Self-Indulgent Display of Accomplishments

Clearly this little writing gig has gone by the wayside. I actually have good reasons, I promise. I've been busy. Doing Adventures. And parenting and working and whatnot. I've had bits of freetime here and there, but I've been filling them with crafty things. Please don't pass out from shock. I know I told you that I don't do crafts, and I probably told you to stop me any time I attempted anything crafty. And now...well, it appears as though the curse has been lifted. I told you earlier in the summer that I started to sew. THEN I told you that I'd opened up a little etsy shop to sell my diapers. But I haven't kept you updated on all of my doings.

Let's just keep it real--despite what it might sort of look like in pictures, I'm not that great. So outside of the diapers I will probably never sell my sewing stuff. Actually, that's not entirely true. I've been dabbling in other baby things (towels, washcloths, burp cloths, blankets, etc.) that I will probably throw up on the site. But I'll probably never sell the clothes. Mostly because I'm not clever or creative enough to design my own stuff, so I use patterns and online tutorials. According to the law or something, you can't sell things that other people designed. Whatever.  BUT...I will give you this: if you see something you like, I can make it for you. I mean, for your kid. Not for you. I don't make grown-up stuff.

As you will see, I mostly sew for Emma. There are a couple of main reasons for this. a) Girls are more fun to make and buy clothes for; b) There are way more patterns and tutorials for girl stuff than boy stuff, mostly because for hundreds of years girls have cycled through a thousand styles, and boys have pretty much stayed with shirts and pants. There's only so much you scan make for a dude. BUT you will see that I've managed to find a few things to make for my little dude, and on the whole he is quite pleased.

I haven't abandoned knitting! Sewing is my new weekend nap-time hobby, but knitting has remained my meetings and evening TV hobby. It just takes a million times longer to knit something than it does to sew it. I can knock out a fairly complicated (for me--the pattern envelopes mostly say "easy") sewing project in a few hours. It takes weeks (sometimes months) to knit small-ish things. Which is why I will probably never knit an adult sweater or blanket.

Okay, so here's what I've been up to. Maybe when you see all these pictures of my adorable children you will forgive me for not writing to you more often. (These are in no order whatsoever. Also, there are a number of things that I apparently haven't yet taken pictures of, or have no idea where I saved the pictures.)

She's doing her ballerina dance. Obviously.

This one is actually an old skirt that I re-purposed

another skirt

I couldn't find a purse that I liked, so I made one. :)

Pathetic jedi robe. I need to make a better version of this one.

True Story

It is 3:00 in the morning. I am sleeping under a (very thin) blanket for the first time since The Heat began. I am in a deep sleep.

I feel a faint brush on my arm and startle awake.

A tiny voice whispers, "Mommy, did you drop something in the ocean?"

A Yarn about Yarn (and small businesses)

Yikes! Another knitting post! I promise if you hang in there I'll make it worth your while. Also--it's not just about knitting. It's also about America. And don't we all just feel so patriotic, what with the elections coming up? Ha! Sometimes I think it's probably a good idea that I don't teach 8th grade (American) history. Once I get going it's hard to stop.

ANYWAY.

On Thursday I was able to leave school around 3:00 rather than my usual 3:30. Ben gets mad at me when I pick him up too early because they have recess at 3:00, so I couldn't pick him up quite yet. So I headed over to pick Emma up. Across the street from Emma's daycare is a little yarn store. They have a great selection of yarn, and the proprietors are this Asian couple that crack me up. The wife sits at the table (yarn stores have tables where you can sit and knit) with her friends, knitting and shouting at each other in what sounds like Korean while the husband sits on a couch off to the side, stoically reading his paper. They usually look at me weird when I come in, but they're helpful when I ask, and the husband usually rings me up with that Resigned Husband look (and a smile if my kids are with me). None of their books or magazines are in English, and we don't really understand each other when we try to talk. But their selection is incredible, and I love the personality of the place. So...on my way to pick up Emma, I was really early, so I decided to stop by the yarn store on my way. I made Em a hat and legwarmers out of some yarn I got there, and I wanted to get some more so I could make a matching sweater. When I pulled into the parking lot the place was gone. No more signage, no more yarn. Gone. I got really sad. I mean, I can buy this yarn online. But I hate paying shipping, and I'd really come to love this quirky little place. Sad.

I picked up the kids and still had a bit of time before I needed to get home, so I headed over to another yarn store that's fairly close to my house. I don't go there often because the proprietor is not very friendly, but they have a ton of yarn, and I knew they had the kind I needed for this sweater. Gone. Seriously. No signage, no yarn. It's like it never existed. Now, I took a break from buying yarn this summer because I bought a lot during some sales in the spring and I was trying to be good and use what I had. But two yarn stores at the same time? I was devastated. Because now I was going to need to buy the yarn online and pay shipping. And yarn is different than books. How a yarn feels is important. I don't like buying it until I've touched it. Sure, sometimes I do what I did on Thursday and go into a yarn store for a specific item. But more often I go into a yarn store to browse--to touch and feel and be inspired. I fall in love with yarn in a yarn store. I fall in love with knitting in a yarn store. And not only that, but all the yarn stores that I know of also offer classes and workshops. Which, for someone like me who really has no serious knitting friends that live close enough so we can sit and knit together, is nice. I've given lessons to friends and neighbors, but (and this isn't to be snotty), I'm the most advanced local knitter that I know, so it's nice to have help when I need it. And did I mention touching the yarn? Sigh.

From the second closed yarn store I decided to go to one more that was within a reasonable distance. When I lost my knitting bag, it contained a small booklet of patterns that I loved. It's a British booklet, so it's hard to find, even online. But I'd purchased it at this last yarn store, which also happens to be my favorite. They have a small selection of expensive stuff, so I really can only buy there on a splurge. But the proprietor is lovely, and the ladies at the table are so sweet and are constantly oohing and aahing over my children. I love it there. So I went to get my book. Thankfully, it was still open. The woman working wasn't the proprietor, but she was very sweet. I couldn't find my book, and she spent 10 minutes helping me search for it. My kids were tearing the place apart, reorganizing yarn and books. I spent most of my time running from kid to kid, trying to put back everything those quick little buggers were taking out. But I finally found the book, and I think the woman was more excited than me. And while I was frustrated and embarrassed about my crazy kids, she could have cared less about the mess.

Guys--we need small businesses. No one on Amazon is going to spend that kind of time and energy helping you find a stupid book. The employees of Barnes and Noble don't yell at each other in Korean while the husband sits on the couch and reads a paper. Sure, big businesses are often cheaper and more convenient. And I frequent them. But sometimes people don't want to work for a big company with a CEO in the sky that pays them minimum wage and no sick days. They dream of running their own little quiet bookshop or yarn store or whatever that lets them live their passion and pay the bills and foster community in their town.

So don't let the little stores die. I hate paying shipping.

Sweet Em, in a sweater knit with some delicious Angora from the Crazy Asian Yarn Store

Finding the New Normal

First, let me just get this off my chest. Warning: Maybe two or three people will care about this. But if you care about me, you care about what's important to me. So...you'd better be properly sad. Sometime during the course of our anniversary weekend trip I lost my little bag of knitting. Devastating. I was 3/4 of the way done with an adorable little sweater for Emma. That's several weeks' worth of work. And it was in a delicious and lovely yarn that is now discontinued. And it was on the set of needles that I need for about 5/6 of the things I knit, as well as another set of needles I frequently need. Unacceptable. I finally started working on another project, but it took me a while to pick one that didn't require the use of either of those needles (I didn't want to go and replace them just to find the bag the next day). Last night I hit a point where I needed my stitch holders, so I went to grab my little baggie of miscellaneous things. Guess where that little baggie is? Yeah. In the bag I lost. So now I need to replace two of my favorite and most needed needles, stitch holders, stitch markers, tapestry needles, a gauge, and counters. So like everything I need to knit. And I can't replace the yarn. Or the three weeks' work. Sigh. My life is so sad. Good thing our California tax refund FINALLY showed up, so I can go to Joann's with every coupon I can dig up to replace my knitting supplies and get back to work.

Onto other things.This weekend was lovely. I was feeling pretty ill, but it forced us to just stay at home all weekend, which was really good. We filled up the pools, had picnics, stayed in our jammies and watched movies...just what we all so desperately needed. Just to be together at home, resting. Sunday night I had book club. I missed the last one because I had a friend in need. So it's been several months. As an introvert, whenever I get that rare moment of free time I usually choose to be alone. I forgot how refreshing it is to occasionally sit down with friends, a good book, and good food. Thanks, girls. Now someone call or text or email and remind me what our next book is because I already forgot.

 Yesterday was Monday, which means we were back to reality. I expected it to be rough for Emma, and in the morning it was. Leg One of daycare was ugly (apparently--I just go off what the babysitter says). But after her morning nap she rallied, and she actually played and didn't cry for the rest of the day. She wasn't exactly the life of the party, but she wasn't screaming her head off. I even got a text that said the babysitter was happy. I'll take it. And on the way to pick her up, Ben said that the reason she cried so much was that she missed him. Sob. Probably, buddy.

In the evening the kids and I played outside while Matt had Matt Night. Ben was so full of his one-liners it was ridiculous. I could have drowned your facebook news feeds in them. Like when he said, "Sorry. I'm staying home tonight. I'm going to hang out. Because it's Ben Night." My mom came over to deliver the playhouse she, my step-dad, and my grandma bought Emma for her birthday. We set it up and the kids played. Ben had a really hard time not helping. He kept trying to jump in with his tools and help. He was moments away from a time-out. When I told him for the 9th time that he seriously needed to stop and follow directions, he said, "Ninjas never give up." I countered with, "Ninjas also listen to their moms and follow directions." Then he launched into a lengthy story about some ninjas who didn't listen to their sensei and they did what they wanted anyway. I asked him what happened, and he said nothing. Figures. Stupid ninjas. But Emma loved her playhouse. Really she just went in and out the door with the phone in her hand. Ben kept trying to ninja his way in through the window and up on the roof, despite repeated warnings. Because, you know, ninjas never give up.

Neither do moms, pal.

The God of Rainbows and Wine

I've been debating whether or not this post should happen. It's not a fun one. But hey, they can't all be fun, right? I'm behind on updates and pictures and whatever. Maybe this weekend I'll catch up. But today this is Blog As Catharsis.

This week is not going well for Emma. And let's be honest, when Emma's not happy, no one's happy. She has a new daycare--and this is actually her first time in Real Daycare. You know, the kind with other kids. It's a small in-home daycare, so there aren't a lot of kids. But it's definitely new for her. And she's been with me all summer. And her last babysitter, you know, kind of kidnapped her for a few hours. So there's that. Also, the last few weeks we've tried church have not been fantastic. So I walked into Tuesday knowing that it would be hard. I had no idea. I mean, it was going to be a transition, to be sure. And at her age separation anxiety is already an issue. But seriously--while I knew it would be hard, I was not prepared for how bad.

And when I say bad, I don't mean "she cried when I dropped her off." I mean she screamed like someone was murdering her, and then continued to do so. For the rest of the day. Do you know how I know? Because the babysitter kept calling me throughout the day to tell me. Thankfully I did not have students on Tuesday. But the whole day was a blur of trying to focus on my job and trying to not completely break down.

Let me go ahead and close out the Mommy Wars: Going to work is worse. Hands down. Having those days when you think you might lose your mind because you haven't peed alone or talked to another adult in who knows how long is CHOCOLATE CAKE compared to being consumed with a shattered heart that keeps breaking over and over again every time you get another phone call or text. And I'll take changing that 342nd diaper over spending every breath fighting that relentless voice in your head telling you that you're a terrible mother who is abandoning your miserable and angry child. ANY. DAY. And I LOVE my job. I can't imagine the battle you wage when you have to go through all of that and work a job that makes you miserable.

Yesterday wasn't much better. Except that I told the babysitter she needed to communicate with Matt instead of me because I couldn't spend my entire day crying. Because of the teaching or whatever. So the day went a little better for me. My students seem like an amazing group, and I'm excited for the year. And the babysitter wasn't calling. But admittedly I was distracted. Because, you know, the babysitter was calling Matt to tell him that a) separation trouble is normal, and b) Emma's constant screaming was making everyone miserable (including her). Today neither of us heard from her, but apparently Emma's day today was the same as yesterday. And because that's not enough, Emma wouldn't sleep last night. The poor thing would not leave my arms for anything.

I know this is (fairly) normal. I know that she'll adjust. I know that I'm not a bad mom. I know that everything will be okay. But damn it if this isn't just about the most heartache I've ever felt. And that bastard Satan is unrelenting. God has been good, though. He has helped me keep the fear and guilt and anxiety and depression at bay. Other than a few moments when I hit a breaking point, I've held it together surprisingly well. Because really, it's not just that Emma's crying. It's that my mind and heart seem to be engaged in some kind of war of attrition. Apparently it won't end until there's nothing left of me. And I'm fighting, I am. And most of the time I'm winning. But seriously. This needs to end soon. Because this year was supposed to be different. This year was supposed to start off great. I was supposed to great the new year with alacrity and hope. Instead I'm clawing for survival.

But I don't want this post to end there. Because I'm fighting. With everything in me I'm fighting. I refuse to listen to the lies, and I refuse to abandon hope. And today God sent me a rainbow. Not the kind that comes at the end of the storm. The kind (and I'm not sure that this is physically possible, but it my metaphor it is) that is there when it's still pouring down rain. So I'm standing here soaked through with no abatement in sight. But there's still a promise. A promise that God is still there, still providing, still listening.This is going to be a long and hard road, but Emma will be okay. I will be okay. And one of these days I'll be able to post a blog that says, "Emma had a great day at daycare!" And I will kick anxiety and depression's ass so hard it will never come back.

So tomorrow is a new day. Maybe it will be good, maybe it will be ugly. Either way, God will still be there. And so will a glass of wine.

Preparing for Re-entry

Today Emma starts her very first day of real daycare.

Let's just take a moment...sigh.

I feel good about her new situation. We ended up finding someone who is not just licensed but the president of child care or the chair of the board of directors or something. She's a member of like eight child care organizations. Pretty sure she's not going to take off with Emma. She seems a bit of a rule Nazi, but I'm okay with that. We seem to have gone from one extreme to the other. But I'm confident this is the superior extreme. Emma will do great. I will weep and freak out. In fact, Emma probably will too. For this entire week. The last two weeks at church have not gone well. But this is how it is. And we will be fine. We will adjust, and she will thrive.

Benjamin is spending the day with my mom, since his school doesn't start until tomorrow.

Lord, beer me strength.

Miscellaneous Things

That last post was so serious! Lame. Let's have a less serious one so we can shake it off.

Since we started dating, Matt and I have had Matt Night and Shannon Night. We have preserved nights of the week for alone time, and we have continued through getting married and reproducing. Monday night is Matt night. So what that looks like is we have an early dinner then I take the kids out of the house for an hour or so while Matt runs around naked or plays guitar or watches manly movies or whatever (okay, let's be honest here--he burns a hole in the desk chair while he plays video games until his eyes fall out). When we just had Ben, I would conduct bath, bed, etc. duty. Then the rest of the evening we would do "independent study" (Matt plays video games and I have my own nerd time). Now that we have two littles, the bedtime routing is a two-man job. But once the kids are in bed, it's back to independent study. Wednesday is Shannon night. Matt takes the kids out while I have the house to myself (luxury!), etc. Well, this week we were going over the child care schedule for the next several days (I have to go back to work, but daycare and preschool don't start yet). Ben announced, "Wednesday is Ben Day. I stay home by myself." So I guess that should take care of any questions about his parentage. He's mentioned it several times in the last couple of days. I've tried to tell him that it's actually frowned upon for parents to leave their four-year-olds unattended. But he's convinced he's going to have Ben Day tomorrow, all by himself. Which makes me wonder what exactly he would do with a Ben Day. I'm guessing it would involve a lot of TV, legos, and sugar.

We found a new daycare for Emma! She is licensed, and she's on the board of directors for child care or something, so she's probably not going to kidnap our daughter. Her house is lovely and immaculate, and she works around my district's schedule. It's more expensive than the last babysitter, but again, she probably won't abscond with our child. So it's worth it. She starts next Tuesday.

We have a beefy personal trainer as a neighbor/friend. Turns out he's an extreme coupon-er. I went over there the other day to get some tips. There's a filing system. Whoa.

Emma has an appointment with a pediatric ophthalmologist in October to assess her lazy eye. My friend Brandi begged me to make Emma a pirate for Halloween if she has to wear a patch. That reminded me of the Halloween when I had an eye-patch because I'd just had surgery. She really is a chip off the 'ol block.

I have seven friends (it might be more...I think I've lost count) that are pregnant and due during the month of February and early March. SEVEN. And that's just February/early March. That's not counting the several other friends due before that (or who've had a baby in the last month or so). What's great is that this really solidifies our decision to not birth anymore children. I mean, I'm going to have seven little nuggets to knit and sew for and snuggle. That should be plenty for me to get my baby fix and not feel the need to have another. But I've got a lot of knitting and sewing to do. I should probably start now so I can spread it out.

Speaking of my womb, I finally got around to listing our baby things on Craigslist. We're coming up on September, which means, as all you teachers know, that we're broke. I sold one item within an hour of posting. When I went to deliver it, I decided that I really liked the couple that bought it. I had to stop myself from asking them to tell me how the birth goes and send me pictures (not of the birth--of the baby), because I'm not actually friends with them and that would be weird and creepy.

Despite my last post, I must say that my summer has not been terrible. I have had a lot of fun. In between disasters. I've loved the sewing, and I've loved spending oodles of time with my littles. The other night we all cuddled in Ben's bed and sang our songs. Except Emma doesn't like to cuddle, so she kind of ruined it. But it was a really sweet 26 seconds.

I tried growing a vegetable garden in our "back yard." It yielded one tiny tomato. It was doing okay until the nasty heat wave hit and killed everything. Also, I think the fact that it only gets a couple of hours of sun a day is not optimal. Some plants are still growing. So maybe we'll get more. Or maybe I suck at growing things. Either way it was kind of fun trying.

We had a crotchety old lady in the other half of our duplex. She used to yell at our kids. But they moved out several months ago, and the unit has been empty for quite some time. Which was actually kind of nice, because we share one wall, so it's been quiet. But our new neighbors are moving in today, and they're great! We met them a couple of weeks ago. It turns out they go to our church and have a little boy who's a year old. Yay! We were really hoping to avoid cranky old ladies, so this is good news. Now our little "quad" has 3 four-year-olds, a three-year-old, 2 one-year-olds, and a five-month-old. Yay for friends for our kids! Now if we could just get rid of the wife-beater and the grumpy man who thinks he owns the city, we'll be all set.

Yesterday when the kids and I were having lunch with my step-dad, Ben said this about Matt: "His name is Daddy Matt Miller Duck. Because there's a duck in there." (Matt's middle name is Donald.) Ha!

We're letting our Disneyland passes expire this year because the cost for an annual pass is out of control. We are sad. I know, our first world problems are so overwhelming. But it was fun while it lasted.

Ben won a goldfish at the fair and it's still alive. If you ask Ben was his fish's name is, he will say, "Nothing. It's just a fish." Take that, PETA.

Emma's awake now, so I should probably go. One of these days I will do Emma's one-year post and a summer post and...wow, I'm already feeling overwhelmed. So let's just call it for now and say I'll try to not let this blog die.

Happy Tuesday!