I've been a lousy blogger lately- sometimes life just gets in the way. This whole time change business has my internal workings all in a funk, and exhaustion has been killing me all week. It's amazing what a one hour shift can do.
On the bright side, I had an amazing meeting with a talented group of Maine crafters this past weekend. It was nice to chat with other crafty adults, and exchange adoration over our various items. Go crafts!
Even better however, was that this weekend I received a letter letting us know that our family is now covered by state health insurance, after applying for the second time. We're finally broke enough to qualify. Way to be poor! Money aside, at least now we can afford to get sick, which is great considering what a total klutz my K is.
And speaking of money, GH's amazing grandmother sent us a check, as she knows we're struggling right now. It's a real kick in the crotch to my pride, but a gift we can't turn down at the moment. After all, we have tons of fun things we need to buy, like socks for G, whose current socks are more hole than material. And who knows, maybe, if I'm real lucky, socks for me as well. Sheer luxury.
On a down note, I have a bad feeling I'm not going to be accepted into graduate school. I placed a call to the admissions office last week to ask when decision letters would be sent out. She asked my name, and after I gave it to her there was a pause- and then she let me know letters would be going out at the end of the month. I think if I had gotten in, she would have told me. Why else would she have asked for my name? Looks like I may be getting the fabulous reject form letter. I'm trying to prepare myself for the blow, the whole time praying out of the other side of my mouth that it isn't actually going to happen. All I can do is continue to wait, and deal with it when it comes, either way. Here's to hope!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Melt Down City
After enjoying a relatively lengthy period of no melt downs, G has decided to bring them back in full force. The past few days have been a careful dance of trying not to set him off, while still trying to enforce household rules.
The night before last, the house was ringing with the familiar shouts of "I hate this place!" "I hate everything!" etc. The walls shook as he kicked at his door and tossed toys on his floor. We gritted our teeth and waited for it to peak before trying to bring him down to get him in his bed.
As I held him and tried to ease his hitching sobs, he confided to me that he didn't want to be smart anymore. When I asked him why, he said he couldn't handle things being on his mind all the time, that his brain was too busy. I told him that is why he needs sleep, to give his brain time to rest, as I'm pretty sure he's back to not sleeping well again. My heart ached for him, as it always does.
Luckily, we managed to finally get insurance worked out for G, which means we'll finally be able to get his full evaluation done on March 24th. Until then, we go through the familiar dance, doing our best, and praying that answers, and maybe some help, is on the horizon.
The night before last, the house was ringing with the familiar shouts of "I hate this place!" "I hate everything!" etc. The walls shook as he kicked at his door and tossed toys on his floor. We gritted our teeth and waited for it to peak before trying to bring him down to get him in his bed.
As I held him and tried to ease his hitching sobs, he confided to me that he didn't want to be smart anymore. When I asked him why, he said he couldn't handle things being on his mind all the time, that his brain was too busy. I told him that is why he needs sleep, to give his brain time to rest, as I'm pretty sure he's back to not sleeping well again. My heart ached for him, as it always does.
Luckily, we managed to finally get insurance worked out for G, which means we'll finally be able to get his full evaluation done on March 24th. Until then, we go through the familiar dance, doing our best, and praying that answers, and maybe some help, is on the horizon.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Weekend in a Nutshell
Weekend Recap
- K lost her first tooth, which is a relief as her adult tooth is already coming in behind it.
- Used both the new deep fryer and waffle maker, my big tax refund splurges.
- Forced my family to accompany me to the beach, where we froze our butts off collecting winter sea glass.
- Actually made, and partially made, some new jewelry.
- Was accepted into the Boston South End Market to sell my crafts this summer.
- Sent out a scholarship application on the day it was due.
- Never got around to sewing the pants I was supposed to fix for clients at work.
- Ate fried chicken and collard greens.....mmmmmmm
- Joined Blissfully Domestic
- Didn't manage to get the nap I wanted, again.
- K lost her first tooth, which is a relief as her adult tooth is already coming in behind it.
- Used both the new deep fryer and waffle maker, my big tax refund splurges.
- Forced my family to accompany me to the beach, where we froze our butts off collecting winter sea glass.
- Actually made, and partially made, some new jewelry.
- Was accepted into the Boston South End Market to sell my crafts this summer.
- Sent out a scholarship application on the day it was due.
- Never got around to sewing the pants I was supposed to fix for clients at work.
- Ate fried chicken and collard greens.....mmmmmmm
- Joined Blissfully Domestic
- Didn't manage to get the nap I wanted, again.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
They're Ba-ack... And Other Stuff
The kids have officially returned from their uber-vacation in Vermont. They were well spoiled, terribly indulged, over stimulated, and generally exhausted. G wept the entire ride home, wailing that he missed grandma, and his cousins, and begged to move back to Vermont. I'd be lying if I said it didn't make GH and I a little sad.
Fortunately, the kids seem to have slid seamlessly back into school. G has had a few mini-meltdowns, but so far, so good. They've both been on the over tired side, and have been back at their bickering, which my mother claimed they didn't do once in Vermont.
While the week away from the kids offered fun time and relaxation time, it also offered me a lot of personal reflection time. The conclusion was not good.
Like so many other moms I know, I've found my life sidetracked from one directed towards dreams and desires, to one focused on necessity. There are so many things I've wanted to do with my life and my career, but instead, I find myself working at I job that's difficult, pays little, and is outside my field of study. Every day I wonder why I spent 4 years putting myself through college, studying what I loved, just to end up working a job I'm not passionate about just to pay the bills.
In the past few months, I've been making efforts to go back to college to get my teaching certification, as I've blogged about. That's one dream I'm working on achieving, though I don't know if it will happen in the end.
Then, in the past week, another dream has resurfaced- one of opening my own store, selling my jewelry and other handmade items. I think I could do it, make it work. I have a good friend who's interested and would make a great partner. I went out and bought books on how to own a retail shop, write a business plan, etc. I know it's achievable. But will I ever take the leap? Probably not.
Unfortunately, the reality of bills and time constraints limit my possibilities. While I never resent being a mother, I know it's going to make a lot of things impossible, or at least put them on hold for a long time. And yet it eats at me, the thoughts that I should be doing something big, something I love, something I can be proud of. I should be more than an overweight mom, working 40 + hours a week at a job that is thankless and drains me to the core.
And so I keep on dreaming. Sometimes, it's all you can do.
Fortunately, the kids seem to have slid seamlessly back into school. G has had a few mini-meltdowns, but so far, so good. They've both been on the over tired side, and have been back at their bickering, which my mother claimed they didn't do once in Vermont.
While the week away from the kids offered fun time and relaxation time, it also offered me a lot of personal reflection time. The conclusion was not good.
Like so many other moms I know, I've found my life sidetracked from one directed towards dreams and desires, to one focused on necessity. There are so many things I've wanted to do with my life and my career, but instead, I find myself working at I job that's difficult, pays little, and is outside my field of study. Every day I wonder why I spent 4 years putting myself through college, studying what I loved, just to end up working a job I'm not passionate about just to pay the bills.
In the past few months, I've been making efforts to go back to college to get my teaching certification, as I've blogged about. That's one dream I'm working on achieving, though I don't know if it will happen in the end.
Then, in the past week, another dream has resurfaced- one of opening my own store, selling my jewelry and other handmade items. I think I could do it, make it work. I have a good friend who's interested and would make a great partner. I went out and bought books on how to own a retail shop, write a business plan, etc. I know it's achievable. But will I ever take the leap? Probably not.
Unfortunately, the reality of bills and time constraints limit my possibilities. While I never resent being a mother, I know it's going to make a lot of things impossible, or at least put them on hold for a long time. And yet it eats at me, the thoughts that I should be doing something big, something I love, something I can be proud of. I should be more than an overweight mom, working 40 + hours a week at a job that is thankless and drains me to the core.
And so I keep on dreaming. Sometimes, it's all you can do.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Lazy Days
The kids have been gone since Sunday afternoon. The house is quiet, and feels darker and colder. No screaming and shouting, no lights left on all over the house, and no complaints about the heat being too low.
I have happily sprawled out all of my jewelry making supplies in the living room, secure in the knowladge that my beads won't get snatched by little fingers or other items lost under the couch. I've watched grown-up TV shows and crafted in peace.
GH and I have gone to lunch and eaten hot wings until we burst. We went out to dinner, and were seated like lightning at a table for two. We've eaten dinner late, and drank wine in the living room. We made spinich and didn't hear one cry of outrage.
These precious days seem to be flying by. There are a lot of things I want to tackle this week, and I hope to get them all done. It's a lot of living to cram into one tiny week.
And each night, I call the kids. They both sound so happy on the phone, but profess to miss me in sincere tones. I can hear their voices echoing in the empty house. Though I enjoy the time apart, I can't wait to see them again at the end of the week.
I have happily sprawled out all of my jewelry making supplies in the living room, secure in the knowladge that my beads won't get snatched by little fingers or other items lost under the couch. I've watched grown-up TV shows and crafted in peace.
GH and I have gone to lunch and eaten hot wings until we burst. We went out to dinner, and were seated like lightning at a table for two. We've eaten dinner late, and drank wine in the living room. We made spinich and didn't hear one cry of outrage.
These precious days seem to be flying by. There are a lot of things I want to tackle this week, and I hope to get them all done. It's a lot of living to cram into one tiny week.
And each night, I call the kids. They both sound so happy on the phone, but profess to miss me in sincere tones. I can hear their voices echoing in the empty house. Though I enjoy the time apart, I can't wait to see them again at the end of the week.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Haiku Friday
Graduate school looms,
Will they accept me? Who knows!
Forever waiting
Next week, no kids home
Vacation with grandparents
Realaxation time
Next week will be bliss
February Vacation!
Kids gone to Vermont
I will miss them, yes
But kids will be loved much more
After a week gone
We will eat seafood
Stinky cheese and good wine. Yeah!
Foods for only two
Oh yes, you heard right. My wonderful parents are taking the kids away to Vermont for an entire week for their February vacation. Come Sunday they'll be on their way to a week of skiing with their cousins and being spoiled rotten by Grandma and Pappa.
And GH and I? Oh, we'll be busy. Busy watching adult shows on the living room television. Busy eating delicious foods the kids won't touch. Busy working on crafts undisturbed. Busy cleaning the house only once- and enjoying it staying that way for an entire week. Busy listening to the sounds of a silent house, no bikering, no whining, no begging.
And yes, busy missing the kids. I'm sure a week apart will do us all good, and we'll all love each other all the more when the week is over. That's the theory anyways...
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
How G Is Different
*WARNING- This post contains vomit, barf and other bodily fluids. Continue at your own risk*
Yesterday, I spent my one, lovely day off curled up in bed with a nasty stomach bug. Cramps, nausea, and a case of the runs you read about in scientific journals, caused me to drift in and out of consciousnesss, and miss out on the house cleaning, craft making and general relaxing that I look forward to all week. Such is life.
This morning, I dragged myself out of bed after hitting snooze for the third time, and willed myself not to vomit as I lurched to the bathroom. And at the bathroom door...... a big pile of barf. I jerked my foot back from nearly landing in it, and fought with my gag reflex while shouting for GH to come out and help me. At first, I thought it was cat vomit. But after a moment, I realized it had to belong to one of the children.
As I grabbed paper towels and began mopping the floor, I realized the toilet was full of vomit too. How on earth could one of the kids puked so much and called for me or GH? I was worried. Should we go in and check on the kids?
Just as my paranoia began to kick into overdrive, G's door creaked open slowly, and his little head poked out.
Me: G, honey, did you get sick last night?
G: Yeah
Me: Why didn't you wake me up? I would have helped you.
G: I don't know. I just went back to bed.
Me: Are you o.k.? Do you still feel sick?
G: I'm fine. *pulls head back into his room*
And that's just it. Even at 7, G doesn't need me like other little kids need their mom. He doesn't sob and cling when he has a tummy ache. He doesn't call out for me in the middle of the night when he's been sick all over the floor. If it had been K, her pained shrieks would have alerted the entire house to her illness, and I would have spent the rest of the night stroking her head and singing her lullabyes. But not my boy. Not my G.
I have to admit, it hurts a bit, to feel so unneeded. To know that he was so sick and never once called out to me. To know that he didn't think to need me. And I hurt for him, to be be so sick and alone, without me, even if he didn't know he needed me. We only have so long to comfort and protect our little ones, that being shut out from even one vulnerable moment is hard to come to terms with. But that's just who G is. He doesn't seek the emotional comfort that other kids do, and I have to live with the fact that he just doesn't need me the same way K does. But how do I live with the fact that I still need him to need me?
Yesterday, I spent my one, lovely day off curled up in bed with a nasty stomach bug. Cramps, nausea, and a case of the runs you read about in scientific journals, caused me to drift in and out of consciousnesss, and miss out on the house cleaning, craft making and general relaxing that I look forward to all week. Such is life.
This morning, I dragged myself out of bed after hitting snooze for the third time, and willed myself not to vomit as I lurched to the bathroom. And at the bathroom door...... a big pile of barf. I jerked my foot back from nearly landing in it, and fought with my gag reflex while shouting for GH to come out and help me. At first, I thought it was cat vomit. But after a moment, I realized it had to belong to one of the children.
As I grabbed paper towels and began mopping the floor, I realized the toilet was full of vomit too. How on earth could one of the kids puked so much and called for me or GH? I was worried. Should we go in and check on the kids?
Just as my paranoia began to kick into overdrive, G's door creaked open slowly, and his little head poked out.
Me: G, honey, did you get sick last night?
G: Yeah
Me: Why didn't you wake me up? I would have helped you.
G: I don't know. I just went back to bed.
Me: Are you o.k.? Do you still feel sick?
G: I'm fine. *pulls head back into his room*
And that's just it. Even at 7, G doesn't need me like other little kids need their mom. He doesn't sob and cling when he has a tummy ache. He doesn't call out for me in the middle of the night when he's been sick all over the floor. If it had been K, her pained shrieks would have alerted the entire house to her illness, and I would have spent the rest of the night stroking her head and singing her lullabyes. But not my boy. Not my G.
I have to admit, it hurts a bit, to feel so unneeded. To know that he was so sick and never once called out to me. To know that he didn't think to need me. And I hurt for him, to be be so sick and alone, without me, even if he didn't know he needed me. We only have so long to comfort and protect our little ones, that being shut out from even one vulnerable moment is hard to come to terms with. But that's just who G is. He doesn't seek the emotional comfort that other kids do, and I have to live with the fact that he just doesn't need me the same way K does. But how do I live with the fact that I still need him to need me?
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
In The Air
Yesterday was the big interview. I was so nerved up that I spent my morning researching teaching philosophies, and trying to prep answers for questions I didn't know.
When I went to iron my good button down "grown-up lady" short, my iron left behind a rusty stain. I sprayed with Shout, scrubbed with water, and swore like a sailor, but it was beyond a quick fix. Frantically, I tore through my closet, looking for anything semi-professional that still fit me. I put on a black shirt dress, which looked nice, but depressing- the last time I wore it was to my grandmother's funeral. I tore through the rest of my limited wardrobe, bemoaning the fact that I worked in a casual office where jeans and long-sleeved shirts were the norm.
Finally I settled on black slacks (a bit snug, but workable) and my fancy red sweater with the drapey cowl neck. Donning my newly made sea glass necklace and favorite pair of earrings, I applied a heavy layer of makeup to hide the stress blemishes, and prayed I wouldn't vomit on anybody.
I arrived early, due to my anxiety over getting lost, and waited on a bench next to another woman. After a brief chat, I discovered she was trying to go back to school after 10 years, and she was I-want-to-vomit nervous as well. She helped ease my fears about being the only mom trying to go back to school after years of being out of the formal education system. Unfortunately, she was dressed a lot nicer than me, and her skin was picture perfect. It made me kinda wanna push her down a flight of stairs, but instead I smiled and wished her luck.
Once I was in the interview room, seated across the table from the two uber-professional female professors, I think my IQ dropped by about 70 points. I think I answered the questions appropriately, but I could hear myself ramble and laugh nervously. It took a mighty effort to make eye contact as my eyes rolled heavenward, hoping some entity had placed brilliant, witty answers on the ceiling. I prayed I was making sense as the words rolled out of my mouth.
As the interview came to a close, I asked when I could expect to be notified if I'd been accepted or not. They weren't sure exactly when, and explained it was a fairly long process, and there was a whole second round of applications to consider. However, at the end, they made a remark that I should expect to be very busy at the beginning of August. The program begins in August. Was this a veiled hint that I could expect to be accepted? My brain was so addled that I tried not to make much of it.
On my way out, I asked the secretary if she could give me a clearer idea of when acceptance letters would go out. She said around the end of March. Plenty of time to worry, to try to recall my jumbled responses and kick myself in the shins repeatedly.
When I went to iron my good button down "grown-up lady" short, my iron left behind a rusty stain. I sprayed with Shout, scrubbed with water, and swore like a sailor, but it was beyond a quick fix. Frantically, I tore through my closet, looking for anything semi-professional that still fit me. I put on a black shirt dress, which looked nice, but depressing- the last time I wore it was to my grandmother's funeral. I tore through the rest of my limited wardrobe, bemoaning the fact that I worked in a casual office where jeans and long-sleeved shirts were the norm.
Finally I settled on black slacks (a bit snug, but workable) and my fancy red sweater with the drapey cowl neck. Donning my newly made sea glass necklace and favorite pair of earrings, I applied a heavy layer of makeup to hide the stress blemishes, and prayed I wouldn't vomit on anybody.
I arrived early, due to my anxiety over getting lost, and waited on a bench next to another woman. After a brief chat, I discovered she was trying to go back to school after 10 years, and she was I-want-to-vomit nervous as well. She helped ease my fears about being the only mom trying to go back to school after years of being out of the formal education system. Unfortunately, she was dressed a lot nicer than me, and her skin was picture perfect. It made me kinda wanna push her down a flight of stairs, but instead I smiled and wished her luck.
Once I was in the interview room, seated across the table from the two uber-professional female professors, I think my IQ dropped by about 70 points. I think I answered the questions appropriately, but I could hear myself ramble and laugh nervously. It took a mighty effort to make eye contact as my eyes rolled heavenward, hoping some entity had placed brilliant, witty answers on the ceiling. I prayed I was making sense as the words rolled out of my mouth.
As the interview came to a close, I asked when I could expect to be notified if I'd been accepted or not. They weren't sure exactly when, and explained it was a fairly long process, and there was a whole second round of applications to consider. However, at the end, they made a remark that I should expect to be very busy at the beginning of August. The program begins in August. Was this a veiled hint that I could expect to be accepted? My brain was so addled that I tried not to make much of it.
On my way out, I asked the secretary if she could give me a clearer idea of when acceptance letters would go out. She said around the end of March. Plenty of time to worry, to try to recall my jumbled responses and kick myself in the shins repeatedly.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Maybe?
I recieved the news the past week that I was selected to interview for the graduate program I'm applying for. The interview is on Monday, and since recieving the news, I've been a nervous wreck. Not only that, but I've been moody and irritable. This news, that I've passed through the first round and was deemed good enough to interview, has me all tangled up.
On the one hand, I'm ecstatic. I'm one step closer to getting into the program. To being a teacher. To actually achieving my dream. To finally proving to myself, that I'm good enough. I find myself saying things that begin with "When I go back to school..." I've applied for a scholarship. In my brain, I'm already prepping my life for my grand return to college.
Then there's the other hand. The hand that is trembling in terror and uncertainty. I'm am plauged by doubt, and try to set myself up to be prepared for not being accepted into the program after all. I have vivd visions of making an ass out of myself during the interview. I have anxiety attacks while thinking that if I'm accepted, I won't be able to get the financial aid to go back. No one will ever give me a scholarship. My temples throb as I imagine how difficult the coursework will be, that I won't be as smart or as capeable as the other students. It goes on and on. This is the stronger hand, the one that grips me and chokes me, and refuses to let go.
So I will do what I've always done- take a deep breath and try to get from moment to moment, and before I know it, the interview will be over. And then I will wait again. And then I'll get an answer and figure it out from there.
On the one hand, I'm ecstatic. I'm one step closer to getting into the program. To being a teacher. To actually achieving my dream. To finally proving to myself, that I'm good enough. I find myself saying things that begin with "When I go back to school..." I've applied for a scholarship. In my brain, I'm already prepping my life for my grand return to college.
Then there's the other hand. The hand that is trembling in terror and uncertainty. I'm am plauged by doubt, and try to set myself up to be prepared for not being accepted into the program after all. I have vivd visions of making an ass out of myself during the interview. I have anxiety attacks while thinking that if I'm accepted, I won't be able to get the financial aid to go back. No one will ever give me a scholarship. My temples throb as I imagine how difficult the coursework will be, that I won't be as smart or as capeable as the other students. It goes on and on. This is the stronger hand, the one that grips me and chokes me, and refuses to let go.
So I will do what I've always done- take a deep breath and try to get from moment to moment, and before I know it, the interview will be over. And then I will wait again. And then I'll get an answer and figure it out from there.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Children's Poems
This post is a part of Painted Maypole's Monday Mission. This week's mission is to write a children's style poem or story.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A Day In The Life Of K
It's a joy to be a pretty girl,
My golden locks I twist and twirl.
I love to paint my nails bright pink,
And act just like my poo don't stink.
When things aren't going quite my way
I whine and cry and wail all day.
My high pitched shrieks make parents crazy,
And makes their brains all kinds of hazy.
My brother makes me really mental
And with him I'm not always gentle.
I've been known to hit and fight
although I know it isn't right.
When I'm happy, I'm as sweet as can be
Honey and sugar has nothing on me.
My dulcet tones make birdies sing
My smile can cure most anything
To Hannah Montana I like to rock out,
Her music makes me scream and shout.
A rock star I will be someday
And all my mommie's bills I'll pay
A Day In The Life Of G
There are days when things are tough,
Expressing myself is pretty rough.
I ask the same questions again and again,
It's math books that I love to scan.
Star Wars is my greatest love,
From my sis I get a shove.
Food and I are enemies,
I don't even like most cheese.
Quiet and still, my affections are rare
But when I am sweet, I'm beyond compare.
My hugs are few, and kisses less,
But I'll give you love when you're under stress
I love my mom, I love my dad,
Even when they make me mad.
Though I may scream and I may shout
Of my true heart, there is no doubt
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A Day In The Life Of K
It's a joy to be a pretty girl,
My golden locks I twist and twirl.
I love to paint my nails bright pink,
And act just like my poo don't stink.
When things aren't going quite my way
I whine and cry and wail all day.
My high pitched shrieks make parents crazy,
And makes their brains all kinds of hazy.
My brother makes me really mental
And with him I'm not always gentle.
I've been known to hit and fight
although I know it isn't right.
When I'm happy, I'm as sweet as can be
Honey and sugar has nothing on me.
My dulcet tones make birdies sing
My smile can cure most anything
To Hannah Montana I like to rock out,
Her music makes me scream and shout.
A rock star I will be someday
And all my mommie's bills I'll pay
A Day In The Life Of G
There are days when things are tough,
Expressing myself is pretty rough.
I ask the same questions again and again,
It's math books that I love to scan.
Star Wars is my greatest love,
From my sis I get a shove.
Food and I are enemies,
I don't even like most cheese.
Quiet and still, my affections are rare
But when I am sweet, I'm beyond compare.
My hugs are few, and kisses less,
But I'll give you love when you're under stress
I love my mom, I love my dad,
Even when they make me mad.
Though I may scream and I may shout
Of my true heart, there is no doubt
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Brotherly Love
Me: (relating the story of K's birth to my Mother-In-Law)... and then they had to suction out her lungs as soon as she was out. She didn't make a sound for the longest time, and I was so scared.
G: Why were you scared mom? Is it bad for babies to be quiet?
Me: Well G, when babies are born, they usually cry.
G: Why do they cry?
Me: Because being born is pretty scary. It's cold, and it's bright, and babies don't understand what's going on.
G: And K didn't cry?
Me: No
G: (after a thoughtful pause) Wow mom, K must be really brave. (in awe) She's so brave she didn't even cry when she was born.
And now back to our regularly scheduled sibling bickering...
G: Why were you scared mom? Is it bad for babies to be quiet?
Me: Well G, when babies are born, they usually cry.
G: Why do they cry?
Me: Because being born is pretty scary. It's cold, and it's bright, and babies don't understand what's going on.
G: And K didn't cry?
Me: No
G: (after a thoughtful pause) Wow mom, K must be really brave. (in awe) She's so brave she didn't even cry when she was born.
And now back to our regularly scheduled sibling bickering...
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
It's Sticky! It's Fun! It's Pure Evil!
When I came home the other night from work, I thought nothing of it to see K cruising around the house wearing a goofy hat. After all, K often wears a lot of strange things. It's part of being a fabulous princess/pop star with a unique sense of fashion.
After a bit, K resurfaced sans hat. As she turned around, I couldn't help but notice something wasn't quite right with the back of her head. After some squinting and head scratching, I called her over, and turned her around. This is the sight I was greeted by.
I gasped. I spluttered. I tipped my head.
Still there.
Now, I know what you're thinking: That's a whole lot of gum. But, here is where pure visuals lie, for, it wasn't gum, but Silly Putty.
Me: (trying to swallow my hysteria) K, where did you get Silly Putty?
K:I found it under the couch.
Me: (slowly turning 8 shades of purple while plucking at matted, sticky clumps of hair) And how did it get in your hair?
K: I put it there.
Ahh yes, because why on earth wouldn't you place a lump of Silly Putty on your head? Plugging my brain aneurysm with one finger, and plucking ineffectively at Silly Putty covered hair with the other, I shrieked for GH to bring me my computer, while in the same breath berating him for not noticing the Silly Putty covered head of our daughter, who informed me she had stuck it in her hair around lunch time.
After a quick Internet search, GH helpfully related to me that Silly Putty was a silicone based substance, so all we has to do was use something on her hair that broke down silicone. After screaming a few obscenities along the lines of "Who the hell knows what breaks down silicone!?!?" and ranting that I never took chemistry, GH proceeded to scroll down to where helpful mothers shared their own Silly-Putty-in-hair experiences.
After reading through the page, we decided that the hand sanitizer method sounded the most reasonable. Marching K up into the bathroom, I doused her putty covered locks in Purell, wrapped it in plastic wrap, and waited the suggested 20-60 minutes.
After 60 minutes (yeah, I waited the maximum just to be safe), I unwrapped K's hair and rinsed her head in the tub. And, miracle of miracles, the flesh colored goo came out of her hair.
Feeling relieved, I informed K just how lucky she was not to have had half of her hair cut off. I dried her hair, thanking the heavens for the Internet and web savvy moms. However, as the hair dried, I realized there was a problem. The place where the putty was was oddly sticky and greasy.
I doused her head with dish washing liquid. Shampoos, conditioners, even rubbing alcohol (another silicone destroying product- I swear I didn't invent that out of desperation) wouldn't take it away. After several days of washing, it's still oddly sticky and greasy in that one spot. I've made her wear her hair up to hide the remaining yuckiness.
I know it will wear out, eventually. Until then, I will continue to keep Silly Putty on my growing list of hated substances.
After a bit, K resurfaced sans hat. As she turned around, I couldn't help but notice something wasn't quite right with the back of her head. After some squinting and head scratching, I called her over, and turned her around. This is the sight I was greeted by.
I gasped. I spluttered. I tipped my head.
Still there.
Now, I know what you're thinking: That's a whole lot of gum. But, here is where pure visuals lie, for, it wasn't gum, but Silly Putty.
Me: (trying to swallow my hysteria) K, where did you get Silly Putty?
K:I found it under the couch.
Me: (slowly turning 8 shades of purple while plucking at matted, sticky clumps of hair) And how did it get in your hair?
K: I put it there.
Ahh yes, because why on earth wouldn't you place a lump of Silly Putty on your head? Plugging my brain aneurysm with one finger, and plucking ineffectively at Silly Putty covered hair with the other, I shrieked for GH to bring me my computer, while in the same breath berating him for not noticing the Silly Putty covered head of our daughter, who informed me she had stuck it in her hair around lunch time.
After a quick Internet search, GH helpfully related to me that Silly Putty was a silicone based substance, so all we has to do was use something on her hair that broke down silicone. After screaming a few obscenities along the lines of "Who the hell knows what breaks down silicone!?!?" and ranting that I never took chemistry, GH proceeded to scroll down to where helpful mothers shared their own Silly-Putty-in-hair experiences.
After reading through the page, we decided that the hand sanitizer method sounded the most reasonable. Marching K up into the bathroom, I doused her putty covered locks in Purell, wrapped it in plastic wrap, and waited the suggested 20-60 minutes.
After 60 minutes (yeah, I waited the maximum just to be safe), I unwrapped K's hair and rinsed her head in the tub. And, miracle of miracles, the flesh colored goo came out of her hair.
Feeling relieved, I informed K just how lucky she was not to have had half of her hair cut off. I dried her hair, thanking the heavens for the Internet and web savvy moms. However, as the hair dried, I realized there was a problem. The place where the putty was was oddly sticky and greasy.
I doused her head with dish washing liquid. Shampoos, conditioners, even rubbing alcohol (another silicone destroying product- I swear I didn't invent that out of desperation) wouldn't take it away. After several days of washing, it's still oddly sticky and greasy in that one spot. I've made her wear her hair up to hide the remaining yuckiness.
I know it will wear out, eventually. Until then, I will continue to keep Silly Putty on my growing list of hated substances.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
I Want To Be Hannah Montana When I Grow Up
Thanks to watching repetitious hours of the Disney channel due to winter storms and below zero temps, my 5-year-old K is madly in love with Hannah Montana.
(This poster actually lives on K's wall)
But what little girl isn't? I mean, you can't avoid Hannah Montana these days- she is everywhere! Hannah Montana shampoo, Hanna Montana sheets, Hannah Montana snacks. Seriously, if I see Hannah Montana toilet paper, I'm leaving the country.
Hannah Montana is in the the news constantly. Her tickets sell for thousands of dollars, and her concerts have been likened to Beetle mania. And yesterday? One of her songs was on my radio station! It's bad enough that I catch myself humming Hannah Montana tunes while fixing dinner, but now she's officially invaded my grown-up air waves.
When all is said and done though, I guess I find myself wishing I could be Hannah Montana. I mean, the girl has everything! Fame, popularity, more money than she could spend in a lifetime, and the adoration of little girls all over the country. The adoration of my little girl! (I bet if Hannah Montana told K she wasn't allowed to have a candy bar before dinner she wouldn't burst into tears and storm out of the room. But, I digress...)Grown-ups appreciate her too for her wholesome image and inspiring songs about girl power, and so on. Plus? Being 15 again would be great. I mean, that was ages before things stared traveling south. If I was my 15-year-old self again, I would definitely be rocking it on stage. So keep on rocking it Hannah. Before you're old. And fat. It will happen. (Please let me be alive to see it).
So Hannah, though I may lament your cheery beats as they pop around in my brain, my daughter loves you, which means I guess I do a little too. Just please stay off my grown-up air waves- it's one of my few adult sanctuaries. Oh, and please don't get pregnant. I really don't want to have to try to explain that one to my 5-year-old.....
(This poster actually lives on K's wall)
But what little girl isn't? I mean, you can't avoid Hannah Montana these days- she is everywhere! Hannah Montana shampoo, Hanna Montana sheets, Hannah Montana snacks. Seriously, if I see Hannah Montana toilet paper, I'm leaving the country.
Hannah Montana is in the the news constantly. Her tickets sell for thousands of dollars, and her concerts have been likened to Beetle mania. And yesterday? One of her songs was on my radio station! It's bad enough that I catch myself humming Hannah Montana tunes while fixing dinner, but now she's officially invaded my grown-up air waves.
When all is said and done though, I guess I find myself wishing I could be Hannah Montana. I mean, the girl has everything! Fame, popularity, more money than she could spend in a lifetime, and the adoration of little girls all over the country. The adoration of my little girl! (I bet if Hannah Montana told K she wasn't allowed to have a candy bar before dinner she wouldn't burst into tears and storm out of the room. But, I digress...)Grown-ups appreciate her too for her wholesome image and inspiring songs about girl power, and so on. Plus? Being 15 again would be great. I mean, that was ages before things stared traveling south. If I was my 15-year-old self again, I would definitely be rocking it on stage. So keep on rocking it Hannah. Before you're old. And fat. It will happen. (Please let me be alive to see it).
So Hannah, though I may lament your cheery beats as they pop around in my brain, my daughter loves you, which means I guess I do a little too. Just please stay off my grown-up air waves- it's one of my few adult sanctuaries. Oh, and please don't get pregnant. I really don't want to have to try to explain that one to my 5-year-old.....
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
I Did It!!
Yesterday I took my Praxis exam. I was so nervous I was shaking and nodding like a complete idiot when I got to the testing site, and I think the test administer thought I was a bit off.
After 4.5 (see my stellar new mathematical skills?) of staring at a computer screen and fighting anxiety induced stomach cramps, I hit the button to finish, and waited as two out of my three scores were computed instantly. I needed a 175 on each part in order to be accepted into the program I'm applying for.
The Results:
Reading- 185
Math-180
Yeah me!!!! After several years of not taking any kind of test, or performing any math functions outside of basic adding and subtracting, I still passed.
Last night I packaged up all of my application materials, and this morning sent them out first thing. Now I wait. For up to two months. Wait, and imagine all of the applications, better than mine, piling up in the college admissions office. Waiting, and hoping a call will come. Waiting...
At least I can feel good knowing that I tried. Now at least I'll know if I was good enough to get into the program. I'll be keeping my fingers crossed, praying that I am.
After 4.5 (see my stellar new mathematical skills?) of staring at a computer screen and fighting anxiety induced stomach cramps, I hit the button to finish, and waited as two out of my three scores were computed instantly. I needed a 175 on each part in order to be accepted into the program I'm applying for.
The Results:
Reading- 185
Math-180
Yeah me!!!! After several years of not taking any kind of test, or performing any math functions outside of basic adding and subtracting, I still passed.
Last night I packaged up all of my application materials, and this morning sent them out first thing. Now I wait. For up to two months. Wait, and imagine all of the applications, better than mine, piling up in the college admissions office. Waiting, and hoping a call will come. Waiting...
At least I can feel good knowing that I tried. Now at least I'll know if I was good enough to get into the program. I'll be keeping my fingers crossed, praying that I am.
Friday, January 04, 2008
I Love My Children But.....
I love both of my children. Dearly. But sometimes, sometimes, I'd really like send them both off to military school. Just for a little while. Just long enough for them to absorb enough discipline to keep them from terrorizing each other. For the concept of honor to sink in just far enough to keep them from ratting each other out for every imagined indiscretion. To be self-sufficient enough that they can get their own glass of water while I'm on the toilet.
In an effort to make up for lost quality time with the kids, I took vacation time from work while they were out of school for Christmas break. I imagined cuddle time, story time, loads of backing, and fun craft projects. What I got instead were two stir crazy children. Even though we took them to the movies, traveled to the world's best sledding hill, and had parades of seldom seen, exotic family members tramping through the house, it just wasn't enough. We build gingerbread houses, baked sugar cookies, and cut out snowflakes. Still, nothing compared to the sheer joy of constant whining, and sibling bickering.
Yesterday was the kid's first day back at school, and my first day back at work. I was ashamed at the relief I felt at the calm, steady murmur of adult voices. GH reclaimed the house with glee, and I suspect he snuck in a nap and some computer gaming time (ass). With the welcome break from each other, I thought the evening would be a breeze. Sometimes I can be a real dumb-ass. Instead of happy children, pleasantly tired from a fun day of friends and stimulating learning, I arrived home to a temper tantrum from G, and two over-tired, hungry, crabby insane little midgets. And GH? I expected a relaxed, calm, house husband with dinner on the table. Instead, I was greeted with a hubby frazzled by the assault of the children,battling raging temper tantrums, and fighting over after-school snacks. Dinner was a over an hour late, lending its self to the general crankiness.
Hopefully today will be a bit more on track. In the meantime, I fantasize about military school. Perhaps they would let me send GH as well.....
In an effort to make up for lost quality time with the kids, I took vacation time from work while they were out of school for Christmas break. I imagined cuddle time, story time, loads of backing, and fun craft projects. What I got instead were two stir crazy children. Even though we took them to the movies, traveled to the world's best sledding hill, and had parades of seldom seen, exotic family members tramping through the house, it just wasn't enough. We build gingerbread houses, baked sugar cookies, and cut out snowflakes. Still, nothing compared to the sheer joy of constant whining, and sibling bickering.
Yesterday was the kid's first day back at school, and my first day back at work. I was ashamed at the relief I felt at the calm, steady murmur of adult voices. GH reclaimed the house with glee, and I suspect he snuck in a nap and some computer gaming time (ass). With the welcome break from each other, I thought the evening would be a breeze. Sometimes I can be a real dumb-ass. Instead of happy children, pleasantly tired from a fun day of friends and stimulating learning, I arrived home to a temper tantrum from G, and two over-tired, hungry, crabby insane little midgets. And GH? I expected a relaxed, calm, house husband with dinner on the table. Instead, I was greeted with a hubby frazzled by the assault of the children,battling raging temper tantrums, and fighting over after-school snacks. Dinner was a over an hour late, lending its self to the general crankiness.
Hopefully today will be a bit more on track. In the meantime, I fantasize about military school. Perhaps they would let me send GH as well.....
Monday, December 31, 2007
New Year's Resolutions
Painted Maypole's Monday Mission this week is to make a list of New Year's Resolutions. Since she kept hers on a serious note, I will too, since it's something I've actually been giving a lot of thought to lately.
1.) Get accepted into the teacher certification graduate program. This is by far the most important resolution of all. This is my shot at having the career I've always wanted. This is my shot at being truly happy at what I'm doing. I'm working hard to get in, and I'm praying they'll accept me. I will succeed at this.
2.)Find a new job. The job I have now makes me miserable. It forces me to work Saturdays. Right now, I have to cling to it to pay the bills while GH still remains unemployed. This past week, I've been sending out my resume to every decent job I can find. I'm working on it as hard as I can, and I know something will pan out soon.
3.) Loose at least 20 pounds. My waistline keeps expanding, and it's high time it start moving in the other direction. Though this is a resolution I've made before, this year I intend to make it stick.
4.) Improve my jewelry making skills, and other art skills. I've really been working on improving myself as an artist, and this year I'd like to improve even further.
5.) Do more craft shows. Last year I began bringing my jewelry to craft shows. It really helped improve my confidence, and I met a lot of other great artists. This year I want to do more shows, and bring a wider range of art. I hope to do a lot better this year.
6.) Get something published professionally. So far the highlight of my writing career has been a few freelance articles in the local paper. This year, I'd like to see some of my writing in a real publication that people read. And, I'd like it to be something more creative than the local high school's academic decathlon (no joke, that was one of the articles I wrote.
7.) Start saving money. All right, this is something I've always been terrible at. Setting money aside is tough, especially when things are tight. This year, I will put money aside if it kills me. This year is the car breaks down, or I need emergency dental work, I resolve to have money set aside so it will not bankrupt us.
8.) Keep in better touch with my family. Losing my grandmother really drove home how important it is to keep in touch with family, no matter how busy I get. This year, I will send out cards, send out emails, and make sure to attend more family get togethers.
9.) Be a better mother. Spend more time with the kids. Be more patient. Do more fun activities. Be more patient. Show more affection. Be less stressed out. Did I mention be more patient?
We'll see how well this list holds up throughout the year. At least it's here for me to check in on down the road when I start to loose sight of what's important.....
1.) Get accepted into the teacher certification graduate program. This is by far the most important resolution of all. This is my shot at having the career I've always wanted. This is my shot at being truly happy at what I'm doing. I'm working hard to get in, and I'm praying they'll accept me. I will succeed at this.
2.)Find a new job. The job I have now makes me miserable. It forces me to work Saturdays. Right now, I have to cling to it to pay the bills while GH still remains unemployed. This past week, I've been sending out my resume to every decent job I can find. I'm working on it as hard as I can, and I know something will pan out soon.
3.) Loose at least 20 pounds. My waistline keeps expanding, and it's high time it start moving in the other direction. Though this is a resolution I've made before, this year I intend to make it stick.
4.) Improve my jewelry making skills, and other art skills. I've really been working on improving myself as an artist, and this year I'd like to improve even further.
5.) Do more craft shows. Last year I began bringing my jewelry to craft shows. It really helped improve my confidence, and I met a lot of other great artists. This year I want to do more shows, and bring a wider range of art. I hope to do a lot better this year.
6.) Get something published professionally. So far the highlight of my writing career has been a few freelance articles in the local paper. This year, I'd like to see some of my writing in a real publication that people read. And, I'd like it to be something more creative than the local high school's academic decathlon (no joke, that was one of the articles I wrote.
7.) Start saving money. All right, this is something I've always been terrible at. Setting money aside is tough, especially when things are tight. This year, I will put money aside if it kills me. This year is the car breaks down, or I need emergency dental work, I resolve to have money set aside so it will not bankrupt us.
8.) Keep in better touch with my family. Losing my grandmother really drove home how important it is to keep in touch with family, no matter how busy I get. This year, I will send out cards, send out emails, and make sure to attend more family get togethers.
9.) Be a better mother. Spend more time with the kids. Be more patient. Do more fun activities. Be more patient. Show more affection. Be less stressed out. Did I mention be more patient?
We'll see how well this list holds up throughout the year. At least it's here for me to check in on down the road when I start to loose sight of what's important.....
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Praxis Prep a.k.a I Still Suck at Math
Today I managed to find a wee bit of downtime to do some studying for my big Praxis exam, which I have to take for my application to the teaching certification program.
Though my former English professor assured me I would pass it no problem, I figured it never hurts to study and stress out about it until I have a bleeding ulcer.
So far, my studying has proved:
1.) I am still good at all all things English.
2.) I still blow at all things mathmatic.
3.) Math has not gotten any easier as I've gotten older. Despite the promises of many a math teacher, I do not use algebraic equations in everyday life. Ergo, I have forgotten how to do most algebraic equations.
4.) Numbers still make my brain hurt.
In conclusion, math is 1/3 of my test score. Looks like I'll be cozying up to fractions, decimals, and right angle triangles. Wish me luck with my super fun brain hemorage.
Though my former English professor assured me I would pass it no problem, I figured it never hurts to study and stress out about it until I have a bleeding ulcer.
So far, my studying has proved:
1.) I am still good at all all things English.
2.) I still blow at all things mathmatic.
3.) Math has not gotten any easier as I've gotten older. Despite the promises of many a math teacher, I do not use algebraic equations in everyday life. Ergo, I have forgotten how to do most algebraic equations.
4.) Numbers still make my brain hurt.
In conclusion, math is 1/3 of my test score. Looks like I'll be cozying up to fractions, decimals, and right angle triangles. Wish me luck with my super fun brain hemorage.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Is It Over Yet?
Christmas is finally over, which means time to come out of hiding. Big sighs of relief fill the air, and the children finally began to stop shaking from the combination of sugar, exciting gifts, and visiting family. I am finally begining to be able to see my floor again.
I'm quite proud that I managed to get through the season, and even accomplish some of my list of wild ambitions. I actually sent out the Christmas cards. I made gingerbread houses with the kids. I finished almost all of the necklaces I wanted to give as gifts. Yeah me!
Now begins the time of empty bank accounts, deep thoughts as I ponder New Year's resolutions, and serious stress as I get everything together to apply to go back to school. On the plus side, I will have more time to blog, more time to create, and more time to focus on the ones I love, now that things are settliung back to normal. I even have fabulous photos to post..... eventually.
I'm quite proud that I managed to get through the season, and even accomplish some of my list of wild ambitions. I actually sent out the Christmas cards. I made gingerbread houses with the kids. I finished almost all of the necklaces I wanted to give as gifts. Yeah me!
Now begins the time of empty bank accounts, deep thoughts as I ponder New Year's resolutions, and serious stress as I get everything together to apply to go back to school. On the plus side, I will have more time to blog, more time to create, and more time to focus on the ones I love, now that things are settliung back to normal. I even have fabulous photos to post..... eventually.
Monday, December 17, 2007
The Holiday List of What Could Have Been
Full of the holiday spirit (i.e. frustration and guilt) I've decided to jump in on Painted Maypole's Monday Mission this week and create my own holiday inspired list.
My list is The List of Holiday Good Intentions, aka The List of Things I Really Meant to Do This Year for Christmas, But Will Not Complete:
1. The adorable little hand puppets I intended to make for my nieces and nephews. The materials sit in a bag, the googly eyes staring up at me accusingly, the super soft fake fur begging to stroked and loved.
2. The Christmas cards. Every year I vow to send these out. This year, I bought the cards and filled them out. They are now sitting in the box, waiting for cute pictures of the kids, stamps, and addresses. Maybe I'll get to it tomorrow.
3. A gingerbread house. I downloaded some spectacular gingerbread house plans from Bob Villa himself. Visions of adorable, edible villages dance in my head. Instead, I made some gingerbread men. Even those didn't manage to get icing.
4. Handmaking all my gifts. Please see previous post for all the lame details.
5. Listing new items on my Etsy site. I really wanted to take advantage of the holiday buying season to sell some lovely new items to potential buyers. But no, even the promise of extra Christmas money couldn't inspire me to find the extra 10 minutes to get this done.
So there you have it, the top 5 reasons why I suck at Christmas this year. I think my family should be pretty grateful we have a tree up at this point. So please, feel free to bask in the complete and utter failure of all my best holiday intentions.
My list is The List of Holiday Good Intentions, aka The List of Things I Really Meant to Do This Year for Christmas, But Will Not Complete:
1. The adorable little hand puppets I intended to make for my nieces and nephews. The materials sit in a bag, the googly eyes staring up at me accusingly, the super soft fake fur begging to stroked and loved.
2. The Christmas cards. Every year I vow to send these out. This year, I bought the cards and filled them out. They are now sitting in the box, waiting for cute pictures of the kids, stamps, and addresses. Maybe I'll get to it tomorrow.
3. A gingerbread house. I downloaded some spectacular gingerbread house plans from Bob Villa himself. Visions of adorable, edible villages dance in my head. Instead, I made some gingerbread men. Even those didn't manage to get icing.
4. Handmaking all my gifts. Please see previous post for all the lame details.
5. Listing new items on my Etsy site. I really wanted to take advantage of the holiday buying season to sell some lovely new items to potential buyers. But no, even the promise of extra Christmas money couldn't inspire me to find the extra 10 minutes to get this done.
So there you have it, the top 5 reasons why I suck at Christmas this year. I think my family should be pretty grateful we have a tree up at this point. So please, feel free to bask in the complete and utter failure of all my best holiday intentions.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
A Half-Assed Handmade Christmas
In my "spare time", I make jewelry, and various other crafts, and attempt to sell them on a site called Etsy. This site offers a great, super-supportive marketplace, and community for independent artists and crafters.
Well, this year, in the spirit of avoiding toy recalls, and support all things handmade, the lovely crafters at Etsy started a campaign to get people to give only handmade gifts this year, either made by yourself or a fellow crafter.
Even though I didn't stick the icon on my blog (because I'm lazy and HTML, even copied and pasted, still freaks me out, I took the pledge to keep my Christmas handmade.
For the women in my life, the easy answer was jewelry. They would all receive a piece of jewelry. The men would receive scarves, the only thing I'm capable of knitting. For all of the kids, I decided to make fun, timeless, hand puppets. Oh, and for certain families, quilts. No biggie.
With the best of intentions, I went out and bought all of the supplies. Yards of fabric for the quilts. Fake fur, googly eyes, and felt for puppets. Glass, chain, and beads for jewelry. Piles of yarn for knitting.
Then my grandmother passed and I spent an unplanned for week in Vermont. And then I decided to go back to school and needed study time for the PRAXIS exam. And then my bum tooth got infected and incapacitated me with days worth of pain, followed by days worth of antibiotics and Vicodin. And so on. All of these things and more stealing away precious days of gift making time.
In short, here is the handmade gift total as of now, 10 days before Christmas:
1 scarf in a light lime green no man will wear
7 half completed necklaces
I blow. Does it still count if I hand make the cards?
I will keep an ongoing total of what I manage to complete from my overblown ambitions. Feel free to laugh and point, and taunt me freely.
Well, this year, in the spirit of avoiding toy recalls, and support all things handmade, the lovely crafters at Etsy started a campaign to get people to give only handmade gifts this year, either made by yourself or a fellow crafter.
Even though I didn't stick the icon on my blog (because I'm lazy and HTML, even copied and pasted, still freaks me out, I took the pledge to keep my Christmas handmade.
For the women in my life, the easy answer was jewelry. They would all receive a piece of jewelry. The men would receive scarves, the only thing I'm capable of knitting. For all of the kids, I decided to make fun, timeless, hand puppets. Oh, and for certain families, quilts. No biggie.
With the best of intentions, I went out and bought all of the supplies. Yards of fabric for the quilts. Fake fur, googly eyes, and felt for puppets. Glass, chain, and beads for jewelry. Piles of yarn for knitting.
Then my grandmother passed and I spent an unplanned for week in Vermont. And then I decided to go back to school and needed study time for the PRAXIS exam. And then my bum tooth got infected and incapacitated me with days worth of pain, followed by days worth of antibiotics and Vicodin. And so on. All of these things and more stealing away precious days of gift making time.
In short, here is the handmade gift total as of now, 10 days before Christmas:
1 scarf in a light lime green no man will wear
7 half completed necklaces
I blow. Does it still count if I hand make the cards?
I will keep an ongoing total of what I manage to complete from my overblown ambitions. Feel free to laugh and point, and taunt me freely.
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