The final word on birthdays

Thank you all for your birthday wishes and messages about the outfit and the cake! There were quite a few questions in the comments though, so rather than answer them somewhere you might not see, here we go then...


Both the top and the skirt were made. The twirly tutu skirt I will definitely write a tute for. Maia's little friend Elsie is having a birthday next week and a skirt has been requested so I'll write and photo it up then. The top was the same self-drafted pattern that I used for their Halloween skeleton outfits, but the neckbinding was fatter and sewn to the inside and then flipped over and tacked down. The bow was a result of much staring and hand-wringing; I wanted to do something ruffley but I couldn't decide how so the bow was a compromise. The dotty cuffs were to tie the design together and also because of the broken iron I would have had difficulty hemming it.

Lynn asked what my beef was with integrated Barbie cakes? Nothing at all, my friend. 'Cept these were the ones Maia wanted:

Three dimensional ballerina cake with stage. Yeah.

Paddling pool with dolls sitting in jello/ jelly. Okay.

Dolls bouncing on the trampoline and waiting their turn. Seriously.

And many of you pointed out my mermaid was an amputee. Not so, haters. To add to the educational value of the cake she is like a classical bust. By making this cake we were able to initiate a robust dialectic about the mythological origin of mermaids and the stonemanship of the classical and Roman eras. Either that or I couldn't find the niche Australian biscuits referenced in the book:

Who likes Spot the Difference games? Everyone, that's who. Other notable differences include me using sprinkled white buttons instead of mint leaves for the scales. Mint leaves would be gross. Also gross? The book called for me to deep fry vermicelli for the hair thereby tainting her whole head with yucky. No thanks to the oily pasta head, I'll use sour strawberry straws because they're divine and the kids don't like them so I don't have to share. Third attempt by the Australian Women's Weekly to render the cake inedible? Using actual shells for the bikini. Beyond being impossible to find at short notice, I would have to boil them for six years before I'd put them on a cake. So yes, Pickled Weasal, they're shortbread.

Any other questions? About anything?

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Ask the expert: results!

Remember last week how I asked you all to send your questions in because I'm an expert? Well here's the answers...

Do you pick your nose?
Hypothetically speaking, if I was to pick my nose, it wouldn't be this one: In fact, I've broken my nose so many times that using it as a breathing apparatus is nigh on impossible. You might also notice it sits on the right side of my face. So, if I was to pick my nose, I'd pick this one:
And I was very close to making a new nose a reality, but after I had jumped through all of the hoops of the NHS 'Cannot Breath Through Nose' wait list, I was pregnant, then breastfeeding, then pregnant, then breastfeeding, then booted off the list.

Why are kids cartoon so annoying now, but the ones that were on when I was a kid were so very much better?
Well, I have difficulty answering this because I grew up in the US and didn't have the same cartoons as you. That being said, I did heaps of research and I've come to the conclusion that the reason that you feel so nostalgic for 70's /80's cartoons is likely to be mescaline. That is this only reason why you would feel that Button Moon and the Magic Roundabout were awesome rather than completely crazy head f*cks. Don't judge your mum, it was a different time and it was totally acceptable to add psychotropic drugs to your breakfast cereal.

Why don't girls have wee men?
Simple fact. If girls had wee men, Jamie and I would have no common ground. Seriously, what would we talk about? As he grows and questions his world, other variables will change, but there is always wee men as the constant.

How does one get one's blogging mojo back, because I really can't be arsed with my blog at the moment....?
Good question. I battle this frequently as well. I think the key is to have a really insular life. If you do not speak to adults from Monday to Friday, you'll appreciate your blog way more. And you might be crazy, and that'd be funny and lots of people will come and marvel.

What's the female equivalent of the term 'wee man'? I have no idea what to call munchkin's bits when I'm talking to her. I'm currently using 'front bottom' which sounds frightfully prudish.
According to my husband, that is pretty prudish. We've agonised over this as well. Proper parents use the technical anatomical terms but the anxiety surrounding Jamie telling the nursery about my ba-gina is too off-putting. We've inadvertently decided on 'wee lady' because we like themes but 'bits' is also comfortably vague.

Why do two perfectly sane American girls move to Scotland where it rains relentlessly. I mean, you have an excuse as you have Steven but me, what is my problem? That is my real question to the guru. What is my problem?
Eek. Considering where we met (*cough* therapy *cough*), I'd say plain old masochism. The End. Sorry.

Why it is dark in winter but not summer without using an astronomy book? This one stumped me.
Hmm, tricky. If I can't use an astronomy book, I'm gonna have to say it was never like this before we joined the European Union.

Why does hair grow?
It absolutely has to, because I kid you not, I'm losing it by the handful. Clumps of it, every single day. Enough that I'm wondering which disease I'm secretly dying from. I've narrowed it down to a shortlist of six, of which I probably have three because I'm a hypochondriac seriously ill. So I don't care why it grows, just that it does, so no one else knows I'm dying of three very serious conditions. Because I'm private like that.

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Ask the expert

All day long I'm asked questions. Why? Wot you doing? Why? Where we going? Why? As her newest developmental milestone, Maia has taken to parroting back the last word of everything I say as an incredulous question. Like this:

Me: For the love of God, stop acting like lunatics!
Maia: Lunatics?!
Me: Yes, lunatics!
Maia: Lunatics?!
Me: Yes.
Maia: Why?
Jamie: Wot you doing?
Me: Crying.
Maia: Crying?!
Me: Yes.
Maia: Why?
Me: You guys are so relentless.
Maia: Relentless?!
Me: Yes, relentless.
Jamie: Mum, are you happy?
Me: Yes, ecstatic.
Maia: Ecstatic?!
I run screaming from room.

And the curiosity of a four year old knows no bounds. My favourite conversation with Jamie yesterday went something like this:

Jamie: Mum, do you have a wee man?
Me: No, because I'm a girl.
Jamie: Does Maia have a wee man?
Me: No, she's a girl too.
Jamie: Does Maia have a bum?
Me: Yes.
Jamie: Do you have a bum?
Me: Yes, everybody has a bum.
Jamie: Even Daddy?
Me: Yes, even Daddy.
Jamie (thinking hard): Which do you like more, doing wee or doing poo?
Me (thinking hard about which one answer would be less mortifying when he inevitably tells everyone at nursery): I dunno Jaim, it's too hard to call.

It's not just the kids. Yesterday Steven asked, 'Should I grow a mustache for November?' This question isn't as strange as it initially sounds, November is apparently Movember. Where men grow mustaches to raise the profile of prostate cancer. I initially vomited and said no but then Twitter said yes and I realised I could blog about the mustache every single day so I said yes but now he's chickened out with some rubbish about being taken seriously at work. Because he works in an office, not as a porn star, so mustaches might not be taken seriously.

It's gotten me thinking. All these questions, all day long. I must be some sort of expert, like Dear Deirdre or Dear Abby or maybe even Mystic Meg. I bet there are loads of questions I can answer for you guys. So please email me any of your questions to theexpert@kitschycoo.co.uk and I'll round them up and answer them to the best of my abilities. They can be personal like 'When did you realise that you were so awesome at Photoshop?' or esoteric like 'What's the difference between Dida and cracker Dida?' or I can offer advice like 'How can I stop people from staring at me on planes?'. Or maybe you just want to know if someone has a wee man or a bum. Because I am the expert on that. Please do send me some questions though, because I'll be really embarrassed if no one does and I'll probably have to delete my blog or something.

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