Finished Quilt

Pardon the lack of better photos for the finished quilt, but Easton kept making a run for the edge of the bed. And when I put him on the ground, he tries to climb up my leg and back into my uterus. This stage of clinginess is not for the independent-oriented woman. But I know it's short and fleeting, and soon he won't want to stand near me for fear of embarrassment.

But back to the quilt. It's a king-size for our bed. It was about 10 hours of work, costing about $60 (the kona solids and quilting designs were both 50% off. I already posted the link, but if you missed it, go here (I didn't do the ties, too impatient). It's a perfect beginners quilt, though I wouldn't recommend making your first quilt a king-size. That's just lunatic.

Chop!

Over 6" cut, plus the addition of bangs. I feel like a new lady!

Wooden Rainbow

Water Heater Fun

Big boxes rarely come through our lives. I mean really, how often do you purchase a furnace, or water heater? When Dave finished installing a new heater at my mom's, he threw the box in the back of his truck to recycle it (ahhh, the power of a neurotically-recycling wife). A few days later, as I was taking a much needed break upstairs and away from the kids, I kept hearing the oddest sound. When I came downstairs an hour later, the kids were happily playing in their new "house." It's provided hours of fun, and a welcome distraction when I'm trying to cook dinner. I love the imagination and ease of childhood, when a taped up (ya know, cardboard can be sharp) water heater box can become anything from a spaceship to a store.

And being naked only adds to the cuteness.

A Rant on Motherhood

Today I'm going to vent. About motherhood. Surprised? For the most part, I enjoy being a stay-at-home-mom. The financial sacrifices we make seem worthwhile when I know that my kids are getting quality care from the person that endured them 10 months in-utero and the great forces of pushing to get them evicted from said womb. I'm sure there are great childcare providers out there, I know a few myself. But I'm a control freak, and I need to know what my kids are learning, who is influencing them, and how they are feeling. All the time, apparently.

That being said, being a SAHM has many negatives. For example, how stimulating can it be for a 32 year old woman to only hold conversations with a 3.5 year old every day? And the baby? He could care less what I'm saying. All he sees is BOOB. And for now, it's kind of nice to only have 1 talking child bombarding me with a millionquestionsanhour. Most people go to work and have at least a few adult interactions a day. It's really the sole reason I blog, read blogs, and am obsessed with my computer. It keeps me somewhat connected (though digital connections to strangers don't fully count).

And though the lax in routine can be nice, it's usually incredibly frustrating. By the time Sylvia is dressed, fed, and amped to go, Easton is ready for his morning nap. Then when he gets up, it's almost lunchtime. Then after lunchtime, Sylvia takes a nap. Then right before she gets up, Easton takes his second nap. By this time, it's 3pm. And that is my day. Easton's nap times aren't totally predictable, but he's been getting up so freakin early (4am, sheesh) that he's so tired so early. And our mornings are spent. Then I feel guilty that Sylvia got little stimulation. And by 3pm, I feel angry that I got nothing accomplished.

Then I have good days, great days in fact. Like yesterday. We woke up, I made a crock-pot meal for dinner while the kids ate breakfast, Easton took 2 great naps in his crib, we ran needed errands, I did some light crafting, did tons of laundry (and put it away), took a 10 minute nap, and made it to the gym after Dave came home early. We had no crying, crabby, tantrums all day (kids or me). Those days are few, but they give me encouragement.

And don't get me wrong, each day contains positive and negative moments. I think it's just easier to focus on the bad stuff when thinking back. This will all pass, I will someday work around adults, and I will miss the fun times I had with my young children. But today, already, it definitely feels like Wednesday.

Quilting

This is the center section for the king size quilt I've made. Since this photo, I've added a huge border, thus completing it. The problem? I don't have enough empty floor space to lay it out and make the "quilt sandwich" and finish it out. Someday...

No Wonder

My baby is nearing 14 months old. Before that, he was in my belly for 38 weeks (for the sake of easy math, we'll call it 9 months). If only makes sense that it finally came. It was a surprise, unexpected, not the least bit on my mind. It reminds me that I am not only a milk-machine, but I am a baby-making machine (well, with a 50% chance of things working properly). Yes, it is my monthly visitor. And no wonder I've been living in the world of right before the tea kettle blows it's hot, explosive steam. Bring it on, body. Now I have something to blame stuff on (besides the kids).

Tally? Between Sylvia, Easton, and 2 miscarriages, my body has been period-free for 4 years 5 months. Crazy.

Upcoming Projects

I'm an ambitious person, when it comes to the trivial and mundane. As I should be spending my free moments anticipating how to further my career, possibly changing my career, or figuring out how the hell we are going to send our kid to this school, I am spending my moments preparing for my next projects. And all these projects are totally selfish, spending money to make stuff for my family, stuff we don't really need, per se. I guess when something makes you happy, it's for the greater good of your family. But I can't help to feel that these projects, the ones that fill the free spaces in my day, are a bit selfish.

That rant all being said, here are some items I will be assembling over the next wheneverIhavefreeminutes. No time frame, no due dates, no craft shows to prepare for. Just stuff for us.

First on my to-do, is this fabric for a king-sized quilt for our bed. I'm not going to do any stippling, just a series of rectangles, cut selvage to selvage, assembled rather quickly and easily, all with Kona fabrics. It'll be our summer top blanket with a sheet, as opposed to the fake-down heavy one we use during the winter. Our bedroom is dark blue and off white, so these are various shades of blue and natural white, with the feminine bird print to sprinkle in. Dave says he likes my choices, so I guess I done good. I'll be using this tutorial, if you wanna know what it'll resemble.So this project is obviously started, but far from completion. It's a lovely mustard yarn, and I have no clue where I'm going with it. It started as a cowl, but it fits Syl perfect as a skirt (though it's clearly too short as of yet). If I decide cowl, it's just about done. But I have a long way to go for a kids skirt. And will it just snag and be ruined quickly if I make a kids skirt? I just don't know.

This fluffy thick yarn is also ready to be knit. And it'll be a scarf or a cowl, depending on what I do with the mustard knit. It's so soft and thick, a type of yarn I never work with. Too bad by the time these are done, it'll be spring!

Ok, I think I have enough on my plate. Top these with the crazy spur-of-the-moment projects and recipes I decide to do, this is how I fill my days. Well, that and eating baby bellies. Baby bellies that awoke 4 times last night (though we have been having good 9 hour night stretches. ugh).

Testing Sylvia

We've been participants in Parents as Teachers since Sylvia was a few months old. I know, silly to think we started that young. I remember when Diane (still our P.A.T. lady) first came to our house, me in a daze, Syl on my boob, and Dave on paternity leave. She gave us tips, advice, kind words, ect. I enjoyed the company of another adult and she was a gung-ho educator. As the years went on, Diane would pay us visits every 6-8 weeks, assessing Syl's progress, playing fun games with her, and teaching me areas to concentrate on with her. After Easton's birth, we figured we may as well carry on the tradition. Besides, something worked with Syl's ability to communicate so early on and her total love of books, why not go 2 for 2?

Diane came over this morning to do her preschool evaluation on Syl, a 45 minute session filled with games and questions to see where she stands, and where she needs work. The test is very similar to the city's gifted school test, so I was anxious to know the results. The areas tested are Motor, Concept, and Language. Can you guess where she soared? Here's a rough idea of the scale, though it's all jumbled between age groups and what not. I'm going to sum it up for ya because I'm no expert. In each group, the scores range from 3-27, the latter being the most advanced for that age range. In motor (testing involved hopping on each foot, skipping, catching objects, counting in sequence, copying building with blocks, ect) she scored an 8 for age 3. This is super low. But duh, she's always lacked in gross (motor skills, that is). What blew us away is that in concept she scored a 20 (in age 5/6) and in language she got a 24 (in age 5/6). She was rhyming phonetically, she knew every asked body part but her knuckles, she was coming up with abstract words for other words. If you've ever talked to Syl, it's obvious her communication is up there. I think there's just something to be said when the results are right there, when someone else verifies what you've known, and when an educator is astonished at the numbers.

This test doesn't qualify her for anything, it's just an assessment the P.A.T.s like to do from 3-6 years old. It was solely done to see what areas we need to work on with Syl, what activities may help her, and where she's excelling at. I don't know if the numbers are averaged somewhere for funding, I just know it doesn't allow Syl any special rights (just the right to blow my socks off).

Look, I'm not trying to rub it in or brag (well, a mama can be proud, right?). It was just an awesome experience to be a witness to. I was in the other room, quietly eavesdropping on the test, not wanting to sway Sylvia in any direction. That girl blows my mind, and it was amazing to watch her impress Diane. I always recommend Diane to people that live in my area, she is truly a lovely woman. And I guess now it's time to start it all over with Easton. Except I bet he'll pass gross motor with flying colors. And maybe fall short on Syl's astounding vocabulary.

To Run

Today was a much loved 40 degrees, so I went for a run in Forest Park. Though attempted a few times, I've never been successful at running around the entire park. It's 6.2 miles, and I came close once, but just got too tired. I'm pleased to say that I ran the entire park, plus an extra mile. Yes, that's 7 miles! I got really tired about 4 miles in, so I started setting smaller goals. Like, make it to the top of this hill, then decide if I can keep going. It really helped, and by the time I made it 2 miles shy of my car, I knew I could do it. I'm sore and tired, but very proud. And I did it straight, just as I thought.

Superbigcrazykids

Have I mentioned lately that we haven't gotten out of the house much in the past 9 days? Yea, so we're all a bit stir crazy. In fact, when running errands this morning (errands that involved me doing stuff and the kids sitting in the car, like getting gas, recycling, returning movies), Easton kept pointing out the window at every passing thing. It was like he had recently landed on this here planet and everything outside his window had never before been seen. Or he's just at that age where a cup can entertain him for hours.

Anyway, we met our friends at the Gardens for some 52* weather playing (I don't know where the degree key is on this apple keypad, so sue me). I wanted Sylvia to go into the Climatron, where the humidity is as high as some tropical rainforest, hoping to clear out the congestion in her head. I got some funny pictures of all the kids. My friend Clare has a daughter 2 months older than Sylvia and a son 6 weeks older than Easton. But for some reason, my kids are the total cut-ups, pretty much goofing around in every shot.

I think it's safe to say that it was high time we all got out of the house. And notice how my children are like the towering giants of the clan. You'd think I fed them super-hormones or something. Sheesh!

Gross

Easton shoved a huge chunk of string cheese into his tiny little mouth. I was holding him while he had been nibbling away, but he decided it was going too slow for him. He then gagged and started to puke. Mother's instinct? Put my hand by his mouth to catch the disgustingness that was being forced out. Then I almost puked. I wonder if he would have caught mine? We could have formed a bond, started a club, planned a secret hideout. Ya know, puke-brothers for life.

Sylvia is finally starting to feel better, though a new symptom of her cough is bloody noses. We've had a warm-air humidifier in her room for a few days, but her nose remains full of huge bloody boogers. I warned you with the title. Anyway, there's nothing like waking up and scrubbing your kids face, hair, and hands clean of overnight bloody nose crust. So totally gross.

Why don't moms get paid?

Did you hear it?

That loud screaming noise coming from our house last night? You didn't? Wow, you must be a heavy sleeper. Because friends, I tell you as an honest mama, that sound was my baby crying it out. I'm so over it. I'm so tired. Going in every 5-10-15-20 minutes makes it worse, for everyone. So we left him in his room, shut the door to our room, turned the fan on, and waited. Because really, as easy as it seems, no one can sleep while a baby is crying like that. And I say crying very loosely. He was full-throttle screaming. For about 25 minutes. Then he slept till 7:30 this morning. And took a very nice morning nap in his crib. So in the end, 25 minutes of screaming equates to mama getting 7 solid hours of sleep and a better morning all around.

I hate this part of babyhood, the sleep-training part. But you know what I hate even more? Yelling at my 3 year old for no reason because I'm just so damn tired. And you know what I hate the most? When other people tell me how tired they are. Yes, I see the double standard. But no one is as tired as a mom with a baby that doesn't sleep. No one.

On a different note, I've been making it to the gym 4-5 times a week. This makes me happy. Except for today. While running on those annoying treadmills ( I know, it was like 42 degrees so I could have run outside, but phooey ), the news was going on about Haiti, the earthquake, the aftermath, the sadness and devastation. It felt so shallow and bizarre to be focusing on my body while people don't have water, food, or shelter. I hate seeing images of babies wrapped in sheets, of people pleading to the camera, of havoc and tears and hell. How is it that news crews can get there so quickly, but supplies take so long? Why do tragedies have to be so political and tied in red tape? I left the gym feeling depressed. Worked-out, sweaty, and sad.

And by the way, I kept Sylvia home from school today. But I made her go to Trader Joe's with me because must.leave.house.or.else.

When will it end? Oh yeah, when I poke my eyes out

Oh my GOD I'm going crazy over here, as are many parents 'round the cold, snowy globe right now. As you faithful reader(s) know of me, I'm a busy-body. I like to go go go, do stuff, get the f**k out of the house as often and as frequently as possible. But with the blistering cold, came 3 of the 4 of us down with the cough. The cough that won't let up. No fevers, no green snot, just lots of coughing and drippy noses. Easton got it first, then me, now Sylvia. And as little man and I are all better, we had to cancel everything all day due to Little Miss Dramatic. Oh, the tears! And the sorrow! First the throat...then the sore legs...then the coughing....then her neck hurt...then the sun shone too bright on her highness. All. Damn. Day. I'm glad to say that I'm escaping to Cara's tonite, so they may visit the wee one in the hospital. I think I may take a nap and soak up the total silence and lack of whining. And I hate to admit it here, but I'm sending her to preschool tomorrow REGARDLESS! Ok, not really. But probably.

On the night-weaning tip, it's been going decent. Dave and I are switching every other night, me nursing him early and Dave putting him to bed. He went down in like a record 5 minutes with him, of course. So can't complain there. But nothing else on the sleep tip is improving. His naps are terrible and short, and he is waking at least 2, usually 3 times a night. Like every 3 hours. So to top off an incredibly whiny 3 year old with the plague, I have a clingy, tired, baby attached to a sleep-deprived, going mad mommy. And it's only Tuesday.

Mantra: things could be worse, shut-up and deal. this too shall pass (please let it be soon).

Sylvia's Art

Sylvia made a drawing for Easton of Easton. And I thought it was such a cute, sweet gesture that I want to make it into something, very Soule Mama-ish. So we copied it onto some muslin and I embroidered it. She says she wants a small pillow, but I may turn it into a softie. We'll see.

Oh, and she puked on the quilt I made her. It took a whole 2 weeks to occur. It washed out fine.

Day 1 off

Last night, I nursed Easton an hour earlier than usual and left the house. I was gone for 4.5 hours and it was lovely. He fussed for about 10 minutes, then passed out. I ran some needed errands with my mom than we had cocktails. I guess it was to celebrate the absolute freedom I felt for not putting either kid to bed in the past 13 months. That's a long time without a break in routine.

Tonite, I put Easton down. But we wil be doing every other night. Baby steps for the baby and me.

The Start of the End

In a frenzy of financial worry last month, I emailed my old photography boss to let her know I was available for work again. I want to work, I need to work, I secretly can't wait to work. She just wrote me with a bunch of dates, the earliest starting in less than a month from now. And guess what? I still nurse Easton to sleep. Every night. So I'm kinda panicking, kinda freaking out, kinda excited. I don't know how to start the weaning process this early, or how to get him out of this nurse-to-sleep habit. I've done it before, but Syl was a bit older and totally into big meals and milk from sippy cups. But the nighttime nursing was the last to go, and by then she was 17 months old.

It looks like it's time to get this baby off the nighttime booby. Prepare yourself for some interesting posts ahead. Mainly ones about Easton jumping out the window because mama is taking away his FAVORITE THING EVER.

Plastic Surgeon in the Making

This post reminded me of a funny conversation between Syl and I the other day in the bathtub.

Syl: mom, you need new breasts, yours are turning brown.

Me: (upon looking down to make sure my breasts weren't actually turning brown) well, how in the world do I get new breasts?

Syl: (looking all duh, mom) you just go to your doctor and tell them to cut your old breasts off and then they put on new ones.

Me: huh. it's scary cuz its true. but how do you know this?

Syl: because mom. it's just how it is. everyone knows that.

I think I spend too much time with my boobs out.

Random Stuff

Things found for free on the side of the street:

After a deep cleaning, it looks like a brand new microfiber kids chair. So what else could I do but make a lap quilt with a hand-stitched vintage Holly Hobby scrap? I had no choice. It had to be done. Sylvia loves it and can't wait for it to be finished.

My oldest friends (time, not age) were in town for NYE, so we hosted them and some mutual friends for a New Year's Day brunch. Lots of food, kids, and mimosas to numb the pain of being hungover and sleep-deprived.

Dave & Nace appearing as though they were about to leave the party and start their rock tour.
Finn and Easton, learning the difficult task of sharing the precious police car.

This photo was from a few days back, when the 2 or so inches of snow made yummy front yard hill sledding fun. Note the waiting-for-a-flood snow pants. I found them 3 years ago at a thrift store, they are size 2T. Sylvia wears a size 5/6 now. Oops!