Once again, this is not an all inclusive list, this is just the stuff that made the blog.
Baby to Toddler Socks: Michigan Version
Baby Eyelet Socks
Baby Matinee Coat and Hat
Fug Yarn
February Baby Sweater
Knitted Tam
Pirate Hat
We Call Them Pirates Hat
Uber Cool Skull Hat
Print O The Waves Stole
Baby's Coming Home Outfit
Washcloths
Zombie Socks
Three White Dresses (sewn)
Sweet Pea's Tutu (sewn)
Snow White Costume (sewn)
Irish Hiking Scarf
Baby Pants 2.0
Baby Legs
Eclipse Socks
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
I'm starting to think that I might have a problem
See that thing on my couch.
That thing that takes up two sections of my three piece sectional couch?
That's my scarf.
The scarf is well over six feet long and hangs down to my knees, shorter if I loop it around my neck. Is it time to stop? I intended to knit until I ran out of yarn. But I still have a sizable ball left.
(Leftover birthday cupcake included for scale. And in the interest of full disclosure the cupcake might have been harmed after the shooting of said picture.)
So do I go for the gold and knit the whole thing, or is it time to stage an intervention in the name of fashion, and possibly safety (I could easily strangle myself on a too long scarf. I could probably strangle myself on a cute scarflet. Maybe I shouldn't be knitting scarves at all).
I keep telling myself I can quit knitting the scarf anytime I want to.
But I'm not sure if I really can.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Still
When her headphones were introduced to her life it was love at first sight. I have yet to see my daughter without her headphones on her head. It has been six days now.
She's only 8!
I am so unprepared for teenagers.
And just cause I'm showing off, how cute is this picture?
What good siblings, protecting the baby from the evil fire the Mommy so recklessly placed on her high chair.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
Look at you, you've come so far!
I can't believe it was only a year ago that Sweet Pea joined our lives. In many ways it feels like she has always been a part of our family. In other ways it seems like she just got here, my sweet baby girl.
A year of midnight feedings (still!, what's up with that?), and diapers, and firsts, and gummy smiles followed by pumpkin-toothy smiles, and da-da-DAAAAAAAAA's, and Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmms when she wants me, and slobby sweet kisses. It was a great year.
Tenacious is a good word for Sweet Pea, as well as persistent, strong-willed, determined, stubborn and opinionated. She couldn't possibly be my daughter could she?
She is also precious, hysterical, delightful, endearing and sweeter-than-a-bunny. When she turns on her smile she shines so bright, absolutely irresistible. I hope she learns to use this power for good.
My sweet baby, Happy Birthday! I'm excited to see all the new things you'll learn and do in your second year of life. But don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up little girl. I need my snuggly baby.
I can't believe it was only a year ago that Sweet Pea joined our lives. In many ways it feels like she has always been a part of our family. In other ways it seems like she just got here, my sweet baby girl.
A year of midnight feedings (still!, what's up with that?), and diapers, and firsts, and gummy smiles followed by pumpkin-toothy smiles, and da-da-DAAAAAAAAA's, and Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmms when she wants me, and slobby sweet kisses. It was a great year.
Tenacious is a good word for Sweet Pea, as well as persistent, strong-willed, determined, stubborn and opinionated. She couldn't possibly be my daughter could she?
She is also precious, hysterical, delightful, endearing and sweeter-than-a-bunny. When she turns on her smile she shines so bright, absolutely irresistible. I hope she learns to use this power for good.
My sweet baby, Happy Birthday! I'm excited to see all the new things you'll learn and do in your second year of life. But don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up little girl. I need my snuggly baby.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Can you feel the love?
It's Friday and I'm loving the fact that my house is blissfully quiet.
That lump in the bed is the Greatest. He is sleeping after a hard night of answering domestic dispute 9-1-1 calls. It was after all Christmas last night, and that seems to bring out the best of the worst in family gatherings. He came home this morning and said he felt like he'd been working security on the Jerry Springer show.
Pork Chop has the headphones to her new mp3 player on for over 24 hours now and alternates between reading and drawing. I think it will be at least three more weeks before I see her without her new appendage.
Meaty is in his room playing with his ginormous Lego set where the baby can't smash his creation or eat the small pieces.
Bird is sprawled on the floor drawing in her new Leapster.
Sweet Pea is napping. (Wasn't I awefully brave sneaking into her room to snap that picture just for you? Yes. I am brave.)
When she is awake she is full of tears and other crabby noises. But since she is the only one making any noise I suppose I really shouldn't complain. This is the quietest my house has been since I've had children. I fear the antibiotics for her double ear infection are tearing her tummy up. And she gets a yeast infection rash every time she poops. If I were her, I'd probably be making crabby noises as well. I have accepted that her default setting seems to be grumpy. Even when she is feeling well she is discontent with her lot in life. That's why I love our Christmas picture so much. It is so HER. I love that kid.
All in all, I have to say, Christmas was a raving success. Each child declared that they were having the.Best.CHRISTMAS.E.V.E.R!
I'm loving that!
So, in unrelated news, I have a dilemma. (I'm all about the smooth transitions from one topic to the next don't-cha-know)
I was talking to my friend Katrina in the phone and I mentioned wanting to buy a specific yarn to make something for The Greatest. She so happened to have that yarn in her stash and offered to send it to me. In fact she said I would be doing her a favor by letting her get rid of it. Isn't she nice? Every one should have a Katrina in their life. And of course I'm such a good friend I was happy to help her out any way I could.
When my yarn arrived it contained several other goodies, including this yummy yarn cake.
I've never had yarn that was wound into a cake before. I *heart* it! I have added a ball winder to my list of things I am coveting (a list that includes outdoor fireplaces, front loader washing machines, pidgeon spikes, and now a ball winder). Isn't the yarn cake so cute?
When I talked to Katrina she had told me about this yarn. She described it as being brown with blues and greens. Did I want it? Heck yeah! It was brown with blues and greens. What's not to love about that?
So on Christmas Eve, when the children were tucked safely in bed, and The Greatest was at work, I decided to enjoy the peace and the tree and the lights and knit. Not the guilt knitting of projects half-done. No. I needed new knitting. Pleasure knitting. The kind of knitting you do when knitting is simply a hobby and not a way of life. I reached in the yarn cabinet and pulled out, no, not the yarn she sent for The Greatest, but my yarn cake.
The hours flew by as the yarn flowed through my hands. Pure pleasure! It might have been sinful. Not as good as sex, but better than chocolate. Possibly better than candy cane oreos. Pretty sock yarn and my harmony needles. Does life get any better than that? It was a good time waiting for Santa to come. The next morning I had this.
Lumpy lace. But when worn it looks like this.
So pretty. Sometimes I amaze myself with my ability to correctly follow directions and read a pattern. As I looked at my new sock it occurred to me that this was the first time I had seen the yarn in sunlight. All other viewings took place by Christmas lights. In the sun this yarn was brown and green and blue, and oh so much more! There was lavender and pink, and yellow, and orange, and different shades of blue. I simply adore the stockinette on the bottom of the heel.
Oops. Don't be distracted by my heel. I guess I need to spend some quality time with my ped egg. So don't look at my heel. Although it might be a good time to admire the quality of the pictures my camera takes. Look at how clear the lines in my poor dry feet are. Oh wait, focus, I'm trying to do something here. Sorry. Look at the sock heel. Admire the perfect line of stitches, the myriad of color on the tiny flap of knitting. It made me wonder if the smooshy, squishy, fancy lace was showcasing the yarn to it's fullest potential.
I have long coveted a Chevron Scarf. Might this be the yarn I have been waiting for? The perfect yarn for my Chevron Scarf? I mean, just look at all those colors. The COLORS!
I did not frog my half sock. I left the smooshy lacy goodness on the needles where it belongs. I didn't even cut the yarn. But I did leave a long tail and cast on for a Chevron Scarf. You know. Just to see. To satisfy my curiousity so I would not have to spend the rest of my life wondering "What if...."
What do you think? It's loud, but it is a skinny scarf and I'm kinda digging it. So what do I do?
Do I continue with the sock? It is a great pattern (Fawkes. Sorry for the Rav link, but that's the only place I know to get the pattern). If I don't knit it with this yarn I will knit it soon.
Or do I knit the long coveted Chevron Scarf?
Decisions, decisions. What's a girl to do?
That lump in the bed is the Greatest. He is sleeping after a hard night of answering domestic dispute 9-1-1 calls. It was after all Christmas last night, and that seems to bring out the best of the worst in family gatherings. He came home this morning and said he felt like he'd been working security on the Jerry Springer show.
Pork Chop has the headphones to her new mp3 player on for over 24 hours now and alternates between reading and drawing. I think it will be at least three more weeks before I see her without her new appendage.
Meaty is in his room playing with his ginormous Lego set where the baby can't smash his creation or eat the small pieces.
Bird is sprawled on the floor drawing in her new Leapster.
Sweet Pea is napping. (Wasn't I awefully brave sneaking into her room to snap that picture just for you? Yes. I am brave.)
When she is awake she is full of tears and other crabby noises. But since she is the only one making any noise I suppose I really shouldn't complain. This is the quietest my house has been since I've had children. I fear the antibiotics for her double ear infection are tearing her tummy up. And she gets a yeast infection rash every time she poops. If I were her, I'd probably be making crabby noises as well. I have accepted that her default setting seems to be grumpy. Even when she is feeling well she is discontent with her lot in life. That's why I love our Christmas picture so much. It is so HER. I love that kid.
All in all, I have to say, Christmas was a raving success. Each child declared that they were having the.Best.CHRISTMAS.E.V.E.R!
I'm loving that!
So, in unrelated news, I have a dilemma. (I'm all about the smooth transitions from one topic to the next don't-cha-know)
I was talking to my friend Katrina in the phone and I mentioned wanting to buy a specific yarn to make something for The Greatest. She so happened to have that yarn in her stash and offered to send it to me. In fact she said I would be doing her a favor by letting her get rid of it. Isn't she nice? Every one should have a Katrina in their life. And of course I'm such a good friend I was happy to help her out any way I could.
When my yarn arrived it contained several other goodies, including this yummy yarn cake.
I've never had yarn that was wound into a cake before. I *heart* it! I have added a ball winder to my list of things I am coveting (a list that includes outdoor fireplaces, front loader washing machines, pidgeon spikes, and now a ball winder). Isn't the yarn cake so cute?
When I talked to Katrina she had told me about this yarn. She described it as being brown with blues and greens. Did I want it? Heck yeah! It was brown with blues and greens. What's not to love about that?
So on Christmas Eve, when the children were tucked safely in bed, and The Greatest was at work, I decided to enjoy the peace and the tree and the lights and knit. Not the guilt knitting of projects half-done. No. I needed new knitting. Pleasure knitting. The kind of knitting you do when knitting is simply a hobby and not a way of life. I reached in the yarn cabinet and pulled out, no, not the yarn she sent for The Greatest, but my yarn cake.
The hours flew by as the yarn flowed through my hands. Pure pleasure! It might have been sinful. Not as good as sex, but better than chocolate. Possibly better than candy cane oreos. Pretty sock yarn and my harmony needles. Does life get any better than that? It was a good time waiting for Santa to come. The next morning I had this.
Lumpy lace. But when worn it looks like this.
So pretty. Sometimes I amaze myself with my ability to correctly follow directions and read a pattern. As I looked at my new sock it occurred to me that this was the first time I had seen the yarn in sunlight. All other viewings took place by Christmas lights. In the sun this yarn was brown and green and blue, and oh so much more! There was lavender and pink, and yellow, and orange, and different shades of blue. I simply adore the stockinette on the bottom of the heel.
Oops. Don't be distracted by my heel. I guess I need to spend some quality time with my ped egg. So don't look at my heel. Although it might be a good time to admire the quality of the pictures my camera takes. Look at how clear the lines in my poor dry feet are. Oh wait, focus, I'm trying to do something here. Sorry. Look at the sock heel. Admire the perfect line of stitches, the myriad of color on the tiny flap of knitting. It made me wonder if the smooshy, squishy, fancy lace was showcasing the yarn to it's fullest potential.
I have long coveted a Chevron Scarf. Might this be the yarn I have been waiting for? The perfect yarn for my Chevron Scarf? I mean, just look at all those colors. The COLORS!
I did not frog my half sock. I left the smooshy lacy goodness on the needles where it belongs. I didn't even cut the yarn. But I did leave a long tail and cast on for a Chevron Scarf. You know. Just to see. To satisfy my curiousity so I would not have to spend the rest of my life wondering "What if...."
What do you think? It's loud, but it is a skinny scarf and I'm kinda digging it. So what do I do?
Do I continue with the sock? It is a great pattern (Fawkes. Sorry for the Rav link, but that's the only place I know to get the pattern). If I don't knit it with this yarn I will knit it soon.
Or do I knit the long coveted Chevron Scarf?
Decisions, decisions. What's a girl to do?
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Oh The Shame
Yesterday was a lovely day. It was indeed busy, but it was our anniversary, a fact that made us smile every time we mentioned it. Spending the day with our children and friends was a perfect way to spend it. We did all our errands and made it home by 3:30. By the time the groceries were put away it was 4:00 and the cookie exchange was in an hour. I still don't understand how it got to be four o'clock. There I stood in my kitchen with only an hour. An hour to make several kinds of treats to share. I didn't plan to cut it that close, but time just slipped away from me. I went to the grocery store days before Christmas. I should have realized a twenty minute trip would take three hours. I can't make impressive things to share in under an hour, I'm just not that good. I made some puppy chow and a layered brownie pie. It was hasty, but I was feeling good about my choices. I knew from talking with my friend that chocolate was going to be under-represented on her plate, so I was compensating right? This wasn't perfect but it would be fine, right?
Wrong.
We went to our friends house and had the yummiest dinner. Then we exchanged cookie plates. The plates I received looked perfect like this
And what I brought was this
and this
and the brownie pie didn't actually turn out. It was still batter in the middle.
Oh the shame.
My reputation is forever ruined (or possibly confirmed, I'm not exactly sure what my reputation is).
I realize I will have to drastically step it up next year.
Despite, or perhaps because of, my pathetic cookies we had a great time. It's hard for The Greatest to find someone who appreciates his fart stories as much as he does. He has truly found a kindred soul in our fire fighting friend. We're so looking forward to the Valentine Candy extravaganza!
Despite my lingering feelings of humiliation I'm feeling good this morning. I am almost done with the holidays! Not in the sense that I'm ready for them to be over. But I'm done preparing for them. Gifts are made and mailed. I traded some knitting in exchange for a present for my daughter, that's all knit and shipped. The Cookie Exchange is over. Presents are all purchased for my children (but not wrapped, hence the almost. I really ought to get on it before they discover my clever hiding spot under the blanket in my closet, right by the door, not even in the back of the closet). I can almost breath and enjoy myself. I'm done, just in time for it all to be over.
Wrong.
We went to our friends house and had the yummiest dinner. Then we exchanged cookie plates. The plates I received looked perfect like this
And what I brought was this
and this
and the brownie pie didn't actually turn out. It was still batter in the middle.
Oh the shame.
My reputation is forever ruined (or possibly confirmed, I'm not exactly sure what my reputation is).
I realize I will have to drastically step it up next year.
Despite, or perhaps because of, my pathetic cookies we had a great time. It's hard for The Greatest to find someone who appreciates his fart stories as much as he does. He has truly found a kindred soul in our fire fighting friend. We're so looking forward to the Valentine Candy extravaganza!
Despite my lingering feelings of humiliation I'm feeling good this morning. I am almost done with the holidays! Not in the sense that I'm ready for them to be over. But I'm done preparing for them. Gifts are made and mailed. I traded some knitting in exchange for a present for my daughter, that's all knit and shipped. The Cookie Exchange is over. Presents are all purchased for my children (but not wrapped, hence the almost. I really ought to get on it before they discover my clever hiding spot under the blanket in my closet, right by the door, not even in the back of the closet). I can almost breath and enjoy myself. I'm done, just in time for it all to be over.
Monday, December 22, 2008
The Frog
I was recently introduced to the idea of eating a live frog. The thought is this: If the first thing you do when you wake up each morning is eat a live frog, nothing worse can happen for the rest of the day. You should go watch the movie, it's cute and short. But in case you're busy I'll summarize it for you. The frog is symbolic of a crappy task. If you get up and do something really awful, just a horrible task you'd rather not do, the rest of the day will be a breeze. Here's hoping that's true, because this is how I woke up this morning.
It was 2:00 a.m. I swear I went to bed at midnight, but it felt like I had barely closed my eyes. A tiny scratchy voice croaked "water, I need water." Then that tiny scratchy voice threw up all over my carpet. I jumped out of bed and pushed the small body into my bathroom where there is tile, and where they promptly threw up again. One more push, stepping in puke along the way, and the child was in front of my toilet. Said child then proceeded to throw up one final time, beside rather than in the toilet.
It was all bile. The smell of bile hit me, and I began to dry heave. I broke out in a thick slimy sweat, my vision started to go black. I wondered which I would do first, vomit or pass out.
I backed up a few steps, still slipping in vomit, but finding new air. It wasn't exactly fresh air, but it lacked the smell of bile, so it was enough to clear my vision.
At this point The Greatest was awake and fumbling sleepily down the steps for the broken spot bot. It doesn't run on its own anymore, and the hand attachment doesn't spray water anymore, but if you dump soapy water on the spot you can use the hand attachment to scrub the spot and suck the water up. Its a lot of work, but its better than nothing.
Small child was done puking, took a grateful drink of water and was ready to return to bed. There was more stepping in puke all along the hallway. The entire house reeked of bile.
Thankfully the bed didn't need new sheets. We just needed new carpet. Small child back in bed, carpets scrubbed and vacuumed, windows opened, candles lit, and an hour later we were wearily crawling back in bed.
So I think it's safe to say I "ate the frog" and the day can only get better from here right? Despite the fact that I need to make a two week menu, write a shopping list, go to the post office and the grocery store, and make cookies for the cookie exchange tonight, and do laundry because the children are out of matching clothes and look like they're homeless. And I am hindered by the space/time continuum, with only a few hours allotted to me to to get things done. But I started my day with vomit. Things can only go up from here right? I need a good day. Especially since today is my anniversary.
Eleven year with this man!
He doesn't read my blog. He likes my blog. He will suggest things for me to blog. He'll even help with the children sometimes to give me time to blog. But he doesn't read it. Which is fine. But I still feel the need to publicly declare my love for him.
I often wonder what our parents thought when we got married so suddenly after knowing each other only four months. Did they stay awake at night worrying about us? We were such babies with no idea of what a marriage really meant, all the trial, and work, and fights, and joy, and laughter, and smiles, and tears, and memories that are built day after day of sharing your life together. We had no idea how our relationship would grow and change with each breath, each decision, each move, each child, each day that slipped past us. I know I didn't comprehend the magnitude of what I was doing when I stood there and vowed to intertwine my life so completely to this man.
But I've never regretted that decision for a moment.
He is my best friend, my love, the father of my children, my confidant, my protector, the other half of my soul. All the good things in my life can be connected in a straight line directly back to the decision to marry him. I love him so.
The last year of marriage brought a new baby into our family, bringing with it all the adventures and firsts that only a new baby can bring. We bought a house and made a home. New friends joined our life. The Greatest finished his field training for work and became a full fledged Law Enforcement Officer. Meaty started school. Grandpa came to visit twice. We went back home once. So many big happy events in a year. 365 days slipping seamless past one another. Pages on a calendar relentlessly turning, moving forward.
I can't wait to see what the next year brings. I'm so grateful I get to share the adventure with The Greatest.
It was 2:00 a.m. I swear I went to bed at midnight, but it felt like I had barely closed my eyes. A tiny scratchy voice croaked "water, I need water." Then that tiny scratchy voice threw up all over my carpet. I jumped out of bed and pushed the small body into my bathroom where there is tile, and where they promptly threw up again. One more push, stepping in puke along the way, and the child was in front of my toilet. Said child then proceeded to throw up one final time, beside rather than in the toilet.
It was all bile. The smell of bile hit me, and I began to dry heave. I broke out in a thick slimy sweat, my vision started to go black. I wondered which I would do first, vomit or pass out.
I backed up a few steps, still slipping in vomit, but finding new air. It wasn't exactly fresh air, but it lacked the smell of bile, so it was enough to clear my vision.
At this point The Greatest was awake and fumbling sleepily down the steps for the broken spot bot. It doesn't run on its own anymore, and the hand attachment doesn't spray water anymore, but if you dump soapy water on the spot you can use the hand attachment to scrub the spot and suck the water up. Its a lot of work, but its better than nothing.
Small child was done puking, took a grateful drink of water and was ready to return to bed. There was more stepping in puke all along the hallway. The entire house reeked of bile.
Thankfully the bed didn't need new sheets. We just needed new carpet. Small child back in bed, carpets scrubbed and vacuumed, windows opened, candles lit, and an hour later we were wearily crawling back in bed.
So I think it's safe to say I "ate the frog" and the day can only get better from here right? Despite the fact that I need to make a two week menu, write a shopping list, go to the post office and the grocery store, and make cookies for the cookie exchange tonight, and do laundry because the children are out of matching clothes and look like they're homeless. And I am hindered by the space/time continuum, with only a few hours allotted to me to to get things done. But I started my day with vomit. Things can only go up from here right? I need a good day. Especially since today is my anniversary.
Eleven year with this man!
He doesn't read my blog. He likes my blog. He will suggest things for me to blog. He'll even help with the children sometimes to give me time to blog. But he doesn't read it. Which is fine. But I still feel the need to publicly declare my love for him.
I often wonder what our parents thought when we got married so suddenly after knowing each other only four months. Did they stay awake at night worrying about us? We were such babies with no idea of what a marriage really meant, all the trial, and work, and fights, and joy, and laughter, and smiles, and tears, and memories that are built day after day of sharing your life together. We had no idea how our relationship would grow and change with each breath, each decision, each move, each child, each day that slipped past us. I know I didn't comprehend the magnitude of what I was doing when I stood there and vowed to intertwine my life so completely to this man.
But I've never regretted that decision for a moment.
He is my best friend, my love, the father of my children, my confidant, my protector, the other half of my soul. All the good things in my life can be connected in a straight line directly back to the decision to marry him. I love him so.
The last year of marriage brought a new baby into our family, bringing with it all the adventures and firsts that only a new baby can bring. We bought a house and made a home. New friends joined our life. The Greatest finished his field training for work and became a full fledged Law Enforcement Officer. Meaty started school. Grandpa came to visit twice. We went back home once. So many big happy events in a year. 365 days slipping seamless past one another. Pages on a calendar relentlessly turning, moving forward.
I can't wait to see what the next year brings. I'm so grateful I get to share the adventure with The Greatest.
Friday, December 19, 2008
For The Love of Fridays
Is it seriously Friday already?
Seriously?
Friday?
Ok, let's start with what I'm not loving.
I'm not loving that it's Friday already.
I'm not loving that Christmas is in less than a week and I'm not ready!
I'm not loving the fact that crabby-patty Sweet Pea woke up yesterday with gunk oozing out of her ear. We're off to the dr. for more antibiotics.
On the loving side of life I'm loving
Candy Cane Hershey Kisses
Seriously so addicting. Is it bad that I ate half a bag in one sitting?
I'm loving the yearly concert. Can you spot my children?
This year they called it the Christmahannikwanzikah concert. I think I like "Holiday Concert" or "Winter Concert" better. Or maybe I'll be selfish and wish we could go back to calling it what it is, the Christmas Concert. And yes, I might have cried just a little bit. It's my right as a mom.
I'm loving my Christmas Pictures
How cute are they? (If any of the local girls want to know, I had them taken at Sunshine and Shade Photography. I can not say enough good things about this woman. I loved our photo shoot. We will be going back for a family shoot soon.)
What are you loving today?
Seriously?
Friday?
Ok, let's start with what I'm not loving.
I'm not loving that it's Friday already.
I'm not loving that Christmas is in less than a week and I'm not ready!
I'm not loving the fact that crabby-patty Sweet Pea woke up yesterday with gunk oozing out of her ear. We're off to the dr. for more antibiotics.
On the loving side of life I'm loving
Candy Cane Hershey Kisses
Seriously so addicting. Is it bad that I ate half a bag in one sitting?
I'm loving the yearly concert. Can you spot my children?
This year they called it the Christmahannikwanzikah concert. I think I like "Holiday Concert" or "Winter Concert" better. Or maybe I'll be selfish and wish we could go back to calling it what it is, the Christmas Concert. And yes, I might have cried just a little bit. It's my right as a mom.
I'm loving my Christmas Pictures
How cute are they? (If any of the local girls want to know, I had them taken at Sunshine and Shade Photography. I can not say enough good things about this woman. I loved our photo shoot. We will be going back for a family shoot soon.)
What are you loving today?
Monday, December 15, 2008
So I got to thinking....
Upon further reflection of yesterday's post. I had an epiphany. Well, maybe epiphany is too strong a word. I had a flash of memory. From the depths of my swiss cheese brain a realization surfaced. I really am "that woman."
And it is well documented on my blog.
Examples can be found here, here, here, here, and here.
And those were just the ones off the top of my head. I was afraid to dig to deeply. Goodness knows what I might find. Instead I will give in to the truth before my very eyes. I will no longer fight it. But I will continue to mock it.
I am that woman.
And I am fine with that.
And I am sure that someday, after much therapy, my children will be fine as well.
And it is well documented on my blog.
Examples can be found here, here, here, here, and here.
And those were just the ones off the top of my head. I was afraid to dig to deeply. Goodness knows what I might find. Instead I will give in to the truth before my very eyes. I will no longer fight it. But I will continue to mock it.
I am that woman.
And I am fine with that.
And I am sure that someday, after much therapy, my children will be fine as well.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Officially Over The Edge
I've done it. I've become "That Woman." You know. You've seen her. Sometimes she's at the mall, sometimes the park, but you know her when you see her. The insane one. The one who dresses her children in not just complimentary outfits, but matching outfits. With matching hair. Her kids looking just "so". And you have to wonder about that woman. You feel a little sorry for her children. Is it fun to be her child walking around dressed just so? Is she trying to live vicariously through her children? Doesn't she have anything better to do with her time? Maybe that woman needs a hobby. Or some sedatives.
It's not that I have so much time on my hands, I do have four children. And its not that I don't have a hobby. Between the yarn, and the ribbon, and the fabric, and the beads, believe me, I've got hobbies. I've contemplated taking up scrap booking, but rejected the idea for fear The Greatest would consider it grounds for divorce. Whether or not I need sedatives or other heavy medication is a judgement call, and not really the issue at hand today.
My problem all started out so innocently. I swear. I had the best of intentions.
It all started with these skirts.
I like to buy my girls special dresses for Christmas and Easter. Just fancy pretty things to mark the special occasion. Nothing in the store really spoke to me this year. I found a tutorial online for these skirts and thought they would just be the cutest thing to do for Christmas. Less formal that poufy dresses, but infinitely more fun with the twirl factor. I happened to have yards and yards and yards of red plaid in my fabric stash. How perfect are red plaid skirts for the yule time? I was going to go for complimentary skirts. I was going to have different fabrics for the hem band. I sewed a skirt for Bird with a cream band, but a cream fabric washed the skirt out. I ran to the fabric store thinking I could sew one with a red band, and two with a green band (Pork Chop and the baby perhaps, like matching bookends if I lined the children up by age) But alas, the red was too hard to match, so green hems for everyone it was.
So then I was going to have them wear different colored shirts. But the red was still hard to match, and a green shirt proved impossible to find. Rather than torture myself driving all around the valley hunting down just the right shade of red, and any green shirt I could find, I decided white shirts all around would be just fine. In my defense they were three different style long sleeve white t-shirts, but that's just something I say to comfort myself. At the end of the day they were all long sleeve white t-shirts.
And the hair. I swear. As I got them ready for the Christmas party I wasn't trying to do their hair all the same. I did the baby's hair first, in pigtails. I'm so happy we can finally do pigtails that's all she sports. Poor baby isn't even a year old and she's already in a hair rut. Then I did Bird's hair in my favorite style for her right now. I added tiny green bows in her hair (for some reason it was easy to find an exact match for the green in ribbon, but still no match for the red, how odd). And oh how cute was she? Wanting to look equally cute Pork Chop insisted her hair be the same as Birds. So more elastic and tiny green ribbons.
And that's when I lost it.
Three girls in identical plaid dresses, in white shirts. Two in bows. I sailed right over the edge of sanity. I couldn't let two out of three have green ribbons. Why I couldn't let that happen I still can't articulate. I just knew with every cell of my body that allowing the third to remain ribbonless was a crime. A crime against what I can not say. Nature? Fashion? Sisterhood? I'm still not sure, but I was not about to commit such a crime. I had to put ribbons in the baby's hair. HAD TO!
The first ribbon tied right onto the base of her pigtail. It was like she was meant to have ribbons in her hair. The universe wanted my daughter to have tiny green bows at the base of her pigtails! The next ribbon took fifteen minutes to tie. It kept slipping out. It didn't want to go into a bow. I should have given up. I was torturing the baby for no particular reason (I generally don't mind torturing the baby, I just like to have a reason) But I am not a quitter. I was a woman in the throes of a psychotic break. I would not be a criminal. I was going to show that ribbon who was boss. And when it was all said and done, could the baby have been any cuter?
And there they were. Three little girls looking so alike the younger two could be clones of the first. In matching outfits, with their hair just so. I was over the edge and swimming in the deep end.
And did I take a picture?
Of course not.
What makes you think I would have taken a picture?
It's not like I have some new really fancy fun camera to take pictures with.
It's not like I'd taken so many pictures earlier that day that The Greatest had resorted to this
to get me to stop.
No. I officially suck. The closest I got to a picture of all the children together was this.
This was after dinner and the children had consumed their own weight in fruit punch with the resulting tell-tale "smile". Observant readers might notice I'm missing a child in this picture. As if being tortured and in a hair rut were not enough, Sweet Pea was also feeling under the weather and at the party she looked like this.
(Notice you can not even SEE her bows) Observant readers might also notice that after two trips to the fabric store (I needed green thread), and three days spent sewing, the skirts are no where to be seen in either photo.
As a craft blogger I really suck. But I do think the lack of photographic evidence is proof that this was all a fluke, and I'm not really becoming "that woman." That woman would have gotten perfectly posed pictures.
We did get pictures with Santa.
(see the skirts? aren't they cute?)
In the end, it was all worth it. Or atleast that's what I'm telling myself.
It's not that I have so much time on my hands, I do have four children. And its not that I don't have a hobby. Between the yarn, and the ribbon, and the fabric, and the beads, believe me, I've got hobbies. I've contemplated taking up scrap booking, but rejected the idea for fear The Greatest would consider it grounds for divorce. Whether or not I need sedatives or other heavy medication is a judgement call, and not really the issue at hand today.
My problem all started out so innocently. I swear. I had the best of intentions.
It all started with these skirts.
I like to buy my girls special dresses for Christmas and Easter. Just fancy pretty things to mark the special occasion. Nothing in the store really spoke to me this year. I found a tutorial online for these skirts and thought they would just be the cutest thing to do for Christmas. Less formal that poufy dresses, but infinitely more fun with the twirl factor. I happened to have yards and yards and yards of red plaid in my fabric stash. How perfect are red plaid skirts for the yule time? I was going to go for complimentary skirts. I was going to have different fabrics for the hem band. I sewed a skirt for Bird with a cream band, but a cream fabric washed the skirt out. I ran to the fabric store thinking I could sew one with a red band, and two with a green band (Pork Chop and the baby perhaps, like matching bookends if I lined the children up by age) But alas, the red was too hard to match, so green hems for everyone it was.
So then I was going to have them wear different colored shirts. But the red was still hard to match, and a green shirt proved impossible to find. Rather than torture myself driving all around the valley hunting down just the right shade of red, and any green shirt I could find, I decided white shirts all around would be just fine. In my defense they were three different style long sleeve white t-shirts, but that's just something I say to comfort myself. At the end of the day they were all long sleeve white t-shirts.
And the hair. I swear. As I got them ready for the Christmas party I wasn't trying to do their hair all the same. I did the baby's hair first, in pigtails. I'm so happy we can finally do pigtails that's all she sports. Poor baby isn't even a year old and she's already in a hair rut. Then I did Bird's hair in my favorite style for her right now. I added tiny green bows in her hair (for some reason it was easy to find an exact match for the green in ribbon, but still no match for the red, how odd). And oh how cute was she? Wanting to look equally cute Pork Chop insisted her hair be the same as Birds. So more elastic and tiny green ribbons.
And that's when I lost it.
Three girls in identical plaid dresses, in white shirts. Two in bows. I sailed right over the edge of sanity. I couldn't let two out of three have green ribbons. Why I couldn't let that happen I still can't articulate. I just knew with every cell of my body that allowing the third to remain ribbonless was a crime. A crime against what I can not say. Nature? Fashion? Sisterhood? I'm still not sure, but I was not about to commit such a crime. I had to put ribbons in the baby's hair. HAD TO!
The first ribbon tied right onto the base of her pigtail. It was like she was meant to have ribbons in her hair. The universe wanted my daughter to have tiny green bows at the base of her pigtails! The next ribbon took fifteen minutes to tie. It kept slipping out. It didn't want to go into a bow. I should have given up. I was torturing the baby for no particular reason (I generally don't mind torturing the baby, I just like to have a reason) But I am not a quitter. I was a woman in the throes of a psychotic break. I would not be a criminal. I was going to show that ribbon who was boss. And when it was all said and done, could the baby have been any cuter?
And there they were. Three little girls looking so alike the younger two could be clones of the first. In matching outfits, with their hair just so. I was over the edge and swimming in the deep end.
And did I take a picture?
Of course not.
What makes you think I would have taken a picture?
It's not like I have some new really fancy fun camera to take pictures with.
It's not like I'd taken so many pictures earlier that day that The Greatest had resorted to this
to get me to stop.
No. I officially suck. The closest I got to a picture of all the children together was this.
This was after dinner and the children had consumed their own weight in fruit punch with the resulting tell-tale "smile". Observant readers might notice I'm missing a child in this picture. As if being tortured and in a hair rut were not enough, Sweet Pea was also feeling under the weather and at the party she looked like this.
(Notice you can not even SEE her bows) Observant readers might also notice that after two trips to the fabric store (I needed green thread), and three days spent sewing, the skirts are no where to be seen in either photo.
As a craft blogger I really suck. But I do think the lack of photographic evidence is proof that this was all a fluke, and I'm not really becoming "that woman." That woman would have gotten perfectly posed pictures.
We did get pictures with Santa.
(see the skirts? aren't they cute?)
In the end, it was all worth it. Or atleast that's what I'm telling myself.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Friday Loving
What I'm loving today:
FINALLY having all the presents wrapped, packed, and ready to mail! Now if only I were done shopping for my children.
My Roses. I'm not sure why he bought them, but when we were at the grocery store The Greatest (who has only bought me flowers twice in 11 years of being together) suggested we should buy these. Aren't they lovely? I think yellow is my new favorite rose color.
I'm just loving this picture just because. What's not to love about this picture? I laugh out loud every time I look at it.
I'm loving this man.
Isn't he handsome? Even when he's got his cop face on cause he's doing work stuff. As I took this picture he grumbled at me so I promised not to put his image on the interwebs. Don't tell him I lied ok?
And finally I'm loving my new Christmas Present!
You might have noticed that with the exception of the picture of the camera all the other pictures in this post have actually been in focus. I'm unspeakably happy. Now can you understand why I simply could not wait until Christmas?
It's Christmas time. There's love for all mankind in the air. What are you loving?
FINALLY having all the presents wrapped, packed, and ready to mail! Now if only I were done shopping for my children.
My Roses. I'm not sure why he bought them, but when we were at the grocery store The Greatest (who has only bought me flowers twice in 11 years of being together) suggested we should buy these. Aren't they lovely? I think yellow is my new favorite rose color.
I'm just loving this picture just because. What's not to love about this picture? I laugh out loud every time I look at it.
I'm loving this man.
Isn't he handsome? Even when he's got his cop face on cause he's doing work stuff. As I took this picture he grumbled at me so I promised not to put his image on the interwebs. Don't tell him I lied ok?
And finally I'm loving my new Christmas Present!
You might have noticed that with the exception of the picture of the camera all the other pictures in this post have actually been in focus. I'm unspeakably happy. Now can you understand why I simply could not wait until Christmas?
It's Christmas time. There's love for all mankind in the air. What are you loving?
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I know you're all dying to know....
So my Christmas present arrived yesterday. The question of the day is did The Greatest let me have it?
Before I tell you I would like to take this moment to remind all of you that you, my loyal blog readers, have betrayed me, telling me I needed to wait. Et tu Brutus? Did you forget that you are supposed to be on my side? Your loyalty lies with me and my whims, not The Greatest, not with Christmas, ME! What do you think I am, a grown-up or something? Someone who should be able to practice delayed gratification? You're thinking of the wrong person. Delayed gratification has never been my strong suit. Even though you knew the betrayal I felt from my message board, you continued to insist that I wait for my present. I'm not sure I'm speaking to most of you right now.
So, for the handful that didn't stab me in the back, if you recall, I was supposed to stay home all day yesterday waiting for my Christmas-present-that-I-wanted-with-all-my-heart-but-couldn't-have-until-Christmas to arrive. But then I remembered. I had plans. I couldn't stay home all day. I was going out with the girls to see TWILIGHT! And by "the girls" I don't mean my three female children. I mean full grown adult women. I WAS GOING OUT WITH NO KIDS!
Now this is the very first time I have ever gone out without Sweet Pea. As she is still nursing she insists I remain no more than twenty feet away from her at all times. Even when she sleeps. She would prefer a three foot perimeter, the twenty feet represents a compromise. This is truly cramping my social life. She is almost a year old. It's time for some forced independence, for both of us.
So to the movies I went. I wore these socks with these shoes
(don't they look cute? and they were comfy too)
I had a wonderful time! A much better time than Sweet Pea and The Greatest had. I think she's getting more teeth (yet another reason to wean her soon).
I arrived home to one sleeping baby and three excited children.
"Mommy we got you a present" they cried!
"A present?" I thought "what present?"
And it dawned on me. MY Present had arrived.
Proudly they gave me a beautifully wrapped present (*swoon* he wrapped my gift. Who needs Edward, my man wrapped my present *more swooning*)
"I know what it is" Meaty told me in a conspiratal whisper.
"What is it?"
"I'm not allowed to tell, but I'll help you open it."
How could I not open my present when the children were so excited and eager to help me?
So do you want to see what I got? What I wanted so badly I simply could not wait until Christmas to have? The gift The Greatest bought me that is so perfect it makes my present for him look really crummy?
Maybe I'll tell you...
tomorrow.
Before I tell you I would like to take this moment to remind all of you that you, my loyal blog readers, have betrayed me, telling me I needed to wait. Et tu Brutus? Did you forget that you are supposed to be on my side? Your loyalty lies with me and my whims, not The Greatest, not with Christmas, ME! What do you think I am, a grown-up or something? Someone who should be able to practice delayed gratification? You're thinking of the wrong person. Delayed gratification has never been my strong suit. Even though you knew the betrayal I felt from my message board, you continued to insist that I wait for my present. I'm not sure I'm speaking to most of you right now.
So, for the handful that didn't stab me in the back, if you recall, I was supposed to stay home all day yesterday waiting for my Christmas-present-that-I-wanted-with-all-my-heart-but-couldn't-have-until-Christmas to arrive. But then I remembered. I had plans. I couldn't stay home all day. I was going out with the girls to see TWILIGHT! And by "the girls" I don't mean my three female children. I mean full grown adult women. I WAS GOING OUT WITH NO KIDS!
Now this is the very first time I have ever gone out without Sweet Pea. As she is still nursing she insists I remain no more than twenty feet away from her at all times. Even when she sleeps. She would prefer a three foot perimeter, the twenty feet represents a compromise. This is truly cramping my social life. She is almost a year old. It's time for some forced independence, for both of us.
So to the movies I went. I wore these socks with these shoes
(don't they look cute? and they were comfy too)
I had a wonderful time! A much better time than Sweet Pea and The Greatest had. I think she's getting more teeth (yet another reason to wean her soon).
I arrived home to one sleeping baby and three excited children.
"Mommy we got you a present" they cried!
"A present?" I thought "what present?"
And it dawned on me. MY Present had arrived.
Proudly they gave me a beautifully wrapped present (*swoon* he wrapped my gift. Who needs Edward, my man wrapped my present *more swooning*)
"I know what it is" Meaty told me in a conspiratal whisper.
"What is it?"
"I'm not allowed to tell, but I'll help you open it."
How could I not open my present when the children were so excited and eager to help me?
So do you want to see what I got? What I wanted so badly I simply could not wait until Christmas to have? The gift The Greatest bought me that is so perfect it makes my present for him look really crummy?
Maybe I'll tell you...
tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Betrayed
I know you are all anxiously wondering if I got the baby pants done in time for Sweet Pea's first ever Christmas Parade. I did. But I can not show you pictures of them because they are sticky, covered in Candy Cane drool, and are somewhere in the laundry room. I would go in there and get them and take a dirty picture (whew, that sounded bad) but the laundry is piled high enough I'm afraid it is mounting a plot to rebel and fall on me if I dare to enter the room. It's best I leave the laundry to The Greatest who is stronger than me, and carries a weapon on him at all times. It's his turn to quell a laundry rebellion. You'll just have to take my word for it that they were knit in time, and they were adorable.
You'll also have to take my word for it when I say the Christmas Parade was so much fun I don't even know where to start. I forgot to take my camera. I know. I really suck lately. But even if I had remembered the camera the pictures would have been dim or overexposed from the flash (because it was dark) and slightly out of focus (because the camera is still broken). So you will just have to trust me that it was fun and magical, and when we woke Sweet Pea up half way through the parade she was enchanted by the lights. Just as I had hoped. (Until she screamed the whole way home from the parade because she had been woken up. Good times I tell you, good times.)
But that is not what is on my mind today. Not what has turned me to blogging as a way to make sense of the cruel twist fate has dealt me. I am bereft and must seek solace somewhere. And it is abundantly clear I can no longer turn to those I trust the most.
What could possibly be causing me such distress?
The Greatest bought me a Christmas Present.
Now this is not a yearly event. We are poor folk and choose to spend any money we can find for Christmas (through savings, extra jobs, or just stealing from the grocery budget) on the children. Rarely do we buy each other present. But The Greatest insisted this year. He bought me something I desperately want with every cell in my body. It was expensive and I found it difficult to justify spending so much on me. The Greatest would not take no for an answer. After taking me to three stores to pick out just the one I want, he brought me home and had me find the same one online for less. Then He put in the official order for my gift.
So this gift is something I really, really, really want. It is not a surprise. I know exactly what it is. It will be here tomorrow.
So why am I distraught?
Even though he asked me to stay home all day Wednesday to sign for the package I am forbidden to open it. I can not have it until Christmas Day?
THIS IS NOT FAIR!
I know what it is. This is no surprise. I picked it out. I practically bought it myself (he did toss me his credit card and told me to order it. I refused and said if he was buying me a present the least he could do was actually buy it himself). He now says that since he did buy it he can say when I get it. And Christmas means Christmas. I have to wait.
I argued with him and he suggested I poll my favorite message board. This is something I have done in the past when we have a silly argument. Someday I must tell you about the great sweater vest debacle of 2008. I won the message board battle but lost the war.
To fully understand my grief I must give you some background on my message board. They are no ordinary collection of Internet strangers. We are a close group. We have members all across the country, and one especially beloved member from Australia. We have local Girl's Night Outs. We have a big Girl's Weekend Out once a year. These people are my dearest friends and a source of constant advice, support, and inspiration. They even know my children's real names. I love my board.
When The Greatest suggested we poll my board I laughed. That present was as good as mine. These were my women. These are my peeps. My "MOF-ia." I KNEW they would have my back. I was getting my present on Wednesday.
But these women. My best-est friends. These devious evil women. How they have betrayed me.
Out of 128 members, 47 people voted in my poll. And only five, FIVE said I could have my present. The rest all sided with The Greatest. I would have to wait until Christmas. I have been betrayed.
How could they have forgotten the sacred trust of sisterhood? How could they have forgotten that they are supposed to side with me? They have broken my heart and all but five (you know who you are) are dead to me.
This is not like normal Christmas waiting. I'm not waiting for the hope of a gift that may or may not be beneath the tree. I KNOW what this gift is, and I NEED it NOW!
I know you guys understand where your allegiance should lie. I know YOU will agree it is cruel and unusual for The Greatest to make me wait until Christmas. I know I can trust you to have my back. He should give it to me on Wednesday shouldn't he?
You'll also have to take my word for it when I say the Christmas Parade was so much fun I don't even know where to start. I forgot to take my camera. I know. I really suck lately. But even if I had remembered the camera the pictures would have been dim or overexposed from the flash (because it was dark) and slightly out of focus (because the camera is still broken). So you will just have to trust me that it was fun and magical, and when we woke Sweet Pea up half way through the parade she was enchanted by the lights. Just as I had hoped. (Until she screamed the whole way home from the parade because she had been woken up. Good times I tell you, good times.)
But that is not what is on my mind today. Not what has turned me to blogging as a way to make sense of the cruel twist fate has dealt me. I am bereft and must seek solace somewhere. And it is abundantly clear I can no longer turn to those I trust the most.
What could possibly be causing me such distress?
The Greatest bought me a Christmas Present.
Now this is not a yearly event. We are poor folk and choose to spend any money we can find for Christmas (through savings, extra jobs, or just stealing from the grocery budget) on the children. Rarely do we buy each other present. But The Greatest insisted this year. He bought me something I desperately want with every cell in my body. It was expensive and I found it difficult to justify spending so much on me. The Greatest would not take no for an answer. After taking me to three stores to pick out just the one I want, he brought me home and had me find the same one online for less. Then He put in the official order for my gift.
So this gift is something I really, really, really want. It is not a surprise. I know exactly what it is. It will be here tomorrow.
So why am I distraught?
Even though he asked me to stay home all day Wednesday to sign for the package I am forbidden to open it. I can not have it until Christmas Day?
THIS IS NOT FAIR!
I know what it is. This is no surprise. I picked it out. I practically bought it myself (he did toss me his credit card and told me to order it. I refused and said if he was buying me a present the least he could do was actually buy it himself). He now says that since he did buy it he can say when I get it. And Christmas means Christmas. I have to wait.
I argued with him and he suggested I poll my favorite message board. This is something I have done in the past when we have a silly argument. Someday I must tell you about the great sweater vest debacle of 2008. I won the message board battle but lost the war.
To fully understand my grief I must give you some background on my message board. They are no ordinary collection of Internet strangers. We are a close group. We have members all across the country, and one especially beloved member from Australia. We have local Girl's Night Outs. We have a big Girl's Weekend Out once a year. These people are my dearest friends and a source of constant advice, support, and inspiration. They even know my children's real names. I love my board.
When The Greatest suggested we poll my board I laughed. That present was as good as mine. These were my women. These are my peeps. My "MOF-ia." I KNEW they would have my back. I was getting my present on Wednesday.
But these women. My best-est friends. These devious evil women. How they have betrayed me.
Out of 128 members, 47 people voted in my poll. And only five, FIVE said I could have my present. The rest all sided with The Greatest. I would have to wait until Christmas. I have been betrayed.
How could they have forgotten the sacred trust of sisterhood? How could they have forgotten that they are supposed to side with me? They have broken my heart and all but five (you know who you are) are dead to me.
This is not like normal Christmas waiting. I'm not waiting for the hope of a gift that may or may not be beneath the tree. I KNOW what this gift is, and I NEED it NOW!
I know you guys understand where your allegiance should lie. I know YOU will agree it is cruel and unusual for The Greatest to make me wait until Christmas. I know I can trust you to have my back. He should give it to me on Wednesday shouldn't he?
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Operation Perfect Christmas
So I've posted a little about this before, my vision of a perfect Christmas. It includes small children playing peacefully together, laughter ringing throughout the house, carols in the background, cookies piled high on plates, smiling with friends. You know, all the good stuff of life converging around a brightly lit tree.
I am aware this is an unrealistic pipe dream. Nobody's life is that perfect. Especially not mine. I know this. I know the reality of Christmas will include bickering, hitting, name calling, fighting, yelling (from me), and tears (probably from me as well). All that good stuff will be there, but there must be a tussle of some sort, a battle of epic proportions in my family room in order for me to truly appreciate the silence that reigns after they go to bed. It's a whole ying and yang thing. I'm not going for a perfect Holiday Season. I'm just hoping for perfect moments. Just a little slices of time to string together into a memory. In years to come I will dust this memory off, forgetting all the bickering, the fighting, the yelling, the tears, and I will hold onto the perfect moments, the giggles, the smiles, the love, the joy, the perfect Christmas.
And I am proud to announce that I am one step closer to creating one of those moments. The one of the happy baby playing quietly beside the Christmas tree..
Behold my baby pants!
They're not done yet. I need to sew the leg hems in place. And this is usually the point where I stall out on projects. But I want these pants done by Saturday so she can wear them to her first ever Christmas Parade (last year doesn't count, she couldn't watch from the womb). So *fingers crossed* I'm right on track, my vision is seamlessly coming together.
I've even found the perfect flower for her headband.
I was going to sew it on a cream-colored velvet ribbon I have, but the shirt I bought for her to wear with her new cuddly red pants is white, so I'm going to have to think of a plan B. This is a glitch, but not a fatal one. My vision of happy baby playing quietly by the Christmas tree will not be thwarted, unlike the sweater vest. (those who know me know what I'm grumbling about, I still maintain a sweater vest on a five year old is not gay, but whatever, for the sake of my marriage I'm letting that dream die). This perfect moment will come to fruition.
I am aware this is an unrealistic pipe dream. Nobody's life is that perfect. Especially not mine. I know this. I know the reality of Christmas will include bickering, hitting, name calling, fighting, yelling (from me), and tears (probably from me as well). All that good stuff will be there, but there must be a tussle of some sort, a battle of epic proportions in my family room in order for me to truly appreciate the silence that reigns after they go to bed. It's a whole ying and yang thing. I'm not going for a perfect Holiday Season. I'm just hoping for perfect moments. Just a little slices of time to string together into a memory. In years to come I will dust this memory off, forgetting all the bickering, the fighting, the yelling, the tears, and I will hold onto the perfect moments, the giggles, the smiles, the love, the joy, the perfect Christmas.
And I am proud to announce that I am one step closer to creating one of those moments. The one of the happy baby playing quietly beside the Christmas tree..
Behold my baby pants!
They're not done yet. I need to sew the leg hems in place. And this is usually the point where I stall out on projects. But I want these pants done by Saturday so she can wear them to her first ever Christmas Parade (last year doesn't count, she couldn't watch from the womb). So *fingers crossed* I'm right on track, my vision is seamlessly coming together.
I've even found the perfect flower for her headband.
I was going to sew it on a cream-colored velvet ribbon I have, but the shirt I bought for her to wear with her new cuddly red pants is white, so I'm going to have to think of a plan B. This is a glitch, but not a fatal one. My vision of happy baby playing quietly by the Christmas tree will not be thwarted, unlike the sweater vest. (those who know me know what I'm grumbling about, I still maintain a sweater vest on a five year old is not gay, but whatever, for the sake of my marriage I'm letting that dream die). This perfect moment will come to fruition.
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