege.

Because I'm awesome.

*Half double crochet in next 2 double crochet. I had to look up what that meant too.
**Which was likely not the fault of
the pattern at all (especially considering they ended up two different sizes), because these look pretty darn cute. Maybe if you give it a shot you'll fare better. Especially if you can count.
***Which turned out really well, so I will be posting pictures of them soon. Because I can't help it.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Modern Art.

At The "Happy Shortcake" Conference.
An Installation, by Kee.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Happy De-Lurker Day!

Rachel says that it's Lurker Appreciation day, and just like last year, if she hadn't said it I wouldn't have known. Apparently, it happens every year around this time.

Most bloggers really do appreciate hearing from their readers; I certainly do. I appreciate every single one of you, even if you never say anything to me. It does make for a very one-sided conversation though, so if you have ever had an urge to make a comment, ask a question, or even just say "hi!", today is the day!

Of course, last year, the bulk of my post was about dog poop, and those who don't pick it up when they should. Which is still a problem. But I already wrote about that, so I won't bore you with it again.

Instead, I shall tell you the tale of my bathroom sink. Which is definitely much more interesting. I think.


Beege fools around in the bathroom. I'm sure I'm not the only mum of a first grader who has had to stand outside the room, tapping her foot and reminding her kid what she's supposed to be doing every five seconds, but Beege is especially talented.

She likes to fill the sink and play with the bath toys when she should be washing her hands. She wastes time tying toilet paper into her hair, when she should really be concentrating on getting off the toilet. Last night, she draped toilet paper everywhere and then came out to ask for a cotton ball to check if her "experiment*" would work.

Anyway. After her experiment was cleaned up and she was once again involved in the task at hand (namely, pulling her pants up and washing her hands), I was somewhat irritated when I heard the sink filling up.

BEEGE! Wash your hands!
I went in and, instead of the My Little Pony pool party I was expecting, she was indeed washing her hands. The sink, despite its lack of drain plug, was not draining.

It was making that sickening "glug... glug" noise.

After the girls were in bed, I took it upon myself to try and clean out the drain. Because slow drains freak me out a little. I always assume that there's something living in them.

Armed with a rubber glove, some shish kebab skewers and a flashlight, I set about clearing the drain. Oh. my. god.

I still have no idea what that stuff even was. All I know was it was black, it was rank and it was coating gobs and gobs of hair. HAIR! I am insisting that we put some sort of toxic chemical crap down the drain to melt anything else that might be waiting in there.

I'm still grossed out.

The sink looks so shiny and harmless, sitting there, sparkling at me benignly. But I know the truth. I saw the animal it was trying to grow in the drain.

All of a sudden, I feel like I'm on that "How Clean is Your House" show, where the nice British ladies come in and show you all the ways your house is trying to kill you. Germs are everywhere.

Kim and Aggie, of "How Clean is Your House?"

On the bright side, this incident has inspired me to bleach every surface in my house and dump toxic chemicals down every drain. My house will likely be the cleanest is has ever been. Nothing like a disgusting mass of unidentifiable goop to get your started on your spring cleaning early.

(Oh - here are some cleaning tips from the lovely British ladies themselves, in case you too think your house is disgusting!)

*I'm still not sure I understand what she was trying to find out, but it involved throwing the cotton ball at this thing to try and make it fall on that thing which would make something else do something else.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

The (Very Belated) Holiday Re-cap. [Part 3]

[Last one, I swear.]

And Then My Ass Exploded.

January 1st, 3:00am.

In the darkened bedroom, the sleeping woman stirs. She groans. She bolts upright. She whimpers, as she swings her legs over the side of the bed. She moves in fits and starts, trying to travel quickly, thwarted by the malevolent creature that is raking it's sharp claws through her abdomen with each step.

She heads to the bathroom. Stops. Changes direction to the children's bookcase, certain that she had put a bucket -- one of many used to collect Halloween treats -- there, the day before. Grabbing the bucket, she once again turns to the bathroom; moving quickly, despite the pain.

She feels as though she is being torn apart.

As suddenly as she awoke, pure evil begins pouring from her body. It rips and burns on its way out. Sobbing and shaking, she is nonetheless pleased to have made it to an acceptable receptacle.

What follows is too horrific to describe.

When she feels the evil lift for a moment, she finds herself grateful that: a) the children had more than one of those damn buckets, b) the toilet had not clogged at any juncture, and c) she did not drop her glasses in the toilet as she had initially feared.

There follows a time of sobbing, racked with convulsions, until she falls fitfully asleep; only to be woken by fresh waves of pain. The TV agrees to babysit, and nothing is broken, no children are harmed.

Time passes. She is unaware. Eventually, the pain lessens.

She sits up.

She feels... hungry.

All is right with the world.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

The (Very Belated) Holiday Re-cap. [Part 2]

Take Them Away!

I have stomach issues. I've always been a little stomach-y, but after Kee was born, everything got much worse and there was a while there that I couldn't even leave the house. Let's just leave it at that.

These "issues" happen to get worse in the car. Not because I get motion sickness (although that is also a problem), but because the combination of worrying that my stomach will act up combined with the worry that we'll get stuck in a traffic jam, I won't be able to make it to a bathroom, and will arrive at our destination smelly, miserable and in need of a shower... well... I don't tend to go on long car trips if I can help it.

So for the past couple of years, my husband has been taking the kids to his mum's for a visit around Christmas, and I've been staying home.

While I miss the kids, and I feel like a jerk for not going... I can't really deny that I look forward to it every year. When am I EVER alone?

I always plan to get a lot done while they're gone. There are all kinds of things that I can't do with the kids running around: cleaning out cupboards, putting up shelves, culling the toys, having a bath. That kind of thing. I know what you're thinking; "sure you can!" But no. No, I can't. I don't know about your kids, but mine don't like to let me pay attention to anything other than them. That's why I haven't been able to use the toilet in peace in six years.

Anyway, armed with these good intentions, I waved them out of the driveway.

I got nothing done.

Actually, not nothing. I watched several movies*, had dinner with my grandma and taught myself to crochet**. I even had a bath. TWICE. I just didn't do anything for anyone else.***

It was amazingly quiet.

Then they came home.

Now I'm looking forward to the husband's mum's birthday.

*"Good Luck Chuck": contained more sex than I like to watch in a movie, but otherwise kind of cute. "My Girlfriend's Boyfriend": bit of a twist ending, fluffy, sweet. I enjoyed it. "No Strings Attached": It is what it is. "Bridesmaids": I love Melissa McCarthy and Ellie Kemper. I didn't find it as hilarious as I was led to believe I would, but still funny. I could also totally see myself trying to hold in the evil at a bridal shop.

**More about this later.

***Other than the usual 8 loads of laundry, finally getting to the end of the dishes in the kitchen sink and sorting through the girls' dressers and removing some things, so that their father would stop giving them clothes that are three sizes too small in the morning.

The (Very Belated) Holiday Re-cap. [Part 1]

Christmas Morning.

I wake up for no apparent reason at 6am and lay in bed waiting for the children to wake up. At 6:30, I contemplate going into the kitchen and accidentally dropping something loud so that the kids will get up, and start enjoying Christmas, dammit!

About 6:45, I finally hear small, shuffling footsteps coming down the hallway. FINALLY! What is wrong with these kids, anyway? It's Christmas!

I hear a little sniffle. Then I hear a sob. Kee?

Kee: I'm so sorry I ruined Christmas!
Me: What?
Kee: I ruined Christmas! *sob*
Me: What happened?
Kee: I went to bed *sniffle* with a dirty diaper! And *whimper* I was naughty so I didn't get a *sniffle* bedtime story!
Me: You didn't ruin Christmas, baby! It's okay!
Kee: Oh. *totally normal voice* Is it the weekend? Is it morning time? Can you get up and make breakfast now? Can I watch a show? Why did you leave the Christmas lights on all night? You're not supposed to leave lights on all night. Are you getting up now? Can I watch a show?

Alrighty. Time to get up and make a beautiful Christmas breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs and tea. Apparently, no one is interested in the bacon, pancakes, and eggs. Toast it is. *sigh*

Beege was thrilled with the new pajamas from Kee, Kee was enraptured with her snow globe* from Santa, and the husband was pleased to finally be allowed to open the video game that he had known about for a month. Despite the complete lack of bacon, fun was had by all.

(Although, next year, there will be bacon.)

*It was the most perfect snow globe for her; Tiny, and containing a little pink bird house. Sadly, the snow globe suffered an accident about a week later. We're still in mourning.

Monday, January 9, 2012


Okay. Let's just jump right in here. Hi. My name is Skwishee, and I'm neurotic.

As well as wanting to be an actor, and an artist, I've always wanted to be a writer. I've also always thought that I wasn't particularly good at any of those things. Actually, that's not quite true; I've always thought that I was pretty good, but that if the time came for someone else to see/watch/read my work, THEY would not agree.

And then I would be crushed.

I was not, unfortunately, gifted with confidence of any sort.

A couple of years ago, I decided that I would write a blog and not tell anyone. If they didn't know, they couldn't judge, right? If anyone happened to read it, great, but I wasn't expecting anyone to, so I couldn't be disappointed if no one did.

In the beginning I had four followers. All of whom I know personally.

Then, one morning, I sat down at my computer and noticed that I had a fifth follower. Rachel, a complete stranger whose blog I was enjoying, had come to my blog, read a bit, and decided that she wouldn't mind reading it again. A complete stranger!

Then, a while later, Marianne stopped by and had some nice things to say about me on her blog (before I sent her a present, even!). Then MOV said some nice things about me on her blog too... more people stopped by. People actually seem to be reading this thing! That's great!

So, ridiculously, I got shy.

And I couldn't write.

And the longer I didn't write, the worse it got.

I would wake up in the morning thinking "today is the day! I'm going to sit down and write!" But instead, I would sit down, read through my blog roll and think about how funny, smart, and interesting these women could be. Then I would bury my face in my hands and think, "oh crap! I've got to be funny, smart, and interesting?"

Writer's block combined with intense performance anxiety. Still no writing.

Then, all at once, it occurred to me. People have said nice things about my blog; have said that it's "worth reading", even. Worth reading! That is not a bad thing.

I sat down and wrote. The result being this awkwardly worded post about why I haven't written a single thing for the past couple of weeks. But at least my toes are back in the water.

So. A hearty welcome to any new readers who have found their way here recently, and a fervent thank you to those who have found me "worth reading" and keep coming back. I'm really glad you're here.