Alright, it's official. I'm no longer posting here...
Because I'm starting to post on my new blog!
My first post went up there today. However, I'm waiting to throw a full-blown launch party until Monday next week so that I can work out all the kinks and problems. It still does have some little quirks, so please forgive me while I work those out.
Please, please follow me there! I'll be posting in Facebook and on Twitter as new posts go up, and once I get the RSS feed working and get links to other social media hubs up and running, you ought to be able to follow me as you please.
So go and see my latest post! There's a free printable template for some really cute Valentine candy boxes. I think you'll like them!
Showing posts with label thoughts and things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts and things. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Goals, Plans, and a New Year
I'm so excited for this new year. I have so many things going on in my life right now, and I'm thrilled to see how everything pans out.
I've set some goals for myself, my family, my blog, and my Etsy shop. I'm hoping to establish a regular exercise routine, get into our own apartment by summer, make myself a daily/weekly schedule to be a more effective blogger and self-employed mom, and make and sell items on Etsy on a more regular basis. Those seem kind of vague right now, but my husband and I are writing down our thoughts and ideas for how we want to reach our goals, and we're going to work together to help one another succeed at each of them. I'm giving myself this month to get those goals and plans organized. So come February 1st, I'm hoping everyday life will smooth out some and my posting will be a little more regular.
Another really exciting opportunity I've been given is to be a contributor for an inspirational blog. The blog founder/owner is a good friend of mine, and I'm so flattered that he thought to invite me to be one of the 10 bloggers for the site. I'll be posting there twice a month, every other Friday starting on January 11th. He shared with me some of his plans and goals for the blog, and I cannot wait to see where it goes!
So what is that blog, you ask? It's called ForwardWalking.com.
The mission of it is to bring hope and inspiration to anyone going through difficult times, especially those struggling with low self esteem, addictions, deaths of loved ones, broken families, etc. I've read through several posts there already, and each one is so wonderful! At the end of every one I feel completely rejuvenated and ready to overcome my own challenges and trials. It's definitely inspiring, and a wonderful pick-me-up anytime you need it.
One of the main reasons I'm so glad to be a contributor there is to give myself and my hardships a purpose. I love to help others. If I can use my past trials to help someone currently going through something similar, I am more than happy to do so! I hate to see anyone struggling on their own when I could offer a helping hand. This is one way for me to do that.
Those are just a few of the exciting things happening for me as this new year begins.
What are your goals? What to you hope to accomplish this year?
I've set some goals for myself, my family, my blog, and my Etsy shop. I'm hoping to establish a regular exercise routine, get into our own apartment by summer, make myself a daily/weekly schedule to be a more effective blogger and self-employed mom, and make and sell items on Etsy on a more regular basis. Those seem kind of vague right now, but my husband and I are writing down our thoughts and ideas for how we want to reach our goals, and we're going to work together to help one another succeed at each of them. I'm giving myself this month to get those goals and plans organized. So come February 1st, I'm hoping everyday life will smooth out some and my posting will be a little more regular.
Another really exciting opportunity I've been given is to be a contributor for an inspirational blog. The blog founder/owner is a good friend of mine, and I'm so flattered that he thought to invite me to be one of the 10 bloggers for the site. I'll be posting there twice a month, every other Friday starting on January 11th. He shared with me some of his plans and goals for the blog, and I cannot wait to see where it goes!
So what is that blog, you ask? It's called ForwardWalking.com.The mission of it is to bring hope and inspiration to anyone going through difficult times, especially those struggling with low self esteem, addictions, deaths of loved ones, broken families, etc. I've read through several posts there already, and each one is so wonderful! At the end of every one I feel completely rejuvenated and ready to overcome my own challenges and trials. It's definitely inspiring, and a wonderful pick-me-up anytime you need it.
One of the main reasons I'm so glad to be a contributor there is to give myself and my hardships a purpose. I love to help others. If I can use my past trials to help someone currently going through something similar, I am more than happy to do so! I hate to see anyone struggling on their own when I could offer a helping hand. This is one way for me to do that.
Those are just a few of the exciting things happening for me as this new year begins.
What are your goals? What to you hope to accomplish this year?
Monday, December 24, 2012
Christmas Eve Post
Things I've done this season to help me keep in tune with the Spirit of Christmas:
- Gave a ginormous box filld with baby clothes and blankets to my cousin who is about a month from her due date and had none.
- Carefully thought out and hand-made most of our gifts to family members.
- Participated in my church choir's Christmas performances this year, inviting the Spirit into others' hearts.
- Mended clothing for friends/family for free.
I hope that each of you remember what this holiday is about and I wish you all a Merry Christmas!
Monday, November 12, 2012
Thanksgiving Break
With the holidays coming, I've been trying to get ahead on a lot of various projects and things, most of which are more chores than crafty, bloggable things. I'll be honest, I just haven't had the time to focus and keep up posting because I don't have much to post about right now.
But I do want to post still. So I have a solution.
I'm going to take what I'm calling a "Thanksgiving Break." It'll be a break from my usual posts, and instead I'm going to post a unique photo each day for the next two or three weeks. It'll give me a chance to play catch-up as well as practice photography.
I hope this isn't disappointing for you. I take pride in giving you quality content, and if I can't I'd prefer not to post at all. But I like this solution, and I hope you do too.
So enjoy my Thanksgiving Break!
But I do want to post still. So I have a solution.
I'm going to take what I'm calling a "Thanksgiving Break." It'll be a break from my usual posts, and instead I'm going to post a unique photo each day for the next two or three weeks. It'll give me a chance to play catch-up as well as practice photography.
I hope this isn't disappointing for you. I take pride in giving you quality content, and if I can't I'd prefer not to post at all. But I like this solution, and I hope you do too.
So enjoy my Thanksgiving Break!
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Prayer Pebbles
I've been a part of our Young Women group at church for the past year. We always try to instill high moral standards and righteous attributes in these wonderful girls. They range from 12-18 in age, they attend various high schools, and have a wide variety of interests. It can be challenging to teach lessons on Sundays to these girls and have all of them really learn something, and it's far more challenging to help them plan and prepare activities mid-week that will encourage each young woman to learn a new skill, have fun, or build friendships with the other girls.
As leaders, one thing we wanted the girls to learn was to pray for specific people. There's something strong and empowering about praying to Heavenly Father for someone's welfare using their individual name, and it makes your love grow and confidence increase. I didn't learn that until I was an adult, and we hoped that we could help these girls to learn this lesson sooner than the rest of us.
After reading about some ideas and carefully contemplating what we could possibly do to encourage this, I had the inspiration to make what I call Prayer Pebbles.
I printed the names on plain paper, using colorful fonts. I included the names of all of our Young Women, those who actively attend church as well as those who don't, plus the Young Women leaders. Then I included our local Bishop and his counselors, the Stake President and Relief Society President, and The Prophet and his Apostles. Then I cut them into circles and ModPodged them onto these clear little stones. To keep them from being tacky and sticking together, after they're dry spray a coat of clear acrylic over the backs of them.
We also wanted to encourage the girls to pray for their own friends whose names aren't included. So I made two pebbles that have the question, "What friend do you know who can use a prayer?"
We keep them in a pretty glass jar in the Young Women's room, and while at church on Sundays or Wednesdays when someone stands up to offer a prayer to begin or end class, she grabs one or two pebbles and specifically prays for whoever is on that pebble sometime during that prayer.
I was the first person to do this, so I demonstrated how to pray for someone by name using one of these prayer pebbles. It was simple for me to do. But for our girls it was kind of awkward at first. The girls felt like it was weird to pray for a young woman who was in the room with them. What do you say as you pray out loud for one of the girls you don't even know, or possibly even like?
But we encouraged them to just try. Some prayers were (and occasionally still are) really quick and generic words used for the specific names drawn from the pebble jar. But as this tradition has become more established, the girls have gotten more comfortable with praying for each other. Often, they know more about what's going on in the lives of one another better than we as leaders do, and their prayers have reflected that.
They pray for each others safety, to do well on big tests at school, to do well in volleyball games, to have a successful surgery and speedy recovery, to be happy, to be comforted in hard times, and to come to church when they're not there. I get teary-eyed as I hear these sincere and heartfelt words coming from the lips of girls as young as 12. They may be prompted on who to pray for, but they decide what to pray for. It warms my heart and makes me happy to hear some of the words these beautiful young women say as they express their wishes for one another to God.
The most amazing part of all of this is the unity that's suddenly blossomed among our girls. It's not perfect, and some of them still don't get along well when they're in the same room, but they have definitely become more thoughtful of one another. I hope that this habit is slowly beginning to be used in their own personal prayers. I have a very sure feeling that it is. And I can't wait to see what these girls do with the strength, unity, and confidence they develop from something as simple as praying for others by name.
As leaders, one thing we wanted the girls to learn was to pray for specific people. There's something strong and empowering about praying to Heavenly Father for someone's welfare using their individual name, and it makes your love grow and confidence increase. I didn't learn that until I was an adult, and we hoped that we could help these girls to learn this lesson sooner than the rest of us.
After reading about some ideas and carefully contemplating what we could possibly do to encourage this, I had the inspiration to make what I call Prayer Pebbles.
I printed the names on plain paper, using colorful fonts. I included the names of all of our Young Women, those who actively attend church as well as those who don't, plus the Young Women leaders. Then I included our local Bishop and his counselors, the Stake President and Relief Society President, and The Prophet and his Apostles. Then I cut them into circles and ModPodged them onto these clear little stones. To keep them from being tacky and sticking together, after they're dry spray a coat of clear acrylic over the backs of them.
We also wanted to encourage the girls to pray for their own friends whose names aren't included. So I made two pebbles that have the question, "What friend do you know who can use a prayer?"
We keep them in a pretty glass jar in the Young Women's room, and while at church on Sundays or Wednesdays when someone stands up to offer a prayer to begin or end class, she grabs one or two pebbles and specifically prays for whoever is on that pebble sometime during that prayer.
I was the first person to do this, so I demonstrated how to pray for someone by name using one of these prayer pebbles. It was simple for me to do. But for our girls it was kind of awkward at first. The girls felt like it was weird to pray for a young woman who was in the room with them. What do you say as you pray out loud for one of the girls you don't even know, or possibly even like?
But we encouraged them to just try. Some prayers were (and occasionally still are) really quick and generic words used for the specific names drawn from the pebble jar. But as this tradition has become more established, the girls have gotten more comfortable with praying for each other. Often, they know more about what's going on in the lives of one another better than we as leaders do, and their prayers have reflected that.
They pray for each others safety, to do well on big tests at school, to do well in volleyball games, to have a successful surgery and speedy recovery, to be happy, to be comforted in hard times, and to come to church when they're not there. I get teary-eyed as I hear these sincere and heartfelt words coming from the lips of girls as young as 12. They may be prompted on who to pray for, but they decide what to pray for. It warms my heart and makes me happy to hear some of the words these beautiful young women say as they express their wishes for one another to God.
The most amazing part of all of this is the unity that's suddenly blossomed among our girls. It's not perfect, and some of them still don't get along well when they're in the same room, but they have definitely become more thoughtful of one another. I hope that this habit is slowly beginning to be used in their own personal prayers. I have a very sure feeling that it is. And I can't wait to see what these girls do with the strength, unity, and confidence they develop from something as simple as praying for others by name.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Thursday's Thoughts: Sick, Sicker, and More Sick
In my life, when it rains, it really, really pours.
I apologize for really dropping the ball this week. I haven't been able to post anything, much less really work on any crafts. The reason? Oh, there's more than one.
I caught a nasty cold from my husband. He caught it from working as a sales rep for a company that had a roadshow in Costco. Being around hundreds of different people every day for two weeks, I suppose he was bound to catch something.The frustrating thing, however, is that he had minor symptoms for about 10 days straight. I, on the other hand, came down with it on Sunday, and by Monday it was all I could do to get out of bed. Tuesday was worse, and Wednesday was worse still. Today is slightly better. Constant sinus headache, watery eyes, runny and stuffy nose, clogged and painful inner ears, fiery sore throat, raspy coughing, sneezing 5-7 times in a row every hour, and an overall exhausted and achy body. It's been less than fun. To top that off, Graham caught it too.
Along with that, on Sunday my body decided that breastfeeding was no longer going to keep my menstruation cycle from returning. I won't give you details, because you don't need them to know I'm miserable and only want to eat sugar, carbs, and chocolate all day long.
And then yesterday I had some serious abdominal pain. No, it was not cramping from the aforementioned problem. This was something else, and it hurt bad. On a scale of 1-10, if labor pains are 9-10, this was a 7-8. It hurt so badly that I got really naseaus for a while. I sat curled up on the couch for an hour yesterday whimpering while my son sat on the floor crying and fussing and my sweet husband sat next to me offering whatever comfort he could. A trip to the bathroom and two Tylenol later, I laid on the
couch watching tv shows on Hulu while completely wiped out of energy.
That's not even all I've been dealing with, but I'm not going to complain anymore right now.
So, in summary...
Sick, miserable mommy + sick, fussy baby = doing nothing for a week
And what a perfect week, too, when I was supposed to be making our Halloween costumes. I hope I can still get them done, because our family themed costumes were going to be (and hopefully still will be) EPIC.
On a more positive note, here's a list of things I'm grateful for this week.
stretchy sweatpants
short hair
a mom who's only a phone call away
my water bottle
fudge brownie ice cream
orange juice
prayer
the internet
Hulu
cinnamon-sugar toast
my sweet son
my tender husband who puts me and my needs first and thinks I'm pretty no matter how I look.
Those last two are what I'm hands-down the most grateful for. Wouldn't you be?
I apologize for really dropping the ball this week. I haven't been able to post anything, much less really work on any crafts. The reason? Oh, there's more than one.
I caught a nasty cold from my husband. He caught it from working as a sales rep for a company that had a roadshow in Costco. Being around hundreds of different people every day for two weeks, I suppose he was bound to catch something.The frustrating thing, however, is that he had minor symptoms for about 10 days straight. I, on the other hand, came down with it on Sunday, and by Monday it was all I could do to get out of bed. Tuesday was worse, and Wednesday was worse still. Today is slightly better. Constant sinus headache, watery eyes, runny and stuffy nose, clogged and painful inner ears, fiery sore throat, raspy coughing, sneezing 5-7 times in a row every hour, and an overall exhausted and achy body. It's been less than fun. To top that off, Graham caught it too.
Along with that, on Sunday my body decided that breastfeeding was no longer going to keep my menstruation cycle from returning. I won't give you details, because you don't need them to know I'm miserable and only want to eat sugar, carbs, and chocolate all day long.
And then yesterday I had some serious abdominal pain. No, it was not cramping from the aforementioned problem. This was something else, and it hurt bad. On a scale of 1-10, if labor pains are 9-10, this was a 7-8. It hurt so badly that I got really naseaus for a while. I sat curled up on the couch for an hour yesterday whimpering while my son sat on the floor crying and fussing and my sweet husband sat next to me offering whatever comfort he could. A trip to the bathroom and two Tylenol later, I laid on the
couch watching tv shows on Hulu while completely wiped out of energy.
That's not even all I've been dealing with, but I'm not going to complain anymore right now.
So, in summary...
Sick, miserable mommy + sick, fussy baby = doing nothing for a week
And what a perfect week, too, when I was supposed to be making our Halloween costumes. I hope I can still get them done, because our family themed costumes were going to be (and hopefully still will be) EPIC.
On a more positive note, here's a list of things I'm grateful for this week.
stretchy sweatpants
short hair
a mom who's only a phone call away
my water bottle
fudge brownie ice cream
orange juice
prayer
the internet
Hulu
cinnamon-sugar toast
my sweet son
my tender husband who puts me and my needs first and thinks I'm pretty no matter how I look.
Those last two are what I'm hands-down the most grateful for. Wouldn't you be?
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Thursday's Thoughts: Friends
If you haven't noticed, I've backed away from the whole blog world slightly. I'm still posting, but it's been impossible to read all the other blogs I want to, post in all the forums I'd like to, respond to all the comments I get, and stay connected on all the social media sites that I've become a part of.
I'm really ambitious. Too ambitious maybe, but I'm not going to stop being that way. However, I've needed to make some important and necessary sacrifices lately.
My current living circumstances make everything more difficult than usual. Every-day tasks are stupidly hard and frustrating because this house we live in with my in-laws makes efficiency impossible (but that's another rant for another day).
It all got to be more than I could handle. So something had to give, and it had to be my footprint in the blogosphere. It makes me sad because I love blogging and reading about others' projects and lives. I really enjoy that. But I'm not about to neglect my son or husband. So I've had to neglect my new--and few--blogging friends that I've just made.
Don't worry, I'm not disappearing and this is in no way a farewell. Not at all. This is more of an "I'm sorry I haven't been a good friend to you, this is why, and I hope you'll continue to be my friend anyway" kind of a post. I love the readers and followers I've gotten. I've pushed this blog so far so quickly, and I'm so proud of myself for all I've done. But for the next little while I'm going to have to stay back here and take care of myself and my family more than take care of my blog. I'm still striving to post 2-3 times a week and right after Halloween I'm going to get to work making and selling items for Christmas (plus I've gotten several requests for some specific things), but I just can't find the time to keep up with the rest of it.
Here's what my days have been like:
Bob wakes up with Graham at 6:30am.
I get up and take Graham at 8am so Bob can go study/work.
Graham won't take more than two or three 15 minute naps during the day, so I have no time to do anything without trying to simultaneously take care of him (sweeping, vacuuming, doing dishes, laundry, getting dinner going, etc).
Bob finally gets home around 5 or 6pm.
Graham eats at 6:30pm, gets a bath every other day (or two), then goes to bed at 7pm, after which we have dinner.
Then I finally have a chance to work on my blog and sewing projects, so I stay up until 11 pm working on those.
Bob and I shower and go to bed by midnight (if not later).
I get up with Graham at 4am because that's the one time we can't get him to sleep through (thank goodness he's not waking up at 10pm and 2am anymore).
And then I start it all over again.
It's impossible to do anything more than I have been doing. And I hate that. I hate feeling unproductive. I hate that I can't keep fulfilling this ambitious nature that I've been blessed with. But at the same time, I'm so happy with my family. I definitely prefer to take care of my son over anything else. I just wish I could do both. But it's impossible right now.
So here's the goal(s).
Bob's trying to be done with studying and ready to take the state exam for his real estate license by Christmas. He has a job lined up after that and it should take anywhere from 3-6 months after that to finally have enough income to hopefully start looking for our own place. I'm expecting to get out of my in-law's house by April or May (but gosh, what I wouldn't give to get out of here next month!). However, as we know, plans have to be flexible because in my life, they never work out exactly how I hope. But this is what I'm realistically hoping for, because for now I just need something to look forward to since life is so difficult right now.
There are still good times here and there.Last Friday I planned our date night. We watched a movie while eating Dutch apple pie (Bob's favorite) in bed. Then we talked for a while. I feel like I don't ever get to talk with him or spend time with Bob anymore, so it was a really wonderful change from the everyday grind we've been dealing with. But moments like those are far and few between and will probably remain so until after Christmas, if not longer.
Who knows when I'll actually be able to get back into seriously pursuing this blogging dream I've had. It's tough to set my dreams aside for a little while to help my husband to be able to achieve his, but that's what I need to do right now so that we can get out of this house and into our own as soon as possible. I know that won't be the solution to everything and it will likely present new challenges, but I have a very sure feeling that once we're to that point, I'll be able to be a better blogger. The reasons are many, even if you doubt me there.
So, will you please keep reading my posts? Will you please continue following me and showing me love and support even if I have a hard time reciprocating it? I know, that's not very fair. But I am doing the best I can right now, and I'm in need of some friends to see me through these next several months. After that, I know I'll be in a better place physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. And once I get to that point I promise I will be there to see you through whatever tough times come your way. I'll pay it all back to you when you're in need, because you deserve it and I'll owe it. Plus, we're friends and that's what friends do, regardless of why we became friends.
I'm really ambitious. Too ambitious maybe, but I'm not going to stop being that way. However, I've needed to make some important and necessary sacrifices lately.
My current living circumstances make everything more difficult than usual. Every-day tasks are stupidly hard and frustrating because this house we live in with my in-laws makes efficiency impossible (but that's another rant for another day).
It all got to be more than I could handle. So something had to give, and it had to be my footprint in the blogosphere. It makes me sad because I love blogging and reading about others' projects and lives. I really enjoy that. But I'm not about to neglect my son or husband. So I've had to neglect my new--and few--blogging friends that I've just made.
Don't worry, I'm not disappearing and this is in no way a farewell. Not at all. This is more of an "I'm sorry I haven't been a good friend to you, this is why, and I hope you'll continue to be my friend anyway" kind of a post. I love the readers and followers I've gotten. I've pushed this blog so far so quickly, and I'm so proud of myself for all I've done. But for the next little while I'm going to have to stay back here and take care of myself and my family more than take care of my blog. I'm still striving to post 2-3 times a week and right after Halloween I'm going to get to work making and selling items for Christmas (plus I've gotten several requests for some specific things), but I just can't find the time to keep up with the rest of it.
Here's what my days have been like:
Bob wakes up with Graham at 6:30am.
I get up and take Graham at 8am so Bob can go study/work.
Graham won't take more than two or three 15 minute naps during the day, so I have no time to do anything without trying to simultaneously take care of him (sweeping, vacuuming, doing dishes, laundry, getting dinner going, etc).
Bob finally gets home around 5 or 6pm.
Graham eats at 6:30pm, gets a bath every other day (or two), then goes to bed at 7pm, after which we have dinner.
Then I finally have a chance to work on my blog and sewing projects, so I stay up until 11 pm working on those.
Bob and I shower and go to bed by midnight (if not later).
I get up with Graham at 4am because that's the one time we can't get him to sleep through (thank goodness he's not waking up at 10pm and 2am anymore).
And then I start it all over again.
It's impossible to do anything more than I have been doing. And I hate that. I hate feeling unproductive. I hate that I can't keep fulfilling this ambitious nature that I've been blessed with. But at the same time, I'm so happy with my family. I definitely prefer to take care of my son over anything else. I just wish I could do both. But it's impossible right now.
Bob's trying to be done with studying and ready to take the state exam for his real estate license by Christmas. He has a job lined up after that and it should take anywhere from 3-6 months after that to finally have enough income to hopefully start looking for our own place. I'm expecting to get out of my in-law's house by April or May (but gosh, what I wouldn't give to get out of here next month!). However, as we know, plans have to be flexible because in my life, they never work out exactly how I hope. But this is what I'm realistically hoping for, because for now I just need something to look forward to since life is so difficult right now.
There are still good times here and there.Last Friday I planned our date night. We watched a movie while eating Dutch apple pie (Bob's favorite) in bed. Then we talked for a while. I feel like I don't ever get to talk with him or spend time with Bob anymore, so it was a really wonderful change from the everyday grind we've been dealing with. But moments like those are far and few between and will probably remain so until after Christmas, if not longer.
Who knows when I'll actually be able to get back into seriously pursuing this blogging dream I've had. It's tough to set my dreams aside for a little while to help my husband to be able to achieve his, but that's what I need to do right now so that we can get out of this house and into our own as soon as possible. I know that won't be the solution to everything and it will likely present new challenges, but I have a very sure feeling that once we're to that point, I'll be able to be a better blogger. The reasons are many, even if you doubt me there.
So, will you please keep reading my posts? Will you please continue following me and showing me love and support even if I have a hard time reciprocating it? I know, that's not very fair. But I am doing the best I can right now, and I'm in need of some friends to see me through these next several months. After that, I know I'll be in a better place physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. And once I get to that point I promise I will be there to see you through whatever tough times come your way. I'll pay it all back to you when you're in need, because you deserve it and I'll owe it. Plus, we're friends and that's what friends do, regardless of why we became friends.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Thursday's Thoughts: A Little Space
Things have been really.... bipolar lately. I'm not sure how else to put it.
One day is great and I'm really productive and life feels great. The next I'm exhausted and get nearly nothing done and I feel like I'm at my wit's end. And sometimes I feel all of that in a single day.
Welcome to motherhood, right?
This week has been tough. Between living with my in-laws and trying to control my head-strong domestic instincts (since this isn't my house and I can't just reorganize everything and get rid of half of the stuff that I think is useless). I miss cooking. I honestly don't do it much now since I can't use the kitchen most days because the counter is perpetually cluttered with who-knows-what kind of plumbing materials, papers, old dirty dishes, and cold food that's been sitting out for too long.
*sigh*
I want to eat healthy foods. I miss healthy food. I miss having the space to cook most days. I miss having an organized kitchen so that cooking is easy and enjoyable. It's such a chore now-days. I still love to do it, so I still do occasionally. But it's frustrating and difficult beyond what is necessary.
My food on Friday posts may be posted a little later some days. That goes for all of my posts, actually. They'll still be posted, they just might be done in the afternoon... or evening... or around 10pm.
My family and my sanity come first. So if that means posts published later, then that's what will happen.
One day is great and I'm really productive and life feels great. The next I'm exhausted and get nearly nothing done and I feel like I'm at my wit's end. And sometimes I feel all of that in a single day.
Welcome to motherhood, right?
This week has been tough. Between living with my in-laws and trying to control my head-strong domestic instincts (since this isn't my house and I can't just reorganize everything and get rid of half of the stuff that I think is useless). I miss cooking. I honestly don't do it much now since I can't use the kitchen most days because the counter is perpetually cluttered with who-knows-what kind of plumbing materials, papers, old dirty dishes, and cold food that's been sitting out for too long.
*sigh*
I want to eat healthy foods. I miss healthy food. I miss having the space to cook most days. I miss having an organized kitchen so that cooking is easy and enjoyable. It's such a chore now-days. I still love to do it, so I still do occasionally. But it's frustrating and difficult beyond what is necessary.
My food on Friday posts may be posted a little later some days. That goes for all of my posts, actually. They'll still be posted, they just might be done in the afternoon... or evening... or around 10pm.
My family and my sanity come first. So if that means posts published later, then that's what will happen.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Photography
I've always been interested photography. One of my brothers got an SLR camera when I was in middle school (before DSLRs existed) and I have been jealous ever since. I never really let anyone know how truly interested I was in it. If I had I probably would have gotten into it sooner.
I finally bought my first DSLR from a friend of mine who is not only a lovely lady, but shes also a fabulous photographer. She took some maternity photos for me and I love how they turned out!
I also really love the camera I bought. It's a Canon Rebel XS. It's a really great first DSLR for a beginner like me.
I've been teaching myself how to use it. I've tried to avoid using the auto mode as much as possible and it's paying off. I'm getting the hang of shooting in RAW format, adjusting the aperture timing and the ISO, along with the white balance, and occasionally learning how to manually focus the lens. It's a lot of fun!
I offered to guest post on Jennifer's blog recently, and when I asked what she'd like me to post about she requested food photography. I was honored and flattered that she thought so highly of my photos! I did, however, think it was an ironic coincidence that the day before my guest post went up my camera stopped working.
:(
I took it in to a repair shop to have it maintenanced because I think I know what the problem is. Hopefully it's just a simple procedure and won't cost me too much. I'll find out today or tomorrow when they call me after having a look inside.
Anyway, it looks like I'll be using my husband's old point-and-shoot camera for a couple of weeks until that one hopefully gets fixed. By the way, his camera's display screen doesn't work because I cracked it when I wrecked on my snowboard But I'll try to take quality photos anyway. It just makes me kind of sad that I have to downgrade since I've steadily been getting so proficient at using my Canon Rebel. Just a heads-up for you.
Go and check out my guest post on Jennifer's blog. I wrote and demonstrated some tips about photographing food. I'm pretty pleased with it.
Also, I did take family portraits for a friend a couple of months ago. I think it turned out great for my first one! Have a look at my Facebook page if you'd like to see it. It was a lot of fun. I could definitely get used to being a professional photographer.
I hope you don't hate me for not having anything crafty for today. I just got back in town from a 10-day road trip a couple of days ago, and what with my camera, Graham's now haywire sleeping patterns, unpacking, and getting ready for a ridiculously busy week ahead of us, this is the best I could muster up for today.
Plus, I really am proud of that guest post. I'll basically make it my own post for today (because I love myself enough to take it a little easy since I both need and deserve it right now). But you'll need to go and read it on Jennifer's blog.
I hope you have a great week. Mine will be exhausting and my sleep deprivation will continue on due to this kid.
It's a good thing I love him and he's ridiculously adorable, otherwise I wouldn't put up with it.
I finally bought my first DSLR from a friend of mine who is not only a lovely lady, but shes also a fabulous photographer. She took some maternity photos for me and I love how they turned out!
 |
| A shot from that photo shoot. |
I also really love the camera I bought. It's a Canon Rebel XS. It's a really great first DSLR for a beginner like me.
I've been teaching myself how to use it. I've tried to avoid using the auto mode as much as possible and it's paying off. I'm getting the hang of shooting in RAW format, adjusting the aperture timing and the ISO, along with the white balance, and occasionally learning how to manually focus the lens. It's a lot of fun!
I offered to guest post on Jennifer's blog recently, and when I asked what she'd like me to post about she requested food photography. I was honored and flattered that she thought so highly of my photos! I did, however, think it was an ironic coincidence that the day before my guest post went up my camera stopped working.
:(
I took it in to a repair shop to have it maintenanced because I think I know what the problem is. Hopefully it's just a simple procedure and won't cost me too much. I'll find out today or tomorrow when they call me after having a look inside.
Anyway, it looks like I'll be using my husband's old point-and-shoot camera for a couple of weeks until that one hopefully gets fixed. By the way, his camera's display screen doesn't work because I cracked it when I wrecked on my snowboard But I'll try to take quality photos anyway. It just makes me kind of sad that I have to downgrade since I've steadily been getting so proficient at using my Canon Rebel. Just a heads-up for you.
Go and check out my guest post on Jennifer's blog. I wrote and demonstrated some tips about photographing food. I'm pretty pleased with it.
Also, I did take family portraits for a friend a couple of months ago. I think it turned out great for my first one! Have a look at my Facebook page if you'd like to see it. It was a lot of fun. I could definitely get used to being a professional photographer.
I hope you don't hate me for not having anything crafty for today. I just got back in town from a 10-day road trip a couple of days ago, and what with my camera, Graham's now haywire sleeping patterns, unpacking, and getting ready for a ridiculously busy week ahead of us, this is the best I could muster up for today.
Plus, I really am proud of that guest post. I'll basically make it my own post for today (because I love myself enough to take it a little easy since I both need and deserve it right now). But you'll need to go and read it on Jennifer's blog.
I hope you have a great week. Mine will be exhausting and my sleep deprivation will continue on due to this kid.
It's a good thing I love him and he's ridiculously adorable, otherwise I wouldn't put up with it.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
I Will Never Forget
Eleven years ago I was a sophomore at Clarksville High School in Clarksville, Tennessee. First period was normal: my next-to boring geography class. Second period was my favorite class of the day: theater arts. I walked into the classroom and sat on my usual couch (since there weren't any desks in that room) and waited for class to start. Ten seconds later, Matt, the teacher's aid came running into the room yelling that a plane had just crashed into one of the towers of the world trade center.
I laughed for a second because of how ludicrous it sounded. Then Matt turned on the tv, and there it was. The tower was on fire with a gaping hole in the side. Minutes later, we suddenly saw a second plane crash into the other tower. We saw it happen live, in real time.
We were all horrified. I don't remember everyone else coming into the classroom, but I do remember my teacher deciding to let us watch and talk about what was going on. Who was she to ignore this terrorist attack and pretend to move on as if nothing had happened? Other teachers at our school wouldn't turn on the tv and stuck to their syllabus. I'm still upset at them to this day. You can't simply ignore something so traumatizing that has scarred our nation and world. That just makes things worse.
The rest of the day felt like a dream. Everyone was somber. As I learned in my third period class about the other planes that had gone down, I couldn't help but wonder who these people were.
Obviously, they were terrorists and had their own agenda and values. But didn't they have a personality? A family? Friends who made them laugh? A favorite food? A sense of humor? A heart and soul? Who were they to take control of ending someone else's life, not to mention thousands of other people's lives?
Life itself is a miracle. It is sacred. A single person is made up of trillions of cells, each alive and thriving. There is a beating heart--a muscle that will pump steadily for 90+ years if taken care of properly. There is a brain, that has neurons which transmit thoughts and words and knowledge and memories so that we can speak about them. There is a mouth, which can taste the most delicious dessert and speak many kind words. There are hands which feel, touch, hug, hold, create, and write. There are eyes that can see the most breath-taking sunrises. There are ears that can hear the most gentle lullaby or hear a rhythm that can move the rest of the body to dance. There is skin which can feel a single raindrop at the start of a thunderstorm on a warm, summer day.
That is not something to take lightly. That is not something that is for another human being to destroy.
I pray that on this anniversary of such a traumatic and unforgettable occasion, we remember those things. I hope that we remember that there are those who do not see life the way you or I do. I hope we remember that, because if we forget we may be reminded of it again, and it could be in another horrifying and mentally scarring way. We must remember the events of September 11th, 2001. We need not dwell on them, nor is it beneficial to simply replay the footage over and over again. That alone won't do anything for good.
However, if we remember that it happened, that it's past, and hold in reverent admiration the miracle that a single life is, we'll thrive. As we keep those things in mind we will honor and love each other, and it will be easier to protect one another from the evils of those who do not respect an individual, much less many individual lives.
So I will remember. I will always remember what occurred that cool, crisp morning as I sat at school, watching the selfish choices of others permanently damage and affect someone's father. I'll never forget those terrorist acts that took the life of someone's son, someone's daughter. Each person who died on that unfortunate day had a family, friends, and such high potential for a future of good.
Please remember that too, and let's live a good life and reach our potential in honor of those who never had the chance.
I laughed for a second because of how ludicrous it sounded. Then Matt turned on the tv, and there it was. The tower was on fire with a gaping hole in the side. Minutes later, we suddenly saw a second plane crash into the other tower. We saw it happen live, in real time.
We were all horrified. I don't remember everyone else coming into the classroom, but I do remember my teacher deciding to let us watch and talk about what was going on. Who was she to ignore this terrorist attack and pretend to move on as if nothing had happened? Other teachers at our school wouldn't turn on the tv and stuck to their syllabus. I'm still upset at them to this day. You can't simply ignore something so traumatizing that has scarred our nation and world. That just makes things worse.
The rest of the day felt like a dream. Everyone was somber. As I learned in my third period class about the other planes that had gone down, I couldn't help but wonder who these people were.
Obviously, they were terrorists and had their own agenda and values. But didn't they have a personality? A family? Friends who made them laugh? A favorite food? A sense of humor? A heart and soul? Who were they to take control of ending someone else's life, not to mention thousands of other people's lives?
Life itself is a miracle. It is sacred. A single person is made up of trillions of cells, each alive and thriving. There is a beating heart--a muscle that will pump steadily for 90+ years if taken care of properly. There is a brain, that has neurons which transmit thoughts and words and knowledge and memories so that we can speak about them. There is a mouth, which can taste the most delicious dessert and speak many kind words. There are hands which feel, touch, hug, hold, create, and write. There are eyes that can see the most breath-taking sunrises. There are ears that can hear the most gentle lullaby or hear a rhythm that can move the rest of the body to dance. There is skin which can feel a single raindrop at the start of a thunderstorm on a warm, summer day.
That is not something to take lightly. That is not something that is for another human being to destroy.
I pray that on this anniversary of such a traumatic and unforgettable occasion, we remember those things. I hope that we remember that there are those who do not see life the way you or I do. I hope we remember that, because if we forget we may be reminded of it again, and it could be in another horrifying and mentally scarring way. We must remember the events of September 11th, 2001. We need not dwell on them, nor is it beneficial to simply replay the footage over and over again. That alone won't do anything for good.
However, if we remember that it happened, that it's past, and hold in reverent admiration the miracle that a single life is, we'll thrive. As we keep those things in mind we will honor and love each other, and it will be easier to protect one another from the evils of those who do not respect an individual, much less many individual lives.
Please remember that too, and let's live a good life and reach our potential in honor of those who never had the chance.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Thursday's Thoughts: Remember Babysitting?
My son is exactly 5 months old today. I can't get enough of this kid. Seriously. Just look at how cute he and his dad are.
Anyway, I've been thinking about babysitters. I love my mother-in-law, but I'm nervous to leave my son with her. I love my professional nanny friend Karen, but I'm nervous to leave my son with her. For goodness sake, I'm nervous to leave my son alone with my husband for too long. It's not that I don't trust any of these people, because I absolutely do. I think I just worry because I'm a mom, and that's what moms do.
I don't doubt their capabilities in caring for Graham when I'm away for a couple of hours at a time. I just worry about what might happen that's out of their control. Besides, I know my son really well and 90% of the time I can tell what he needs by the sound of his cry or how he's acting. Nobody else can do that.
Then I got to thinking about when I started babysitting for other people. When I was twelve, I babysat occasionally. I have a couple of traumatizing stories too. Actually, those are the only stories I can remember from babysitting at that young age. Perhaps it's because as I got older and more experienced I had less accidents or something. I don't know.
The first time I can remember babysitting was for a family from church. They had three kids--two young boys and a baby girl. Things were going great and I was playing board games with the boys. The girl was off playing with her own toys. At one point I remember getting a feeling to go and check on the girl. So I did. She had gotten into some board games with small pieces and had put several plastic marbles from one in her mouth. I remember her looking at me with tears in her eyes because she couldn't speak, breathe, or cough. I opened her mouth with my fingers, pulled out all the marbles I could see and then proceeded to pat her on the back really hard and then do the Heimlich on her. Out popped the marble that was blocking her airway. She cried and I held her for a while. I moved all the board games from the low cabinet they had been kept in to a high shelf and told the boys what had happened. When the parents got home I told them too. I wasn't ashamed because I hadn't done anything wrong.
The following day at church the mom pulled me aside in the hallway while holding her baby girl and said the rudest thing to me.
"Hey, I have a present for you."
"You do?" I responded. "What is it?"
"Yeah," she said, then snidely finished with, "It's a little blue marble. It popped out this morning in her diaper."
Before I could respond she had walked away.
I stood there stunned. Why was she upset with me? What did I do wrong? Hadn't I practically saved her baby girl's life? I wasn't the one who stored the games in the low cabinet. I went to the bathroom and cried.
I understand that she probably thought it was my fault. Of course her parenting skills and housekeeping skills couldn't be in question. I was the tiny, immature twelve-year-old who hadn't babysat very much and was bound to make mistakes--unforgivable mistakes, apparently.
Another time I was babysitting for a poor single mom. She lived behind her parents in a ghetto one-room guesthouse. She told me what she had in mind for dinner that night, the bedtime routine, and some fun games to play with her son and daughter. We had fun and they were really well-behaved kids. When it came bath time, I filled up this utility sink in one corner of the house for the kids since there wasn't a bathtub, just like their mom had told me to do. I helped them in and they had fun splashing and playing while getting clean.
They were funny too. At one point I laughed and bumped against a plywood wall that was separating the toilet and tiny shower from the rest of the guesthouse. What I didn't realize was that this little fluorescent light over the utility sink-tub was being held in place by the tension between said plywood wall and the wall next to the front door. When I bumped the plywood wall, the light fixture loosened and swung down, hitting me hard in the back of the head. The kids screamed. I immediately pulled them out of the tub and threw towels around them and drained the sink. Then I investigated the problem, and figured out why the light had fallen. As I was wedging it back in place, the little girl told me that my head was bleeding. I reached back and felt my hair caked with blood that was starting to trickle down my neck. Inside I was freaking out, but I knew I had to keep my composure so the kids wouldn't be scared.
"You're right," I said. "But I'm okay." I really wasn't sure if I'd be okay, but I felt alright enough at the moment. So I helped them get in their pajamas and go to bed. After they were asleep I went and rinsed my hair in the sink/tub, taking care not to bump into that wall again. I started reflecting on what had happened. What if I wasn't standing right where I had been? What if the light had hit one of the kids? What if it had fallen into the water while the kids were still in it? My eyes filled with tears as I was suddenly so thankful that I had been the one to get hurt. I had a pretty deep gash in the back of my head from what my fingers could tell, but I couldn't see it.
I held a paper towel to my head until the mom came home. I told her what happened, because I'm an honest person like that. I was ready to get another rude response, just like the first woman I babysat for. Instead she felt terrible about it. She apologized to me and even paid me a little extra to make up for it. I think I even babysat those kids again because they really liked me and the mom knew she could trust me in an emergency like that.
Those were two completely opposite reactions from the moms to two dangerous situations. Why were the responses so different? I know the situations themselves were quite different. But didn't I do the right thing in each? Is there something different that I should have done in either of them?
I guess for me, I just need to find a babysitter that I know will react well in an emergency. I need someone who will be completely open and honest even if he/she does make a mistake. And if something is my own fault, I hope I can see that.
Have you ever had any babysitting disasters whether you were the babysitter or hired one for your own kids?
 |
| And thank you, Tom, for photobombing this picture. It wouldn't have been the same without you. |
Anyway, I've been thinking about babysitters. I love my mother-in-law, but I'm nervous to leave my son with her. I love my professional nanny friend Karen, but I'm nervous to leave my son with her. For goodness sake, I'm nervous to leave my son alone with my husband for too long. It's not that I don't trust any of these people, because I absolutely do. I think I just worry because I'm a mom, and that's what moms do.
I don't doubt their capabilities in caring for Graham when I'm away for a couple of hours at a time. I just worry about what might happen that's out of their control. Besides, I know my son really well and 90% of the time I can tell what he needs by the sound of his cry or how he's acting. Nobody else can do that.
Then I got to thinking about when I started babysitting for other people. When I was twelve, I babysat occasionally. I have a couple of traumatizing stories too. Actually, those are the only stories I can remember from babysitting at that young age. Perhaps it's because as I got older and more experienced I had less accidents or something. I don't know.
The first time I can remember babysitting was for a family from church. They had three kids--two young boys and a baby girl. Things were going great and I was playing board games with the boys. The girl was off playing with her own toys. At one point I remember getting a feeling to go and check on the girl. So I did. She had gotten into some board games with small pieces and had put several plastic marbles from one in her mouth. I remember her looking at me with tears in her eyes because she couldn't speak, breathe, or cough. I opened her mouth with my fingers, pulled out all the marbles I could see and then proceeded to pat her on the back really hard and then do the Heimlich on her. Out popped the marble that was blocking her airway. She cried and I held her for a while. I moved all the board games from the low cabinet they had been kept in to a high shelf and told the boys what had happened. When the parents got home I told them too. I wasn't ashamed because I hadn't done anything wrong.
The following day at church the mom pulled me aside in the hallway while holding her baby girl and said the rudest thing to me.
"Hey, I have a present for you."
"You do?" I responded. "What is it?"
"Yeah," she said, then snidely finished with, "It's a little blue marble. It popped out this morning in her diaper."
Before I could respond she had walked away.
I stood there stunned. Why was she upset with me? What did I do wrong? Hadn't I practically saved her baby girl's life? I wasn't the one who stored the games in the low cabinet. I went to the bathroom and cried.
I understand that she probably thought it was my fault. Of course her parenting skills and housekeeping skills couldn't be in question. I was the tiny, immature twelve-year-old who hadn't babysat very much and was bound to make mistakes--unforgivable mistakes, apparently.
Another time I was babysitting for a poor single mom. She lived behind her parents in a ghetto one-room guesthouse. She told me what she had in mind for dinner that night, the bedtime routine, and some fun games to play with her son and daughter. We had fun and they were really well-behaved kids. When it came bath time, I filled up this utility sink in one corner of the house for the kids since there wasn't a bathtub, just like their mom had told me to do. I helped them in and they had fun splashing and playing while getting clean.
They were funny too. At one point I laughed and bumped against a plywood wall that was separating the toilet and tiny shower from the rest of the guesthouse. What I didn't realize was that this little fluorescent light over the utility sink-tub was being held in place by the tension between said plywood wall and the wall next to the front door. When I bumped the plywood wall, the light fixture loosened and swung down, hitting me hard in the back of the head. The kids screamed. I immediately pulled them out of the tub and threw towels around them and drained the sink. Then I investigated the problem, and figured out why the light had fallen. As I was wedging it back in place, the little girl told me that my head was bleeding. I reached back and felt my hair caked with blood that was starting to trickle down my neck. Inside I was freaking out, but I knew I had to keep my composure so the kids wouldn't be scared.
"You're right," I said. "But I'm okay." I really wasn't sure if I'd be okay, but I felt alright enough at the moment. So I helped them get in their pajamas and go to bed. After they were asleep I went and rinsed my hair in the sink/tub, taking care not to bump into that wall again. I started reflecting on what had happened. What if I wasn't standing right where I had been? What if the light had hit one of the kids? What if it had fallen into the water while the kids were still in it? My eyes filled with tears as I was suddenly so thankful that I had been the one to get hurt. I had a pretty deep gash in the back of my head from what my fingers could tell, but I couldn't see it.
I held a paper towel to my head until the mom came home. I told her what happened, because I'm an honest person like that. I was ready to get another rude response, just like the first woman I babysat for. Instead she felt terrible about it. She apologized to me and even paid me a little extra to make up for it. I think I even babysat those kids again because they really liked me and the mom knew she could trust me in an emergency like that.
Those were two completely opposite reactions from the moms to two dangerous situations. Why were the responses so different? I know the situations themselves were quite different. But didn't I do the right thing in each? Is there something different that I should have done in either of them?
I guess for me, I just need to find a babysitter that I know will react well in an emergency. I need someone who will be completely open and honest even if he/she does make a mistake. And if something is my own fault, I hope I can see that.
Have you ever had any babysitting disasters whether you were the babysitter or hired one for your own kids?
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Thursday, August 30, 2012
Thursday's Thoughts: Energy
I'm tired.
I'm not simply sleepy and I haven't just run a half marathon. This is different than pulling an all-nighter to finish a project due in one of my college classes. This isn't like staying up late at a party over the weekend or getting up early to catch a flight somewhere.
No, this is drained zombie of a woman I've become is from having a baby.
I do still sleep. Every night. On Sunday afternoons. Once or twice during the day each week. But the sleep I'm not getting is the nice, deep REM cycle sleep. I could sleep for 12 hours each night, but because it's always broken up into three hour increments, it's never enough. I haven't deeply slept for over a month straight. Within that time the longest period of sleep I've gotten at once is four uninterrupted hours.
I expected it to be like this for a little while. There's no way around those bleary-eyed feedings every two hours for the first few weeks. But then Graham gave me hope. At just under two-months of age, he began sleeping eight hours a night! I was thrilled. And it went on like that for a couple of months.
Then he hit a growth spurt a little before he turned four-months-old. He was back to eating every two hours. I expected that to happen too, so I was ready to get little-to-no sleep again. But I wasn't ready for him not to get back into his usual sleeping habits. After he stopped eating that often all day long, I knew the growth spurt had ended. When he went four hours between feedings during the day, I was excited to finally get some sleep at night once again. But it never happened. He kept waking up every two or three hours needing to eat. So instead of waking up all night long for two weeks during that expected growth spurt most babies have, I've been doing this for over six weeks straight.
Worst of all, when I lay down to go to sleep early for a change, I can't. I physically can't fall asleep. And all I want to do is sleep.
It's been affecting everything I do. I haven't cleaned or tidied my bedroom for a while. I just don't care about it anymore. I don't cook as often as I want to because I'm too tired to even try most days. I want to comment on blogs and respond to emails right away, and I'm pretty good about it half the time. But I just don't have the energy to do it the other half of the time. I'm too exhausted to think or be sincere, and rather than be fake, I just don't write anything at all. Is that rude of me?
I guess I'd rather be a jerk than be a fake. And I have been a jerk, I'm afraid.
So I apologize if I've been mean to anyone. I'm sorry if I've been short on patience, lost my temper, been too sarcastic, made snide remarks, or neglected anyone or any of my responsibilities. Please don't think less of me for it, because in all truthfulness, I'm doing the best I can. This is all I have left to give.
I'm spending most of my energy on my husband and son. They are my highest priority, and once they have been cared for, my friends and then my acquaintances come next. I'm not even my top priority. Should I be? Well, I'm usually not. I have a hard time taking care of myself anyway. If you read that guest post I did recently you'll know why.
I hope you'll forgive me if I miss a post here and there, post late sometimes, have grammatical and spelling errors, or take a few days to reply to comments or emails. I can't do any better than my best, and I hate to give anything less to anyone I care about, you included.
Isn't this amazing boy worth a few months of pure exhaustion so that he can grow up with love, good moral values, happy memories, and a life of balanced work and play time?
I wouldn't trade it for anything--no amount of money, no amount of sleep, no other lifestyle. He's far better than any of that stuff.
I'm not simply sleepy and I haven't just run a half marathon. This is different than pulling an all-nighter to finish a project due in one of my college classes. This isn't like staying up late at a party over the weekend or getting up early to catch a flight somewhere.
No, this is drained zombie of a woman I've become is from having a baby.
I do still sleep. Every night. On Sunday afternoons. Once or twice during the day each week. But the sleep I'm not getting is the nice, deep REM cycle sleep. I could sleep for 12 hours each night, but because it's always broken up into three hour increments, it's never enough. I haven't deeply slept for over a month straight. Within that time the longest period of sleep I've gotten at once is four uninterrupted hours.
I expected it to be like this for a little while. There's no way around those bleary-eyed feedings every two hours for the first few weeks. But then Graham gave me hope. At just under two-months of age, he began sleeping eight hours a night! I was thrilled. And it went on like that for a couple of months.
Then he hit a growth spurt a little before he turned four-months-old. He was back to eating every two hours. I expected that to happen too, so I was ready to get little-to-no sleep again. But I wasn't ready for him not to get back into his usual sleeping habits. After he stopped eating that often all day long, I knew the growth spurt had ended. When he went four hours between feedings during the day, I was excited to finally get some sleep at night once again. But it never happened. He kept waking up every two or three hours needing to eat. So instead of waking up all night long for two weeks during that expected growth spurt most babies have, I've been doing this for over six weeks straight.
Worst of all, when I lay down to go to sleep early for a change, I can't. I physically can't fall asleep. And all I want to do is sleep.
It's been affecting everything I do. I haven't cleaned or tidied my bedroom for a while. I just don't care about it anymore. I don't cook as often as I want to because I'm too tired to even try most days. I want to comment on blogs and respond to emails right away, and I'm pretty good about it half the time. But I just don't have the energy to do it the other half of the time. I'm too exhausted to think or be sincere, and rather than be fake, I just don't write anything at all. Is that rude of me?
I guess I'd rather be a jerk than be a fake. And I have been a jerk, I'm afraid.
So I apologize if I've been mean to anyone. I'm sorry if I've been short on patience, lost my temper, been too sarcastic, made snide remarks, or neglected anyone or any of my responsibilities. Please don't think less of me for it, because in all truthfulness, I'm doing the best I can. This is all I have left to give.
I'm spending most of my energy on my husband and son. They are my highest priority, and once they have been cared for, my friends and then my acquaintances come next. I'm not even my top priority. Should I be? Well, I'm usually not. I have a hard time taking care of myself anyway. If you read that guest post I did recently you'll know why.
I hope you'll forgive me if I miss a post here and there, post late sometimes, have grammatical and spelling errors, or take a few days to reply to comments or emails. I can't do any better than my best, and I hate to give anything less to anyone I care about, you included.
But isn't he worth it?
Isn't this amazing boy worth a few months of pure exhaustion so that he can grow up with love, good moral values, happy memories, and a life of balanced work and play time?
Maybe he's not to you, but he is worth every second of sleep I have given up and will continue to give up.
I wouldn't trade it for anything--no amount of money, no amount of sleep, no other lifestyle. He's far better than any of that stuff.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Thursday's Thoughts: The Importance of Planning
Maybe I should more accurately title this: A Lengthy Rant Story About the Importance of Planning.
You've been warned. (I promise it's a good story, even if it is ridiculously long. It's full of sarcasm too.)
My husband and I bought anew used car.
It's a VW Jetta Wagon TDI.
That means it's a diesel.
Which means it averages 40 miles per gallon.
Since I've been busier than usual, I decided to turn 90% of this purchase over to my husband to research, find, and plan out. I was basically his sounding board. Anytime he found something he liked, he'd talk to me about it, I would give him my two cents on it, and he'd continue searching and learning all about a few select cars we've been interested in. Then he got really stuck on these Jetta Wagons.
He found one and called it his "white unicorn," because it was exactly what he wanted, down to being painted white. But it was for sale in Georgia. We live in San Diego. California. He even found one in my home town in Tennessee. But again. We live in California.
So he kept looking. On Sunday he found one for sale about 2 and a half hours north from where we live. It was silver though, not white. It didn't matter. He couldn't sleep because he wanted it so badly. He would go back to the website it was listed on and look at it over and over during the day. He looked up the Carfax on it. He called the dealership that it had been exclusively serviced at ever since the previous (and only) owner had bought it. He even forgot to eat a couple of times. I began to wonder if he was falling deeper in love with it than with me.
By the next day (Monday) he'd talked to the guy selling it. He told me he wanted to go up and see it. I realize that having a 4-month-old means we'd need a little extra time to plan and prepare for a short trip up. I mentioned that, suggesting to my smitten husband that he devise a plan.
Silly me. Planning is my strength. Not his. I should have known better than to leave it entirely up to him.
Shortly after I suggested making a plan, Bob walked in the living room and said to me, "Let's just go."
I said okay, slightly concerned because I had a feeling that he hadn't actually planned or packed or prepared in any way to leave. So we threw a day's worth of clothes in a duffle bag, grabbed a few toiletries and diapers, filled our water bottles, then loaded all of it and our pack-n-play in the back of my car. And away we went.
The "plan" was to stay with Bob's sister that night (who lives about 45 minutes from the guy selling the car), and get up on Tuesday morning to go and see/buy the car. (I already knew we'd buy it before we even saw it.) We'd get to see it by 11am, test drive it, and then head home by 1pm at the latest.
We arrived at his sister's, had a nice evening, and went to bed. We got up the following morning and Bob found out that the guy (actually the car itself) wouldn't be available until about 1pm, and he would call us to let us know his address. So we sat around until then. No phone call. We finally got a call from him around 3:30pm. So we loaded up to go see it. We arrived at about 5pm, and find this guy working on something in the driver's side door. The inside panel was removed and he was trying to fix the sensor that 'dings' when the key is in the ignition and the door is open. Apparently it didn't work. And he wanted to fix it. I'm not sure why that was such a big deal to fix, but apparently it was. So the car wasn't ready.
Bob and I and Graham went to eat dinner. We went back around 6:30pm to find the car up on jacks. Bob was losing his patience (mine was gone since I was trying to take care of my sleepy infant son and be Bob's secretary for the day while he drove us and had me take care of whatever his ADD mind thought of while he was behind the wheel and I had his phone). Bob offered to help with whatever it was that needed to get done. I finally got Graham to sleep in his carseat, and then I curled up with a pillow next to him in the back of my car and dozed. By about 8pm the car was off its jacks and we were getting in to test drive it.
Did I mention that this guy waskind of a total back-yard mechanic? I mean, he does decent work, and he's an honest guy, but he doesn't really have the 'salesman' side of things down. Or the 'keeping the interior clean' part. There were greasy handprints all over the back seats, the driver's side door, the windows, the steering wheel. I don't mind if it's not detailed--that takes a hundred or so off the price of the car. But come on--now we have to shampoo and spot clean grease out of the seats and door panel.
Anyway, we got back and I went to feed Graham in my car and try to get him back to sleep. Meanwhile, my talkative husband and this rambling back-yard mechanic talk and talk. Bob finally comes to talk with me about the price, then he goes to pay for it and fill out the paperwork. And they talk some more. By the time we left, it was nearly 10pm.
I was anxious to get home, so we start driving in that direction, me in my car and Bob in hisnew used love affair car. Then I get overwhelmed by just how exhausted I am and realize that I wouldn't be a safe driver for the next 2+ hours. So we stayed at Bob's sister's house. Again.
By this time we're way out of any breastmilk that we had brought with us for Bob to bottle feed Graham, so I had to get up and nurse Graham at night and in the morning when Bob usually feeds him. The next morning I felt like I didn't get any sleep at all. We got back on the road by 8am Wednesday morning. I had to get things ready for a church activity that night with the girls I'm a leader for. I also needed to clean my house desperately, and shower, and read my blogroll for the past day and a half (there are 56 posts and counting), and write a few more posts to stay ahead, and finish some jewelry for my Etsy shop (because it's embarrassingly bare), among a few other things (like take a nap).
As we're driving, not only am I still groggy and exhausted, but we're dealing with the Los Angeles morning traffic.
I think we averaged 20 miles per hour for the entire 30 miles we drove until suddenly a light turned on next to my speedometer. "A/T OIL TEMP." I called Bob and asked what that meant. My transmission was overheating. Oh, naturally. Naturally my transmission would start to have problems right then.
So around 9am we stop at a gas station and look under the hood. My transmission is dripping like a leaky faucet. Awesome! Bob finds a mechanic and we drive over just to get it looked at and top off the fluid. While sitting in the back of Bob's new car playing with my adorable, happy, red-headed son, I realized that I was starving because I hadn't eaten breakfast. I was just so anxious to get home that I hadn't even thought about it. So when Bob came back from pulling my car into the shop, I said, "I'm hungry and I want a huge breakfast. I deserve it." And I did deserve it. I'd been as patient and gentle and loving as I could be, and I needed something to take care of myself and fill my more than empty belly.
We found a Coco's Bakery Restaurant. I love Coco's. It easily beats to socks off Denny's and Ihop and Cracker Barrel. Combined.
I got my Cinnamon Roll French Toast combo (yes, yes it does exist; see the photo above) and was in heaven... For about 30 seconds until Graham started fussing because it was his nap time.
The mechanic just topped off the transmission fluid for us so we could make it home. We got back on the road by 11:30am. By 12:30 I was struggling to stay awake. Luckily, the well known and beautiful Aliso Creek rest area was two miles away, so we stopped there. I fed Graham, handed him off to Bob, and dozed off in the shady grass under a bunch of trees for almost an hour. I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, and we continued on. We finally made it a few miles from home, when I called Bob and asked if we could just go ahead and take my car to the transmission specialist before even going home. So we did. And then we ran an errand for the church activity that night. We finally made it home around 3pm.
And then I was busy doing one thing after another until writing this post at 10pm.
How do I just keep going some days?
I must be getting those super powers all moms have.
So, a few good things about this entire experience. (And things I truly and grateful for!)
1. My husband has been apologizing profusely to me about the whole ordeal and has gone above and beyond to help me get what I needed done with the rest of the day after getting home. He did the laundry, started cleaning our bedroom, made me dinner, took care of Graham so I could focus on my other responsibilities, and even drove me up to church. He also promised to try and plan things out better so that this kind of thing won't happen again. (I'm more blessed than I deserve to have found/befriended/dated/married this man!)
2. I'm so glad we decided to stop for that second night. Can you imagine if my transmission had overheated and leaked out completely at midnight-o-clock on the side of the freeway in the middle of far-from-home Los Angeles? Thank goodness I put my son's safety first and took my potentially sleepy driving into consideration.
3. Bob was looking over the receipts and expenses just now and said, "Janae..... Look at this." He showed me the invoice for the shop that topped off the transmission fluid:
Parts: $22.75
Labor: $98.00
Discount: $96.11
Tax: $0.36
Total: $25.00
Holy--wait, what??! Yep. The mechanic up there discounted us nearly $100 for no reason other than the fact that he's that awesome. Bob didn't even see it when he first looked at it. Now he feels silly for giving the guy a $5 tip.
4. We got that second car just in the nick-of-time! We still have a vehicle even though Charlene is in the shop getting fixed. The poor girl. She's 14 years old. What? Oh come on. You know your car has a gender and a name too. We're still figuring out Bob'snew used car's name. We think it's a boy. I want to name him Jack, but Bob thinks it should be La Volpe. (Yes, we're Assassin's Creed nerds.)
And now, to sleep..........
You've been warned. (I promise it's a good story, even if it is ridiculously long. It's full of sarcasm too.)
My husband and I bought a
It's a VW Jetta Wagon TDI.
That means it's a diesel.
Which means it averages 40 miles per gallon.
Since I've been busier than usual, I decided to turn 90% of this purchase over to my husband to research, find, and plan out. I was basically his sounding board. Anytime he found something he liked, he'd talk to me about it, I would give him my two cents on it, and he'd continue searching and learning all about a few select cars we've been interested in. Then he got really stuck on these Jetta Wagons.
He found one and called it his "white unicorn," because it was exactly what he wanted, down to being painted white. But it was for sale in Georgia. We live in San Diego. California. He even found one in my home town in Tennessee. But again. We live in California.
So he kept looking. On Sunday he found one for sale about 2 and a half hours north from where we live. It was silver though, not white. It didn't matter. He couldn't sleep because he wanted it so badly. He would go back to the website it was listed on and look at it over and over during the day. He looked up the Carfax on it. He called the dealership that it had been exclusively serviced at ever since the previous (and only) owner had bought it. He even forgot to eat a couple of times. I began to wonder if he was falling deeper in love with it than with me.
By the next day (Monday) he'd talked to the guy selling it. He told me he wanted to go up and see it. I realize that having a 4-month-old means we'd need a little extra time to plan and prepare for a short trip up. I mentioned that, suggesting to my smitten husband that he devise a plan.
Silly me. Planning is my strength. Not his. I should have known better than to leave it entirely up to him.
Shortly after I suggested making a plan, Bob walked in the living room and said to me, "Let's just go."
I said okay, slightly concerned because I had a feeling that he hadn't actually planned or packed or prepared in any way to leave. So we threw a day's worth of clothes in a duffle bag, grabbed a few toiletries and diapers, filled our water bottles, then loaded all of it and our pack-n-play in the back of my car. And away we went.
The "plan" was to stay with Bob's sister that night (who lives about 45 minutes from the guy selling the car), and get up on Tuesday morning to go and see/buy the car. (I already knew we'd buy it before we even saw it.) We'd get to see it by 11am, test drive it, and then head home by 1pm at the latest.
We arrived at his sister's, had a nice evening, and went to bed. We got up the following morning and Bob found out that the guy (actually the car itself) wouldn't be available until about 1pm, and he would call us to let us know his address. So we sat around until then. No phone call. We finally got a call from him around 3:30pm. So we loaded up to go see it. We arrived at about 5pm, and find this guy working on something in the driver's side door. The inside panel was removed and he was trying to fix the sensor that 'dings' when the key is in the ignition and the door is open. Apparently it didn't work. And he wanted to fix it. I'm not sure why that was such a big deal to fix, but apparently it was. So the car wasn't ready.
Bob and I and Graham went to eat dinner. We went back around 6:30pm to find the car up on jacks. Bob was losing his patience (mine was gone since I was trying to take care of my sleepy infant son and be Bob's secretary for the day while he drove us and had me take care of whatever his ADD mind thought of while he was behind the wheel and I had his phone). Bob offered to help with whatever it was that needed to get done. I finally got Graham to sleep in his carseat, and then I curled up with a pillow next to him in the back of my car and dozed. By about 8pm the car was off its jacks and we were getting in to test drive it.
Did I mention that this guy was
Anyway, we got back and I went to feed Graham in my car and try to get him back to sleep. Meanwhile, my talkative husband and this rambling back-yard mechanic talk and talk. Bob finally comes to talk with me about the price, then he goes to pay for it and fill out the paperwork. And they talk some more. By the time we left, it was nearly 10pm.
I was anxious to get home, so we start driving in that direction, me in my car and Bob in his
By this time we're way out of any breastmilk that we had brought with us for Bob to bottle feed Graham, so I had to get up and nurse Graham at night and in the morning when Bob usually feeds him. The next morning I felt like I didn't get any sleep at all. We got back on the road by 8am Wednesday morning. I had to get things ready for a church activity that night with the girls I'm a leader for. I also needed to clean my house desperately, and shower, and read my blogroll for the past day and a half (there are 56 posts and counting), and write a few more posts to stay ahead, and finish some jewelry for my Etsy shop (because it's embarrassingly bare), among a few other things (like take a nap).
As we're driving, not only am I still groggy and exhausted, but we're dealing with the Los Angeles morning traffic.
 |
| I took this with Instagram. Ugh. |
I think we averaged 20 miles per hour for the entire 30 miles we drove until suddenly a light turned on next to my speedometer. "A/T OIL TEMP." I called Bob and asked what that meant. My transmission was overheating. Oh, naturally. Naturally my transmission would start to have problems right then.
So around 9am we stop at a gas station and look under the hood. My transmission is dripping like a leaky faucet. Awesome! Bob finds a mechanic and we drive over just to get it looked at and top off the fluid. While sitting in the back of Bob's new car playing with my adorable, happy, red-headed son, I realized that I was starving because I hadn't eaten breakfast. I was just so anxious to get home that I hadn't even thought about it. So when Bob came back from pulling my car into the shop, I said, "I'm hungry and I want a huge breakfast. I deserve it." And I did deserve it. I'd been as patient and gentle and loving as I could be, and I needed something to take care of myself and fill my more than empty belly.
We found a Coco's Bakery Restaurant. I love Coco's. It easily beats to socks off Denny's and Ihop and Cracker Barrel. Combined.
I got my Cinnamon Roll French Toast combo (yes, yes it does exist; see the photo above) and was in heaven... For about 30 seconds until Graham started fussing because it was his nap time.
The mechanic just topped off the transmission fluid for us so we could make it home. We got back on the road by 11:30am. By 12:30 I was struggling to stay awake. Luckily, the well known and beautiful Aliso Creek rest area was two miles away, so we stopped there. I fed Graham, handed him off to Bob, and dozed off in the shady grass under a bunch of trees for almost an hour. I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, and we continued on. We finally made it a few miles from home, when I called Bob and asked if we could just go ahead and take my car to the transmission specialist before even going home. So we did. And then we ran an errand for the church activity that night. We finally made it home around 3pm.
And then I was busy doing one thing after another until writing this post at 10pm.
How do I just keep going some days?
I must be getting those super powers all moms have.
So, a few good things about this entire experience. (And things I truly and grateful for!)
1. My husband has been apologizing profusely to me about the whole ordeal and has gone above and beyond to help me get what I needed done with the rest of the day after getting home. He did the laundry, started cleaning our bedroom, made me dinner, took care of Graham so I could focus on my other responsibilities, and even drove me up to church. He also promised to try and plan things out better so that this kind of thing won't happen again. (I'm more blessed than I deserve to have found/befriended/dated/married this man!)
2. I'm so glad we decided to stop for that second night. Can you imagine if my transmission had overheated and leaked out completely at midnight-o-clock on the side of the freeway in the middle of far-from-home Los Angeles? Thank goodness I put my son's safety first and took my potentially sleepy driving into consideration.
3. Bob was looking over the receipts and expenses just now and said, "Janae..... Look at this." He showed me the invoice for the shop that topped off the transmission fluid:
Parts: $22.75
Labor: $98.00
Discount: $96.11
Tax: $0.36
Total: $25.00
Holy--wait, what??! Yep. The mechanic up there discounted us nearly $100 for no reason other than the fact that he's that awesome. Bob didn't even see it when he first looked at it. Now he feels silly for giving the guy a $5 tip.
4. We got that second car just in the nick-of-time! We still have a vehicle even though Charlene is in the shop getting fixed. The poor girl. She's 14 years old. What? Oh come on. You know your car has a gender and a name too. We're still figuring out Bob's
And now, to sleep..........
Linked up on:
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Paying It Forward
There’s a pay-it-forward crafty plan underway, and lots of bloggers appear to be joining in!
So, here’s how this pay-it-forward thing works:
I will send a surprise gift to the first three commenters on this post (and if there are more I might just send out more). The gift will be a handmade surprise by me and I will send it to you sometime in the next 365 days. All you need to do is the following:
I will send a surprise gift to the first three commenters on this post (and if there are more I might just send out more). The gift will be a handmade surprise by me and I will send it to you sometime in the next 365 days. All you need to do is the following:
- Leave me a comment and include your email address (if you profile doesn’t link back) so I can get in touch with you about your mailing address and some other information about yourself.
- To complete signing up, you MUST play along too by blogging a similar post and pledging to make a surprise for the first 3 people who comment on it.
So, do you want to play along?
Comment below, and I’ll send a thoughtful gift to the first three people who do.
Let's pay it forward to one another!
Comment below, and I’ll send a thoughtful gift to the first three people who do.
Let's pay it forward to one another!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Thursday's Thoughts: Some things I may be guilty of.
I may have started following too many other blogs at once.
I may have gotten behind on my projects to make and post about.
I may have ignored my sweet 4-month-old son more than once due to obsessing over my blog.
I may be jealous of other bloggers who have 124 comments on a single post.
I may wonder about what I'm doing wrong that I don't have more followers.
I may feel defeated since blogging feels so much more fulfilling when others comment on my posts.
I may have a hard time staying organized in my in-law's house & it affects all other aspects of my life.
I may have given up on one or two things blogging-related because I'm out of energy 80% of the time.
I may be doubting myself and if I can really be a successful blogger.
I may have ignored the pile of clothes in the corner of my bedroom because blogging was the priority.
I may need to take a break already.
Really, I need to blog for me again. How did I stop doing that? I've only been doing this for a couple of months. Seriously, self?
It's silly that my self esteem can be so dependent on some strangers that I've never met and all I want is for them to think I'm amazing because of my writing and photographs and crafty skills. What have I turned into?
If you asked my brothers and parents, they'd tell you that I've always been a littleodd annoying weird unique. I rarely show if I care what others think of me. I'll wear and say what I want because it's true or honest to myself. Why am I suddenly so desperate to get the approval of others?
*le sigh*
So I'm going to try this again.
Here's the main purpose of my blog:
I need to have a place to document my crafts and hobbies.
I need to craft and hobby because it's therapy for me.
And some potential perks that I need to not be so worried about:
If others think my content is good and want to follow me.
If I can one day earn money from my blog.
If I'll be the next Ree Drummond.
I'm going to be true to myself and recommit to doing this for me... Again.
Besides, how can I let anything be a higher priority than this spunky family?
So here I go again...
My latest project will hopefully help me to stay true to myself and my goals.
You'll see why on Monday.
I may have gotten behind on my projects to make and post about.
I may have ignored my sweet 4-month-old son more than once due to obsessing over my blog.
I may be jealous of other bloggers who have 124 comments on a single post.
I may wonder about what I'm doing wrong that I don't have more followers.
I may feel defeated since blogging feels so much more fulfilling when others comment on my posts.
I may have a hard time staying organized in my in-law's house & it affects all other aspects of my life.
I may have given up on one or two things blogging-related because I'm out of energy 80% of the time.
I may be doubting myself and if I can really be a successful blogger.
I may have ignored the pile of clothes in the corner of my bedroom because blogging was the priority.
I may need to take a break already.
Really, I need to blog for me again. How did I stop doing that? I've only been doing this for a couple of months. Seriously, self?
It's silly that my self esteem can be so dependent on some strangers that I've never met and all I want is for them to think I'm amazing because of my writing and photographs and crafty skills. What have I turned into?
If you asked my brothers and parents, they'd tell you that I've always been a little
*le sigh*
So I'm going to try this again.
Here's the main purpose of my blog:
I need to have a place to document my crafts and hobbies.
I need to craft and hobby because it's therapy for me.
And some potential perks that I need to not be so worried about:
If others think my content is good and want to follow me.
If I can one day earn money from my blog.
If I'll be the next Ree Drummond.
I'm going to be true to myself and recommit to doing this for me... Again.
Besides, how can I let anything be a higher priority than this spunky family?
 |
| Yes, we all have the same hairstyle. |
So here I go again...
My latest project will hopefully help me to stay true to myself and my goals.
You'll see why on Monday.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Pet Peeves from a Professional
I enjoy sewing. Usually. Well, mainly for myself and for fun. I've gotten away from sewing for clients. That, for me, is far less fun and tends to take the joy out of designing and sewing clothing. I used to design and make custom bridesmaid dresses as well as alter wedding gowns. I also made several articles of clothing for a member of an up and coming (and truly talented) band. I got a little worn out from it all.
I take pride in my work. I have custom tags that get sewn into each article of clothing I create. I make and alter patterns. I know how to work with colors and various types of fabrics. I understand fashion and trends. And I can mend, alter, and fix just about any problem with any article of clothing anyone gives me. So when everyday people refuse the ideas and recommendations from a trained fashion designer and seamstress, it really frustrates me.
The thing that really gets on my nerves most is when people come to me for work and say they just need something simple done, and after I agree to do it, they suddenly unload some difficult specifications for me to make sure and meet.
For example, recently I was asked to make a couple of simple vests for a formal dinner. She had the pattern and fabric already. No sweat! Plus I could really use the added cash.
Then came the extra "tidbits" that didn't seem important to let me know about before I agreed...
This is exactly why I rarely take on work as a fashion designer, seamstress, or alterations specialist anymore.
So if you're going to have a professional make and/or design anything for you (I'm talking about a real professional--not the sweet old lady at church who sews all of her own mu-mus and makes doilies for every flat surface in her house), please, keep these five things in mind:
1. Don't give me an article of clothing to base my measurements off of. Especially don't bring me something you've done a mediocre-to-poor job of altering yourself and expect me to be able to get accurate measurements from it.
2. Don't offer to take the measurements yourself unless you actually know what you're doing. If you're going to have me make something for you, you should be ready to bring people for to me so that I can be sure to get accurate measurements. That's the appropriate thing to do.
3. Don't give me a pattern that's the wrong size. If you don't know what size you need, let me buy the pattern, or be prepared to pay extra for me to do major alterations on it or make it myself.
4. Don't give me a pattern and then request something that is not part of that pattern. For example, if a pattern is for some basic formal vests, and you want a tuxedo vest, I need a pattern for a tuxedo vest. Deconstructed, it is very, very different from your basic four-buttoned-down piece.
5. Either follow the pattern when choosing fabric or ask me. Don't just get whatever you like and assume that all fabrics are created equal. They are not! Some woven fabrics are quite difficult to work with, and you can rarely use knits and wovens interchangeably. The same goes for notions: thread, buttons, interfacing, etc. Please, please, please don't get 2 inch buttons if 5/8 inch buttons are called for. It's really hard to make you not look like a clown if I use those.
It's also a little rude to offer to pay a set amount before unloading your difficult specifications. Please, tell me all the details and then we can talk about price.
*sigh*
Now, before I sound completely arrogant and ungrateful, I can be fair and understanding too. Maybe she didn't know I'm a professional. Maybe she hasn't ever taken a sewing class and doesn't understand even that basic skills necessary to do what she's asking. I get that--many people these days have no idea about these things. And she was thankful for the finished product. She liked them too.
(And I can't believe I forgot to get a picture of them! *facepalm*)
But if you've read this, you have no excuse now! So please, don't frustrate or belittle the next seamstress or alterations specialist you go to when you need your wedding gown altered or bridesmaid dresses made.
Remember that she/he is doing something you can't do, otherwise you would be doing it yourself.
Before being what you may consider "helpful" and taking care of lots of things on your own, find out what is actually needed from you.
Listen to what they say and don't assume that you know what to do or how their business works.
Thanks, and I hope you learned something from my rant.
Ending on a happy note, my husband loves to play with our son, and it cracks me up.
I take pride in my work. I have custom tags that get sewn into each article of clothing I create. I make and alter patterns. I know how to work with colors and various types of fabrics. I understand fashion and trends. And I can mend, alter, and fix just about any problem with any article of clothing anyone gives me. So when everyday people refuse the ideas and recommendations from a trained fashion designer and seamstress, it really frustrates me.
The thing that really gets on my nerves most is when people come to me for work and say they just need something simple done, and after I agree to do it, they suddenly unload some difficult specifications for me to make sure and meet.
For example, recently I was asked to make a couple of simple vests for a formal dinner. She had the pattern and fabric already. No sweat! Plus I could really use the added cash.
Then came the extra "tidbits" that didn't seem important to let me know about before I agreed...
This is exactly why I rarely take on work as a fashion designer, seamstress, or alterations specialist anymore.
1. Don't give me an article of clothing to base my measurements off of. Especially don't bring me something you've done a mediocre-to-poor job of altering yourself and expect me to be able to get accurate measurements from it.
2. Don't offer to take the measurements yourself unless you actually know what you're doing. If you're going to have me make something for you, you should be ready to bring people for to me so that I can be sure to get accurate measurements. That's the appropriate thing to do.
3. Don't give me a pattern that's the wrong size. If you don't know what size you need, let me buy the pattern, or be prepared to pay extra for me to do major alterations on it or make it myself.
4. Don't give me a pattern and then request something that is not part of that pattern. For example, if a pattern is for some basic formal vests, and you want a tuxedo vest, I need a pattern for a tuxedo vest. Deconstructed, it is very, very different from your basic four-buttoned-down piece.
5. Either follow the pattern when choosing fabric or ask me. Don't just get whatever you like and assume that all fabrics are created equal. They are not! Some woven fabrics are quite difficult to work with, and you can rarely use knits and wovens interchangeably. The same goes for notions: thread, buttons, interfacing, etc. Please, please, please don't get 2 inch buttons if 5/8 inch buttons are called for. It's really hard to make you not look like a clown if I use those.
It's also a little rude to offer to pay a set amount before unloading your difficult specifications. Please, tell me all the details and then we can talk about price.
*sigh*
Now, before I sound completely arrogant and ungrateful, I can be fair and understanding too. Maybe she didn't know I'm a professional. Maybe she hasn't ever taken a sewing class and doesn't understand even that basic skills necessary to do what she's asking. I get that--many people these days have no idea about these things. And she was thankful for the finished product. She liked them too.
(And I can't believe I forgot to get a picture of them! *facepalm*)
But if you've read this, you have no excuse now! So please, don't frustrate or belittle the next seamstress or alterations specialist you go to when you need your wedding gown altered or bridesmaid dresses made.
Remember that she/he is doing something you can't do, otherwise you would be doing it yourself.
Before being what you may consider "helpful" and taking care of lots of things on your own, find out what is actually needed from you.
Listen to what they say and don't assume that you know what to do or how their business works.
Thanks, and I hope you learned something from my rant.
Ending on a happy note, my husband loves to play with our son, and it cracks me up.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Thursday's Thoughts: What My Life Is Actually Like
When I started this blog, I didn't want it to have too much of my personal life in it. I wanted it to be fun and happy and crafty all.the.time. I wanted my life to appear so lovely and perfect and I wanted readers to think, 'Oh wow. She has such a fabulous life!' But the truth is, I need this blog to be more. I need to show more of my true colors. And I need some love and support from others.
I'm posting this on Friday, but I've been thinking about this stuff for months, weeks, and days on end. I gave this a catchy little title because even though it's such a trend right now, I've actually always done things like that. And I also want to give myself the option to vent one day a week if I need it. Boy do I need it. You'll see why if you continue reading.
This post might just make you feel better about your own life situation. My own can seem very depressing and hopeless. But there is still hope--just enough to keep me going and keep me from throwing in the towel.
So here's the story.
My husband, Bob, and I moved to San Diego about a year ago, where he's originally from. We had been contemplating the move for months. I asked him tons of questions to make sure we had things set in place--an income, a plan for where to live, and deadlines and goals to work toward. We found out I was pregnant about a week before the move. It was not entirely unexpected, but still a bit of a surprise.
When we got here, the plans all fell apart. His plan for a meager income while schooling fell through. We moved in with his parents. And worst of all, there was no way out.
My mother-in-law is a sweet lady. But she has her own issues to deal with. She's a bit of a hoarder. I am a neat freak. And back then, I was a pregnant neat freak. For the past year I've had my all time worst lows and more depressed days than ever before in my life. And my poor husband felt like such a failure. He still doesn't have more than a semester of college underneath his belt because of all of this. He had to find a job--anything just to make ends meet. So he got a dead-end, full-time job that didn't pay very well and turned out to be a terrible environment to work in.
Meanwhile at my in-laws' house, everything is a mess, disorganized, and dirty. My mother-in-law (bless her heart) has a frustratingly unorthodox way of doing just about everything. I can't ever find anything I need, so I have to ask where it is. And then I can't put anything away because I don't know where it belongs. It's like living in a real life Tetris game. There are boxes and things stacked everywhere. I can't get the broom out of the closet without first moving an ancient highchair, the recycling bin, a laundry basket with paper bags and a cardboard box in it, and a couple of boxes full of junk. That's just one example, but that's what everything is like. I can't make dinner because the counter tops throughout the entire kitchen are completely cluttered with mail, dishes, papers, obsolete appliances that nobody uses, and random junk. And when there happens to be a square foot of counter space, there are always crumbs or dried food on it that has to be wiped off first.
Our stuff has been stored in boxes inside of our covered trailer since we got here a year ago. We have a bedroom, bathroom, half of a living room, and luckily I have a small area in the office for all of my craft stuff. Graham, my now four-month-old son has outgrown the Moses basket he's still sleeping in, but there's no space for a crib or pack-n-play in our room. We'd talked with my mother-in-law about putting Graham in the spare bedroom ever since we cleaned it out and made it actually livable (and we even bought a crib off Craigslist), but shortly after that conversation she piled several boxes of her junk in there and moved a rolling rack of clothes in the middle of the room as if she were claiming her territory without saying a word to us about it.
It constantly feels like her things are of more worth to her than her own family is.
I could go on and on.
And then Bob was laid off at work. No reason was given, they just fired him. And when it happened we had a two-month-old baby.
It seemed like life couldn't get any worse. I considered going to work full time, but the thought broke my heart because I'd miss so much of my son. I hit rock bottom. There were many days that I just didn't get out of bed except for when Graham needed me, because no matter how terrible I felt, that sweet, innocent boy deserved the last little bit of love and attention my steadily-disappearing self had left to give.
I felt worthless, hopeless, unimportant, and useless. I have a disorder that caused me to feel that way for most of my life, but I had finally gone to therapy and overcome most of that before moving here.(That's another story for another day.) It was as if all of my therapy and progress had never happened. I digressed drastically and turned back into that sad girl who had so much inner turmoil and trust issues that it was impossible to have close friends.
I needed something to make sure I still had some talent or skill left inside of me, something to make sure I was still of some value. Even though it's impossible to stay organized in this house, and even though I have next-to-no space to take care of myself, I still remember my mom and my childhood church leaders telling me that I am a child of God, and that alone gives me worth. Though I may not feel like it, I still believe that. So in a matter of two or three days, I set up this blog. I designed everything myself--the background, the header, the pages, the buttons, and of course--the posts. I've also hoped that I could help us earn some money with this, but first and fore-most, this is for me, because I am important and I do deserve something to feel good about.
And then I began to see that there's more to be grateful for and recognize as good in my life.
This blog isn't the only thing I have going for myself. My husband and I are still madly in love with each other. We've got a handsome baby boy. We're a family. We've got the gospel of Jesus Christ in our lives. I am a virtuous, talented woman. Those are the few bits of joy that I have left to cling to right now. And so I do. Those are the things no one can take away from me because they're eternal and can't end--not even if life itself ends.
We'll get out of here sometime relatively soon. We do have a plan, and it's in the works, even though it can't happen any quicker. If nothing else, this whole experience will make me truly appreciate every other place we live for the rest of my life.
I'm posting this on Friday, but I've been thinking about this stuff for months, weeks, and days on end. I gave this a catchy little title because even though it's such a trend right now, I've actually always done things like that. And I also want to give myself the option to vent one day a week if I need it. Boy do I need it. You'll see why if you continue reading.
This post might just make you feel better about your own life situation. My own can seem very depressing and hopeless. But there is still hope--just enough to keep me going and keep me from throwing in the towel.
So here's the story.
My husband, Bob, and I moved to San Diego about a year ago, where he's originally from. We had been contemplating the move for months. I asked him tons of questions to make sure we had things set in place--an income, a plan for where to live, and deadlines and goals to work toward. We found out I was pregnant about a week before the move. It was not entirely unexpected, but still a bit of a surprise.
When we got here, the plans all fell apart. His plan for a meager income while schooling fell through. We moved in with his parents. And worst of all, there was no way out.
My mother-in-law is a sweet lady. But she has her own issues to deal with. She's a bit of a hoarder. I am a neat freak. And back then, I was a pregnant neat freak. For the past year I've had my all time worst lows and more depressed days than ever before in my life. And my poor husband felt like such a failure. He still doesn't have more than a semester of college underneath his belt because of all of this. He had to find a job--anything just to make ends meet. So he got a dead-end, full-time job that didn't pay very well and turned out to be a terrible environment to work in.
Meanwhile at my in-laws' house, everything is a mess, disorganized, and dirty. My mother-in-law (bless her heart) has a frustratingly unorthodox way of doing just about everything. I can't ever find anything I need, so I have to ask where it is. And then I can't put anything away because I don't know where it belongs. It's like living in a real life Tetris game. There are boxes and things stacked everywhere. I can't get the broom out of the closet without first moving an ancient highchair, the recycling bin, a laundry basket with paper bags and a cardboard box in it, and a couple of boxes full of junk. That's just one example, but that's what everything is like. I can't make dinner because the counter tops throughout the entire kitchen are completely cluttered with mail, dishes, papers, obsolete appliances that nobody uses, and random junk. And when there happens to be a square foot of counter space, there are always crumbs or dried food on it that has to be wiped off first.
Our stuff has been stored in boxes inside of our covered trailer since we got here a year ago. We have a bedroom, bathroom, half of a living room, and luckily I have a small area in the office for all of my craft stuff. Graham, my now four-month-old son has outgrown the Moses basket he's still sleeping in, but there's no space for a crib or pack-n-play in our room. We'd talked with my mother-in-law about putting Graham in the spare bedroom ever since we cleaned it out and made it actually livable (and we even bought a crib off Craigslist), but shortly after that conversation she piled several boxes of her junk in there and moved a rolling rack of clothes in the middle of the room as if she were claiming her territory without saying a word to us about it.
It constantly feels like her things are of more worth to her than her own family is.
I could go on and on.
And then Bob was laid off at work. No reason was given, they just fired him. And when it happened we had a two-month-old baby.
It seemed like life couldn't get any worse. I considered going to work full time, but the thought broke my heart because I'd miss so much of my son. I hit rock bottom. There were many days that I just didn't get out of bed except for when Graham needed me, because no matter how terrible I felt, that sweet, innocent boy deserved the last little bit of love and attention my steadily-disappearing self had left to give.
I felt worthless, hopeless, unimportant, and useless. I have a disorder that caused me to feel that way for most of my life, but I had finally gone to therapy and overcome most of that before moving here.(That's another story for another day.) It was as if all of my therapy and progress had never happened. I digressed drastically and turned back into that sad girl who had so much inner turmoil and trust issues that it was impossible to have close friends.
I needed something to make sure I still had some talent or skill left inside of me, something to make sure I was still of some value. Even though it's impossible to stay organized in this house, and even though I have next-to-no space to take care of myself, I still remember my mom and my childhood church leaders telling me that I am a child of God, and that alone gives me worth. Though I may not feel like it, I still believe that. So in a matter of two or three days, I set up this blog. I designed everything myself--the background, the header, the pages, the buttons, and of course--the posts. I've also hoped that I could help us earn some money with this, but first and fore-most, this is for me, because I am important and I do deserve something to feel good about.
And then I began to see that there's more to be grateful for and recognize as good in my life.
This blog isn't the only thing I have going for myself. My husband and I are still madly in love with each other. We've got a handsome baby boy. We're a family. We've got the gospel of Jesus Christ in our lives. I am a virtuous, talented woman. Those are the few bits of joy that I have left to cling to right now. And so I do. Those are the things no one can take away from me because they're eternal and can't end--not even if life itself ends.
We'll get out of here sometime relatively soon. We do have a plan, and it's in the works, even though it can't happen any quicker. If nothing else, this whole experience will make me truly appreciate every other place we live for the rest of my life.
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