I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving, er, almost a week ago.  What the heck?  Really?  I swear, I spend all my time wondering where all my time has gone.  Apparently, I should manage my time better.  Easier said than done. 
My Thanksgiving was great.  I ate my turkey and mashed potatoes with my father in law's amazing gravy.  Everybody liked my pies, which always makes me happy.  I love making food that other people like to eat.  I also like making food that I like to eat.  We played Rock Band, and I sang a Journey song and an Allman Bros song.  Everybody sang at least once.  Well, I guess not everybody, but almost.  The dumb thing is, though, I got performance anxiety.  I always do, even in front of family.  I don't even care if I fail miserably in front of them, and we make a joke about it that lasts forever.  That already happens all the time.  Chris will never let me forget about the time I tripped on NOTHING and fell while we were dating six years ago.  And there was also the time that he called me and woke me up, and as I got up out of bed, I discovered that my legs were asleep.  I fell on my face, and the phone flew out of my hand.  I also made a bit of a screamy sound.  These two incidents were in the same time period, and every time I've forgotten about them, he inevitably reminds me. 
So, yes, performance anxiety.  I hate it.  I would love to feel confident enough to sing in front of people because I really do like to sing quite a bit.  And I'm pretty sure the whole "imagine everyone is in their underwear" thing wouldn't work for me because then I couldn't look at anyone!  I don't want to see a bunch of people in their underwear.  What if they have really apparent skid marks?  Ewwwwww. 
I sang a song with my brother at my grandfather's funeral.  We didn't know that song, but he and I were able to familiarize ourselves with it and practice a bit before we were supposed to sing it in front of everyone (my aunt was supposed to sing it, but she got sick right before and lost her voice.  Boo.).  So, we're singing, and it's really wonderful and I start feeling comfortable and I start into this really emotional part of the song, and I look down to find the next words to sing and I have no freaking idea where I'm supposed to be.  Thankfully, no one was there to hear us sing (my brother did not mess up because he is not a freak like me).  They were there to pay their respects to my awesome grandfather.  But it was like my subconscious was all, "Wait, what?  You think you can actually do this?  Okay.  Well how about THIS?!  You don't know what the words are do you?!  Mwahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"  To which I am all, "Screw you, subconscious.  Screw you."
In other news, I have found a sitter to take Ben to twice a week for several hours.  I'm really really excited about this.  I get to vacuum my house without having to hold Ben and having him still freak out because he is seriously distrustful of that machine.  It is not easy vacuuming while holding 23 lbs of freaking out.  And then, I also get to sew and knit and crochet and hopefully create an inventory to open up a shop on Etsy.  I've been wanting to do this for a while now.  But first, I have to finish Christmas projects.  I hope I can get them done.  Every time I pull out my yarn and needles while Ben is happily playing with his toys, he senses that I am about to be productive and seeks me out.  Which would be fine if he didn't want to play with what I'm holding and then protest loudly and violently when I don't allow him to.  So then the yarn and needles get put away and nobody gets to play with them.  *pout*  Because Mommy can't share, dang her.  I've even tried giving him a different skein of yarn, but it doesn't work.  He wants the one I'm using.  Every time.  So hopefully, I can jump start all these projects and finish them in the next three weeks (!).
I just realized that it's 3 am.  I woke up and 1, was not able to get back to sleep by 2, and told myself I'd have to go back to bed again by 3.  I'm tired of insomnia.