Take That!

Well I've done it. I kicked NaBloPoMo's hinder.
It was all "I dare to to try Eva, you'll never make it a whole month, even if you do manage to post everyday while you're on vacation, you'll forget some other stupid time when all you'll do all day is sit on the couch not posting."
And I was all "Oh yeah NaBloPoMo? you think you can take me? I'll Post the heck out of November!"
And I did.
And now it's like "Man Eva you are awesome. You so totally won. I'll never doubt your ability to post every day for a month again... But I might doubt your ability to make every post interesting. None of those 'I almost forgot' cop-out posts."
and I'm like "It is ON NaBloPoMo. It is ON!"

I hope you are excited/scared.

a list

I've been feeling a bit behind lately. For the past few days I've been planning to write a list of the things I need to do in the coming weeks to fill my commitments and prepare for the holidays.
So far I haven't gotten around to writing the list.
I do not think that is a very good sign.
So here is my list for tomorrow

Write a list
Style my hair
Find a baby sitter

Let's just see how that goes. I don't know if I can get through all of that but I'll give it my best effort.

Poke

We took the children to the doctor today. Baby Girl had her 3 year check-up and Tiny Boy had his 9 month.
There were a few moments in the conversation with the Doctor that were especially rewarding. The shining moment was when she asked if Baby Girl "had any interest in potty training yet" and I was able to answer that she's been potty trained for over a year now.
The other satisfying bits were little things that she mentioned that we already do like not giving lots of juice and switching to skim milk after the age of 2. It's just nice to hear that something you do anyway is considered to be "right"
Tiny Boy was tested for anemia. The itty bitty Spider Man band-aid on his itty bitty toe is so very adorable.
Both kids also got flu shots. I've never made up my mind about immunizations so we get them and as long as were getting them we might as well get the flu shots too.
Baby Girl didn't even cry. I was waiting for the scream, then the husband (who was home today because he was not laid off) said "it's all done!" and there was the girl happy as can be with a band-aid on her little arm.
Tiny only whimpered and squirmed a little for the anemia test but he did wail pretty good for the shot.
Another thing about today, nobody peed on anything that should not be peed on. Diapers and toilets only today folks!

Moan

We went on a little shopping trip today. First to Michaels where I was that mother who nags at her child constantly when the child seems to be behaving relatively well and does nothing but nag some more when the child is naughty. I hadn't noticed yet the impact my cold was having on my behaviour.
On the walk from Michaels to Target I realized, and prepared myself to do better. To hold the brain fog at bay and pay attention to what my child was doing and thus avoid nagging when the fog lifted for a minute and found her taking the lids off all of the push pops in the candy display.
We made a potty stop first thing at Target. Baby Girl had been holding it for a few minutes and peed with such fury that it shot out over the rim and into her pants. Why to public toilets have that blasted gap in the seat anyway? She was wearing a skirt which fortunately avoided any spray so we talked about how she would need to walk nicely and make sure her bum was covered which she managed quite well.
On to the boy. I layed out paper towels on the changing station because some people are none too careful about cleaning up after them selves and got to the changing. The wipes were not in my purse. But I thought I could manage the poop with toilet paper in this instance, and so asked Baby Girl to fetch me some.
While she was making sure she went in the exact stall I meant, because the toilet paper in the stall next door would surely not do, and deciding which roll she should get the paper from, etc. Tiny Boy peed all over himself, and the hand I was resting on his tummy to make sure he didn't roll off the station while I was watching his sister get the toilet paper.
Then Baby Girl brings me a crumpled half-square.
I cleaned Tiny with paper towels because I could reach them myself, and then ventured forth into Target with a naked baby and a commando 3 year old.
Now I am the mother that nags her child for no apparent reason, leaves pee germs all over the changing station, and takes her baby out in nothing but a diaper.
After a stop at the toddler underpants isle I was also the mother who opens packages before paying. Also the one who hands the cashier a tag for the onsie her baby is already wearing.
It was a proud day.

Bomp Bomp Bomp

We stayed with the husband's grand-parents last night. There was something wrong with their heater so from the bathroom it sounded like the heart-beat of an unborn child.
As I stood at the sink, toothbrush in-hand I was reminded of all the times I listened to the child in the womb next-door while I waited for the mid-wife to come and measure my belly.
It only just occurred to me that the walls in my doctor's office are rather thin. I don't recall over hearing anything but the doppler from neighboring examining rooms while at the office, but just the same, next time I'm there I think I'll use a 12 inch whisper to discuss birth control options and menstrual cycles and the state of my perenium after child-birth.

My Sister

Hates my hair. Well, not anymore. She hated the hair in the nablopomo photo. Last time I was in town she told me how much better she liked m hair when it was a bit longer. Today she told me the same thing again. She was nothing but positive. "I like your hair " she said, "I like it better a bit longer. It's very cute" If we'd only had the conversation once I would never have noticed.
It is lucky that I am not sensitive about such things and value my own oppinion of my hair style above that of others.
I agree with her though. The hair is better now. Bigger and better.

I was right

Tiny Boy was so extremely adorable in his photo ensemble. The turtle neck made him look almost chubby.

Almost

I only just made it today. I was on my way to bed when the husband reminded me about blogging.
But that's all you're going to get.
I'm done for the day.
Sleep is coming to get me.

Stubbley

My baby brother is all whiskered.
The odd thing about it is that he does not have man skin underneath. Man skin looks natural under a peppering of facial hair, like it all belongs there together on the man face.
The brother in question still has boy skin, it just grows whiskers now. They look oddly out of place sprouting out like that from the boy skin.
His twin does not have the same issue. I don't know if it's because he's not growing the face fuzz at the rate of his brother, or if he's just shaved more recently.

It's not even that cold, but...

When I left the airport yesterday and was embraced by the cold I came to realise that I had forgotten what it felt like.
I had forgotten the exhillaration of stepping out from the warmth to be intantaniousley enveloped by chill winds, creeping down my neck and up my sleeves.
Forgotten the sensation of drawing breath from frozen air, filling my lungs with winter
Forgotten it's touch on my skin.
I remember now.

triumph

I knew from the start that if I was going to miss a day of nablopomo today would be it.
Well take that! Here I am posting away!
The next really challenging day will be when ever we decide to drive home, along with all of the days between now and then.
I'll be back tomorrow with more riveting news.

gasp!

I sat down and began to work on one of the odds and ends projects I need to do today. A few stitches in I smelled a smell. A smoke smell. Could that be my sewing machine? My own dear Bernina?
After sniffing at it a few times the thought came to mind that my window was open and wouldn't it be likelier that the offending aroma was coming from the out of doors?
It was, and a good thing too because I have not a pair of long pants to wear on my journey north tomorrow unless I get 6 inches apiece hemmed off the two pair here beside me.
And so, I'll sew.

Gift Ideas

Stuff I'd appreciate receiving for Christmas

a laptop, an attractive one
a Bike in either pink or baby blue
a bike trailer for the young-uns, in a color to match the bike of course
a digital SLR
a jogging stroller, yes I know they have bike trailers that convert into jogging strollers but that's not the one I want, thank you very much.

I think I may be to blame for the rampant consumerism that grips the nation. Or I would be if I actually went out and bought all of these things.

Behold

The first patterned crotchet project I've ever completed.
I think I made a dish rag from a pattern when I first learned a few years back but someone else read the pattern to me and explained what to do so I don't count that.
I'm working on a puppy of my own design now and when that is done Baby Girl has requested kitties for herself and her friend. When that is done I'll probably be ready to hang up the hook for a spell.

my own brand of competition

I read Makayla's post about her boy's 3rd birthday and remembered the day I learned she was preggers. "when is she due?" I asked Cas "November, I think," "Good," I said, "then I am winning."
Yes folks, pregnancy is a race for me. Only if the pregnant parties in question are pregnant at the same time and said pregnancies overlap by at least 2 trimesters.
Generally when I think of competition or a person having a competitive nature, I think of sports or business. Since I am not particularly active in either of those fields I must not have much comepition running through my veins. Right?
No,I am competitive, I love to win, just not athletic events or business deals.
I'm more interested in unspoken competition. Of course there are the obvious ones like who's kids are cuter and who brought the best dish to the pot-luck. I eat those up. But there is more.
Who has the best shoes in the room? Who's baby has the best napping routine? Who reads parenting books and sticks to the council they read vs those who read and disregard and those who figure things out as they go along. (ironically, I, who hate to sew with a pattern because it makes me feel bossed, belong in the first category and feel like the winner for being there) Who is the more attractive half of the couple? Who has the most perfect lips? Who appears the most put-together when on the verge of collapse? Who is so on-top of things they never get within spitting distance of collapse? Who has the least kitschy decor in their house? Who knows the best places to Shop?
I could go on and on with pregnancy related competitions alone but I will spare you.

Lazy

I slept in until 8:00 this morning.
Husband was up at 3:00 dealing with vomit and crying. He is now, understandably, in bed while I stay up, counting my blessings.

On my mind

Next week we are doing family pictures with my family. All 10, yes 10, of my parents children together in the same place and time, dressed in coordinating clothing.
The guidelines for ensemble selection were "neutral colors" I couldn't make it on neutrals alone so I added orange and blue in to my little family's scheme. I based the whole thing around Tiny Boy's outfit which I already had.
I made Baby Girl's jumper yesterday. I was afraid it was too dressy for the rest of us but I think it works. More on that later.
Husband could use a shot of orange in his ensemble but he's not an orange liking fella so I don't think I could convince him to wear it. I do have more of the orange silk featured above as a scarf for Baby Girl. What do you think Husband? Orange silk neckerchief?






I made this valance a few months ago right before our open house. The window needed something so I looked through my stash, found those 2 browns and that's what I came up with.
My first love in this combo is the brown satin. It is so rich, I've never seen it's equal. There's just something about quality satin.
The other fabric is almost burlap, a really heavy, loose weave but a little smoother than burlap. The contrast with the smooth flawless satin is a dream. I loved it so much I decided to make a dress version.
I was planning on using the rustic fabric for the main body of the project and trimming it out in the satin the way I did on the valance, but I only had scraps of the burlap-esque, so I switched it. I didn't like the idea of the super simple shift-jumper I'd had in mind for the burlap in the satin so I tweaked, added pleats and came up with what you see in the photo.





I can't seem to convince Tiny Boy that he should sleep past 5:30 so I've been sleeping on the sofa while he plays until Baby Girl wakes up.
This morning I woke up from my snoozing to find him standing at the DVD player. He had the mallet in his hand, ready to either shove down his throat or poke out his eye, the ring in his mouth, and the earring in the DVD player.
He plays with the mallet all the time, loves to haul that thing around. I know it's not super safe but I let him do it when I'm watching because it's so cute and he likes it so much. But how to keep it from him when I'm not watching?
As for the jewelry, he climbed in the dress-up box before starting out on his voyage to the DVD player. I guess a card board dress-up box isn't exactly baby proof. Drat.

In oatmeal news, today's was creamy and delicious. I think the problem is pan size.I usually make it in a bigger pan so I don't have to worry about it boiling over. Today, Tiny was sleeping so I could pay it more attention and accordingly used the small pan that only just fits 2 servings of oatmeal. Problem solved. I just need a pan between the 2 sizes so I can make good oatmeal without having to watch so carefully to avoid spillage.

Today is fantastic. It is blustery and overcast. I very much want to go out for a run. Right now it's threatening to storm. I'd enjoy running in the wet but I don't think the offspring would. If it clears up a bit though, I'll have to go.

Baby Girl spies

Something pink with a heart and stars that floats in the air.




A ball that's white and yarny with a needle.

I am

A lurker.
I love to lurk. I hate when I happen upon a private blog or myspace page, even if it belongs to someone I know and could easily contact to request access. Because I love to lurk. I realize that if I really want to be part of the blogging community I will have to stop this. You can't make blog friends if no one knows you are there, but I just love to lurk.
I'm like that in person too. I'm more likely to listen to and observe others than start conversations of my own. I wouldn't call my self a bad conversationalist altogether, but I am a bad conversation starter.
One of the qualities I admire in others is the ability to get me talking. I have a friend who is marvellous at it. She asks questions and lets you answer them and still manages to get her share in. Besides all of that she remembers what you said and brings it up in future encounters. I would be like that is I could.
I am not shy. I was shy as a child so I know what shy feels like and I am not that any more. I love to speak in front of people. (unless I have to say anything that has to do with what I actually feel) Have a meeting that needs conducting? I'll do it. Need someone to stand up and represent your group in class? I'm all over that. Just don't ask me to carry on a conversation with a person without ample conversive fodder unless that person has the gift of conversation as outlined above.
The thing about lurking in cyberspace is, the really good conversationalists don't know you (not you specifically anyway) are there and can't ask you about your dog or your kids or your eating habits and get you talking so you can be friends. In this realm if I want friends I have to go out and get them.
Still, my security blanket of obscurity is very cozy, maybe I'll just snuggle up here in my closet and have a nice nap.

obsession

There is a recipe for turning a minor interest of mine into an obsession.
First of course there has to be that minor interest, then I have to think about that for a bit until it occurs to me that I should look online for the item of interest. After a google search or two I move on to ebay and then the process is complete. I have a new obsession.
The recent one is clogs for Baby Girl. I was thinking about winter foot wear for the child and remembered how cute the little girls in the Hanna Anderson catalogue are in their clogs. Then I thought about how I wouldn't spend that much money on children's shoes. Say, maybe I could find some on ebay! dun dun dun.
There is nothing in her size on Ebay, this does not stop me from bidding on 2 pair, one too small (I'll have more children, quite possibly another girl) and one too large, she is after all growing. Soon I find myself looking at the web site of a German shoe maker. Sure, these clogs are $40.00 on top of which I'll have to pay international shipping but now it's all worth it! I'd buy the Hanna's at this point if they had her size, but they don't. The German's don't make her size either. Apparently the one pair of size 4 clogs I found on ebay are the only pair in existence smaller than size 8.5 I need a 7.
What on earth will I do? How will I survive without clogs for my girl-child? I just don't know.

Dribbly boingy

It is trampoline season again. Yesterday I scrubbed off all the dust that accumulated on the pad over the summer so it doesn't turn the children black any more. It's a big improvement.
We had a family jump this afternoon. Tiny Boy isn't sure he likes it but he doesn't seem to dislike it so we'll keep bouncing him.
I challenged my self to a bum-a-war and did 50 consecutive bum jumps before declaring myself the winner.
In other news Baby Girl wiped her nose on my skirt today at church. My favorite skirt that I've only just gotten back into thanks to the 2 lbs I lost. (Hurrah only 7 more!)
She thought it was so clever that she pointed out the snot smears to me and proceeded to give my leg another swipe with her nose.
I couldn't do too much punishment wise sitting there in church. All I could manage was to make her sit on the other side of The Husband while I de-snotted myself with a baby wipe. Not the severest of punishments but it made her cry so I guess it had some effect.

Heaven help us

We have been working on teaching Baby Girl so spit out her tooth paste instead of swallowing it. In the mean time we have the fluoride free kind that is safe for little tummies.
So just now she finished brushing and leaned over to spit. "Good" I thought, "she remembered about spitting".
While hunched over the sink she noticed a bit of dried toothpaste stuck on the side of the sink. She picked it off and ate it, or as much of it as she could before I dove in there and knocked it from her wee hand.
I'm pretty sure she doesn't know what it means when I'm so disgusted I can't speak for shuddering. This is usually reserved for public restrooms but it does occasionally happen here at home.

crunchety

This morning my lawn looked like it was crunchy with frost. It wasn't of course, just wet from the sprinklers.
I always loved walking across the frosty lawn on my way to school, but only at the beginning of the season when the grass was still green and springy under it's icing. The cushiony crunch it made when stepped upon was a thrill and the foot prints left on perfectly frosted grass lovely. There would be only a slight difference from the lawn at large, but the diagonal path across the yard in the direction of the jr. high school would be clearly visible.
It's been years since I walked on grass like that.
Since I moved away from my parents house.
I cross my fingers for a frosty morning when I'm home for Thanksgiving.

Owleriffic

I am making a hat for my small boy, an owl hat.
I purchased the pattern today. It was difficult, I have a hard time with patterns but since I don't crochet well enough to make it without, I gave in and bought it. It is a good thing they took paypal. I never would have followed through on the purchase if I'd had to walk down stairs and get my wallet.
My yarn craft skills are sadly underdeveloped. My mother neither knits or crochets. She learned as a girl and can give advice to a beginner but she never did it when I was a child so I didn't learn it.
In the past few years I've learned to crochet dish rags and simple hats. I also knitted a trick or treat bag last year. I didn't use a pattern for any of these things though. This is new territory for me. I have to fight the hostile feelings I tend to get when given too specific instructions (You're not the boss of me!) and decipher the pattern all while making my fingers do things that have not yet reached the point of being second nature to my inexperienced, yarn starved hands.

I can't live without

Cocoa Butter
I recently lost 2 of them. It was rough but I got through.
Luckily I discovered a few months ago that Wal*Mart carries them in their trial size section. Until then I had to buy them when I was in Utah at one particular Rite Aid.
Either that, or have Cassandra buy and mail them to me as a requirement of best-friendship.
I'm down to one and a half. It makes me nervous to be so low. Like how people hoard food after they've been starved.
I've got to go to Wal*Mart.

Only, I'm the mom this time

As I stood at the stove stirring white sauce for dinner I glimpsed a flash of pink over the fence. I dashed for the camera and managed to catch some of the pink while I continued stirring. My favorite thing about the photo is, how it showcases the dirt splotches on my window.
I have not washed that window since I was Preggers.
With my daughter.
Who is three.
Dinner was comfort food. I wasn't in any especial need of comfort, that's just what I could do with what I had.
Ben's Best Casserole with peas and apple slices. Had it been on a square tupperware plate the childhood reenactment would have been complete.

Buried Talents

I used to make divine oatmeal.
It was creamy delicious.
I don't know how I did it, just that I can't do it any more.
When Baby Girl was was tiny-cakes and too hungry to wait for oatmeal to cook after she got up I started putting the oats and water together in the pot and leaving it on low while I got her up and changed. Thus my oatmeal talent was buried.
I realised at the time that the oatmeal I made that way wasn't as good, but it was better than fielding a hungry baby while I cooked it the good way, so I continued. When she got a bit older I went back to my old method, but something was missing. The creamy texture had gone. I don't know what I do differently, but my oatmeal is not what it was.
If I'd known this is what would happen I never would have compromised my standards.

Unicorn

I have a zit on my head the kind that has so much pressure built up within it's gnarly blemish soul, it gives you a head ache.
It is just above, and to the inside of my left eye brow. I might be able to disguise the redness with pounds of concealer but concealer will do nothing for 3 inches it protrudes from my head.
If it had only sprouted up last week I would have had a Halloween costume after all.

Happy Birthday!

My Girl turned 3 last week. We threw a party together 2 days in advance and it turned out surprisingly well. Especially the polly pocket princess cake which was pretty much the coolest cake a 3 year old girl ever had.
She has grown up quite a bit since turning 3. In her 10 days of official 3 year-old-hood she has started saying "breakfast" instead of "breatix", and answers "Three years old" when asked how old she is, her previous response was "my birthday is October".

I take a picture of her the minute she was born every year. This year I was watching TV and got distracted. I was 3 minutes late. So here she is 3 years and 3 minutes old.

To the tune of "Popcorn Popping"

I cleaned out the re-fridge and what did I find?
Caramel-ice-cream topping from two thousand and five
This cleaning thing brought me such a nice surprise
Mold spores growing right before my eyes
I could take a spoon full and make a treat,
an ice-cream sundae that would taste so neat
It wasn't actually moldy
but it seemed to me
a good idea to toss it 'fore it got to be

Yeah, so it was actually from Lily's birthday last year, but 2005 sounded better than six.
The mold in the ditty was growing on another, much newer inmate of the frigidare. To look at the topping one would have thought I'd purchased it yesterday.
I have no appreciation for caramel topping. My mother-in-law bought it while visiting for the aforementioned birthday. Since then, it has occupied the furthest corner of my fridge un-noticed by man or beast.

Cinderella and a little turtle

Monday was rough.
It was the neighborhood "Spooktacular", an event I look forward to very much because I am a costumer and accordingly Halloween is my favouite holiday.
Here's the story of the rough patch. I won't go into details of the whole day because it was a long one and probably not particularly interesting as it was pretty low drama until about 4:30.
So I had accomplished everything on my list for the day including the completion of 3 costumes, a trip to the airport, and a jaunt to Target. All that was left was to dress the children in their costumes and head to the party.
Baby Girl would not hold her head still to get her cinderella hair-do. She wanted to lean over the sink and get a drink, (thanks Grandma for teaching her that one!) This started my nerves a twitching.
Then we went down to my bathroom to apply her make-up. Cinderella wears make-up. More head moving ensued ,though it was not so bad considering we were not standing in front of the sink. The really tricky part was the clingy baby who had to sit in my lap during the entire process. I was doing pretty well at it until i had to answer the phone. That third task threw me out of whack and the tray of brushes and liners etc was dumped. Starting to get a little twitchier.
Called Husband to see when he'd be home. He was just down the road but traffic was backed up so it was going to be a while.
That blasted dog joins in the fray barking in just that way that makes me want to kick all 4.5 pounds of him across the room.
Then a miracle occurs. Both children playing happily in their room despite the stress radiating from my person.
After a few centering breaths in the newfound calm I take the costumes to the car to be donned upon arrival at the elementary school. The costumes are too voluminous to fit in car seats, and while the school is not far from the house by any means, I don't want to waste valuable energy walking to the party when we'll be walking the whole time we're there. Besides, it is getting a bit late. So late in fact Husband may actually be home in time to go with us. I call him. No, still stuck in traffic. considerably closer, but still stuck. He will meet us there.
A thought occurs to me, what time was I supposed to work in the popcorn booth? Was it 6:30-7:30 or 7:30? I rifle through the tower of junk on my junk collecting counter to find the random paper on which I wrote this, now vital, piece of information. 6:30. It is now 6:10. I begin to rush again. I am yelling at the dog, I am yelling to Baby Girl to hurry so we can go to the party, I am trying to find my damn shoes!
Baby Girl slips as she is climbing the baby gate that keeps the carpeted area of my home free of dog excrement. She dislocated her wrist. Again.
"It's ok," I tell her "Dr Tim (our friendly neighborhood chiropractor) will probably be at the party" She is crying. She doesn't want to go. I am crying too "we have to go they are expecting me at the popcorn booth!" besides(this part to myself) I worked too hard on that Cinderella gown not to have it win a prize in the costume contest!
As I am buckling kids I hear the announcer from the party. (I told you the school is not far) all I caught was "costume contest" Slam the car door and scream. Cry until I realize that my own friend is running the contest and I have her child's costume with me so I can't have missed it, she would have called! This knowledge helps me pull myself together. She did call, I had not missed the contest but the 0-2 category was about to start so I had better hurry.
We got there and dressed quite quickly. baby Girl wouldn't walk. "can't walk, my wrist hurts" so I carried her. I am shaking all over by this time, trying not to look it though, no one likes to have a panic attack in front of their friends and neighbors.
We got to skip the line so I could get to the popcorn booth. I deposited my turtle and the snail costume at the contest with the snail's mother.
Another friend took Baby Girl (cradling her hurt wrist in her good hand) with her, I think she could see me shaking.
At the popcorn booth I guess I was still shaking because they said they were fine, go calm down. So I went to the contest. Turtle baby didn't win but snail did, "most creative" they said. Not a real win for me because while I did make the snail costume, the idea was not mine.
I sat there smugly thinking "why do people even bother entering costumes they bought for $9.99 at Wal*Mart? There's no way they'll win"
I was going for "best look-alike" in Baby GIrl's age category. Guess who got it. that's right, a $9.99 transformer from Wal*Mart. I suppose I should learn not to judge.
Yesterday while I was getting everybody costumed up my poor girl kept saying "Don't cry mom, and don't make loud noises that scare me" Sorry Baby.

P.S. I didn't get any really great photos of Tiny Boy on my own camera. Other people have some, when I get, I will post. Also I don't know how to rotate the photos that are sideways. They are right on my compy but sideways on the blog. That is what husbands are for. I'll ask him to fix it later.