That White Dot....Is Still $hit.

I used to be head over heels in love with another man. Now, now, this was pre-Jamie, so don't get your feathers all riled up by this admission.  Besides the dude was wayyyyy too old for me.  And famous.  And, well, married, so yeah, things just weren't going to work out but a girl could still dream.  As a matter of fact I'm pretty sure the number of women in love with this particular dude is well over a million but that's okay too, because I found my one and only.  You want to know who right?  Well, he sings, and was in one movie that I can recall, Pure Country.  You'll have to look it up if you want to know.

Anyhoo, in the movie there's a mix up and he appears to the main characters that he's a big old piece of crap...and one of the characters says the thing about that white bit on top of chicken poo....it's still poo.  A good bit of moral wisdom there right?? :)

One of my most glaring personality flaws is my optimism.  I know it seems like a good quality at first, but it's kind of like the Midas touch...it gets old really fast. A healthy amount of glass half full optimism is good, lovely and helpful.  A chronic inability to recognize the half empty part can have you all sorts of frustrated your entire life.  Believe me, I know.

When things happen to me or around me, I always use the opportunity to examine.  Why did this happen?  Why do people do the things they do?  Why do *I* always end up disappointed, frustrated and angry?  Well number one, I appear to be a poor judge of character and at the root of it is pride. (Just follow me here a minute)  I tend to give people more credit than they have due because they may have some kind of similarity to me (and I've written about this before) so my pride tells me because they are LIKE ME in some random area, they must be good. (Wrong)  Who am I to say my particular set of qualities equals GOOD in the first place?  What I value the most may be what someone else values the least and in that, I might be the type of person THEY wonder about, get frustrated with and angry at (I'm sitting here thinking you should never end a sentence with a preposition....and there I go, ending a sentence with one....and also, my son is absolutely adorable, just had to say that!)

I suppose it's all about perspective AND it's all about knowing when to stop expecting someone to change.  I value change.  HIGHLY.  I love rearranging my furniture, painting something a new color, trying a new food....becoming a better person.  I value change very much.  Freshness.  Newness.

Time, for me, always gives the illusion of change.  If enough time has passed, I think I can return to something or someone that let me down in the past and everything will be different.  After all, in that time, I've learned, grown....changed...and I always expect the other element has as well.  Time has a funny way of washing just enough dirt off of something to make it appear attractive again, but it's just trickery.  If you set that object back in the dirt, it WILL get dirty again.  And you WILL be disillusioned again....and it sucks.

Until you realize you are the dirt.  YOU are the element that makes that object unattractive again.  It's not the dirt's fault.  Dirt is good in its own right, but it just doesn't mix well with certain other things and once you realize that...once you realize you are either the dirt or the thing that gets dirty, you have a decision to make. Commit to washing periodically or stay out of the dirt.  It really is that easy.

And somethings are worth washing over and over again.  Some are not.  The key is to be aware that you always have to make that choice.  For yourself.  Eventually a pattern will etch itself into your brain and you'll get better at making that determination a little quicker.  At least I have.

It sounds so cliche, but life is too short to include people who constantly drain you, suck the life out of you, bring you down....if you spend anytime ranting about how absolutely maddening a person is, it really is better to just completely cut it out.  Remove.  Cauterize.

Today, after a reminder of this...(I'll keep that reminder to myself thankyouverymuch) this kept returning to my brainspace...

As a dog returneth to his vomit, so a fool returneth to his folly (Prov 26:11)

So the lesson is....the white part of chicken poo, although it appears different than the rest...is still poo....and only a fool returns back to the putrid castoffs his body wisely rejected....and if someone is any of these things...(so that we cover all nasty bodily functions here) you can tell that snotty, stinky loser to....piss off ;)

Or a more polite version.

Nailed It!

Here's an embarrassing confession.  As old as it is, if I see the movie "You've Got Mail" on...I won't flip past it.  I know what happens.  I know every darn word in the whole movie, yet I'm like "Oooo...when will she find out it's HIM...ohhh..."  Dumb.  My favorite part is when she goes off about that line "It's not personal..it's business..." 

I just jumped into a business and I can say "It's not business...it's PERSONAL..."

I've said this many times over (trying to explain myself...to myself...) "I'm not a buyer..or seller..." because I'm really not.  I like pretty things, I really do, but I usually don't feel like buying something unnecessary is responsible behavior.  I have food to buy and clothes to buy and toilet paper, 2x4s and kitchen appliances.  I just don't BUY stuff.  I'm a hard, hard sell.  If something looks like a fad, I'm backing away, quickly...

But these...they got me and I have tried to wrack my brain as to why.  I've never been excited about a product like this.  I am just not *that girl..*

So I started thinking about my hands and why I've always been funny about them.  And this really vague memory came floating into my consciousness.  My older brother, who I don't know very well at all....him saying to me that you could tell a lot about a woman looking at her hands...her nails specifically.  It was just something he said as I was going to get a manicure for his wedding.  I was at his house for his wedding in New York.  Such a sweet memory from my childhood.  I got to fly up there, stay at his house and be treated like a kid for a week.  A kid that people liked.  It was one of my first exposures to class.  To a classy woman.  Not a snobby woman, but a CLASSY woman.  The woman he was marrying (still married to!!) was amazing.  She dressed nice, looked nice, talked nice and smelled nice and just seemed a step above the people I was used to interacting with.  

Isn't it funny how such a small blip can make such a big impact?  I remember after that paying really good attention to my nails, and thinking back to how I FELT, it was like I was getting approval from someone I really admired each time I took that time to pretty my hands up.  I was in 7th grade and from that age on, I always paid very close attention to my hands.  I knew I smelled like cigarettes and I didn't have the greatest skin in the world and I was not skinny, but I could do pretty hands.  

Once I was old enough to drive, I was at the salon every two weeks getting my nails maintained.  I usually went for french tips, but every now and then I'd get a funky design, most often for an event that required a fancy dress.  I stopped doing my nails when I got married and no longer had a job, but I would polish them every now and again.

Once I became a mom, that halted.  Like completely.  I might put some clear polish on every now and then..but I just didn't care.  I had a few phases where I'd lost a lot of weight, then I would be interested in my nails again, but they just weren't that high on my priority list.

Now I have a teenager who is nail obsessed.  Her collection of polish rivals a salon.  So I have grabbed some polish every now and then, played around a little, but have been so frustrated with how quickly they look like crap.  I just do not have time for that kind of maintenence.  It just doesn't exist.

So now I am wrapping my nails.  I am still in a bit of disbelief that this is actually a thing. Like...this is for real.  I can do my nails quickly and they look amazing for a long time.  For cheap.  So I am a little obnoxious right now with it.  This is such a huge blessing to me.  It's uplifting.  I might be postpartum chubby with raggedy hair up in a bun...I might have to do a rush make-up job that skips half the steps...but my hands look nice.  Pretty even.  I might even venture to say stylish.

So I have to say this company completely nailed it.  They just did.  This is for every woman, not just the skinny ones, the rich ones, the cool ones.  Pffft on all that.  Beauty is for everyone!!

I got my kit, got my website and business cards and catalogs and samples. I'm in it.  LOL!! I am really IN it.  So sorry for those who see me in real life.  You'll have to put up with my flashing my pretty nails and raving how they are TWO WEEKS OLD and all the things I did while wearing them.  I'm stoked.  Completely!

What They Don't Know...

This morning I hurried around my kitchen, trying to beat the clock that is a hungry baby.  I was making Trim, Healthy Mama muffins which I usually pop into the microwave, single serve, but I wanted to make a dozen and yeah, it took twelve times as long.  As I was washing out a bowl, a feeling overtook me... a thought that I wish I could make these for my mom.

My mom??  What?  We haven't talked in about a year, but these moments just creep up on me, out of the blue and I'm sad all over again.

I could just call her up, right?  Say "Hey let's just forget everything and be buddies and not talk about all the things we never talk about...."  Right?

That's when I really start to mourn because the fact is what I want from that relationship....what I ALWAYS wanted from that relationship....has never existed.  Never in the space of all my years.  There hasn't been one second where that mother daughter thing happened.  I've learned to live with that, a little at a time.  I wouldn't say I've accepted it or healed from it or whatever a mental health professional would deem it, but I've learned to live with it.  Like a limp.

My mother was not good to me.  Ever.  Maybe it's because her mother wasn't good to her.  I really don't know.  But I've had to be able to say this out loud because if I couldn't acknowledge how horrible it really was, then I'd be at risk for repeating that cycle with my own children.  If I said "Oh it wasn't/isn't that bad..." that starts me down a path I cannot go...that which justifies everything I went through as "okay" and I can say that it would never be okay for my children to receive that treatment from me......

Cycle broken?  Maybe.  But oh does it get sticky.  You see, you hear all the time about hurting people hurting people....and you think "I have broken that cycle by doing the opposite....we are safe..." but you aren't safe.  This is why abuse perpetuates and continues because going left instead of right doesn't mean you are going straight.

This is a conversation my BFF and I have frequently.  Our aggravation over our own children.  Because our own children don't "get it..." They don't understand the work we are doing to not yell, scream, nag and belittle because in all honesty, it would be so easy to do.  When we are annoyed at our children, we could absolutely repeat what we lived through...to get that small break, that small relief that comes with wounding a child's spirit just enough to get them to comply with our wishes instead of taking the long way around and compelling them to appropriate behavior by example and with love.  It's so much easier to belittle a person who wants your approval into doing what you want rather than staying still and quiet and explaining for the fifteenth time that the tone of voice they are using isn't loving or appropriate.  But that's what we do.  And we feel better for it, as we should, but there's also...

Bitterness.  Oh how easily it creeps up.  That feeling that our children should be SO GRATEFUL to us for the life they have, which is the polar opposite of the life we had...and how dare they not appreciate that.

But when you think about it the only way they could understand the contrast is to have lived through both and the entire point of "breaking the cycle" is to not let them live through that.  I catch myself saying "If...I..had..." as if they should be *thankful* that *I* didn't slap them across the face for that snotty remark.  AS IF that were EVER an acceptable action.  AS IF....they should know how LUCKY they are.

Oh my.  My horrible, awful, sinful self.....my healing, acknowledging, doing better with knowing better....self....still stumbles.  And I stumble because it's painful on a daily basis to have to make a CHOICE that has my mind constantly revisiting the alternative.  There's no other way.  Your child responds to a request harshly and in that moment you have to choose....Do I react the way I want...or the way I promised myself I would react?  In that moment I am my mom and that child is me and I must go back and be that nurturing person I needed....but without the comfort.  Yes, it's healing, but not comforting because there is a minute amount of envy that the child standing in front of me is getting what I so badly needed and takes it for granted.

But no one talks about THAT.  No one tells you that when you are healing from abuse while parenting....actively choosing to be kind to someone who is being harsh feels like abuse all over again and you spend most of your mental energy in those interactions sifting through the actual words, tone of voice, intention (if you can even determine that....) and asking yourself...is this person attacking me or simply being human?  And yes, even the two year old goes under that microscope.

Breaking a cycle is more than putting your hands in your pockets and choosing not to hit.  It's more than counting to ten and taking a deep breath and walking away when your mind and mouth want to spew all your frustration and fear out in a tantrum of epic proportions.  It's more than avoiding what was done to you...It's realizing that the people who will benefit from the cycle being broken....

Will never know.....because what they don't know can and would hurt them.  As it did you.  That they don't know is a GOOD thing.  It really is, but that's hard to swallow.

You want those gold stars.  But if you really think about it...you don't.  "Thanks Mom for not beating me until I had welts when I was nasty to you the other day.  That was really awesome of you..."  My children don't even know that kind of treatment is a possibility....and that's the success.

Righteousness for the sake of righteous really is the only reward we can shoot for.  Anything else...demanding an acknowledgement for how great we are for not being our parents is allowing that abuse to permeate our parenting, in a different way.  Same nuts, different flavor.

It's an everyday battle. An everyday mourning of what should be. What could be, but never was. And a daily choice to be brave enough to be the kind of parent you never had, reaching beyond the bitterness and sadness to give something that was never given to you. Perhaps it's from this emptiness we are meant to draw from. Perhaps when we completely empty ourselves of those expectations and experiences we are also emptying ourselves of the poison that was portioned to us so that we don't pass it on, even unknowingly.

I really don't know the whys or hows or whats...I just know that it's worth the work and the pain for my children to be devoid of the knowledge. What they don't know.....is what I hope they never do.

My Immobile Life

Word on the street is....when you have a lot of babies...you will most certainly face dire consequences as your body wears out from all the abuse you are heaping on it.  Because everyone knows...a uterus is like a disposable razor.  Only meant for a couple uses ;)  After that, it's worn out...shot...done for.  Right?

Or so I'm told. And this pregnancy just might have convinced me of this if I didn't know better because those last few weeks....

SUCKED!!!! Hard!!!

I've had a few questions I'll address here for my five readers, just to clear the air.

First, am I ok?  Yep.  Perfectly perfect.  The pelvic issues I had suck and dear lord, it hurts, but it does not cause me any long term harm.  I was immobile, pretty much, the last two weeks.  Before that, I still got around, just painfully.  And the truth is...I did *everything* wrong.  I should have known better.  As soon as I started showing, hell, before that, I should have limited my activity to a reasonable level.  That doesn't mean sitting on my duff doing NOTHING, but I really shouldn't have been tearing out walls, shoveling chicken poo, moving hog pens or getting attacked by aggressive goats.  There were so many things I could have done to prevent the pain I ended up in, but I was stubborn.  I felt fine, so I WAS fine in my mind and I shot myself in the...well...you know ;)  If there is a next time, I have been sufficiently scolded in a way my brain finally understands and I won't be doing stupid stuff when growing any future babies.  Lesson learned.

Also, this issue isn't about how many babies you've had.  Women get this with their first, second...and so on.  It's just a thing.  I am really excited that there's even a book (several actually) about this "thing" and in the UK it's such a "thing" that they have charities and websites around it's awareness. Bottom line, I'm not dying, there is much I can do to alleviate any future misery and I'm good.

Now, did any of that have anything to do with my NICU stay?  Uhm, no.  Not at all.  Corban had some issues with his lungs.  I don't know why.  I intend to research until my eyes bleed to get some answers, but my heart is really trying to brace itself for what I'll find.  I think I already know.  Interventions.  He needed to come when he was supposed to come, not evicted BUT supposedly he and I both had high blood counts upon his birth, so maybe he needed to come so he wouldn't get sicker.  I have no idea.  Those are answers I don't have yet, but there was a 19 year old year in the NICU with her first with the same round of issues.  Exact same.  One of those "shiz happens" moments that you just try to get through as best you can and let me tell you I handled it with way more grace than I would have when I was younger.  I was a basketcase over EVERYTHING and with this, I told myself (and I actually listened) "Take it one day at a time...one day...one hour...everything will be okay."

Nothing went as planned, but I am reminded as I follow a friend's blog....building a family is never some quick, easy, always joyous thing.  She's in China right now, adopting their baby boy and they are delayed because he had a mysterious rash that needed cleared up.  They knew they'd be there for two weeks, but that was extended until it was all sorted out.

Two weeks in a different country, with a different language, away from some of your children to bring home a new family member.  I had twoish weeks of sitting around, playing with yarn, being waiting on (which I freaking HATED, but not really a hardship).  I am again reminded of those who travel far and wide to bring home a child, those who spend months and years on a waiting list and spend far longer than two weeks just jumping all the hurdles to adopt here in the states and those who go through the lab rat scenario of doing IVF or any other medical thing to get pregnant...and realize, mine hurdle is somewhat minor.

The juice...yep...still worth the squeeze.  Were my issues something that could permanently damage my body...or if Corban was born with some "thing" that would be repeated....we'd be talking about changing course, but right now, we're still good to go.  Family fully intact, marriage still good, babies still cute.  We're good ;) (By the way....he was met with great fanfare.  I caught the two older girls discussing all the firsts they were excited to see again with their new baby brother.  My teenagers love my babies, though they are on the fence about toddlers and sassy 7 year olds...)

So on one of my last days, I decided to document what I did while I could barely move, for me....for the baby on his way into the world....for my children already here, so we could remember....

That it didn't last forever.  That having a servant heart is the path to blessing, that a short season can be a time of refinement even when you aren't DOING anything, but just being present in every single moment in a way you can't be when you are constantly moving...

All in all, as much as I was ready to be done with the nonsense of sitting...it wasn't that horrible.  I am super thankful I don't live a permanently immobile life, but maybe everyone should take some time to sit and smell the goodness of the lives they are blessed with......


When I first wake up I stretch, stand up very slowly, take care of business then listen for the sounds of any little person stirring.  When I hear silence I know it's okay to grab some yarny project.  I'd usually read my Bible but I can't find it, must be downstairs.  I only go down the stairs once....and up the stairs once...per day....for now...Right now I am alternating between making granny squares from scrap yarns and weaving in the ends of my big blanket I want to take to the hospital, just to keep things from boring me to tears.....

The girls are already up and milking the goat, which is their chosen farm chore.  Miraculously no one has argued over who does what because they all  had certain preferences for which chore belong to who.  Calla hears me walking around and asks if I want her to "make" (microwave) some breakfast.  She bought foodz, Eli brought coffee which I consumed upstairs this morning because I have several things I need to do up here before I come down for the day....

Soon, I start to have visitors.  A cuddle buddy (Noah), a show and tell, (Eli-he made this chicken all by himself) and someone who isn't quite sure what needs done before her meeting with Dad tonight because they've switched some days around for checking and assigning work.

And then the Roo monster woke up and "chicken littled" Cassidy.  This is what they call it when she sees them first thing and wants only them and no one else, not even Mom.  One day I got so frustrated with her not wanting ME when she woke up that I made everyone stay out of my room and wouldn't let anyone in until she "chicken littled" me.  She does this every morning.  If you happen to be the first one she sets her eyes on, well, tag, you're it....She will throw herself down and have one mighty fit if that person even THINKS about setting her down and walking away. It's weird.

Alright, now time to get some work done.  I have to fix a couple mistakes the girls made on their books, so I am using nail polish remover and q-tips to get the paint off..

I also have to glue in the pictures they drew onto the pages they go with.  When the girls used markers or watercolors, I had them draw on separate paper so that nothing would bleed through the pages.

And since we had no idea if I'd make it to the last few classes, I bagged up all the craft stuff and wrote out instructions for what we'd be doing each class so that a stand in teacher could just pick up my notes and go.

My little helper :)

All done, packed up and ready for my next class.  I felt like it was important to have everything all neat and tidy just in case labor happened and I had to pass my suitcase off to a sub.  I did end up missing the last two classes and I haven't heard anything bad so I am assuming they went well ;)

Now to check on the man-child.  He's been awfully quiet.  He's "caught" doing school.  Pefectly perfect.  Asks if I need anything.  Awesome.  

Now back to my room to start the big dig for some fabric.  Today I told the kiddos I'd walk them through how to make drawstring bags.  We ran out of time before they were totally done so we still need to finish them!

In the meantime Noah has gone potty and gets his bribe.  The bunny is Mom's but I just wasn't into sweets at the time so there it sat.  He got a lollipop. I'm not above bribing children when it works and when you are sick and tired of dealing with icky pants.  Incentive sounds better than bribe, but any way you cut it...it works.  His pants are clean.  

Finally we head down and Cassidy decides to make Ramen noodles for lunch, which....I hate because  it's not even food, in my opinion, but this is the very end of this season and Ramen it is.  I'll make them eat their weight in Brussel sprouts later.  

So I take the high road and eat a hot pocket.  Shut up.  It had broccoli in it.  

Then, WE GOT MAIL.  Not just envelope mail, but PACKAGE mail.  My order from SnugglePunkin has landed.  Oh my!! I did NOT order the bows.  Those were a freebie, which I didn't expect, but hey...no complaints here!!

And they were pretty and the kids loved them (see below) but these....oh my...these...When you've had a lot of children and don't technically NEED anything...and you have clothes and bottles and sheets and blankets, these are a very cool thing to order.  Burp cloths.  Very pretty ones, CUSTOM ones!  They are a pretty print on one side and very super soft terry on the other.  Let me tell you what, if my bean is going to spit up on me or drool or do something gross with snot, I'll still be smiling using THESE to clean up that nastiness.  Gorgeous and so affordable!

Aw, Noah loves the bow.  I personally think he rocks it!

And this picture didn't even GET the bow that she's sporting, but THAT FACE....sigh.  So cute!

Mom, I feel SOOOO Pretty!!!

After ten rounds of put the bow in and take the bow out...put the bow in and take the bow out, we were all sick and tired of the bows and bribe number 2 for the day came out.  "Peeps Big World..." which I always call "Peep Show..." and let me tell you what...It sounds really wrong to hollar down the stairs "Hey Calla, could you please put on the peep show for Roo?"  Yeah...

With toddlers happily distracted, we get down to business.  Showed them how to cut and sew and iron their bags....

Sat down while they did their thing on the machine and hollered at the walking q-tip to quit chewing my feet.  Thankfully he got busy licking something up off the floor....

Before I knew it....he was home....:) And wondered why the heck I was snapping a picture of him....

Worn out toddler!  Man, I hope she goes to bed okay tonight.  She's in between needing a nap and not needing a nap and she typically falls asleep way too late in the day!

We had dinner which I didn't document and then Dad did the Math routine.  Here, I'm pretty sure he's explaining to Kyle that all those pages ARE necessary because math is a  SKILL you need to PRACTICE in order to "get it..."  I hear this same conversation every single time they go over his assignments.  This time I"m like "Okay, just shush up.  No argument is going to get you out of it, so let's just skip that part...." He shut up.  

As they went through Math and then Bible study, I did this.  What I always do.  Keep those hands moving.

Then I wandered into the laundry room to switch it and took a quick glance...yep more laundry...needs done.  Those baskets should be empty if I was on top of things, which obviously I am not..Want to see??

No idea what has happened here?  I didn't SMELL any kind of explosives, but obviously some sort of bomb went off.  Such a total wreck.  This will be tomorrow's focus....

And then, Emory and I did a quick clean of the bathroom because it just wasn't clean enough for my liking.  I typically get so flipping tired of sitting by this time of night that I have to clean SOMETHING to keep my sanity intact.  

Before I head upstairs, I tidy my little couch nest for the next day, putting things back where they belong....

And tell Noah to pick out a book to bring upstairs...Apparently he's gone a bit pirate for this shot....and is still obsessed with the Halloween I-spy book despite owning 12 others.  No idea....

And then everyone piles into my room, loudly, jumps on the bed, tickling and screaming and going insane...because that's how they like to end the evening apparently...Jamie might be the biggest troublemaker of all and when he starts in, the whole crew just winds up SUPER fast ;)  Sometimes I mind...sometimes I don't....tonight, not too bad because they are filtering into the room in shifts instead of whole huge ball of craziness.

And tomorrow it will begin again....sit, knit, cuddle, talk....rinse, lather, repeat.

Looking back it wasn't HORRIBLE, but I do like being way busier during the day.  I like getting things DONE, getting my own coffee, being outside, etc, etc....

I end each day with a bit of quiet time in my rocking chair, reminding myself it won't be too much longer before I'll be up (half the night) and cleaning and sewing and creating and teaching...once again....

Like They Do in Prison....

Y'all want to hear something incredible?  I'm 36 in a few months and I have never once had a speeding ticket (or any other kind of ticket, which I am pretty sure they give out for other random dumbass stuff people do in cars, but since I'm such a good driver, I am not entirely sure what all you can get these for....)

And now....I'll probably get one, but I digress.

I think the entire idea behind breaking the law and losing your freedom has always intrigued me somewhat.  It's like you lose the right to be a person when you've been naughty in the eyes of the law and quite frankly, as independent as I am, this concept terrifies me.

Yet...I've been pregnant 9 times now and it seems there are some parallels that people don't tend to talk about.  Once you start growing another human, your own humanity gets shoved a little to the left (or right I guess, if you're left-handed) and you start to become very conditioned in giving up your rights for those of another....and maybe that's not entirely a bad thing because parenthood is full of these types of sacrifices.

However, there's a huge difference between having half your dinner picked at by a toddler and feeling violated while you gestate another human being.  Some things that women go through while pregnant are just so routine that we never really ask why....and yet...we should.  We really should because the experience really is formative as we enter into motherhood.

I've experienced the good, the bad and the ugly when it comes to childbirth and it's taken so many years to finally get to a point where I can talk about why I feel the way I do about the things I feel strongly about.....but even after getting to this point, I still feel somewhat under-confident in actually....really....and truthfully...."putting my foot down..."

Today.

Today I had to call my doctor's office because I have a weekly check-up, which was honestly scheduled on a bad day anyways.  I was going on Fridays because that is the ONLY day Jamie really can take me and he wants to be there and at this point whether or not he wants to be there is moot because I cannot drive myself. So we moved heaven and earth to make a Thursday appointment and then last night, as I turned over in bed.....CRUNCH.  Oh my God.  Can you GET a Charlie horse in your BACK?  I couldn't move.  And so I got up this morning like "Shit, really?"  I sat on this stupid massage thing I bought a few weeks ago, hoping it would help but everytime the buzzing thing hit a certain point, the muscles went into full on spasm.  I have thrown something out.  And so I needed to get into the chiropractor TODAY, but....I have an appointment at the doctor and unfortunately I cannot duplicate myself.  (Which by the way, I knew where I was going and then remembered I flippin hated this guy last time.....and now I need to find someone else after having already cancelled my appointment....and I cannot even get that appointment made because my phone went dead....I cannot get my shit together to save my life these days....totally not like me..)

Again, I digress.

So I call and ask if I need to reschedule this appointment or just show up for induction if we are doing that and I'm put on hold and The Good Doctor gets on the line and asks what I've done to throw my back out.  I wish it were something awesome like....well....nevermind (wink) but Jamie was asleep when it happened so I have no wonderful excuse (and y'all know me, I wouldn't tell you anyways.  I'll let the fact that we are still having children speak for itself in terms of how satisfying my romantic life is...) And he asks "You going to let me check your cervix..." and I say "Why?" because honestly I don't have a clue why this is routine (more on that later) and he laughs (he laughs a lot...Jamie just loves him) and then....the social filter...which is completely gone now...just completely implodes and I admit, I've been planning THIS blog for a bit now.  I say "I've actually been planning to write a blog about routine cavity searches in late pregnancy..." OH MY GAWD.  I said that.  OUT LOUD. "Cavity searches....." You know, like they do in prison.  Clearly, I've lost my mind.  But in some ways...maybe I haven't because I've been thinking about this A LOT and here's what I do not understand.....

Why?  What is the point of this routine thing that's done at the end of pregnancy?  So I thought back to my first few children and realized at one point, this kind of check was reassuring.  My body was doing something.  Towards the end, the doctor can tell you that you are "softening up..." or even dilating and I think when you feel like it will never, ever end it's good to hear that it can....it will...it's already coming to a close.

The thing is, I just don't need that kind of reassurance anymore.  It really doesn't matter what my cervix feels like today.  I am not having regular contractions. I am not having ANY signs of imminent labor, so really whatever is going on in there isn't something I need to know.  Nor does anyone else.  It's information for information's sake and I honestly don't see the point.  Everything in that area of my body is in such excruciating pain that I see avoiding those checks as self-preservation.

And then there's that elephant in the room that no one mentions.....your cervix is internal, as in, inside your vagina.  To be as blunt as possible, I do not, nor will I ever want that area touched unless absolutely necessary by anyone....that's not Jamie.  Necessary being for tests that tell me I don't have cancer or you know...a baby coming OUT, not "to see what's going on in there..."  Like, seriously my brain cannot even begin to make sense as to why most women just see this as routine and okay.  It's like that story about the girl who always cuts the end off her rump roast before putting it in the pan and her husband asks why...and she doesn't know....just the way she saw her Mom do it.  So the husband asks the mother why she does that and she....doesn't know...just the way HER mom did it.  So they ask the grandmother and she answers "Well I did that because my pan was so small, a big roast never would fit...."  We do things and accept things as they way they've always been done and never really ask why...but now in my old age and wisdom, I simply want to know...."Why?"  And when that question is answered "Just to see..." it's just not good enough.

I'm not crazy, or a prude, or some sort of medical anarchist.  But I am a lady.  And I feel like taking my pants or skirt off, then my underwear....wrapping myself in a sheet and waiting for someone to exam me internally....better be life or death (Life=birth, death=pap smear)

And so, I worry, of course....that I've crossed that line (cavity search may have been too...uhm...what's the word I'm looking for here?  I'm at a loss) but the good news is, the doctor wasn't present my first visit when they did my first ultrasound and I pretty much said that since I didn't play with plastic sex toys at home, I certainly wasn't allowing them to probe me with one in the office.  Yeah, I did.  Sorry to all those who really want those early ultrasounds.  Again, I don't see the point.  Either the baby is doing well or it's not and seeing that on a screen makes no difference in the outcome.  Unless they can DO something about the outcome, I just really don't see the point (again, unless we are talking life and death, I do understand there are exceptions, but a good look at the numbers will tell you how remote the need is for such things)

I suppose I should be long passed (past) the worry that I'll look weird though right? I mean I've already crossed THAT line many times over and well, people still like me, so there's that...

And speaking of which, I promised that my NEXT blog would be about yarn things, and I promise, I'm getting there.  I just had a lot to say (nah, really?) and lots of pictures to take....and then, well, there's that weird thing again because the amount of crap I've cranked out in the past few weeks is a little disturbing (As an aside, I cannot believe they do not have a Project Linus chapter here!  Need to do a little re-configuring on my charity aspirations.  I know there are a LOT of good ones, but being local is really important to me, because well....I live HERE and I want to make a difference where I am....)

Stash and Leftovers and Scraps, OH MY!

So we all know.....it's just a fact of life....that if you become a crafter or artist of any kind....there's an inevitability of.....

Stash.

It happens.  Big or small.  Materials you need for your creations accumulate, especially if you tend towards the thrifty side and find yourself buying ahead for projects that you don't currently have the time for, but know you will in the future.  While some people advocate a type of minimalism that discourages this sort of thing, I tend to disagree for ME.  While I like things very neat and tidy and can get very easily overwhelmed by "stuff" I have found way too big a savings in purchasing ahead to just eschew this method of obtaining supplies.

(So just real quick. I'll give you an example.  The blanket my husband currently sleeps with took 16 skeins of Bernat Waverly yarn which to buy right now is $4.49 per skein.  I purchased it for .88 per skein.  So $71.84 verses $14.08.  I'd say that's a no brainer. Considering how many blankets I have made and intend to make, it behooves me to purchase yarn when it gets marked down that low)

But I digress.  This post isn't about stash...it's about what's left after USING those pristine, perfectly wrapped skeins of beautiful yarn.

The Leftovers.  And the Scraps.  And yes, I differentiate between the two of them. My definition?

Leftovers- When you have enough, uhm.....leftover...to use in a different project.  I consider substantial amounts, like a full skein or a little less, depending on the size of the original ball of yarn. For example in this blanket I recently finished, the two greys were skeins that had 300+ yards to begin with and I still have a good amount left.  I will be able to use these two yarns again in a project I already have in mind, as an accent, not a main color


Scraps:  Well, these...

I usually bag my scraps by color, rather than size, which will change when I get my dang pretzel jars!!

and these:

I throw all my little balls of scrap into this basket until it's full, then I put them into ziplocs.

I've seen so many posts on Ravelry....."What do I do with my scraps?  They bother me...seems like such a waste to throw them away...." and there are LOTS of good suggestions as to what to do with them, but for me, I needed a method.

(I'd like to interrupt this blog with a VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE from our blogger.  Please, no matter what you do DO NOT THROW THOSE SCRAPS AWAY because you aren't interested in using them.  SOMEONE will want them.  If you have no clue and feel all burdened, email me or leave a comment and I will take them and find someone to use them.  I use every last inch and this blog will prove it! Also, I'm assuming if you do anything with yarn, you are on Ravelry and you can post scraps for free, free for shipping or for sale and you will find someone who wants them.  The group I started The Scrap Swap, although terribly inactive, in the perfect place or Scrap Happy, a group dedicated to busting through scraps.  Point being, someone WILL want them!)

In order to deal with my massive accumulation of scraps and leftovers, I diligently searched through post after post on Ravelry and eventually started to work out my system for dealing with the extraneous little bobs and bits of yarn that were taking up precious stash space.

This post is going to be long and picture heavy, but hopefully helpful for some of you out there, so please bear with me.

Truth #1- Even small scraps can add up to something substantial.  Let's take a look:

Pretty little hexagon.  Make a bunch of these and you have one gorgeous, colorful blanket.  Now, for the good of the blog I painfully ripped this all out to show you how itty bitty those pieces of yarn really are!

Teeny, tiny, itty bits of yarn make up that hexy!

Truth #2- You have to know, in advance, what projects you WILL do....like for real.  I see suggestions all the time about scrap busting/stash busting projects I just cannot and will not do. I see pictures of these "scrapghans" that while inventive and very useful, for sure, I wouldn't be able to make myself.  It would drive me BATTY to make something where colors change mid-row and where the color order is so random, using both solids and variegated colors, that it looks like all the colors were thrown into a blender and pureed.  My eyes just can't handle that particular asthetic of scrappiness.  I need more control in color placement, thus my method.

For me, my obsession and the project I will always be working on is blankets.  I love ripple afghans and granny squares and anything that allows me to play with color.  I will not be making small toys with my scraps and I have no desire to make an entire sweater out of small balls of yarn, so those are out FOR ME.  However, the same principles of using scraps for substantial projects apply across the board.  This is where math comes in. You have to know the weight of the item you want to make.  It's important :)

The "thing" I make the most are ripple blankets from baby size on up to twin sized (sometimes...very rarely.)  Having a postage scale to know the weights of my finished objects helps tremendously, but once you get the hang of using your scraps, you'll find you don't really need the scale.  I can now eyeball leftover balls and see what the scrap can be used for.  I use fruit references to determine how each scrap will be used. More on that  below!

I know this amount can do one, maybe two stripes on a standard toddler sized ripple, which is the size I make the most.  I got EXACTLY two stripes out of it with like 3 inches left for a tail.  This method has really worked well for me.

Some other things I make produce scraps I really have no interest in using, namely, my natural fibers.  I still do make sweaters and clothing type things and because they require special care, I don't want to mess with creating anything with the leftovers.  I toss these into a bag to give away once the bag is full, because like with anything else in crafting, these are PERFECT for someone else's big idea!!

Now for Melissa's Method of Using All the Scraps:

First, whatever is left gets wound into balls.  I can visually determine where to put my leftovers/scraps by how big the ball gets and this works for me because I work with worsted weight 85% of the time.  For anything thicker or thinner, it gets its own bag and I save those up separately.

So now I have bags of balls.  In all different sizes....I call them:

Grapefruit- Big enough to get used in a color controlled ripped, goes into the bins with my regular stash, so no pictures of these.

Orange- Big enough for one to two stripes in a scrap ripple and I also do color controlled projects with this.  So bright colored "oranges" would be added to a bright ripple and warm colors, likewise.  That's the beauty of crochet rather than knit!  You can add to projects without losing a needle like you do when knitting a blanket.  Simply tie off your color and wait for the next.

This is a bright scrap ripple made with oranges :)  I fill up this cute little metal basket with the colors I have accumlated and work from them until I run out!

Plum- Big enough for a three to four round granny square on an H hook.

I love making big piles of granny squares.  No idea what they'll be yet, but I feel very accomplished when I work though a whole bag of plums.

Apricot- The perfect size for a block of in my on-going "Long Live the Scraps" (Also color controlled...brights/neutrals/pastels/or any combo YOU like)

Long Live the Scraps is one of the coolest scrap patterns out there.  The small tiny balls you use really add to the blanket in a significant way!

Grape- Tied into Magic Ball, also color controlled (Control issues much)  So when I just have a bit left I will use (link join) to add to the colored ball I already have going.  Purple scraps gets tied into the purple ball, yellow into yellow.....you get the picture ;)

This balls really are super tiny, but tied together they start to add up quickly!

Four little "grapes" before joining with the Double Knot Join

Very small magic yarn ball, which I then crocheted....

Color controlled granny square.  I am thinking a ripple with either a black or white between colors would look awesome with these magic balls!

Into a granny square.  You really can do anything you want with these....I prefer to do a monochromatic type thing, but if you love a rainbow you can just tie any color into another and have a ball with colorplay!

Here's a picture of all the different sizes of scraps I use:

Okay here we have from left to right: Oranges (stripes in a ripples), plums (granny square or sometimes can be ONE stripe in a ripple), apricots (these are for my long live the scraps) and grapes (tied into magic ball).

Now, word to the wise.  If you are gifted scraps from someone else and they are wound into balls, always rewind them.  This is because YOUR tension will be different and if you use this method of eyeballing sizes, it's important that all the balls are wound by the same person :)

True SCRAP like less than 12 inches....into a ziploc.  Yes, even those itty bitty teeny weeny scraps have a use   Some people will actually tie all these tiny scraps together, leave the tails and make some rather funky, crazy projects, using all the ends popping out as a design element.  Clever if you can pull it off!  I think it would make me insane.  There is also talk of birds loving these tiny scraps to help build their nests and I think that is awesome.  Here on my property, however, they need no help from me because we have a huge variety of nest building material and when I tried this I didn't see any evidence of them being used despite having many, many nests on our property. (No worries about my love for the birds though.  We do have a LOT of scrap wood from remodeling and have been building birdhouses with them.  We only have one successfully installed, but within days of it going up a bluebird was happily living in there. Now that we know they are habitable where we put them and how we built them, many more will be going up.)  For me, the perfect use for all those scraps (and I kick myself for not saving these before!! I always tossed them) is for stuffing.  While I won't use the scraps to make a little tiny animals with my scrap yarns, I do occassionally make some knit animals and honestly, yarn scraps make the PERFECT stuffing.  Even more so than the cotton batting you typically buy.  Acrylic yarns scraps inside an acrylic knit stuffie works well! The stuffing is loose and freely inside, making the stuffing feel better and if that animal ever needs washed, those yarns ends behave much better in the washer and dryer than batting does (Have you ever washed a pillow?  Man, that crap gets all bunchy and weird)  Another thing I actually have done is allowed my younger children to do art with the yarn scraps and they had a ball. Just get some cardstock and white glue and show them how to draw with the glue and "color" with the scraps.  Those pictures turned out pretty cool and I wish I had pictures to prove it, alas, I do not.

Now...how does one organize all this craziness?  My grand plan was to use these awesome pretzel jars we get every two weeks....because they are clear, large and would make a perfect display and eventually, oh yes....eventually I WILL have enough of these containers to do this, but for now you might remember that my children have some sort of religious objection to lids and even though I've pleaded every two weeks "Hey guys PLEASE keep the lid for this one...." and even though I'll pass through the kitchen and see that there are like 7 pretzels left and the lid is still present....and get all kinds of excited that this is the time I WILL get that pretzel container....it still hasn't happened for me yet.  When I do, I plan to put pretty labels on them that specify which "fruit" is in the jar and a reminder of what I do with them (like Apricot-Granny Squares)  For now, I put all my scrap balls into that big basket as I accumulate them and when that basket starts getting pretty full I will sort through them and put them into the appropriate ziploc bags.  I try to keep a scrap project going at all times and then I'll also pull out a bag and just do a granny making session.

Obviously the ongoing blankets are completed as soon as they reach the appropriate size, but for the granny squares, I just keep making them and once I have enough to do something with, I'll decide then.  I'll either do a main color like white around a huge bunch of colors, or maybe I'll just do a monochrome project....who knows?? :)

Now for bigger leftovers, which we also tend to accumulate, I use a certain method that employs the use of a postal scale and counting stripes and knowing what a finished project of mine weighs and well, it's complicated, BUT I can point you to a fantastic blog that explains this much better than I can!

Linda74 on Ravelry, who writes the blog Alotta Stitches makes ripple blankets for foster children with both thrifted yarn and donations she gets, so very often, she gets partial skeins and needs to work out how to use these skeins to make a bigger project.  She came up with two methods.  The Scrandom and the Scrimple and they are absolutely brilliant.  You can apply the weight method to any project really.  If you want to make a women's XL sweater in a worsted weight you can simply look up a pattern, get the estimated yardage and weight of the finished project and then weigh enough of your leftovers to be equal (actually you'll want a bit more than you need) to that weight and go for it!

So that's how I handle and use the scraps I either accumulate or am gifted with.  I love, love, love working with color and using every available inch of yarn I can to make beautiful things.  There are many methods of scrapbusting and this is mine.  I hope it was helpful to someone out there and maybe, just maybe, I've saved some beautiful scraps from the tragedy of being thrown away before they reached their full potential!!

This Killing Time....

Is Killing Me....

(Drinking myself blind.....) Well, no, not really.  Not really into the whole getting smashed thing, even when not growing babies, but the killing time part I TOTALLY get.

Thinking back, this isn't as bad as when I was pregnant with Kyle and stuck in an apartment with no friends, nothing to clean and no hobbies or when Jamie was out to sea for three month stretches and every single day felt like a week, but still....

This sucks.

This is my day.  Wake up.  Try to get out of bed without crying.  I snap, crackle and pop, keep my legs very tightly together and swing them over the side, gently touching my feet to the floor, hoping that TODAY I won't get that sharp shooting pain that feels like I'm the perfect candidate for a lawsuit against Tampax and their faulty "hide your ninja sword in a feminine product" line of products I know they'll market when the world goes all apocalyptic.  (TMI?  Maybe, but you laughed...admit it). I'm sorely (ha, pun intended) pretty much every morning as I rise to my feet, wondering how I have more than one child, then remembering this never happened with the first few.

I waddle to the facilities and wish I had slept just a little longer, but that doesn't happen these days.  It appears my body thinks 6 am is "sleeping in," but honestly once I'm a bit more awake, I'm grateful for the built in quiet.  I hobble my to rocking chair and pick up some knitting and think.  This quiet time is where I plan my day, my week, the stuff I need to do and create a mental (or physical) to do list that mostly doable.  I used to make my to do list at night, but right now, at bedtime, I'm pretty convinced I will never be able to move again, so putting anything on a list seems impossible.  There is fresh hope in the morning that is depleted by the end of the day.

Usually I am milking a goat by 8 am, but today the girls did it, which was nice.  At about 7, I gather what I need from upstairs....school books, any yarn crap not downstairs, some candy (for potty bribes.  We've settled on Dum Dum lollipops.  They are small and do minimal sugar damage...) and anything else I think I'll need and put everything near my little nest on the couch.

And I sit.

For stretches.  And I knit.  And I homeschool and I color, talk, drink coffee, watch videos, change diapers, and read books.  And I get up.  I walk around, I switch laundry, I check lists, and make sure dinner stuff is out and find small 15 minute cleaning tasks I can do, that ONLY I can do and then start the process all over again.

And time tick tocks away.  I talk to Jamie when he can talk and make lists and mentally prepare for all the things coming up.  I am so thankful for the big living room where the littles can happily play beside me and I'm thankful for my older children who can bring things, cook easy food and provide me some pretty good distraction through meaningful conversation.

It takes about two days of "moderation" for me to say "screw moderation" and tackle a project that takes a lot out of me, like cleaning the yard or scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees (okay, not really, more like on my arse, scooting around like a pre-crawling baby, with bowl, sponge and towel)  This morphs into me being up the rest of the day and the next, I pay the price, but even though it HURTS, I am not INJURED, so I just try to keep that in mind.

What does it feel like?  Well...it feels like....you've fallen from a two story building, directly onto a saw horse, with your legs open, your crotch getting the entire impact.  It's the weirdest thing to hurt in a place where you are usually pretty unaware of feeling anything.  Now, when Mr. Baby moves, especially his head, it's like....the Ninja Sword Tampon is doing the Macarena in your nether regions.  On some levels, I want to cry...on others I am just....intrigued by the weirdness of it all.  My back is starting to do that end of pregnancy thing where it starts to spasm at my tailbone and then goes all the way up to my midback and dear Lord, that hurts.  I lay down, I rock, I take baths and do pretty much whatever I can to get as comfortable as possible...but it's pretty much impossible....and I sleep with an obscene amount of pillows tucked all around me.  (I think Jamie is getting jealous of my intimate relationship with my fluffy nighttime companions.)  I swear this is the worst time yet, but Jamie reminds me...it's really not.  I just can't believe I actually felt this before and didn't jump off the roof or perform some sort of sterilization surgery on myself...or something.....Okay, a bit dramatic, but damn.....I did this before?  Really?  Wow.  I am in awe of myself... ;)

But enough of the gloom and doom.  You get it.  This sucks for me.   It's bad.  I don't say that much, or didn't last time, but this time around I'm more like "Well, might as well not pretend..." and I think that comes a little more with age and not giving a crap what people think...because let me tell you what they think "If it's really THAT BAD, why on earth would you do this...why get pregnant KNOWING ....it will be like this at the end."

Good question.  Why do people do ANYTHING?  Why do people kick their own tushes training for marathons?  For mountain climbing?  To get through medical school or perform a recital?  Why does anyone burn the candle at both ends to meet an important deadline or say no to sleep to get a huge task done?  Why do people fight deadly diseases knowing the cure will make them sicker than the disease in the short term?  Because, as Jamie taught me (this lovely phrase....LOVE IT!!)  "The juice is worth the squeeze..."

The end result of the suck is worth the endurance to get through it.  The end result of this particular suck is a human being.  I have approximately six weeks worth of increasingly bad suck to produce another living human.  That' okay with me.  Shoot, you know how many people go through months upon months of sheer agony to get a baby, whether that's through adoption or medical procedures to assist them?  Six weeks is nothing compared to all that (even though it technically does feel like six years....)

So right now we're tick tocking away.  Four weeks (I am thinking closer to three. I've done this a few times and I am pretty sure....I'm a week ahead of where "they" think I am)  Killing time.  Killing yarn (and my next blog post will highlight that. Y'all will think I'm nuts when I show what I finished last week.  I think I set some sort of weird yarn record...)

Besides this, do you know how good it feels when this suck goes away? It's like this lottery winning scenario.  I am handed the sweetest little creature...I can roll over in bed again...and my girly bits don't feel like they've been assaulted and I get that all in ONE DAY.  It's like magic.  It's what I'm looking forward to....what seems like a pipe dream now as I hobble around the house and glare at the chair that Rtwo inches out of place, making my life miserable and picturing myself as a T-rex trying to wipe his own butt when I try to do anything else (Me and switching laundry....there could be a SNL skit on this one simple domestic act.  Did you know it's almost impossible to get all the laundry out of the washer when you're 76 months pregnant???)

For now, I'll play with yarn, watch live streams that teach me stuff and hand my children the digital camera to prove they've done their stuff....

And wait for another day ;)