Yikes-o-rama stayed home. The kids were quiet (sometimes). Is that possible? I had moments, of nothing. Stillness. So I prayed. And thought. And felt a few things.
It's all over the place, and I was going to stay quiet about my thoughts, but it's still again - except for the orphans singing Your Never Fully Dressed - and I want to put these thoughts down. For personal reference, I suppose. And because I feel like it.
You can't really go anywhere in the blogosphere lately without reading about Stephanie Nielsen. You can't help but be touched and softened when reading about this woman. There's kind of a Nie Nie movement going on. Out of selfish curiosity, I read her blog today. It's full of gratitude, and joy. Her style is on my hot list. I loved it. She loves her life.
It's interesting what tragedy inspires. I felt soberness and sympathy, and some despair. And I was grateful. I learned today. The Lord's purposes are quiet, and often missed.
My husband used to smile that smile at me when I would go all activist over something I saw on Oprah. Like he's trying to be supportive and loving, but he knows it'll only last until tomorrow's show on Uganda. True. You get caught up in other people's lives, and you're touched and changed by their tragedy, then it goes away and you're back to whining and wishing you could afford the miracle zit cream. I don't watch Oprah anymore.
So I'm writing this down to remember. To stop complaining. To find comfort in the toy hammers pounding my head. To glory in the pudding collage. To praise the laundry. Because little bodies I love wore those clothes. And I can sort.
I need to remember, to thank my Heavenly Father often...for teaching me, through the Nielsen's. And through a R.S. Program. And through a small message from the missionary's after dinner. And through an unordinary stillness. I don't always hear it, or feel it, 'cause I'm wrapped up in me; but today I did.
I'm grateful I can read this tomorrow. When I'm tired, and the quiet is gone. And when I start to forget. Again. That tragedy, if there is such a thing, inspires something lovely.
this picture is from Stephanie's blog.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Melt together the butter, 1 pound chocolate chips, and unsweetened chocolate on top of a double boiler.
Stir together 1 cup of the flour,
Bake for about 30 minutes, or until tester just comes out clean. Halfway through the baking, rap the pan against the oven shelf to allow air to escape from between the pan and the brownie dough. Do not over-bake! Cool thoroughly, refrigerate well(for hours), then cut into squares.
Before the adult festivities, the kids had what started out as a little water gun fight. Here they are filling up their guns. Sweet, innocent, and safe.
That night we put the kids to bed, and I was introduced to Guitar Hero. A little Guns n' Roses is good for the soul. Again, no pictures, I was rockin'.
I wanna rock and roll all night. And party every day.
Thanks, Katie. Don't go home.
An emergency announcement, with a tinge of sorrow...
I had an unfortunate experience as I washed this wonderful bag of mine. It krinkled. The exterior fabric came through the ordeal okay, but the liner went all krinkly on me. Upon further investigation, I found I am not the only one who has experienced this unfortunate..ness with one of my bags. Oh big huge bummer of my soul.
SO...if you've purchased a bag from me...don't wash it. Spot clean it, or dry clean it. I am frustrated and disappointed, because I've washed my bags before and this hasn't happened. I'm thinking it's something gone awry with the fusing I'm now using. Apparently it goes wonky in the wash. If you've had any kind of problem with something you've purchased from me, please let me know. I am very sorry.
I ironed my i heart bag, and it's better, but every time I look at it I see a broken laundered soul. So I'm giving it away. You can't complain that the inside is a little wrinkled...because it's free. And it's clean. And it's pretty.
Leave a comment, before midnight Thursday, August 28. Best comment wins. Just kidding, I'll put your names in a hat and post the winner Friday morning.
I'm off to find chats about wonky fusing. This situation must be rectified forthwith. (I think rectify is one of those words I'm not quite comfortable with.)
Happy giveaway day.
I won't be taking any orders on the blog anymore. After I finish some other long forgotten projects (an awesome cookbook and a belated skirt, for example), I plan to do a lot of research and preparing to do fun stuff on Etsy. I need a more organized forum, so I can be more of a mom. I'll keep you updated as to when that might be.
Thank you so much, for your cheerleading and awesome responses to the stuff I've done. It's been a wonderful learning experience for me. Not only have I made some fabulous friends, but I have a quiet confidence now that I can do this, with some tweaks. Most importantly, I've learned that I love being just a mother. I'm happy with that. I can be an artist, a designer, a business owner, a seamstress, a crafter...tomorrow.
For now, I'm gonna learn about Pokemon. And blog a little. Okay, more than a little. A healthy amount.
That simple, right? Yeah, dude. If you can make gorgeous clothing and take beautiful pictures of them with all that time you have.
I heard of her on DesignMom, forgot about it, then followed the link from Lori, and here she is. All up in my life and cool and stuff.
How does one make clothing like that? I'd like to learn
I'm too tired to stand, so I sit, at the computer. Bad, bad. Because I find beautiful things like these fabric pom poms by molly chicken...
Hanging above this beautiful quilt...
In this awesome bedroom...
And now I'm even more tired thinking about making fabric pom poms. Because she shows you how.
I'm grateful for Molly Chicken.
She probably has a real live studio. And sits while she makes her pom poms.
Then when they're all here, and you're family's finished (you think), you go into Maintain Mode. The million bagillion to-do's that come with this part of the party take over your brain. You can see a matinee, maybe. If you can relax.
Keep them alive.
Keep them in sight.
Keep them healthy.
And then teach them something.
And you're happy with that. Because you love them so much, and because you're so grateful to have been trusted with the job. That makes you feel humble. And motivated. And tired. Sometimes.
A lot of the times.
Most of the time.
Because they jump off tables.
And they talk to strangers.
And they eat nasty stuff.
And you're not the only one teaching them something.
Then, they start to pour their own cereal. And you try to squeeze in a good chic flick or two...you know, with all this extra time you have. Because you're really sick of that sneaky fox.
And you see a little bit. Of you. And you remember you like stuff...other than pb&j. You kind of want to do something else. Not too much though, because you still love them, a lot, and wouldn't want to be anything more than their Mom.
But you do, a little
So you do just a little.
You put together a blueprint of a nice dream. And go to the movies. And eat steak for dinner.
It's okay because it's important to do something for yourself, sometimes, and you like personal validation, and you're teaching you're kids something...to be creative and to follow their dreams and to work hard. But they learn that "i'm busy" is more important than CandyLand.
And even though it's kinda nice to have an adult want to sit next to you at the lunch table...you're not cutting their apples into french fries anymore, which doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is because you're not doing it. And you're sitting by someone else.
And you're still tired.
And you want to help them reach the Frosted Flakes.
So, even though you're really sucked in...you walk out of your movie. Because you forgot to buy bandaids.
You can see the ending tomorrow.
And then you write about all of it while your son is spitting chocolate milk on your bay window. You write about how tired you are, and how you need to be more Mom today, and how you learn that it's okay for the dream to come tomorrow.
Right now, you're going to enjoy the pb&j.
because i like it.
I already have projects scheduled up until November! Yikes-o-rama!
I am SO grateful for the interest! I sew during the moments I can squeeze in, which aren't many, so I need to be realistic with what I can do; to be fair to my family, and to you.
If you've sent me an "unofficial" request, I have you on the list and will be emailing you this week. I will only schedule as many projects as I can in order to make sure everything's done in time for Christmas...and so I still have time to wipe snotty noses. Quality time, you know. LOST is starting soon, too. If I am to be honest.
Advice is welcome, and needed.
I Loved the idea so much, I did one for Alice. Because her girls were giddy helping me paint the herb picture. They totally ditched Harry Potter 4 to hang out with me.
I'm going to do one of my kids this week, and see if I can get it blown up real big at Kinko's or something. I'll show ya, if it works.
Mandy knows a ton about gardening and herbs, and she's gonna share! She's gonna make her Lavender Lemonade, and other yummy stuff. Even if you don't care much about herbs, come and meet Mandy anyways. She'll inspire you.
"I don't have a drink, Andy."
"Mom. I know you do, you're sneakin'."
"No, Andy. I'm not sneakin'. I don't have anything. Drink your spit."
"Uh, mom. Then what's Joey drinking?"
"There you go, sneakin'. He's drinking something mom. I'm watchin' him."
Then a smell of dangerous toxin levels permeates our mini bus of disaster.
"What the?! JOEY!"
As I turn around in my seat, I see Joey's lips puckered around a travel size bottle of hand sanitizer.
You know, the stuff that's 62% Ethyl Alchohol.
So I grab the bottle, with force, and splatter the stuff across my face. Which gives me a small taste of what my son has been sucking.
The bottle is still 3/4 full, so he didn't drink all 62%, maybe he just licked the top and poured the rest on his seat. So I give him a McDonalds napkin from the never-ending supply in the glove compartment, and tell him to wipe it up while I look for something to pump his stomach with.
I was meaning wipe the potentially dangerous poison off of his hands, and legs, and ears, but his gagging made me then realize he was wiping it out of his mouth. He stuffed the entire napkin in his kisser, and was choking.
So I flew over the seat and grabbed the napkin, with force, and flung more of something non-slobber-ish across my face, realizing in the gross moment he was choking on his own puke, not the napkin.
All right. Induce vomiting sounds familiar.
We make it through the line, I'm awake, and Joey's eyes haven't rolled in the back of his head yet. So I put him in solitary confinement at home to watch for behavior changes. Nope. He's still crazy, nothing unusual.
So...this morning I'm loving on a very clean smelling Kacie and she burps up a bubble.
There's generic brand Palmolive cascading across my kitchen floor, along with a gentle dusting of Comet. Joey says, "T.C. did it."
They picked my lock.
No one's safe. If it's lethal, they'll find it. And use it for mass destruction.
I miss the chocolate syrup.
Check out these felt barrettes by Angry Chicken. I love the look of them, but haven't decided if I'd actually put them in my kids hair. Like, people will look at my daughter and say "her mom is totally trying to be trendy." Because they're cool, but don't really match the scruffy muffin faced need to wipe their noses kinda look I'm going for.
I'm on the fence with them.
No worries. Too girly for Dani and Kacie would eat them. So I can just look at the cool picture.
I fired my entourage of cleaning supplies. They are no good to me.
Never leave a bowl of jubilee unattended.
I bought more than necessary. I love to spit the pits. It's a yummy way to let out some aggression.
"And that's for tearing up my perfectly oragamied wide ruled love note instead of just coloring in the green box for yes." And now you spit. Aggressively.
"And this is for the hot pink and black striped swatch watch with the kelly green bump guard you didn't get me for Christmas!" Oh yeah. Let it all out. Put some umph behind it.
Tasty therapy for $1.25 a pound. Lovely.
They feed ya first; stuff ya right full of meat and potatoes, and the yummiest cobbler this side of...somewhere. Then you dance. You dance in the barn. Till your feet fall off; or till your kid falls asleep on the Great Canadian Barn Bench.
And catch this. Outside of the mess hall there was a big bag of water, just hanging on the post. Wierd, I thought. Then I heard a local explaining its purpose to a not-so-local. There's a penny at the bottom of the bag. The sunlight hits the bag, the penny reflects all sorts of light refractions (these are the words the cowboy used) in the water, and them flyin' critters think it's a dagun' spider on its gigantic web. Eh? They stay good and away. Pretty sweet.
Oh, the things you'll learn, and the grooves you'll find...in the middle of nowhere.
Not nowhere. Hill Springs, Alberta.