When I Were A Wee Lass...

Janie, Mum and Daft Scots Lass

I have been dedicated a lot of time to writing recently. 

No Plonkers, unfortunately not for the blog but I decided about three weeks ago to do a Biography.  Certainly not with publishing it in mind, but more of a journal type format to pass on to my kids and grandkids about funny stories of their daft old Scots Granny, who loved to laugh, swear and be silly. 

I have tons of stories to tell, not only from when we were living in Scotland with our large, extended dysfunctional family, but our adventures of when we immigrated to South Africa.  How our wee family had to adapt to a new culture, a new climate, a new country and all the exploits we got up to in the process.

Like I said, I have so many funny stories about all the brilliant and embarrassing stuff I've done in my life so far.  I don't want them to go unremembered.  Is "unremembered" actually a word?  I think not.  Anyhoozer, I thought I'd scribble stuff down and have it printed, bound and one day on my death bed, hand it to my grown up, married daughters or grand children to read and hopefully enjoy.

I've started incorporating a lot of the adorable stuff my girls did as toddlers that I kept in a journal.  If you're a parent, you'll know the slide-splittingly funny stuff toddlers say and do that make cleaning up those teething nappies worthwhile. 

Oh you know the nappies I'm talking about!  The ones where the sloppy shite has literally exploded out the back of the nappy, saturating the white terry babygro to a muddy light brown.  The shite has ventured further north into babies now shite-matted hair.  The paint-stripping quality reek that emerges from your bouncing baby is enough to turn any fucking bulimic green! 

Added to that, your Precious has slept through the entire explosion and has been marinading in the stench and excrement for the last hour.  The congealed shite has you peeling the babygro off your babes delicate skin like a fucking banana.  Any attempt to wipe off the shite becomes Mission Impossible.  You run a warm bath in which to dunk your Munchkin in the middle of the night.  This has her completely confused and frustrated and will undoubtedly swap her days into nights - AGAIN! 

You actually consider calling the fire-brigade to haul in their heavy duty, high-powered hose to complete the job, but I don't think they do domestic house calls for this sort of thing in the wee hours of the morning - in the dead of winter - when it'll freeze the nips off any Hooker!

After playing patta-cake and singing her every lullaby you know, you finally crawl back into bed.  The entire fiasco stole two hours of your precious slumber down-time and all you can think about is sleep.  Then, lying there try to fall asleep, you notice that YOU smell like the inside of a fucking Arab's sand-shoe AND you have shit embedded under your fingernails.  

Any mum would just say "Fuck It, I'll worry about that tomorrow".

Oh yeah, we laugh about it now, but it wasn't in the least bit funny when we were wearing our pajama top as a gas mask and covered up to our elbows in mustard chunky cottage cheese baby shite.

Sorry I got a bitty side-tracked.  

Yes, my Biography will also have an entire Chapter dedicated to "Conversations with Megan" and "Conversations with Kaylin" and yeah, I've mentioned a lot of these dialogues here on my wee bloggy.  It includes things I've noted over the years that I didn't want to forget because I knew, when the girls were big enough to appreciate it, they'd love to read all about what they were like as wee yins and how they made their Mum cackle like an old whore with a carrot up her bum.

I already have 25 000+ words down and that's just the stuff I've nicked from my blog.  I now have to start putting it all together so that it makes sense and has more of a fluid story-line.  I also want to get the time line right, you know in chronological order so that the reader doesn't get confused by my jumping around.  I tend to do that when I talk and I tend to write like that on the blog but I think it might be a wee bit confusing, especially for someone who doesn't know ME.

I'm actually really excited about it.  Not that I think its gonna be anything spectacular for anyone other than my family to read, but because they'll at least tap into my personal jokes and idiosyncrasies that most people find really odd and a wee bit crass. 

Och well...nevertheless I'm still excited about it.  I'm still toying with the idea of using photos to go alongside the stories in the book.  I have endless gigs of photos that I've kept from when we got our first digital camera way back in 2000 besides, I will never be able to choose just one or two images per chapter.  My pictures would be another fucking addendum on its own.  Mmmmmm still not sure what to do there.


So, do you think I'm completely daft for embarking on this project?  Its definitely not a small task and not one that I'm sure I'll be very successful at. 


Who gives a rats arse, right?