Monday, December 21, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Once again, I have let a rather largish amount of time go by since last blogging. It isn't that I haven't anything to say, it is simply that I haven't the time to say. It has been a busy bit of time these past couple of months.
Why, you ask?
Well, I have had the good fortune to team up with a lovely lady in Park City who sells floor sample wedding gowns. She sells these at a serious discount out of her house, so there is no alterationist on the premises. I met her randomly through a friend and she promptly asked if I would be interested in doing alterations for her customers. I said yes, although I don't really like doing alterations. I figured it would be good money. And it is. Much better than I ever made at the Bridal Shop at which I was employed. So, you see, the increased compensation more than makes up for the fact that I don't enjoy alterations. Also, most of these dresses are not LDS Temple worthy, and the majority of my clients are LDS. So, that means much more extensive alts on a lot of them, which means much more excited brides who see their dress transformed.
Some weeks are very busy, and it is easy to see which those are. My house turns into a disaster, because I don't have time to clean. We eat out a lot because I don't have time to cook. And The Small One? Poor baby, she suffers. She doesn't like it when my attention is focused elsewhere. If I go into my studio and she has had enough of it, she runs ahead of me and blocks the sewing machine and tells me "No more sewing! You cannot sit here! You are all done!" At that point, I usually concede that I have perhaps worked a little too much and play with The Small One instead. Then I work during her nap.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
The lesson in the first meeting (Relief Society for my Mormon readers) was on remembering Christ, how knowing Christ can change your outlook. The teacher quoted my favorite prophet, President Hinckley, a lot during the lesson. The primary thing I took from it, and one of the big reasons he is my fave prophet is because of his constant reminder to us to not despair. Things might be hard, the world might be ugly, war does exist, BUT...things that are hard can teach us. The world IS beautiful and we can work toward peace. And above all, and this is my most favorite scripture-BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD. Regardless of the ugly and the evil, the Lord is still in charge. Despite the sorrow that can come from the blessing of agency by making wrong choices or by those who choose evil, good WILL prevail.
Then, in our main meeting, one of the members of our congregation spoke about example and the love of God. She was talking about her son and the joy he gave her and how sometimes that joy is intensified by the knowledge that he is hers. And the realization that that feeling of love and joy is just a tiny part of how the Lord must feel about us.
We also had an amazing musical number with 6 women and 5 men in our ward. I can't describe it, but it made me very happy to be a Mormon.
Happy Christmas Season everyone!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a girl. This girl got a bee in her bonnet about blogging and thought, what a great idea! A lovely way to preserve her memories of family, life and her growing daughter!
As you can see, that tale is not ending happily. I am terrible at keeping up with this, and terrible at remembering all of the hysterical things my daughter does. And, believe you me, she is hysterical. The amount of funny in the things she says just does not come through with the written word. You have to see her facial expressions and body language as well.
For instance, the other day, she was eating her dinner. Oh, correction, I was FEEDING her dinner, because the child does not eat of her own volition. Anyhoo, whilst eating, she informs me that she needs her drink. I hand her her milk. She vetoes and reaches for my drink (raspberry slush in seltzer). I say, that is my drink. She looks at me, cocks her head sideways and says, "Acksally, I think it's kinda MY drink", then picks it up and has at it. Yep. I laughed.
I looked up the development tracker yesterday to see where she falls on the scale. It was a bit alarming. The child is 2 1/2. Her physical development(gross and fine motor skills) falls squarely into the 3 year old category. Her cognitive development (language and emotional skills, logic, etc.) falls squarely into the...4 year old category. I am not kidding. I was not expecting that. I joke all the time about how it annoys me when she acts like a two year old, but the fact of the matter is, most of the time she doesn't! She acts much older, and consequently, I expect more of her.
At church a couple of weeks ago, a lady came up and started baby talking to The Small One. Now, The Small One is familiar with this lady, so it wasn't like STRANGER DANGER! or anything. The lady says something like-Oh you such a coot widdow girl! Did ur mommy make oo dat pitty dress?-and The Small One just stares. The lady carries on for a minute, with The Small One just giving her stinkeye, then, she reaches out to pet The Small One, who says calmly and clearly, "Don't touch me." At which the lady looks taken aback and we skedaddle off to nursery.
Later, The Man of the House informs me that said lady mentioned to him how clearly and precisely The Small One talks and she wasn't expecting that.
Now, let me say, we do not talk to her like she is a baby. I baby her sometimes and all that, but in general, we talk to her like she is a person. If she asks me a question, I answer. I explain to her what I am doing, if she wants to know. I explain how things work, if that is her query. Consequently, she has a GIANT vocabulary, for a two year old, and her enunciation is very good.
Twice now, I have had people in church disapprovingly ask me why I talk to her the way I do. My answer, although I don't say it out loud, is that she is a child, not an idiot. Mostly, I just smile and tell them she responds to it well.
Here are a few more fabulous tidbits from The Fabulous Life of The Small One.
Overheard one warm day in October (I was in the back room, The Man of the House and The Small One were out back.)
-Hey, Hey, HEY! What are you doing? PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON!!!!!!
Anyone who knows my child, knows she loves to be naked.
One morning she perusing the interior of the fridge and saw a bowl of cut mango and asked if it was cheese. I said, no, and she said, "Oh! It is canlaloupe! I love canlaloupe!" She took a piece from the bowl and placed it in her mouth, chewed once and promptly spit it back out. She looks at me and says,"This is not canlaloupe" (I cannot even begin to tell you how hard it was to hold back the laughter at the surprised disgust in her face) I told her no, it was not cantaloupe, it was mango. She pondered the fruit in her hand, looked at me and announced, "I do not love it."
A few weeks ago, we took a drive up the canyon to enjoy the beautiful fall leaves. We stopped at Cascade Springs to walk around (The Man of the House had never been there! Boggle.) We walked about with the dogs (which The Small One mostly rode, pretty funny) and enjoyed the scenery. As we headed down one path, The Man of the House and the dogs got ahead of me and The Small One and veered off the path into the marsh. The Small One ran off the path through the weeds to catch them, not realizing that is was a marsh. Run, run, run, suddenly-SPLASH! right into a pool of water screened by weeds and whatnot. She stood up, completely confused. It looked like solid ground to her. I laughed and laughed. The Man of the House maintained taht she knew what she was doing, as she had been trying to get into the water the entire time we were there, but I don't think she could fake surprise that well.
On our way back up the last stretch to the carpark, I was walking well ahead of The Small One and her daddy (I had the dogs at that point and they were more or less dragging me up the path). I hauled the dogs to a stop, because I saw the cutest little fuzzy caterpillar. He was one of those black and bright yellow striped ones, but he only had 4 stripe segments, so he was short and fat and very cute.
I called to The Small One to come up and see and up she runs, takes one look at it, shouts, "A BUG!" and stomps it flat. Nice one, Godzilla. Several people were standing around looking at the fat, little guy, and up comes my wee delicate little girl and squishes the bug. At least it made everybody laugh.
The Small One was playing with her Madame Alexander doll (who is called Girl, you know, to differentiate her from the baby dolls) and came up to me and said "I need hersherder." Uh, what? "I need hersherder!" Honey, I haven't the foggiest what you are saying. "Come here!" I follow her into the hallway, to the door of the kitchen, where she props Girl up against the jamb and demands a pencil. OH! You need to MEASURE her! "Yes, hersherder!" You see, I measure The Small One, periodically, against the door jamb between the kitchen and hall and mark her height and the date, she figured Girl needed it as well.
I recently finished a bear rug a couple of weeks ago. Yes, a real bear. I occasionally do work for a couple of taxidermists. The Small One decided she needed to help me cut the felt for the dust ruffle, which I do with this old school, hand cranked scallop cutter. I cut the felt into strips and then run them throught the scallop cutter and it does the obvious, cuts scallops on one side. It has a small rotating die that squeezes the felt between it and a metal plate, and it is a bit sharp. Whenever I use it around The Small One, I make sure no little fingers get in the way, as it could do some damage.
So, back to the story, she decided to help me, so I let her crank the handle. This, itself, was funny to see, because it takes some effort to crank and she is little. So, she has both hands going, getting her whole body into it and I am feeding the strips and keeping them straight. As I get to the end of a strip, I hold it and let my fingers slide up on the platform near the cutting die. The Small One stops, cranking, grabs my hand and says earnestly, "Watch your feeners! Be berry careful! This danjrous, don't get your feeners squitched!" At least she learns, right?
Well, that is all for this post. I hope you have enjoyed your peek into The Fabulous Life of the Small One!
Monday, October 19, 2009
This morning, upon waking, I realized that the headache I had gone to bed with was just about to turn into a migraine. Not good. Migraines are evil. I hate them with the fiery burning of a thousand suns. But, that is not the point of this blog post. The point is, whilst lying in bed bemoaning my fate (silently, as I did not want to wake The Small One, she awoke anyway.) Due to a serious need for sleep, The Man of the House opted to sleep in the nursery while Small and I slept in our bed. I don't blame him, my nasty cough keeps everyone awake.
Anyway, The Small One woke up and laid there for a moment, sideways with her head on my midsection, as per usual. Then she sat up and solemnly declared that she was "soggy boggo" and promptly began to remove her clothing. She is not one to wait around, she makes a decision and gets down to business. After divesting her thin frame of its clothing (and hurling the offending garments into the corner), she sat on the bed for a second. "I feezing" she tells me. I groaned. My head hurt. I lifted the covers and motioned for her to climb under the covers with me, but she demurred. She looked over at her crib, next to the bed, saw the blankets therein and made a decision. Crawling over to the crib, she grabbed her pillow and fluffed it, just as The Man of the House does, pulled and straightened the covers, one of which is the electric blanket she stole from her dear daddy, scooted up to the top of the bed and shinnied down into the pleasant warmth with an audible sigh of pleasure.
I looked at her and laughed. She is her daddy's daughter. Warm and cozy, buried under a pile of blankets, is the way to be. Although, she particularly likes to be buried in warmth whilst naken.
I asked her if she was comfortable. "I comfable," she replied, "my own daddy turn my blankly on for me." Then she demanded a bottle. It had to be warm as well. Fortunately, her daddy had provided one before he left for work. All I had to do was hand it to her.
Pleasantly, she remained like this for nigh unto an hour. Long enough for my meds to kick in and allow me to feel like facing the day. Bless the child.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
This morning, once again arising earlier than I prefer, The Small One announced that it was time to get up. Not only was it time to get up, but she had to go potty. Normally, she is quite capable of going potty by herself, but it was a rather darkish morning and the lights weren't on. I groaned, not wanting to get up as I had a rather sleepless night. She was demanding. But...ah, blessed baby. She wanted Daddy to be the one to come help her. Hallelujah! At least from my point of view. Not from his. Lazy beggar didn't want to get up either.
After going potty, she returned to the bedroom, where she spied my bottle of Powerade. I don't particularly like Powerade, but I was stricken with a dehydration headache last night, so got Powerade instead of water for the bedside. Over trots The Small One, picks up the bottle and looks me straight in the eye. Dis my juice. Okay, you can have it. Dis MY juice. It for me. Not for Mamma. Fine, you naughty stinker, take the juice. And again, with finger pointed my direction, for emphasis. Dis my juice. You not cannot hab any. And turning on her heel, she marches out of the room. Ah, my sweet, generous, sharing baby. Not.
We read scriptures and say prayers at night and The Small One is learning how to do it herself. The other morning, she climbed into bed with me, grabbed my Scriptures and opened them. I will read scritures to you, Mamma. Ok, baby, that would be nice. She flips a couple of pages, settles back into the pillow and says, An it came a pass, (blah, blah, nonsense words), an it came a pass, (more nonsense words) and it came a pass! I all done! With that, she shut the book, got down and went to watch Spongebob.
You should hear her say her prayers. Let me tell you, this kid is grateful for EVERYTHING!
She is becoming more and more independent by the day. Somehow or another, she figured out how to buckle her carseat buckle, but it takes FOREVER for her to do so. Then I get frustrated that she is taking so long and try to "help" her. Thanks, but no thanks, she does not need (want) help! So, as we are getting ready to leave a parking lot, my mom, in the passenger seat, turns around to help The Small One buckle up. NO! DON"T BUCKLE MY DOTTOM!!!!! Yeah, she didn't want help buckling the bottom buckle. I tried to warn my mom, but alas, she would not listen. But now I tell The Small One to behave or I will spank her dottom. She looks quizzically at me when I say that, because, you know, the little folk hear themselves saying the word correctly, but when you mimic them, they just don't get it. Silly baby.
Well, if I can get my battery charged and download my camera, the next post will contain photos and video. You are sure to get a laugh!
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Anyhow, so she refused her nap, which, come evening time, left her very tired and a bit cranky. I did not want to let her go to bed too early, because then she will wake up too early and, as I am sure to have mentioned before, I do not like to get up early. I also do not like to make The Man of the House get up too early on the weekends, as he does it during the week. Point being, if The Small One gets up early on the weekend, I have to get up with her.
The Man of the House, being the chivalrous gent that he is, went over to the church to print off the monthly Church Newsletter for me as I prefer not to be in the church alone at night. Creepy. So, I remained behind to put The Small One to bed. She whined piteously at me that she was ready for bed, so I asked her if she wanted her jammies. She did. Off she trotted to the nursery to find them. I clothed her in her nightwear and asked if she would like to go to bed now. She said yes. So, I took her and laid her in bed. She sat up. "I need my Tootle!" Your what? I queried. "My Tootle! I need my Tootle!" Your Tootle? I queried again, perplexed. "My Tootle! My dog!" Ah, now I understand. She needs her little stuffed poodle that Memma gave her yesterday. Her Toodle. I rousted out said Toodle, gave it to The Small One, she said thank you (unfailingly polite, she is) rolled over and went to sleep.
P.S. Would you like to know the names of her other dollies and things? Of course you would!
She has several dollies (not babies, so don't call them that and don't refer to her as their Mamma. She doesn't like it) They are named-Georgina, Alsatia, Blue and Purple. The other two don't have names.
She has two kitties, Grey and Tabby.
She has a Kangaroo named Pop.
And now she has a Poodle called Toodle.
Oh, and we cannot forget Torres, the Wonder Pup. He is one of those little soft lovies that babies have.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Small One, of course, has a readily identifiable scent. I love it, it makes me happy when I lay down on one of her blankies and can smell her.
There are two particular scents which overwhelm my mind with memories and images whenever I catch a whiff. The first is Dewberry, from The Body Shop. Oh, the fond memories this evokes. Dewberry is the smell of my London apartment. Every time I smell it, I am transported back to my tiny, cramped flat in South Kensington. I remember the noise of the traffic on Queen's Gate, the sight of the little French schoolgirls, dressed like Madeline, parading down the street to their school. I recall the tininess of our postage stamp sized kitchen. The sound of the (very annoying) pigeons which roosted on the back courtyard. It brings back memories of my flatmates, costume designers, all, and very quirky.
|From Drop Box|
I attach the scent of Dewberry to my flat in London for a very good reason. Shortly after arriving there, I was shopping in Covent Garden and my hands were VERY dry. I hate dry hands. And I am OCD enough that once I realize my hands are dry, I cannot stop thinking about it and must remedy the situation immediately. So, upon realizing, I promptly began searching for said remedy.
Covent Garden is crowded with shops and I did not think it would take but a moment to find a chemist and get some lotion for my poor hands. Alas, there was no chemist to be found! What was I to do? Then I spotted it, The Body Shop. This was well before they were here, so I had never heard of them, but could guess it would be rather outside my price range. But, what could I do? I couldn't enjoy my excursion if all I could think about was how dry my hands were. So, I went in.
There were only a couple of bottles of lotion small enough for me to afford, so I sniffed and bought the one I found least offensive. I did not particularly like it, but I was in need, so there you go. My hands found relief and the bottle of lotion went into my bag, and consequently, into my makeup bag back at the flat. I didn't want to waste my money and so I used the lotion whilst in London, though I did not care for the smell.
Fast forward, back to the states. I had been home quite some time when I walked by a Body Shop in Salt Lake. It had just opened and there was a girl at the front handing out those little paper strips with perfume on them. She handed me one and I took a delicate sniff. The shock was almost like an assault, but very pleasant. I was stopped dead in my tracks. The scent she had handed me was Dewberry. It had been a year or two since London, but it was like I had stepped back into my flat and was getting ready for another day of adventure. I could see and hear everything so clearly! Since then, I have purchased Dewberry rarely. I use it sparingly as I want it to continue to remind me of London, I don't want it to gain any other associations as that particular association is a very happy one for me. To this day, when I open a bottle of Dewberry Lotion, the memories are as clear as when they actually happened, sigh, 13 years ago.
Which reminds me. I haven't had Dewberry lotion for a long time. Perhaps I ought to try and remedy that.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
My adorable and adored Small One.
|From Drop Box|
The Small One and The Man of the House enjoying a bit of leisure time. Note the requisite lack of pants on the part of The Small One. And the ever-present popsicles.
|From Drop Box|
This is what happens when The Man of the House gets The Small One ready for bed. It makes my sensibilities ache.
|From Drop Box|
The Small One figured out she could make a "splinkler" by sticking her thumb in the end of the hose. This was a daily occurence when the weather was super hot. She is "watering the garden".
|From Drop Box|
And here she is hauling around her giant bag of...stuff. It contains Georgina and Blue, a towel, a blankie, some binkies and a couple of books. You know, the important stuff!
|From Drop Box|
I hope that takes the edge off your hunger for pics. At least a tiny bit.
I have discovered an easier way to post them, so I hope it worked. If it did, there will be more pics in the future. Just for you Kate. Just for you.
Don't you think?
Thursday, July 30, 2009
No she meant a REAL vacation. The kind people like us don't get to take for a variety of reasons. Between us, we came up with the ideal, relaxing vacation for us. Which we would take together.
Would you like to know what it involves? Of course you would!
For starters, it has to be far away from where we live. She lives on the West Coast, I live in Utah. Far away would be the East Coast. We think Maine. And of course, it needs to be ON the coast.
So, a beach house in Maine. Oh, lovely. This beach house would be older, charming, hardwood floors, BUT it would have one very, very important upgrade. A gourmet kitchen. Now, the friend is not sure she would want to cook, but I assure you I would. For a couple of reasons. One, I would have at my fingertips the freshest seafood obtainable. Oh, the joy! I have had East Coast fresh seafood before, during a delightful sojourn in Charleston, SC. (Possibly one of my most fave trips EVER!) I know whereof I speak. That is some tasty eating. I guarantee I would be inspired to cook. If I had a gourmet kitchen, I would be doubly inspired, since I currently the not too proud owner of a small, non-gourmet galley kitchen.
In addition to the gourmet kitchen, the beach house would come equipped with a sleeping porch, fully equipped with hammocks and cots. Have you ever known the joys of a sleeping porch? Me either, but imagination tells me it is a good thing.
Also, a sittin' porch. With rockers. And hammocks. On both porches, because, you know, some of us might like to rock supine, whilst others prefer to remain upright.
It would be fairly sparsely decorated, I think. Bedrooms painted cool blue with bright white bedding and a few cosy rugs. A front room with an internet connection, but NO TV. A couple of lambswool rugs and a fat couch with a canvas slipcover. Some lazy chairs and a lot of good pillows.
The bathrooms are important. Clawfoot tubs are a requirement, you know. I do know the joys of bathing in an enormous clawfoot tub. I own one. It occupies the vast majority of my tiny bathroom, but I would not trade it. No way.
Clawfoot tubs, with a separate shower.
Oh, I forgot, right off the porch would be a shower tiled in natural rock. For the rinsing off of beach sand, of course. We don't want to track too much of it into the house, it is uncomfortable on bare feet with wood floors.
And in that mode of cleanliness, there would, without a doubt, be a housekeeper. No question there. We are not vacationing to clean house or do laundry or dishes. Heaven forbid!
And last, but hardly least, it would have a well stocked library. This is of the utmost importance. We plan to be very lazy most of the time. Of course, we will work off the abundant extra calories by taking a morning swim in the surf. But the time not spent cooking, eating, swimming or sleeping will be spent reading. All of the books we have been wanting to read but haven't had the time.
It is sort of wrong, you know, to not have the time to read. No, not sort of wrong. Very wrong. I would of course, bring along my knitting. And possibly teach my friend how to knit. She has learned crochet, time to branch out.
What do you think? Does it sound relaxing? I think I will start planning now, I need to save up!
Here are a couple of things to entertain your eyeballs.
First, a delightful pic of The Small One at the wonderful splash park in St. George. We stopped there for lunch on the way to LA and went to the aforementioned splash park to give The Small One a break from the car. Why all communities don't have a place like this is beyond me. It is a dream.
So, without further ado-The Small One:
|From Drop Box|
Is she not adorable?
Ah, what the heck, how about a couple more?
|From Drop Box|
|From Drop Box|
And just to increase the level of adorable-ness? Adorability? Whatever, you get where I am going. Just to increase...it...I am laying in bed with The Small One and she scooched over to me and says-Mamma, I wanna lay fa you. Which translates, I want to lay with you. Which in this case means, I want to lay ON you. I said, in a minute. She said-No, I need a lay fa you. I your little sweetie.
I mean, come on, how do I resist that? So she is currently laying on my right arm, which makes typing a bit difficult. Worth the sacrifice, I gotta tell you.
The Small One, as I may have mentioned previously, LOVES the water. She is a little fish. So, in the late afternoon, when we have a bit of shade in the yard, I let her outside to play with the hose. My flagstone patio has moss growing in it and it needs a great deal of water when the heat index is so high. I turn the irrigation hose on to a small flow and hand it to her and she plays on the patio for a good 20-30 minutes. Sometimes longer. She is happy, I have a chance to clean the kitchen and the moss gets a good soaking.
Well, today, she had, unbeknownst to me, her little doll Georgina out with her. Georgina is The Small One"s fave dolly, probably because she has a voicebox inside so she can laugh and cry (curiously, this is one of the least annoying talking dolls I have ever come across.)
Anyhoo, after playing outside for a good while, she calls me to the door. Yes, Small One? I say. Georgina wet! She need towel, she very cold! Oh, dear. Georgina has a cloth and foam body and the voice box. Not good. I take Georgina from her, remove her dress and try and wring her out a bit, then lay her on the counter. A couple of minutes later, The Small One is at the door again. Mamma! I all wet. I need a towel! I feezing! I grab a towel, strip The Small One down and wrap her up. She lays on the kitchen floor while I finish cleaning. Yes, she does this often, she is a bit odd. I then take Georgina out and lay her in the sun to dry. A few minutes later, The Small One gets up from the floor, drops her towel and goes outside. Um, where are you going? I query. Oh, I dus need wait for Georgina. What? I need wait for Georgina. She get dry. Oh, I see. Well, it is going to take a little while for her to dry. She is going to have her nap out on the table. Oh, okay. And off she trots to watch Sponge Bob, which, oddly, is the only show she will even pretend to watch. Good think I like it.
In case you were worried, Georgina dried out nicely and her voicebox started working again. Whew!
Lately, The Small One has a new food obsession. It is called a cheese hamburger. She loves them. It cracks me up. Every day, I ask her what she wants for lunch. And every day the answer is the same. I want cheese hambugga. And every time I laugh.
She also has a new trick to try and get out of trouble or to try and prevent bedtime. When she gets yelled at or ordered to bed, she comes up to me and puts her little hand on my face, squinches up her face the way you do when talking to a little baby and says Oh, you so cute mamma! You so cute! You a little sweetie! Manipulative? Yes, I think so.
Now The Small One is laying in bed singing a french lullaby at the top of her lungs. CUTE! Of course, she gets all the words mostly wrong, but who cares? You should hear her sing the alphabet!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
First-Do you ever look at other people and their kids and wonder if it is possible that they love them as much as you love yours?
I see The Small One and, particularly when she is being adorable, I think that I could not possibly love her more. My heart overflows with love for my little girl. I don't have words for how much I adore her. And I look at other people and their kids and think they can't possibly feel what I feel. Their kid simply isn't adorable as mine. Simple fact.
Second-I have a thyroid problem and my meds just got upped for it. Because of the thyroid problem and the meds being too low, I have been wickedly tired in the afternoon. A couple of times, when The Small One has gone down for her nap, I have given in to the temptation and joined her. And that feeling? Where you are so tired that it is an effort to breathe and to lay down in bed and give into is just glorious? You know, where your mattress feels like heaven?
Yeah, that only happens to me in the afternoon. At night? Not so much. I find this quite unfair. I get tired at night, well, early morning. I don't go to bed early and when I do go to bed, it is because I can no longer keep my eyes open, but not because my body feels tired. What a ripoff. I would love bedtime if I felt like I do at naptime.
Third-Why aren't all husbands as handy as The Man of the House? And since they aren't, does it drive their wives crazy? Cause, let me tell you folks, that kid can do pretty much anything. It is kind of bad for my friends' husbands when the friends hear about the stuff The Man of the House can do. They are jealous.
Plus he is good-looking.
Fourth-Sometimes it makes me a little depressed to try on really expensive clothes, because I know I can't buy them. If you have ever tried on a designer jacket or pants, you will know whereof I speak. Wow, the cut, the fabric. It is positively delicious. I love clothes. I wear t-shirts and jeans mostly and I love them (don't get me started on the joys of designer denim) but I am a glam princess at heart. I am just too lazy and cheap/frugal to really do anything about it.
Okay, that is all. Carry on with whatever you were doing previously!
Monday, July 20, 2009
My house is disastrous. Disastrous, I tell you.
This is a problem for a number of reasons, the primary one being, I DO NOT LIKE TO CLEAN. In fact, I hate it. Don't get me wrong. I can clean, quite well in fact, but I have never been a neat freak. Usually, if it is sort of tidy, that is good enough for me. But lately? Oh, lately? The mess has been getting to me.
You see, we decided a while back that we really needed to purge some random and various things from our household. I am a packrat, not as bad as the grandparents, but still, I tend to hang on to random stuff. Also, The Small One has outgrown a bunch of her stuff, and is potty trained. This translates to the need to go through her clothes once again, pull out what no longer fits, try to find all the stuff in the next size that has been passed down and get all of that put away. Also, find a box big enough to store all of her diapers, preferably without resorting to the spending of the money. Not an easy task.
I know, it sounds like it should be, but truly, it is mammoth. The child has an insane amount of clothing. That I did NOT purchase, thank you very much. I only purchase thing she needs, although, I do occasionally wonder how she could possibly need anything when one considers the amount of clothing the child possesses.
In addition to switching out the clothes and packing up the diapers, The Man of the House decided to take down the crib and put up the bed. And here is where our problems begin. The storage room is a mess. Plus, we need to remove things from it to purge, you know. So, The Man of the House did not want to put the crib in the storage room and block access even more. So he put it in the laundry room. Which is currently full of stuff that is either being purged, sorted or needs to go in the aforementioned storage room. No room, really, for the crib. So he put it on top of my drying racks. Along with some other stuff.
Also, we decided that The Small One really needs a bigger dresser than the little one she currently has. This necessitated my moving out of my dresser and The Man of The House moving out of his dresser. He moved into a smaller one, I moved into his and The Small One moved into mine. Did you catch that?
So, let me lay this out for you.
The nursery is full of boxes and clothes being sorted. The couch cover from the couch that used to be in the nursery is on the floor. So is the crib bedding. And the box of diapers. And all of The Small Ones shoes. Not to mention the toys and books she likes to play with. Oh, and a bunch of laundry.
The front room has three baskets of dirty laundry in it because there is no room for it in the laundry room.
The laundry room has a crib, several storage boxes and goodness know what else scattered hither and yon, along with some laundry. The dryer is currently vomiting underwear out toward the floor because The Man of the House couldn't find a basket in which to put said underwear.
The office is full of camping gear that got pulled out for a camping trip that wasn't and then not put away because we really need to clean out the storage room before we put more crap in it.
The spare room is a mess because I cleaned out the stuff in the closet and have not yet had an opportunity to haul it to DI. Plus, The Man of the House removed the sheets to have them cleaned and the blankets are piled hither and thither.
Today, I made a vain attempt to clean up the nursery, but I didn't get very far because most of the stuff that is creating the havoc has to go into the storage room, but we really need to clean out the...oh, you get it.
It seems everything hinges on that damn storage room and getting it cleaned out. I guess I know what we will be doing this weekend. Ugh.
Don't even get me started on the state of the bathrooms.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
But then, a small body wormed up under my arm. I need cuddles! She lays on my chest and pets my face with her hand. Hi Tawa! You so sweetie! I love my little honey! Can you tell the things I say to her? She lays with her head on my chest for a bit, then raises for a moment. You need kiffes? Well, of course. I always need kisses. Then she proceeds to do her little ritual. She kisses both eyes, then my forehead, then my nose, then my cheeks, then my chin before finally planting one on my mouth. I love her kiffes. They make me smile. Funny thing is, she figured that out on her own. I don't generally kiss her face that methodically. I like to kiss her all over her face at random until she starts to laugh.
She ends by wrapping her little arms tight around my neck and saying. You so pwitty, Mamma! I love you. I love her back.
Monday, July 13, 2009
I have written a couple of posts, you know. Rather good ones, too, if i do say so myself. Problem is, when I wrote them, I had a rather iffy internet connection and consequently, lost them both. It made me rather annoyed, and therefore put me off of posting for a bit. But, for better or for worse, I am back. For the minute, anyway.
So, what has been going on, you ask? Well, plenty.
To begin with, we made a sojourn to California to see my maternal grandparents. They are lovely, hysterical people who live on a farm with no animals save a couple of dogs, a kitty and a myriad of spiders. I do not like the spiders. The dogs and the kitty are fine.
We drove first to Los Angeles so I could purchase fabric for my next big project. I will discuss that in a bit. The drive from here to St. George was without incident and we made good time. The Small One behaved herself in the car and we were pleased and had high hopes for the remainder of the drive. Said hopes were cruelly dashed just out of Vegas. Sigh. As we left Vegas, the traffic slowed, and slowed some more. All told, the 9 hour trip turned into 15 painful hours in the minivan. (My mom's, not mine. I don't drive a minivan). Never drive to LA on a Sunday, it is one looooong traffic jam. In the end, our average speed out of Las Vegas was a whopping 28 mph, and I am not kidding.
We arrived in LA, to our lovely hotel in Chinatown, which, I am fairly sure, made my parent rather nervous. But, it was a decent hotel, not too expensive and right close to the fabric district, which was our destination the next morning.
Off we went, bought loads of fabric for the upcoming endeavor and then headed off to some small town north of LA to see my aunt, whom we have not seen for nigh unto 30 years. That was a bit awkward, but there you go. Probably won't see her for another 20-30 years.
From there, we drove up to a small town near Salinas for our yearly visit with the grandfolks. Ah, my grandparents. They are A-1, first class rednecks. Awesome, I tell you. They live on a farm, as previously mentioned, but said farm is not occupied by crops and animals, but instead by outbuildings and...stuff. They are packrats of the highest order, having lived during the Great Depression and been very poor besides. The buildings are full of spiders, which don't bother my grandparents, but sure do bother me! As my grandma says, just smush 'em with a stick and they won't bother you none. Except the very act of "smushing" bothers me. Ewwww.
We stayed a week at the grandparents and enjoyed ourselves nicely. They love The Small One, she entertains them nicely. After a week there, one is rather ready to come home. The grandparents are old and deaf. The TV is always blaring so they can hear it and they keep the house VERY warm. I had a perma headache the entire time, but, you know, that is alright.
After that? Well, mostly just working. I have a decent amount of custom work right now, keeps me busy. Plus, trying to get the patterns done, so I can get the samples done for my new website. Cross your fingers that it works!
The Small One continues to amuse and delight with her witticisms. Here is an exchange I had with her a week or so ago.
She and I were standing in my small bathroom as I got ready for church. She was just messing about and I was doing my hair. Suddenly, plunk! She was on the floor. She whimpered and whined, but I could tell she wasn't hurt, so I told her to get up and quit being a baby. (hehe). She got up, dusted her wee bum off and walked around to the other side of me. I looked down to find her pointing her finger at me with a stern look on her face. "Tawa?" she says. I knew I was in trouble. Yes, Small One? "You push me?" No, Small One, I did not push you. A long pause while she continues to point her finger and stare sternly at me. Then..."Okay." The finger came slowly down and she walked out. I feared for myself. She was ready to put the smackdown on!
Then, a few days ago, I was cleaning house and singing a song. The Small One evidently does not appreciate my musical talents because she kept telling me to stop and be quiet, but I refused. Finally, she came up to me, got her finger out again, pointed it at me and said, Mamma, you need a panks? I asked her why I needed a spank and she told me I was being very naughty and needed to stop. So I did.
The Small One, bless her, loves to be naked, as may have previously mentioned. Yesterday, after she went potty, she neglected to put her pants back on. She trotted out the back door into the yard to play and I asked her what she was doing. "I naken!" she answered. I told her I was aware of that as I could see her bare bum, but she ignored me. When she came back in for a minute, I picked her up to discover her bum was a bit damp. I asked her if she had peed and she answered yes! So, I asked her where (not really wanting to know the answer) and she got down, walked to the door and pointed out. "Right there!" She says. I guess she figured she was naken, she might as well! When she started talking to the neighbors through the fence, The Man of the House made her put her pants back on. We do have limits.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Bernina 910 Domestic, Bernina 950 Industrial and some others.
How long have you had it?
The 910, for about 10-12 years, the 950, 6 years.
How much does that machine cost (approximately)?
A lot. A new 950 is around $2000, a 910? I don't know, I don't think they make them anymore. I didn't pay for either. The 910 I inherited from my mom, it is around 25 years old. The 950 I ended up with.
What types of things do you sew (i.e. quilting, clothing, handbags, home dec projects, etc.
Everything from bear rugs, to wedding gowns to quilts.
How much do you sew? How much wear and tear does the machine get?
A whole lot, as I do it for a living.
Do you like/love/hate your machine? Are you ambivalent? Passionate? Does she have a name?
LOVE THEM with all my heart. They are both stellar machines. Can't live without the industrial. And I can fix them, most of the time. I have sewn on this brand for so long that I can tell when it needs oil just by the sound of the bobbin.
What features does your machine have that work well for you?
Speed, baby. The industrial hauls. The domestic is also very fast for a domestic. Also, I can wind bobbins while I sew. And they both have several stitch choices.
Is there anything that drives you nuts about your machine?
The domestic has a power source issue. In fact, it is currently out of commission because the power source broke again. This is the fourth time.
Do you have a great story to share about your machine (i.e., Found it under the Christmas tree? Dropped it on the kitchen floor? Sewed your fingernail to your zipper?, Got it from your Great Grandma?, etc.!)? We want to hear it!
I got my domestic because my mom was using my machine and damaged the power cord and caught the machine on fire. She was buying a new one for herself anyway, so she asked if I wanted her old Bernina or if I wanted her to fix or purchase mine. I told her I wanted the Bernina.
The industrial came to me by way of a costume shop, prop shop, costume shop. I was working on a show for the 2002 Olympics and we didn't have much of an equipment budget, so we had to beg, borrow and steal machines. This one was an old one from a shop I worked in that had been given to the prop shop. They broke it and bought a new one. They lent it to the Olympic cause, but we didn't have the money to get it fixed, so it just sat there. After the Olympics, I tried to return it to the prop shop, but the foreman told me to drop it off a cliff. I asked him if I could have it and he said yes. It sat in my storage for a few years because I didn't have space for it. When I finally pulled it out, my brother looked it over, oiled it, tuned it and discovered it had one small broken part. Got it replaced for about $75 and it has worked like a champ ever since!
Would you recommend the machine to others? Why?
Oh, absolutely. They are all metal and are very hard to permanently break. And they are FAST.
What factors do you think are important to consider when looking for a new machine?
Speed, durability, all metal parts and does it do what you need.
Do you have a dream machine?
I have several. I own one of them. I wouldn't mind a leather machine. And a ruffler. And a blind hemmer. And possibly an embroidery machine.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
My little nephews were with me today and as a treat, because I love them so, we went to McD's for lunch. They care little for the food (or any food, for that matter. The Small One's apathy towards it comes naturally) it is the playplace they are concerned about. Much fun was had by all until some rambunctious bigger boys came in and ran over The Small One too many times. I told them to quit squishing small people and then made The Small One and the nephews come out of said play place. It was okay, shortly afterwards their mother came to get them. Anyhow, in the transfer of carseats and children, all and sundry got a bit damp. From the rain I mentioned previously. After all children were installed in proper seats in proper cars, The Small One and I came home for naptime. Hers. I wish mine as well, but alas, that is not in the cards for me.
As we came in the house, the rain had eased up, so we didn't get too wet moving from car to house. I brought The Small One into the bedroom and took her shoes and socks off, beginning to get her ready for nap. I opened the outside door for a minute and put her in bed. And then, the deluge. The rain came down in torrents! I thought it pretty awesome and The Small One concurred. There would be no sleeping during that!
Out she flew from the bed to the door to watch. The wind picked up a bit and blew some stray rain into her face as she laughed with delight. The dogs came running to see what was going on and she looked at me with her Please? look. I nodded and she bolted from the house into the storm. I stayed in the doorway and watched her cavort in the wind and rain with her dogs, while she shrieked with laughter. Each gust of wind brought with it another excited peal from The Small One, accompanied by happy barks from the dogs. They love it when she comes out to play.
After about five minutes of this, The Small One tired of the game and came back to the doorway and stepped inside. "Brrr, chilly, chilly. I take off clothes! I wet!" Indeed she was, very wet. But her eyes were bright and happy. She pulled off her little shirt, struggled out of her wet jeans and peeled off her damp skivvies. "Brrr, chilly! I need bed! Blankey!" I popped her back into bed, she crawled up to the pillows and grabbed her new fave cuddle, my heating pad. She flipped the switch on laid it on her spot, laid on top of it and demanded her blankey, which I provided, and cuddled up into a ball. A couple of minutes later I asked her how she was. "I cosy warms" was the answer. A couple of minutes later, I glanced down at her again, to find her fast asleep.
Shall I tell you the story of her discovery of the heating pad? She thinks it is a thing of beauty and wonder, you know.
A few years ago, I seriously injured my shoulder. Dislocated it, tore a tendon or two and generally messed it up. I was uninsured at the time and couldn't afford physical therapy. Since then, I have never been able to properly lay on my back with my head propped in my hands. My shoulder injury doesn't allow my arm to bend that way. Anyway, the other day, The Small One did not want to be held, although I was holding her. In retaliation for not getting her way, she threw herself backward. May I just mention that this and head butting are two things that seriously get my temper up, fast. So, she threw herself backward while I held her in the previously injured arm. To keep her from falling to the floor, I had to strain my arms and bend them oddly. In doing so, I re-injured my shoulder, though not seriously. The cool dampness of the air has been causing it to ache rather badly.
This morning, upon waking, I laid in bed with my laptop answering emails and what not. To combat the ache, I had my heating pad on my shoulder. The Small One awoke and joined me in my bed. (She likes to lay about in the mornings before actually getting up) She asked what was on my shoulder and I responded that it was a hot pad. She said Oh! I bowl (blow) on it! So she did, to cool it off, you know. So nice of her. She patted it and said That feel bettah my piggy puff? Yes, my love, it does. (In case you wonder, I call her my pixie puff or pixie dust. She gets a little confused and calls me Piggy puff. I do think pixie is much nicer, but what can you do?) She looked at the heating pad wonderingly, patted it again. That very warm. Yes, it is, it makes my shoulder better. She laid on it cautiously. Looked at me with a smile on her face, as though she had discovered something wonderful. That cozy warm! Yes, it is, isn't it?
She sat up, looked at me and smiled again, scooted herself into a comfortable position and then sprawled across me to get the full benefit of the cozy warmness of my heating pad. Are you comfortable? I asked her. Oh, yes! was the answer.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
1-The Man of the House
2-The Small One
4-Zebra print rugs
5-Zebra print shoes
6-Shoes in general
7-The Small One's little clothes
14-The way The Small One says particle accelerator
23-The LDS Church
29-My nephew Tristan
31-The New Stroller
Things I Do Not Love (In no particular order)
1-Unpleasant work environments
7-Messy house (although I have one)
9-Getting up early
10-A dirty bathtub
16-Stepping in a wet spot with socks on
17-Hurting my shoulder (again)
I suppose it is a good thing that I can think of more things I do love than I don't, no? Off the top of my head, anyway.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Whilst there, I ran into The Boss, which I didn't really want to do as he has been a pain lately. Sadly, things devolved into a "meeting". I use the term loosely because really, it was just a plain, idiotic pointless discussion. Among other gems that he delivered, The Boss informed me that I was a total jerk, a primadonna and that he only "put up with me" because I was so good at my job. Oh, and that The Small One is only afraid of him because I have a bad attitude. So charming.
I was also informed that rather than doing the designing with the help of my lovely assistant, it would now be opened up to any all who may want to contribute and I will have the responsibility of doing tech notes on all of them and then we will have a big party where we will choose which designs go in the line. Ooooh! Fun for me!
I asked him if he really wanted me working for him. He said I was good at my job, so yes. He just wished he could find someone as good who wasn't such a pain. I told him he was doing a great job of shoving me out the door.
Then, just to add insult to injury, the office manager texted the store manager to ask if I was pregnant. There was something different about my face. Could it be that it is fat? Hmmm. I guess I need to get crackin on that diet and exercise...
And just in case you agree with The Boss, don't bother leaving a comment saying so. I don't need to hear it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Perhaps I should clarify. As far as I am aware, not all mothers think The Small One is a genius. They may think their small one is a genius, but not The Small One. But, at any rate, she is. A genius, I mean.
Okay, maybe not quite a genius, but she comes pretty darn close. Smart kid. And smart kids, they are difficult. Primarily because they can outthink us sad adults.
Tonight, and Melissa, this is for you, I was playing flashcards with The Small One. My lovely and delightsome friend, the abovementioned Melissa, sent The Small One the most hysterical set of flashcards, ever. They are from The Nerdy Baby and I so love them. The motivation for this lovely gift, aside from The Small One's recent celebration of her birth, was my complaint that she liked to say smoke detector far more often than I like to hear it. All the time. Moke detecka. Larm go beep-beep. Yes, my love, I know. And do you know how I know? Because you have told me ninety five thousand times.
Bless her, she does like that word.
Anyhow, because she is kind, Melissa decided to rescue me from my plight. True friend, that. So, in an act of benevolence, she sent the flash cards in the hope that The Small One might learn a new word. Which she did. Ask her to say Particle Accelerator. It is awesomeness. This is what I am talking about, these flash cards rock my world. Especially because I was a total science geek in school. I wanted to become a doctor, you know. (I have decided to become a midwife instead, but that is for later.)
I will provide you with brief sampling of the words contained on said flash cards. A is for Atom, B is for Binary Code, C is for Cell Membrane, D is for Diurnal, E is for Electromagnet. And on down to the fave, P is for Particle Accelerator.
Now, Particle Accelerator coming out of the mouth of a two year old is hysterical. So, of course, we make her say it over and over. Small One! P is for? Pakikle celawata. Followed by giggles and laughs from her proud parents.
Are you wondering if there is a point to this story? One beyond my telling you how cute and clever my little girl is? There isn't, but the story does continue.
After our fun with flash cards, it was time for The Small One to get ready for bed. Off she went and climbed into her little bed. Okay, not really, The Man of the House had to put her there. Once there, the discussion commenced.
Need pias fores. What? Need pias fores! Um, I have no idea what you are saying.
I was called in to translate as The Man of the House was getting nowhere. Say it again, Boo.
Need pias fores! Wow, not a clue. I asked her to show me what she wanted and she pointed to the front room. Pias Fores! Exasperation sounded in her voice. I still had no clue. She climbed out of bed, motioned for me to follow her and went in to the front room.
Straight for her flashcards.
Aahhh! Realization dawned.
She needed her P is for...
Friday, May 22, 2009
Anyhoo, on said delightful website, there is a recipe for wild strawberry cupcakes. I have wanted to try these since I saw the recipe. I don't have wild strawberries, in fact, the berries I do have are the opposite of wild. They are oh, so domestic, having come to me courtesy of the local Walmart. But, that is neither here nor there. I want to try this recipe. Don't wild strawberry cupcakes sound delightful? I think so.
I haven't tried this recipe for one reason, and one reason only. Mike hasn't had time. Yep, you heard me right. Mike. I don't bake. I can follow a recipe, but for some reason when Mike does it, it comes out so much better. Don't get me wrong, I am a wicked good cook, but baking is foreign to me unless it comes out of a box. Tonight, Mike is home, I have a box of strawberries and a bit of time. So I decided to give it a go. The conversation went like this.
Me: How do you make a cake?
Me: Like how do you mix it, is there a technique? How long do you mix it for?
Mike: Well, mix it until it is well incorporated.
Me: Um. okay. Is that good?
Mike: Well, maybe a little more (adjusts the mixer and watches with an experienced eye.)
Me: Okay, now, do we have cupcake wrappers?
What about mini ones, do we have those?
Mike: No mini wrappers.
Me: So, how do I grease the tin? Do I pam it? Do I flour it?
Mike greased the tins for me, isn't he nice? Then he laughed at me and told that some folks might think we are weird and shouldn't I be the one telling him that he is making the cake wrong. Lol. We do not hold to gender roles in this household. We divide and conquer based on our strengths. I cook, I do not bake. Mike bakes, although, no lie, he is a wicked good cook as well.
He is also quite handy at cleaning the kitchen.
Which is a good thing, since there is only one chore I hate as much. Laundry. But I mostly do that, since I don't trust him with my laundry. I am super anal about how my clothing is laundered. He can do his, if he wants. I don't care. His is dirtier anyhow. ;)
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Are you jealous? You ought to be. Look at that adorable house, the picket fence, the lovely gardens. I can't, of course, take credit for it. Michael does all the yard work. With help from The Small One. Here is her contribution.
She was in charge of the hose. Lest you wonder what she is doing there, I will explain. In the first pic, she is trying to fill her croc with water so she can drink it. As you can doubtless see, there are holes in the croc, so she was unsuccessful in her endeavors. The second pic is fairly obvious. She gave up on the shoe and went straight for the hose.
The Small One is rarely ill, in fact, she hardly ever gets colds. I think the only time she is ever sick is when my friend Marianne tries to plan a get together. She refuses to plan them now. ;) These pics help illustrate why the child is never sick. The water which she is putting into her adorable little mouth is IRRIGATION WATER. Ewww. Don't worry, I put a stop to it. But she also licks rocks and kisses dogs. Sigh. Her immune system must be made of iron by now.
Here is a funny little story for you. Made me absolutely howl with laughter. I have a dear friend, who lives across the way from us. She has a boy the age of The Small One and they are great friends. She also has a 5 month old baby boy, Ryker. Cute as a bug, that one. Anyhoo, they came by for lunch and a visit a couple of days ago, and after we ate, my friend sat down to nurse Ryker. The Small One would trot over here and again to pat Ryker's head and say hi to him. So cute and friendly! Fast forward a couple of days. The Small One and I are getting ready to go over to friend's house to take baby Ryker some clothes. Small One says "We go Minnie's house?" Yes, we are going to Mindy's house. "See Baby Wykee?" Yes, we will see baby Ryker. "Wykee eat Minnie's boops. Ew, goss!" I died. I absolutely died. The Small One had no idea what I was laughing at and simply gave me the bemused look she uses when she thinks I have gone off my rocker. I am not sure why she thinks it is gross, but evidently she does. Thing is, when we went over, Mindy was nursing the baby again and The Small One didn't seem to mind!
And finally, here are a couple more pics to illustrate the Suburban Contentment.
These pics are from the family birthday party for April/May at my brother's house. I think The Small One may need a playscape of her own.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
That being said, she is gone. And The Small One misses her dreadfully. I cannot count the times during the day that I hear a voice behind me wistfully asking to go to Memma's and not understanding that she isn't there. She is always there when wanted by The Small One.
Due to Memma's absence, I am left without someone to watch The Small One. She has some sort of weird abandonment complex and will not stay with anyone that isn't Memma, Papa, Uncle Jamie or Aunt Korbie. As Papa and Memma are in Vegas and Jamie and Korbie work full time, this leaves me with no one to watch the baby. I am fortunate at work to have gotten an assistant not too far back and she is actually intended to take my place there at some point in the near future. (I should specify that she will be replacing me as alterationist, not as designer). Since she is supposed to replace me, we decided that this week would be an excellent trial week for her. I cut the number of fittings down to about 1/3 what we usually do and told her I would be available by phone. I would be staying home with The Small One and working from home and she would take care of the fittings and problem solving.
So, two days into it, I bet you are wondering how it is going. Well, not great, that's how. I got about 5 phone calls from work today, all with emergencies. Oy. I don't want to deal with it. Put me in a bad mood and gave me a headache. This was in addition to a bride of my own deciding she was NOT satisfied with her dress, which I rebuilt for her and wanted it changed. Things like this make me feel as though I am really not very good at my job. I know it is silly, but I can't help it. And these things seem to happen in bulk. So very frustrating.
But, problem solved. That is what I do, you know? Solve problems. Actually, I explained the problems to my lovely husband, who had some great advice. Which I took. I know, shocker, huh? Anyway, here is to hoping things will be better.
Better? They have to be. Having been home for a few days with The Small One has made me realize that this is, indeed, the place for me to be. Part time work is great, and I will continue to do it. I enjoy what I do, I think if I didn't do it, I might feel a bit lost and unlike myself, but I don't care to devote my whole self to it. If I have to devote my whole self to anything, it is going to be the child. I rather like her. Oh, that is such an understatement. She is my heart.
Yesterday was a very good day. The Small One and I cleaned up the house a bit, did some laundry and then went outside.
On a brief side note, I just heard this from the kitchen, which currently contains The Small One and her dad. Loud whiny noises from The Small One and this from her dad. "When did it become all about you?" HAHAHAHA! That is priceless. I believe it became all about her the day she was born. Possibly before that. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
On another, very delightful side note, The Small One is sitting on the floor in front of me, completely naked, eating a quesadilla, watching Deadliest Catch and singing Ring of Fire. What could be better than that? Okay, now back to your regularly scheduled program. I promise.
For those of you who know The Small One, you know that outside is pretty much where she always wants to be. It never fails to surprise me how much the child is like her father. Nature/nurture and whatnot. Anyhoo, outside is where we spent the large majority of the day. The Small One played and played. With the ball, with the dogs, with the dirt. I let her stay out until the dogs made her cry with frustration, which was my cue that she was ready for nap. I looked at my watch, and sure enough, 2:30. Naptime. In to bed she went with Blue (her dolly), blankley and binky. I kid you not, within 45 seconds, she was out. Sun and play make her VERY sleepy.
After nap (during which I worked), she let me cuddle her for a bit. Did I mention this is one of my favorite things about a sleepy Boo? She loves to cuddle when she is tired, I love to cuddle her. Daddy loves to cuddle her, but sometimes she won't let him because she just wants to go to sleep. As soon as cuddle time was over, up she got and out she went. Daddy arrived home from work and off we went to the nursery to buy plants. The Small One loves to go to the plant nursery (and church nursery and home nursery, but that is neither here nor there.) Plants were purchased and home we came. Daddy and The Small One did not want to go in the house (big surprise) so we stayed out in the yard and planted and weeded. It took an awful lot of effort to get those two to finally come in the house. They eventually did so, took their baths and BAM! Asleep.
Like I said. It was a good day.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Now, I am in possession of a delightful Jeep Liberty Sport stroller,
The other drawback? Well, it it has your average small hard stroller wheels. Not fabulous on the uneven, smalltown pavement. In fact, the bumps are so obvious that The Small One likes to listen to her voice rattle whilst being pushed.
I also have my pride and joy, a beautiful vintage pram. Gorgeous. Lovely bassinet/carrycot style. A delight to push around. Large rubber wheels that never go flat. Spring suspension, perfect for the terrain. It's drawback? It is big. Great for walkies, not great for shoppies. It doesn't fit in my trunk. To be honest, neither does the Jeep, really.
Friday, May 8, 2009
And here is The Small One in her carseat on the very long drive to the Southern End of the State.
I have also made a cute little shrug from Stephanie Japel's Fitted Knits, but I don't have a pic of that yet.