For The Times, They Are A'Changin

So, hi there. I, uh... I'm sorry I haven't called. Er... written. I mean, I know you feel like we're growing apart. It's not you, it's me. How are you?

I dunno. I got nothin. Life is busy? Kids and stuff? The school year started? OH! HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS! School started! I have a kindergartener! I HAVE A KINDERGARTENER. That's insane. I'm a little bit baffled by this particular development. He cannot possibly be in school. Like, actual school. Except that he is. And it's completely terrifying.

Not for him, of course. He's totally fine. He loves it. It's terrifying for ME. I mean... he's out there just, like, living his life. WITHOUT ME.

I know. I KNOW. That's precisely what he's supposed to be doing. It's good for him. We all have to do it eventually. Autonomy n' shit. Yeah, yeah. But jesus, it is hard letting him just wander around in the world doing things and learning things and struggling through things and only getting the tiniest snippet of what that's like for him. It's harder than I thought it would be.

This was the Big One's very first day of kindergarten, and look:

Who's the one marching along, head down, looking all forlorn and pouty? Not him. He's fine. IT'S ME.

After we dropped him off that day, we came home and I was completely overwhelmed with this terrifying feeling that it was over. Our time together was done. I sat in his room and cried and because he doesn't belong to us anymore. I mourned us.

That's completely melodramatic and slightly ridiculous, but it's also kind of true. The us we were doesn't really exist anymore. I've been home with him since he was born, and I've been a part of his entire life -- including his education -- up until now because of co-op preschool. (What? We live in Seattle. It's awesome. Shut up.) Now, he has this whole life at school that I'm not a part of for the first time in his life and it's a bit sad. I don't really know what his days are like, and I miss that. I miss watching him experience things for the first time.

He's doing well though, and we've worked our way through the transition hiccups and he's becoming this little person. This little person who's starting to read! Which !!!!!!


So anyway, big changes à Chez Squishy. Because in addition to the Big One starting kindergarten? The Little One started preschool. And DUDE was that kid excited. Like, AMPED. He has been waiting to go to school for a year and NOW HE GETS TO GO AND OMG. It's the cutest. Every day he's excited to go, and every day he leaps out of class and into my arms and says, "Mommy! I work and sing and play!" And I melt into a giant puddle of oozy love. I get to be with him in class once a week and watch him do all these amazing things...  Actually, he mostly just plays with the blocks and trucks and sandbox. Like, pretty much the whole time. But he's SO HAPPY about it. He'll shake it up soon, I'm sure. Or not. Whatever. He's happy.

My little squishies, they are growing up. Oof. That stings a little.



I have been working on getting things published (and writing things that are publishable), so there's that monopolizing my time. But it's working! I posted in August (oh... is that the last time I posted? OOPS) about my pieces in Brain, Child Magazine, and Luna Luna Magazine, but what I forgot to tell you is:

1. My piece in Brain, Child then went up on HuffPo and 15,000 people liked it on Facebook (so conceivably more than that read it) and WHOA.  I was totally blown away to even be there, and deeply honored to reach that kind of audience. Amazing.

And...

2. I'm now a staff writer for Luna Luna Magazine! I am so excited to be a part of Luna Luna and look forward to writing much more there. We talk lit, we talk feminism, we talk pop culture, we talk makeup, we talk tarot, we talk about all kinds of things and you should come on over and check it out.

So... stuff is happening! There's more coming out soon, too. It's a little surreal that I'm actually getting my work out there, and it is such a thrill to know that people want to publish and read the things I write. But even more meaningful is the idea that something I've written might have helped somebody. Or made them laugh. Or made them think. Or made them say, "Me, too." Ultimately, that's all I want.


And also, I got new glasses for the first time in 15 years. Turns out you should really have your eyes checked more than once every 15 years! Go figure. Here they are:

And with that, I'll leave you with the promise that there will be more from me soon and in the meantime... bizarre word combos that come out of our mouths. You're welcome.

Weird Stuff We Say

Daddy: "No. A penguin doesn't need a vacuum."


Daddy: "Who's on my team?!?"
Little One: "Not me!"


Little One: "My baby toe is 'llergic to dogs and cats."


Little One: "Mommy? You smell dat fart? Oh... dat not a fart. Dat the fries."


Daddy: "Did you wipe your nose, Little One?"
Little One: "Yep."
Daddy: "Then why are you wiping your nose on your shirt?"
Little One: "Because dere's booger water in dere."


Daddy: "Stop it. Just sit for one minute and be happy with your life."


Big One: "Sometimes, I accidentally eat toilet paper."
Me: "How's that taste?"
Big One: *pause* "Not very good."

(Apparently he was referring to when he's blowing his nose and the toilet paper gets stuck in his mouth. So at least he's not INTENTIONALLY eating toilet paper. There's that. Tiny victories!)


Big One: "Daddy? I need a cookie. Cookies help me remember stuff."


Little One:
bongo beans = garbanzo beans
bandeds = band-aids
tattoon = tattoo

Big One:
Star Vors = Star Wars

P.S. here's how I know having children causes you to lose your mind: My children made me start a puzzle with them and then abandoned me with the puzzle and then I really wanted to finish the damn puzzle BUT THEY KEPT WALKING ON THE PUZZLE. And then I was angry. The end.


P.P.S. the Big One declared that he would have a band called "Hands Droppin' Through a Tile." He would play the drums. I would play the maracas. Little One would play guitar. Daddy would sing.
WE HAVE A RETIREMENT PLAN, Y'ALL.

Growing Up & A Great Article

So much is changing with my little people every day.  They are artists and musicians, actors and detectives, scientists and mathematicians.  They want to see and learn and hear everything.  They bounce all over, soaking it all up.  And they are becoming the slightest bit more trustworthy and independent.  They are finally (FINALLY!!!) starting to play together for short periods without screeching, so from time to time, I get a moment to myself.  Sometimes I can pee without an audience, you guys!  It's a miracle!

And I can talk to them.  I can talk with them, and it is such a pleasure it catches me off guard sometimes.

The Little One's speech is growing by the day and he's able to tell me so much more about what he thinks about and observes around him.  He can tell me what "fwaired" him in the shadows behind the door.  He can explain his nightmares to me (in simple terms, but still).  He can tell me when and where he's hurt.  And he tell me when he's excited about something.  He can tell me me loves me, or wants a kiss, or wants to "cwimb on yap and wead a book."  He surprises me on a daily basis with his new tricks, and though he also surprises me with the depth of his stubbornness and willingness to test me, I adore that little boy to pieces.

The Big One.  So big!  He is so expressive now.  He's picking up words left and right and- to my delight- is using them.  Correctly!  His context is spot on, and he gets it.  My English teacher heart soars with every new word.  He's picked up gorgeous, humongous, enormous, and glum.  And he's used them all.  I cannot tell you how much I love it when he asks what a word means, and I watch him absorb the meaning as I explain.  My wonderful little word sponge.

They are so big already.  It happens so quickly.  I've found myself drawn to pictures of them both as babies, as though I can preserve that tiny part of them if I just remember.  If I only remember.  But they're no different.  They are bigger, more capable, naughtier... but they are still the same babies that I held and cuddled back then.  I look at the pictures and I see the same expressions, the same mischievous grins, the same goofiness, the same heart-breaking quiver when they'd begin to cry.  They are the same.  My babies.  Always my babies.

Here's a bit of their latest adorableness.  Enjoy and swoon with me at their preciousness, won't you?

Little One:
Thomas = hummus (this may tell you where his loyalties lie...)
Frinkle far = Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (That one took a while to figure out.  I kept thinking about Farkles the Unicorn.)
Fwaired = scared
Fweep = either sleep or sweep, depending on context

Big One:
After seeing a picture of me at my wedding, the Big One said, "Mommy, why are you wearing a blanket on your head?"  Touche, little dude.

"Mommy, you're a real superhero."  Damn skippy.

"I feel glum."  Well, then.


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Also, in case you don't follow me on Facebook (HEY!  YOU SHOULD FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK!!!), here is an article that is in beautiful opposition to all the "lean in" and "opt out" articles popping up all over the place.  It rings true for me, and likely rings true for many of you, too.

"For the average married mother of small children, it is often cheaper to stay home - even if she would prefer to be in the workforce. It is hard to "lean in" when you are priced out."

What's in a Name?

A blog by any other name... still sweet, yes?

So, I need to change the name of this here blog.  I don't need to, need to, but I want to.  The reasons are twofold:

#1. The original name (You Shall Be My Squishy) comes from my nickname for babies ("Hello, Squishy!  You are SO SQUISHY!"), but it is also a reference to a scene in Finding Nemo.  Now, listen.  I'm not dogging the movie.  I like the movie.  I totally stole my nickname for babies from the movie!  It's just that I may be sending the wrong message by referencing a Disney/Pixar film when I like to say "fuck" a lot.  Know what I mean?

#2. I don't want to get sued.  I do understand that in order to get sued, more than 10 people would have to read this.  However, I am ever hopeful that my readership will expand exponentially and at that point, it would be super awkward when Disney/Pixar calls and says, "Hey.  Those are our words.  Pay us a lot of money if you want to use them."  And then I'll have to be like, "Dude.  I don't have any money.  You do, though!  Want to pay me for reminding people how much they like Finding Nemo?"  And then they'd be all, "No.  We don't.  You have to pay us.  Get a lawyer."  And I'd be like, "Can't.  Refer back to the no money part."  And it would be this whole long, awful battle wherein Disney/Pixar would win anyway and I'd have to change the name in the end.  SO!  I'm beating them to the punch.  Genius, no?

Point is, I'm changing the name.  I'd like to keep Squishy in there, cause that's what I called (and still periodically call) my babies and I like it.  So there.  Plus, so many possible references and innuendos, so little time.

I think I've come up with a suitable replacement.  I'd like to try it out on you.  Let me know what you think.  I'll put it in big, flashy letters so you're impressed and stuff.  Ready?!?  The new name will be:

Becoming Squishy

So?!?  What say you?  Is it good?  Is it catchy?  Is the font big enough?  DO YOU LIKE IT?!?!  

I mean, it kind of doesn't matter, because I have to change it anyway since Disney/Pixar is clearly seconds away from suing my ass... (after they're done laughing about buying LucasFilm and the potential to further bastardize Star Wars), but still, I seek your approval.  

Anyhoo... I hope you like it.  I do.  Now I just have to figure out how to change my Blogger name and make sure my archives don't disappear into the ether.  

Crap.  That sounds hard.  I need a tech person.  Or skills.