Long time, No see...

Dear blogosphere, it has been over three years since my last confession blog, and really, there's not a lot I can say about that except, well.. I am the Princess of Procrastination.

Long story short(ish), life happened. And when I say 'life', I quite literally mean it. 'Life' is currently two years and three months old, and is as mischievous as toddlers can be. Master Oliver Harry Smith was a late addition to my family, and is a thoroughly spoiled little man, but we loves him, precious, yes we do.

Sadly, babies/toddlers + full-time job + procrastination tendencies = no blogging from yours truly. Though it has to be said, I wasn't much for keeping faithfully up to date on here anyway. *shifty*

It's been a funny few years; not only did I have a new kiddie winkle, but just prior to that little surprise I became immersed in fanfiction writing for several months (so I can honestly say that I did actually do some writing, even if it wasn't for a 'real' book, or posts for this neglected blog). I actually wrote a 50k fanfiction in six weeks. As in, a finished 50k fanfiction. Go me! And several shorter length stories and drabbles too. This, I should point out, is more a testament to my obsessive nature when it comes to nerdy fandoms, than to any new found non-procrastinating habits. Maybe one day I can apply my OCD geekyness to writing another novel.

On the subject of geeks, I also geeked out majorly over the phenomenon that is Game of Thrones (several nerdgasms were had, I kid you not).But I'm pretty sure I'm not alone there. I would say that I should make a new tag for GoT, but let's be honest here, no-one is holding their breath for more Princessy blog posts (least of all me... I know myself too well).

So this is just a 'hello' post, really. And probably a 'is anyone going to actually read this' post. And also a 'blimey, I remembered my login details AND how to compose a post' post.

I'm hoping to leave you with a picture of my Ollie-Pop as an end to this , but in all fairness, this could turn into an 'oops, I forgot how to add a picture to my blog post' post. We shall see...

Blimey, I think it worked" *faints*

Lellied Again...

There was an inset day today at my daughter's school, which meant that she had a three-day weekend. With the weather being cold, and the Smith family not owning a car, we spent the day at home. Ellie, being the creative child that she is, diligently spent the afternoon upstairs, only showing her face to ask odd questions such as 'Can I use one of the big glue sticks?' and 'What are the colours of the rainbow again?'

I was puzzled, but left her to it (I have learnt that this is the best way to deal with my ten year old). Half an hour ago she came downstairs giggling and hiding something behind her back. Mum and dad had to participate in her little game, which consisted of a piece of paper with an alarmingly scary-looking face drawn on it, and a rainbow/heart/pocket thingy glued next to it.

Apparently, it was a lucky dip. We each had to pull something from behind a the rainbow. I won £20, while the hubby won £5 (*snicker*). Alas, it was not real money, but the thirty seconds or so of fun (following around two hours of drawing, writing and sticking) was well worth it according to my daughter.

Ms. Jekyll & Ms. Hyde

 

My daughter can be a little angel at times, but mostly she is a typical ten year old. Between the bouts of tantrums, pouting, pestering, and winding-daddy-around-her-little-finger incidents, I sometimes catch her in a genuine moment of sweetness. This was one of those moments, and it's a nice reminder that sometimes, being 'Lellied', is actually quite nice.

Another Quick One

Hello! I've been really busy the last month or so with this and that, which is why I haven't been around. I'm sorry for not posting anything new, or getting around to everyone's blogs! I just wanted to pop by and let you know that I'm still alive, and working on a new post too. :) In the meantime, here's a picture of my nine year old, who brought home a bunch of stuff from school yesterday, including a copy of the pose she did for her 'Hollywood' school project a few months ago.

The smug look is pretty much her permanent expression, by the way...

Of COURSE I'm a star!!

See you soon!

E is for...

Ellie

There dwells in my house an Ellie,

Who's fond of strawberry jelly.

She often tells tales

On big brother Dale

And believes that all boys are 'smelly'.

Image self-taken.

Tricky Time

Sometimes it's hard to believe that I am a mother of an almost fifteen year old and a nine year old. It seems like only a short while ago that I was fifteen myself, and I can remember some things from that age clearer than I can remember things that happened just a few short weeks ago. Whether that's because my teenage memories are mostly good, so I remember them fondly, or if it's because my brain is going a bit kooky now that I have a teenager of my own, is anyone's guess.

Anyway, this picture was taken when my son was six and my daughter a mere nine months. If I close my eyes, I can almost trick myself into thinking that was eight days rather than eight years ago, Time's a funny thing.

*is shaking her fist at fate*

Oi! Ms Fate! I'd like a word with you, Missy. *glares wrathfully* What's with all the crap you've been throwing in my path lately, huh? If I was speaking literally, I'd have been cleaning muck off my shoes for the last month. What the heck happened to giving me a break, huh? *glares again*


You know, I do my best to get along, I really do, but when you keep doing horrible things to me, it's kinda hard.  First you decide that my husband needs to have weekly accidents on his upper limbs for a while. Look, Mrs - my hubby can get himself into scrapes all by himself, he doesn't need any other help thank you very much. *pointed glare*

And as for my son... well, when exactly did you decide to turn him from a reasonably well behaved child into The Teenager Most Likely To Threaten His Teacher With A Hammer? What's up with that?

Oh, and don't even get me started on my daughter. You know, the One Most Likely To Drive You Insane - remember her? Not content with making her possibly the most exasperating little girl within a twenty mile radius, you seem to have decided that excess cheek, downright rudeness, and infinite wind-up capabilities are now Miss Ellie's new foibles. She's my daughter, and I love her to bits, but really... you need to let up a bit with her or she may end up being strangled. Or at the very least gagged.

And what on earth have my poor pussies ever done to you to deserve near death experiences? I'm a conscientious pet owner. I feed them well, they have the run of the house, I keep my daughter away as much as I can (though there have been a few incidents of the poor things being Ellied, granted), and I make sure they get treated with anti-flea stuff regularly. So, any chance you could tell me why this month's flea treatment caused most of their fur to fall out, gave them open sores, and caused my older puss to constantly shake for almost a month?? *glares through narrowed eyes*

Now don't get me wrong, none of these things happened to me personally, but still, they've happened to my nearest and dearest, and that's not on, Missy, that's not on at all. Give the Smith family a break, can't you?

Of course, although none of the above directly happened to me, you couldn't leave me out, could you? *eyeroll* Oh no, that wouldn't be right, would it? I have been happily cough free for the last two years (after suffering every winter for twenty odd years) - probably something to do with not having to walk to work in the bitter cold at the crack of dawn - and I thought I was clear of the damned thing. So what did you do? You gave it back to me. Well thanks very much for that. No really, thank you. It's really made my year. Not only to I struggle to get above five hours of sleep at the best of times, but now I get to wake up every hour or so and enjoy a fifteen minute coughing fit. Lovely.

You're a bit of a bitch really, aren't you Miss Fate. Take that. *punches*

To Casserole, Or Not To Casserole, That Is The Question...

 Mark, being the delusional bloke that he is (and I mean that in the nicest possible way) was bound to give me at least one topic suggestion that would stump me at least a little bit. But I never dreamed that of the five requests he would make of me, casseroles would be one of them (and if I'm worried about this post, I still have darts and Noel Edmunds to cover in the next few days *faints*).

I'm not a fan of casseroles, in fact I've never liked them at all. Possibly because my mother used to make them every week during the winter (along with the obligatory stew, which I also disliked), and there would inevitably be several vegetables lurking inside that would make me cringe with every forced mouthful. The thing is, I was brought up to eat everything on my plate whether I liked it or not. If I wanted 'afters', I had to eat my main meal. An odd sprout left here, a spoonful of peas left there, that was allowed, but the majority of the meal had to be consumed.

We also had set meals for certain days, depending on the season. Summers were cool because we basically lived off various salads, which I've always loved, but winter meals were a different deal. Sundays would obviously be dominated by the roast chicken dinner (which fortunately I love), Fridays would be fish of some sort (I detest fish), Mondays were ham, mashed potatoes and parsley sauce (hate ham, loathe parsley sauce), and Wednesdays were stew days (or casseroles, one or the other). Luckily the other days weren't so structured, and we had things like steak pies (yum), corned beef hash (yum yum yum), curries and pasta (yumminess all round).

Anyway, when it was casserole or stew day, I would dread sitting down to eat because I knew I would have to hold my breath so as not to smell the food, and bypass chewing as much as possible and move straight to swallowing, thus avoiding much of the tasting process. I still cringe at the memory of those times when a hint of swede or parsnip hit my taste buds and I had to stop myself from... well, you get the idea.

You may think I'm a fussy eater, but I'm actually not too bad. I like way more than I don't like. If you want to know what a fussy eater is, then you should meet my kids. My son lives off a diet of cereal, cheese spread sandwiches and chips (that's fries to those of you in the US of A). My daughter is not much better, though she will at least have ham, eggs (but only the yolk, mind you), sausages and fishcakes. Offer them real fish, and they would laugh. And meat? Uh-uh. As for vegetables, you can forget it. I do a lovely Sunday roast every week (well, actually the hubby does it now because I work every Sunday), and out of all of the meat and the trimmings, my kids have potatoes. That's it. My daughter will have a sausage on the side rather than real meat, and they'll both have the gravy, but as for the idea of giving them a proper roast dinner, I might as well talk to the wall.

Now you might think that I should follow my mother's example and tell them that they have to eat their meals whether they like them or not, but you haven't met my kids. I've tried so many times to be firm with them, and each time they have gone without food for the night, or they have literally made themselves sick after forcing a mouthful down their throats. I'm sorry, but even though I know they're manipulating me, I can't stand back and watch my kids vomit, or go hungry. Plus having my own bad food experiences in my youth makes it doubly hard to force my kids into eating stuff they don't like. 

So to answer the original question, it's definitely Not To Casserole. It's just not happening in the Smith household, no sirree.

10 Things...

Tami's asked for a list of distractions that are responsible for me not doing what I should be doing -namely writing (or editing, you decide) - for her third request, and it is probably the easiest of my blogging challenges so far.  Look no further for...

10 Things That Are Very, Very Bad For Procrastinating Princesses

1 - The Television.

I'm not a huge watcher of television, but I do have my obsessions. I'm a nut for American stuff, from Supernatural to Fringe, from House to Eureka (and a lot of stuff in between). Luckily they don't all schedule at the same time of the year, but there are usually three or four serials that I watch weekly. Not a huge distraction by all means, but a distraction nonetheless. I'm also a nut for the X Factor (American Idol is the equivalent across the pond), and as we are currently in prime X Factor season, I am fearing multiple distractions for the next two months, though thankfully it only applies for a couple of hours at the weekend, so it is workable.

2 - My Job.

I only work sixteen hours a week (barring overtime), but they are all early shifts, so tiredness is a major bane of my life. Unplanned (but totally required) naps eat up several hours a week that could be otherwise more usefully occupied.

3 - Kids.

My son doesn't take a huge amount of my time up as such, but quite a large chunk of my time is swallowed up with pointless arguments and the stress that comes with having a teenager under your roof. My daughter, although not quite nine, takes up even more time with her constant demands for attention, and her inability to understand that she is not the centre of everyones' universe.

4 - Confidence (or lack of it).

Sometimes I think to myself that what I have written is the pantsiest thing ever, and I wonder if editing it is really worth my while. Moods like this are not conductive to getting things done at all. Which leads me to...

5 - Mood Swings.

Yup, I get them a lot. My episodic depression is mostly under control now, but I still get days here and there when all I want to do is sleep, cry, or clean like a mad woman. I have no control over this and just have to go with the flow. Thankfully these days are getting more sporadic, and when I do get them, they only last a day or two at a time.

6 - Facebook.

This is a biggie. I check in several times a day just to be nosy more than anything, but if that was the only thing that distracted me, I wouldn't be worried. It's those silly games, they're a nightmare for people with an addictive nature (like me, for example). I'm talking about Bejeweled Blitz mostly, though the recent discovery of Vegas Nights (very similar to Blitz, but with the added bonus of tournaments) is proving to be as much of an obsession as those shiny gems ever were.

7 - Other Online Duties.

I moderate on the fan fiction forum over at HPANA, and though the site is pretty quiet now that the Harry Potter books are finished, there's still stuff to keep me occupied. We're currently holding our annual fanfic awards, and while I don't really have much to do at present, there will be votes to tally and posts to compose for the results. All new forum posts by members need to be skimmed on a daily basis too to make sure the rules are being followed and nobody needs spanking (or editing, as the case may be).

8 - Reading.

I read every day, and seriously don't see a time when I won't. This is a good thing mostly, but if I really get sucked in to a story, I won't put the book down until I am done. It's a nice habit, no question, but when the Reading Bug attacks me, it's not good for my Writing Mojo at all.

9 - Cleaning.

I'm by no means a clean freak, but one of my coping strategies for my recent descent into madness was housework. Dusting, polishing, vacuuming, cleaning the oven, scrubbing the bathroom.... you name it, I did it. Mostly to eat up the time (which seems to drag terribly when you are feeling down), but also because housework is incredibly mind-numbing, and therefore essential when you want to have a couple of blissful, thought-free hours

10 - Wikipedia.

I use Wiki a lot, mostly because I'm pretty clueless about a ton of stuff and often have to look things up. The problem with Wiki is that they have these lovely, lovely hyperlinks which can take you to magical places where you can find out even more (usually pointless) information. Seriously, it's like that seven degrees of separation thingy. You type in something along the lines of , ooh, I don't know, lets say Jensen Ackles for the sake of argument (*shifty*), and suddenly you are clicking on the link that takes you to the page for one of his movies. Then you come across another actor who interests you, and so you click on his shiny link too. Before you know it, you've clicked about twenty hyperlinks, and three hours later you find yourself wondering why you are reading about soap powder (or something else equally as random).

So there we have it. Ten distractions that usually make me fall off the Writing Wagon. And believe me, that's just the tip of the iceberg....

*is doomed*

Think Before You Speak

Before I start Natasha's final blog request ('Let's all be friends.'), I want to quickly say 'thank you' again for the replies to my recent spate of blogs. I'm (obviously) able to get onto Blogger and schedule my posts, but the comments section still isn't working for me. *mutters darkly* Hopefully the start of the new week tomorrow will make Blogger comment-friendly again for me...

So this final request from Natasha is pretty apt for me to blog about because I am the type of person who hates confrontation and generally will keep my mouth firmly closed in order to keep the peace. I absolutely hate arguing and will do almost anything to avoid it. Now and again I lose my temper, usually when it involves sticking up for my kids, but most of the time I will bite my tongue and smile. I just think it's better to not say anything at all rather than say so much that you will regret it forever.

Not that I'm a total doormat, don't get me wrong. I suppose I do tend to let people get away with a bit too much, but as long as nobody is being harmed  in any way, I'm pretty easy going by nature.

Of course, I'm no saint, so while I am outwardly smiling, sometimes I am inwardly seething and itching to say what is on my mind. Thankfully I am a very, very patient woman, so I am usually able to overcome the urge to rant at someone who is annoying me.

The problem with being patient though, is that at some point you do eventually snap. I can go months and months of putting up with a crappy situation before I finally lose my temper and actually say something. A prime example was when my son was being bullied a few years ago. The child responsible for terrorizing my boy for almost three years lived at the bottom of my street so I saw him (and his mother) most days. Time after time I knocked at their house and politely asked the mother to have a chat with her boy and try to put a stop to his threatening and abusive behaviour. Then one day I just snapped.

My son was walking a few feet in front of me one morning, and Master Bully came from nowhere and shoved him so hard that he fell flat on his face. The other child ran off laughing while I checked to see if my son was ok, and I immediately reported the incident to the headmistress of their school. Fortunately the incident happened on school grounds and there was CCTV footage, so the other child couldn't deny it.

Anyway, the following morning the mother confronted me in the street just after I'd taken my kids to school. She was nice at first, and apologised for her son's behaviour. But then she tried blaming my boy and I saw red. Usually when kids argue or fight, you don't know who is at fault as one will always blame the other, but because I had witnessed the incident first hand, I knew that my son wasn't at fault.

I'm partly proud and partly ashamed to admit that I screamed at this woman in the middle of the street for about five minutes straight, and was fairly bitchy about everything too. She moved her family away a couple of months later, and I have a feeling that it was because of the screaming match that we had. *shifty* Like I said, I'm a patient person and will put up with a lot, but don't mess with my kids.

But to get back to what this blog post is supposed to be about, I admit that while I am happy that I stood up for my child, I still wish that things could have been resolved more amicably. I would much rather have a civilized conversation with someone instead of shouting and letting forth a fairly steady stream of curse words (yeah, I was 'duck' this and 'bluddy' that all over the place that day, but you know... I AM a Taffy after all).

Thankfully I rarely lose my temper, and it really does take an awful lot to ignite it in the first place. As much as I would love to have a go at a number of people for many different reasons, I am glad that I can control the urge to do so. It has meant that I mostly have a confrontation-free life, and that is a good thing.

I will always advocate speaking your mind and standing up for yourself, but it should be done in a calm way if at all possible. Aggression feeds aggression, spite feeds spite, etc etc. The world would be a far better place if people could just exercise a little restraint and diplomacy. I'm friends with a lot of people, but there's always room for more. Sometimes it may be impossible to be friends with certain people, I admit, but if that is the case, smile sweetly and walk away. It's hard, it's sometimes galling, but if you can't be friends it doesn't mean you have to be enemies.

Not openly anyway. *shifty* And for the few people over the years who have rubbed me the wrong way, it gives a certain satisfaction to know that I've mostly stayed true to myself. I've always strived to be the nice person that everyone would want for a friend, the type of person who I would want for my own friend. Treat others as you would want to be treated yourself, that's my motto. And usually it works.

Birds, Bees, Storks and Cabbage Patches

Natasha's fourth topic request is 'Of Birds and Bees', and it's probably one of the most fitting topics to ask a mother to blog about. Having to explain the ins and outs of the facts of life to your kids is one of the most terrifying things a mother (or father) will ever do. The explaining of the subject itself is bad enough, because no matter how open you are, your child will always have a question or two that will make you squirm. But that's not what 's so terrifying; what's so awful about it is knowing that one of your babies is getting to the stage where they could possibly have babies of their own.

Of course, kids tend to know all about sex and stuff at an earlier age than they would have a century or so ago. With modern times came so-called modern attitudes towards sex in general. A century ago, if you weren't married and you engaged in sexual activity, you were severely frowned upon. Of course, men could do it and get away with it - it wasn't openly admitted to of course, that wasn't the done thing, but everybody knew, and they would turn a blind eye. A woman would be branded a loose woman with no morals - no turning a blind eye for them.

Anyway (digressing aside), in today's world of teenage pregnancies and relative acceptance of sexual orientation, plus the obligatory sex education at school, kids are far more knowing about the subject than they strictly should be. I'm all for having our kids being fully informed, but I really believe that in our efforts to protect them from sexually transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies, we are stealing a little bit of their youthful innocence.

I was clueless about sex up until the age of about fourteen, when I ended up looking up stuff in a dictionary just to find out what my friends were talking about. My search for enlightenment was triggered by a teasing session at school, when some more savvy kids started asking me whether my mother was a virgin or not. I'd heard the word before, of course, but I didn't actually know what it meant. Imagine my embarrassment when I looked it up and realised that everyone had been taking the mick out of me. With this slightly mortifying memory still painfully embedded in my head, I can definitely see how educating our kids on the basic facts of life can not only protect them from unwanted diseases, but also save them from being teased.

But part of me wishes that we could get away with the stork stories and cabbage patch theories for as long as possible. My son is fourteen and pretty clued up about everything to do with sex, and I never really had to do anything because he learned it all from his school lessons, friends, and the media. This is as it should be - I definitely wouldn't want any of my kids to be as clueless as I was at fourteen.  But my daughter knows mostly everything too, and she's not yet nine. Nine! I mean, when I was nine I was happily playing with my Barbie dolls and thought babies were made from kissing alone. When somebody mentioned the birds and the bees, I knew they were talking about how babies were made, but I had a vague idea that it had something o do with those trusty stalks, and perhaps honey was involved somewhere along the way.

My daughter was about seven when she suddenly blurted out that she knew how babies were made. I smiled indulgently and asked her what she knew, totally unprepared for what she would say. She said, and I quote; "Babies are made by a husband and a wife who love each other, and they get naked and do lots of kissing, and the man gets on top."

Okay, so she didn't know the precise details, but having my seven year old knowing even this much was shocking. Maybe I'm too prudish, but it was definitely too much information as far as I was concerned.

There isn't an acceptable age for a child to know the facts of life - all children mature at different rates, and what is right for one child is not right for another - but I firmly believe that children under the age of ten should be kept blissfully innocent of the whole shebang. Let our children be children before they find out how to have children.

Manic Mumbles. Or Mumbles About Being Manic. Or Something.

Manic-ness, that's what it is. Complete and utter manic-ness. For those of you without those pesky things we parents call 'ankle-biters', I'm talking about the summer holidays. Those almost-seven weeks of stress-inducing, hair-pulling, voice-going-because-we're-constantly-yelling-at-our-kids, school-free days. I can never understand why Britain keeps the overly-long summer break going. I mean, it's not as if we have lovely weather between the end of July and the beginning of September. Sure, we have a few odd days of sunshine here and there. but mostly it's just so-much-rain-we-can't-leave-the-house-without-an-emergency-boat-and-a-flare-gun (I seem to be having a hyphen day today, don't mind me). Unless you have a car (which I don't) and/or lots of money (which I most definitely don't), then you're basically screwed.

The kids are either bored or almost killing each other. That's when they're not avoiding being strangled by their mum. *shifty* I swear, if I hear 'Mum, can we go somewhere today, pleeeeeeease?' one more time I will definitely be up on a murder charge.

Then there's the other kids. In other words, my kitties. Since joining the household around a month ago, little kitty Angel has ruined my curtains, bullied the other kitty (*lights candle for Belle*), given me countless heart attacks when she decides to disappear for a few hours, only to turn up in the sock drawer, behind the freezer, in the (closed) crisps box, or the tumble dryer, and is probably costing me more to feed that the two of my (real) kids put together.

And then we have The Job. If the lottery machine is going to die, it will be on my shift. If the milk delivery is going to turn up with ten leaking bottles of milk which subsequently leave a series of puddles all over the floor AND cover the rest of the delivered stock in milky messiness, it will be on my shift. If the newspapers are delivered late causing a bunch of Angry Old Men to shake their fists at you and bend your ear about What A Sad State of Affairs It Is When You Can't Even Get A Paper At 6:01am, then it. Will. Be. On. My. Shift.

*screams*

On a happier note,  I am now fitting into a size twelve in the trouser department, the tax people have finally sorted out my tax credits (so that I actually have some money now, imagine that!), and I've found two people who are willing to babysit for me (I almost fainted with shock at that one - honestly, two people who are willing to watch over my monst- er, kids? Wow!), and because of this I now have a social life. Who'd have thunk, eh?

Now, if I could just get to blogging a bit more often, and finish editing that novel that's knocking around on my hard drive, then I could maybe call 2010 The Year of Yayness. Or maybe The-Year-That-Started-Off-Lamely-Then-Gradually-Improved-Around-Midway-Then-Really-Got-Better-By-The-End. But's that's not nearly so catchy....

Burrowific!!!

Yes, some of you probably already know what I am about to ramble about, but although I am late (as usual) in doing this, I simply can't NOT blather on about the exciting new blog that my writer's group has just launched.

Burrowers, Books & Balderdash is now live! And, although I'd hate to tempt fate by saying this, I am knocking on wood and declaring that it is already a success. The blog was launched less than twelve hours ago and ALREADY has 19 new followers, and a thumping good list of complimentary comments too! Of course, it really helps that a certain Watery Tart wrote the virgin post. Our Naked Friend has a fabulous network of blogging buddies who dutifully followed their Misattributing Mistress over to her new dungeon, and in the process made the rest of us Burrowers feel very happy indeed.

I won't ramble too much about my writing group because I have mentioned it at least a thousand times in the past. Also, I'm pretty sure that several of you have already been bombarded with Burrowing Bits today, what with not only the Watery Tart, but the Digressionista Diva and the Coffee Goddess too (fellow Burrowers who already have fantastically popular blogs, and also have the dedication to blog about our new venture immediately after it was launched (unlike moi, who procrastinated up until the last moment *shifty*).

Okay, so it's not only that, I don't want to give too much information because I want you to visit the new blog too. *smiles winsomely*

Anyway, there are going to be seven regular contributors to the blog (seven being the most powerful magical number of all *winks*) as of now, and we hope to add a few more Burrowers in the future. In the meantime, expect some nakedness, nuttiness, digressions, food for thought, cleverness, musical knitting and, of course, insanity to be coming your way. I'll leave it to you to figure out just who will be dishing out each of the above. Yes, that means you have to VISIT the blog regularly!

I really hope you take a peek - in fact, I hope you take more than a peek and go back for more!

But before you do (because I just know that you will), I will leave you with a little something that my eight year old wrote in school today. I'm happy and proud to be able to say that my daughter appears to be just as obsessed with writing as her mum. This is not the first time she has brought something she has written home with her - in fact, she writes most days, whether she is in school or at home. Mostly she likes to write songs, but every now and then she'll venture into a little poetry or story writing. Today's contribution falls under the poetry heading, though she tried something new and decided to write something that didn't rhyme. Of course I am biased, but I happen to think she is awesome. *nods*

"Love" by Ellie Smith (8)

Love is pink and red

Love sounds like a heart pumping

Love tastes like strawberries

Love smells like a flower

Love feels like flower petals

Love looks like kissing in the park

Ellie-Belly's Birthday

Yes, I've already blogged today, but seeing as I am already ten blogs short this month, an extra ramble makes me feel a little better about neglecting my blogging duties.

You all probably know (I've mentioned it almost as much as my daughter lately *snort*) that my little girl was a birthday girl today. I look at her and I can't believe she is already eight years old. It truly is scary watching your kids grow up.

I've just finished clearing up after a pizza and movie extravaganza. *dies* Ellie only invited three friends (all girls), but with my house being as small as it is, and with the amount of screeching that was going on, it felt like I had at least twenty kids here.

My son, being wise, went to his friend's house. Unfortunately, this resulted in a police visit because he managed to get himself beaten up INSIDE his friend's house.  A couple of kids barged into the house when the sister opened the door and attacked both my son and his friend. Honestly, I just can't believe his luck (I will have to blog about my run-ins with the police over the last year sometime soon, now that I think about it). Thankfully, my son wasn't injured, which was a relief, obviously. He's pretty shaken up though.

Anyway, this is supposed to be a birthday blog, so....

As well as the son escaping the screeching girls, the hubby also managed to avoid a headache. First he took advantage of my son's empty bedroom and played poker for a while, then he went to the pub. *rolls eyes* Honestly, men just can't cope with kids' parties at all. Okay, I can't cope much better, but seeing as I was supervising, I couldn't exactly pop to the pub. Bah humbug.

Pizza was dutifully ordered and demolished in about ten minutes accordingly (though I craftily stashed a pizza in the kitchen so that me and the hubby can have a munch later on *winks*). Sweetie things were brought out and devoured in as little time as the pizza, and birthday cake was presented (along with my burned thumb *shifty*).

Among the presents were two pairs of ugg boots (ooooh, wicked, mum!), a recorder with a how-to-play CD and book to match (must remember to strangle auntie Julia when I next see her), sparkly bracelets, a posh handbag and purse, and the complete series of Charmed (which caused screeching of a window-breaking nature).

The girls watched the Hannah Montana movie on the big TV, and when I say watched, I actually mean they ran around my tiny living room, stomped along to the stomping song (don't know what it's called), used my sofas as trampolines, and frightened the cat to within an inch of her ninth life.

Thankfully I have a quiet house now. My boy is safely home and having a munch in his bedroom, and my girl is watching the first episode of Charmed. They will both be in bed shortly, and I plan on eating my share of pizza and putting my feet up. *sighs blissfully*

Oh, and did I mention that it snowed today too? Quite apart from everything else, I am truly thankful that I didn't break my neck walking up and down my street today. I live on a hill, you see, and a twisty one at that. We're due more snow overnight so I could well be housebound tomorrow. Still, at least it will be a quiet day, unlike the one I had today....


Happy birthday Ellie-Belly!!

Arrrggghhh!!! #2

I think I may have used 'arrrggghhh' as a title before, so to be on the safe side I have added a '#2' on the end, and made the 'argh' extra long. Not that you needed to know that, but there we are.

Anyway, am currently arrrggghhhing fairly frequently. Am still bloody waiting for the cash machine people to give me back the £200 that they stole from me last week (okay, so they didn't steal it technically, but that's how it felt). Am also trying to juggle my cash so that I have enough to buy remaining presents by the end of this week. I really, really want to have every-one's gifts out of the way by Friday because I am going to be rushing around like an idiot as from next week, so I don't need the hassle of gift-stress.

Of course, none of you are remotely interested in any of this.

Anywho, have just finished writing 50 plus cards out this morning, and have posted almost all of the overseas ones. Of course, I highly doubt that everyone will get them in time, because of crappy Royal Mail. I should have sent them at least two weeks ago, but NaNo made me forget all sorts of things like that.

And the other day I spent hours wrapping presents up while the kids were at school (38 presents to be exact, and only about five were normal-shaped and easy to do, while the others came in shapes that I don't think are normally in existence at any other time of year).  Also, my cat was apparently under the impression that the sellotape was a football, and that the wrapping paper's sole purpose in life was in fact not to wrap, but to provide hours of slippery slidey fun for domesticated pussies.

And I know you didn't want to know any of that either.

Am also arrrggghhhing because I still don't have any regular computer access. Both of my deceased laptops will no doubt never be resurrected, and so I am hoping that I will be able to scrape enough cash together to buy a shiny new laptop in the January sales. Have dutifully requested cash instead of gifts from close family members and hubby, and will have to find the remaining needed myself (possibly I may not feed my kids for one week, but I'm sure they won't mind, after all they can surely survive on Cadbury's selection boxes and bags of Haribo for a while, yes?)

On another note, I am not arrrggghhhing over the fact that I won't have to take kiddie-winkles to the cinema tonight. The son's school requires my presence for 'Options Evening', where we can discuss which subjects my son would like to take for his GCSEs next year. I can now happily put off the nightmare that is watching Twilight: New Moon until Saturday, with the added bonus that I have arranged a girly evening that very same day, thus I will be able to drown the inevitable Twilight gloominess in a bottle of vodka or two. On the downside, am slightly traumatized by the fact that my ickle first-born is soon to be sitting GCSE's. Where the heck did the last thirteen years go? *cries*

Lastly I am arrrggghhhing about the fact that I am now being Ellied almost every second of every day. Daughter is most excited at approaching birthday (21st December) and is not letting me forget it.

"Twelve sleeps to my birthday!"

"Don't forget, mum, I'll need a chocolate birthday cake for school AND a lovely princessy-pink one for home. Or maybe a High School Musical one, or a Hannah Montana one. Ooh, maybe they have Camp Rock? But definitely NOT another chocolate one, because they HAVE to be different, okay?"

"Mum, how many sleeps again until my birthday?"

"Mum, when my friends come over for pizza and a movie, you WILL remember to light my birthday candles won't you? On the princessy-pink/High School Musical/Hannah Montana/Camp Rock cake. You know."

"Now mum, remember you promised that I could wear my own clothes to school instead of my school uniform on my BIRTHDAY. Can we go choose my clothes now? And we need to decide how I'm wearing my hair."

*dies*

It's all fun....

*is rhyming*

Thursday Madness...

Seven o'clock, alarm goes 'ring',

I open my eyes, and say 'Bloody Hing!'

I'm far too tired to get out of bed,

I want to stick the pillow back over my head.

Crawl downstairs,  flick kettle on,

Without my tea, I'm an angry King Kong.

Drink my cuppa, make some toast,

Sort through the daily bills from the post.

Yell at the son, 'Brush your teeth,

up, down, and underneath!"

Yell at the daughter, "Leave Dale alone,

that's all you ever do is moan!"

7:50, son leaves for the day,

One child left to get out of the way.

8:45, I'm ready and waiting,

But daughter is still bloody titivating.

9:05, second child is in class,

Time to kick myself up the ass.

Waylaid by school gate, my plan doesn't matter,

When offered the chance to have a good natter.

Sister-in-law, cousin and friends,

With lots to talk about, the chat never ends.

9:45, I finally get home,

The dishes and housework making me groan.

10:35, sister knocks the door,

Alas, thoughts of housework are no more.

Decide, instead, to grab Christmas tree,

Carelessly decorated by sister and me.

3:35, both kids are back home,

Screaming and shouting, having their moan.

Homework is done amidst much grumbling,

Due to the fact that stomachs are rumbling.

Tea is cooked, uniforms made ready,

Only two hours until 'Time for bed(dy)!

Feet are aching, so is the head,

Never mind the kids, I want my bed!

*thinks change is a good thing*

I try very hard to keep my blog hovering over the line of Insanity for the most part, but today both my feet are planted firmly on Solid Ground. I had an unexpected letter in my mail this morning; now usually, unexpected letters mean I've forgotten to pay a bill, or some other such message of doom, but today's surprising missive came from my son's school.

Oh no, what now?  I thought, as soon as I saw the header. I should probably explain (as briefly as I can) that my son switched schools five months ago, bang in the middle of the summer term. My 13 year old has D.A.M.P. syndrome, which is a blanket term for all sorts of things. He has classic symptoms of ADHD, as well as elements of autism and Asperger's. That sounds worse than it actually is, because my son is essentially like any other kid his age. What it means, though, is that his brain doesn't process things in the 'normal' way, and so he finds school work difficult, and doesn't deal well socially.

To add to these problems, he is very small for his age. Now, if you add his medical problems to his height deficiency, what you are going to get is bullying. I've battled with bullies on and off for the last six years, some worse than others, and all extremely stress-inducing. The most recent spate of bullying culminated in my son not feeling safe while he was at school.

A child with any problems from the autistic spectrum is going to struggle with school, but when you add bullies to the equation, you end up with a child who doesn't like school, is reluctant to go to school, and point blank refuses to work even when they attend school. This time last year I had a son who hated school, didn't feel he was capable of following the courses, and was scared he was going to get beat up almost every day.

This year it is completely different. I was so enraged at the previous school's complete lack of constructive guidance (not to mention their attitude in general), that I removed my son from their ranks and refused to let him go back. I researched a bunch of schools, chose one which I thought sounded heaps better, and contacted the local authority. Six weeks later, my son was attending classes in a school which exemplifies each and every aspect that we all wish for our children's place of education.

This school changed my son's timetable three times before they felt that they had it just right. They placed him in a smaller class with children of the same ability as him. They stamped smiley faces in his homework planner for every completed piece of work, sent commendation slips home with him to proudly display on our fridge, and just basically made him feel that he could do well in any subject, as long as he tried his best.

The change in my son was unbelievable. Obviously the first few weeks were difficult - starting a new school in the middle of a year is never fun - but after the initial adjustment, my son was coming home smiling most days. Instead of mooching around huddled into his coat, he now looked where he was going. It was amazing.

Today's letter was the icing on the cake. I knew he was doing better in all sorts of ways, but I never imagined the extent of the improvement of his actual school work. The last few years' reports have always been the same - lack of effort, no motivation, easily distracted, must do better, yadda, yadda, yadda. Depressingly depressing, both for him and for me. This year?  Fourteen subjects - 4 A's, 6 B's, 3 C's and a D (and the D was for P.E., which was expected due to his complete lack of interest in any sport that doesn't include water).



What a difference a year makes! Just goes to show, change is good. For all of the stickers, smiley faces, and commendation slips that they have awarded my son, I'd like to offer one in return. Fitzalan High School, I award you The Gold Star of excellence!

*is covered in clay*

Yup, I'm covered in clay. Plastered in plaster. Soaked in sticky stuff (don't be so dirty-minded .... I'm watching you).

My daughter 'Ellied' me the other week, and now I am committed to attending a pottery class every Tuesday. I was a bit wary at first, picturing the famous scene from 'Ghost' and wondering how the heck I was going to get on with a spinning mound of wet clay. Luckily for me, we're not using that type of clay, we're usuing the stuff which hardens overnight (I said I was watching you *glares*).

The first week we made pots. Well, we were supposed to have made pots. Mine was a mini watering can, complete with lop-sided handle (I am not creative in the arty way at all [/understatement] ). Ellie made a...bowl. Yes, I think it was most like a bowl. Anywho, we went back today and our pots/watering cans/bowls were nice and dry and we brought them home to paint. Lovely.

Today we made masks. The teacher showed us some African Tribal masks, gave everyone a lump of clay, passed around sparkly bits and pieces, and told us to 'go for it'. *snorts*  These are mine and my daughters efforts...

(Mine is the alien with a Mohican, and Ellie's mask is a female troll... I think.)

Next week we are making angels. I dread to think what they'll end up looking like....

It's all fun.

Pointless Ramble

So here I am, sat with my laptop on my lap (*squee*), and wondering what I am going to blog about today. There are a ton of things I could ramble on about, but nothing is leaping out at me as one specific topic.

I could blog about my kids, I suppose. But much as I have about a million things I could say about them, it's picking something that would occupy more than a couple of paragraphs that's causing me trouble.

Then there's the writing thing. Boy, I could ramble all day about that, but again I would have to find a specific 'something' to witter away with. Today my brain is a-buzzing with about a gazillion things, and nothing is staying put for longer than ten seconds. Bah humbug (speaking of humbugs, I LOVE them, but they seem to be something of a rarity these days unfortunately. Bah humbug indeed).

And another thing.... I was re-reading my blog from the other day (it's silly, I know, but I'm obsessive about re-reading my own stuff) and it occurred to me that I totally forgot to mention Watership Down in my list of movies that make me blubber. Crikey, what an oversight! (Actually, I could have mentioned Watership Down in my blog about songfics too, seeing as I wrote a lyric-based short fic using one of the songs from that movie). I can't believe I forgot about those poor, fluffy rabbits (ooh, that reminds me, I need to finish that update for my Lupin fic that I started the other day).

You see what I mean? My brain's all over the place today. I suppose it could be something to do with the fact that I'm feeling strangely hyper today. I actually had a decent night's sleep last night for a change. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't awakened by the sound of my kids arguing (my daughter had a sleepover at her aunt's house last night *second squee of the day*, and my son slept in too).

To top it all, it's Sunday tomorrow. Usually that's a bad thing, but it's actually a nice thing this week because the kids are at the start of their half-term break. Yay! No rushing around like a mad-woman tomorrow! I'm hoping that my less stressful Sunday will be conductive to writing a 'real' blog, rather than the mish-mashed effort of today.

Then again, I will no doubt fill tomorrow's post with more pointless rambling.*snort*

You've been Ellied!

We have a saying in our house, and it's uttered at least three times a day. My seven year old daughter is a bit of an Attention Hog (the capitalization is for stressing the point). I don't know if it's because she's a girl (who tend to be harder than boys), or whether it's because she is the youngest child in the house, but for whatever reason, she rules the roost. We get 'Ellied' more often than we want to.

She's a 'Daddy's Girl' - of course - but somehow her father gets all of the luck and only manages to get Ellied about once a week. Me being me (another 'of course'), I get Ellied every day. And my poor unfortunate thirteen year old gets Ellied at least twenty times a day (bless him).

Then there's the visitors; they don't get to escape from the joys of being Ellied, oh no they don't. When she was toddling around she used to love men (don't know who she got it from *shifty*), so whenever my hubby's friends came over they were all well and truly Ellied. She just wouldn't leave them alone. At one point she was calling every man she saw 'Daddy', and of course they had to say Sweet Nothings to her in response (a grumpy Ellie is something to avoid at all costs).

As she got older I kept telling myself that she would become more independent, and that she would lose interest in pestering people. Ha! She gets more proficient the older she gets. My sister visits every Thursday and spends the whole day with us, and as soon as my daughter is home from school, poor Auntie Andrea gets Ellied right up until bedtime. *lights candle*

As if this wasn't stress-inducing on its own, my seven year old seems to think she's seventeen. Her favorite words are currently 'whatever' and 'what?!?!'. And lets not forget the eye roll and side to side head movement. Ellie's got it down to a tee. Some days I want to strangle her, she drives me that mad.

But I suppose that for all the exasperation that she causes, I wouldn't have her any other way. She's a very loving child, and is generous with her hugs and kisses (which is lovely as my son has never been demonstrative). And as much as she makes me pull at my hair, she also has me in fits of laughter pretty much every day (at the moment she's entertaining me with off-key renditions of various Lady Gaga songs). And to top it all, she's a very bright little girl who makes me proud in so many ways.

And on that note, I shall leave you with the poem that she wrote a few weeks back. I had a silly smile when I first saw it, and the silly smile returns every time I read it. *grins*


"The Boy and his Pretend Pet" by Ellie Smith.

There was a boy who made a pet,
But then it got a little wet.
Then the boy tried to get it dry,
It didn't work and made him cry.
He could not take it to a vet,
Because it was not a real pet.
He tried again and made a note,
To make a pet that wore a coat.

*posts blog before I get Ellied again*