Five Things on Friday - Fall Edition

Fallen leaves and overalls. Is there anything better?

It's no secret that this (and Christmas) is (are) my favorite (s) time of year. I truly love Fall and I thought that since it is truly fall-ish out there today (at least in my neck of the woods) I'd let you know why.

Five Things I Love About Fall


1. Weather - There is nothing finer than a sunny day with a brisk wind. I can't say enough good things about the moment when you realize that you have had your last day of miserable heat and sweat tinged everything. There is something in the way the light hits everything that changes and lets you know that you are in the clear. You have months until summer's fierceness returns.

2. Color - I know that summer is supposed to be a time of great color. Everything's in bloom, yadda, yadda. Except that where I am, only the best gardeners have much color past June. Summer wilts everything down until even the grass struggles to maintain it's green. (This year wasn't as drought-ey, so not quite so bad.) And winter! Winter has all those nice blues and whites, except when it doesn't and everythig is just a giant stretch of brown. In my opinion, fall and spring are God's reminder that there is truly beauty everywhere. All those trees you practically haven't seen all summer? Yeah, they are now a blaze of glory. All those empty flower beds with slightly browning hosta? Yep, overflowing with gorgeous mums.

3. Football - Let me make this clear. I don't really like football. It's fine, whatever, like most sports, in my opinion. Except that I've spent the last ten or so years watching some team or another (this year it's a slew of teams of six and seven year olds) and I've developed a love for going to football. I love the wind and the outdoors, the stadium blankets and the smell of hotdogs on the breeze. I love the sea of team colors and the hubub of the cheerleaders and the band and the team and the spectators. I miss high school football and frankly, sitting in the grass at flag football is a poor substitute.

4. Festivals - It seems like all the good ones are in the fall. And with festivals come almost all of my favorite things: fresh squeezed lemonade, funnel cakes, tilt-a-whirls, craft shows and walking in the middle of the street. I don't know why strolling down the middle of the street makes me feel so free, but it does. Oh, and parades. The kind with little kids and candy, not the kind with fancy floats and giant balloons. I'm a small town girl, yo.

5. Clothes - I hate summer clothes. I hate tank tops and shorts and even capris. I hate to shave my legs. I hate sundresses and flip flops and being hot in everything. I love sweaters and jackets and boots and jeans. Especially jackets. I love scarves and tennis shoes and cardigans and hats. I love the joy of bundling up a little with the freedom of not having to worry yet about your coat.

So, what do you love about fall? Or are you an autumn-hater?

Seven is Such a Lucky Number

Seven years ago today at 9:00 a.m. I nervously walked out of my house, carrying a suitcase bigger than needed and got into my car, shoving my giant beach ball belly under the steering wheel.

Seven years ago today at 10:15 a.m. I arrived at the hospital a full 45 minutes before I was supposed to because I was scared and nervous and wasn't allowed to eat and I really didn't know what to do to kill time besides eat breakfast. I sat in the car in the parking garage and made my car payment by phone. I went over my packing list. I argued one last time about the middle name if the ultrasounds were all (18 of them) wrong and it was a boy.

Seven years ago today at noon, I was asked to wait while the doctor performed an emergency c-section.

Seven years ago today at 1:30, I cried big fat baby tears while an inept anaesthesiologist stabbed me in the spine repeatedly. I begged her to stop and decided I'd just go home and this baby could stay in there forever. It would be fine, really.

Seven years ago today at 2:15, the doctor told me that she was here, she was fine. I laid on the table, not able to see what was going on with tears running down the sides of my face. "Why isn't she crying?" I asked The Ex. "I don't know." I began praying, hard and fast for God to please, please let this baby cry. Please, please, I need to hear her cry. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she took a big shuddery breath and wailed. It sounded to me like the angels singing and I very nearly sang with them.

Seven years ago today at 2:30, Daddy and Brynna left the OR and I oh-so-casually asked the doctor if she needed me. "Well, I've got to sew you up so you can't go anywhere," she replied. "Oh, I know. I just thought I'd nap." And I did. Slept soundly and fully for the first time in months.

Seven years ago today at 4:00, they told me that Brynna wasn't able to leave the nursery yet. She was having respiratory distress. They wheeled my bed up to the window of the nursery so I could look in. For some reason, I believed that she wasn't going to make it. That they weren't telling me how bad it was but that this might be the last time I saw her alive. I laid there gazing at her, trying to take in every detail. They finally moved me to my room.

Seven years ago today at 6:00, the nurses told me that they were going to give her two more hours in the nursery. At that point, she would have to be well enough to move to my room or she would have to go to NICU. I nodded, numbly.

Seven years ago today at 8:15 p.m., I heard crying. I heard it way off down the hall and I instantly knew, despite the fact that I had only heard that cry once before and I had been heavily drugged at the time, I knew that it was my girl's cry. I knew that it had to be her. Seven years ago today, I listened to that cry get louder and closer and louder and closer and I waited, knowing that this time it wouldn't pass my door. Afraid to say anything, because I might be wrong, but knowing all the same. Seven years ago today, my door opened and they pushed in that little cart that was full to brimming with my screaming, wailing, precious, perfect infant. Seven years ago today, the nurse picked her up and placed her in my arms. She took a deep breath and so did I. Seven years ago, she stopped crying and fell straight to sleep in my arms.

Seven years ago today was the happiest day of my life. It was scary and crazy and wild, but it had what I had longed for so long: a happy ending. My baby sleeping soundly in my arms, breathing deeply, fingers curled around mine.

Happy birthday my girl. Thank you for making my dreams come true. Thank you for needing me as badly as I needed you. Thank you for being mine.

Making It! - Prayer Shawl Edition

Every night, when I tuck Maren into bed, I snug down the edges of the quilt my mom made her for her last birthday and I say, "Do you know what your blanket is made out of?" And because Maren humors me, she says, "Not anything." Smiling I say, "It's made out of love. NiNi's love for you and every night when you are wrapped up in this blanket, you are wrapped up in love."

I believe that to be true of quilts. There is something amazing about crafting something with such care and love for someone else. You can't possibly do it without putting a little something more than cotton and batting in there.

Doesn't it look soo soft?!?

I believe that the idea of a prayer shawl is something for the recipient to wear while they pray. I could be wrong. My interpretation, however, is that it is made with prayers the same way Maren's cowgirl quilt is made with love.


A friend of mine at church has a dear friend who is fighting a battle with cancer. And is the practice of church ladies everywhere, we sprang to action. (Mostly my mom who is a sort of superhero.) She decided to make a chemo cap for this dear lady and asked me if I had any quick patterns to whip up a prayer shawl. I said that I did (while actually thinking of a baby blanket pattern that I thought I could adapt.) However, when we chose the yarn from her stash, I immediately knew that my baby blanket pattern would not work. To the notebook I went.

The funny thing about this pattern is that I almost didn't even print it. It was so simple and the alternating v stitch is a design element I've used before. I just thought that I didn't need it. I'm so glad that I did though. I was specifically looking for a pattern that didn't use a great deal of yarn, would be pretty and comfy and would be quick-quick-quick. I'm not sure I ever could have come up with this on my own as a solution.

The pattern was so super easy and I really enjoyed doing it. I ended up taking it with me almost everywhere I went because the repetition was great enough that I never had to refer back to the pattern. The finished size of the pattern is 50" and I thought that was a little short. My finished product was more like 55", but if I were making it for me, I'd want it 60 or 70". Fortunately, this wouldn't be at all difficult to manage with this pattern.

Ignore my weird coloring here.

I do think that I'll crochet this pattern again for a coulple of reasons: 1. It's a pretty succinct, well-written description of a very adaptable stitch. This could be used for almost anything where open work is acceptable. (In other words, no bikinis. Also, no blankets because you'd have all kinds of toes popping through. What, that's only a problem for me? Okay then.) and 2. It would be a really great pattern to use for teaching. It uses a couple of different stitches and would be great for a beginner or for someone who had the basics, but hadn't worked from a pattern before.

I am not quite so thrilled with the yarn. We chose it because of the lovely soft shade of blue and the softness of the yarn. And seriously, feather beds are not this soft. Which is awesome. On the downside, it snapped so easily that I ended up with a LOT of ends, despite working this all from the same skein.

All in all, though, I was quite content with the project. And I promise I've got some more ambitions things currently on the hook. They are mostly gifts, though, so you may be waiting for a while.

Here is my FO on Ravelry, if you swing that way.

Five Things on Friday - Clean Hate Edition

Brynna is having a sleepover next weekend for her seventh birthday. In addition to the fact that my baby is turning seven and how-in-the-holy-pants-did-that-happen, I am willingly allowing a couple of "tween" girls into my home to stay overnight. Since I have a smallish house and all, this means I have to clean the whole darn thing except for the basement. You know, I'd like to beat them with a dowel rod for even looking in my bedroom door, but I think that would make me a bad hostess.

In any case, this weekend, the clean sweep of doom begins. I am going to work my way through the entire house, cleaning everything in my path and making the whole house look like the seven dwarves' house post Snow White, rather than pre Snow White. If you know what I mean. (If you don't, you may want to work on your Disney trivia and/or have rugrats of your own.

Ceiling to floor cleaning is not my favorite activity, mostly because it's so intensive as to make my head roll around on my shoulders in agony. But now it's even worse, because there is no one else to force into all the jobs I hate. With no further babbling I bring you:

This is not me. This is not even close to me.

Five Things I Absolutely Loathe to Clean

1. Floors - There is no job I hate worse than cleaning the floors and it doesn't even matter what kind of floors we are talking about. I hate sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, dust mopping and scrubbing with a toothbrush. I hate carpet cleaning. I have one of those ridiculously overpriced Hoover Floormates (a.k.a. the $100 mop) and I hate it too. I don't know why. I love clean floors, I just hate all the methods of getting there. No, I take it back, I know why. It's because I learned to sweep outside on the sidewalk. And to this day, I can't figure out why you can't just shove everything off the edge of the floor. Why?

2. Windows - I typically don't even bother. No one looks at my windows anyway. However, I have stupid little cat nose prints all over my windows because I have this one dumb cat who refuses to walk outside the door, but longs to go there. At least, so he would have you believe with his face pressing mania. I also hate the smell of Windex, the fact that the windows will smear and streak no matter what I do and the feeling like an idiot that can only occur when you clean something that is covered by curtains 365 days a year. Because I'm that person - the one who never opens my curtains.

3. Appliances - I have all white appliances, which means they appear to be dirty five minutes after cleaning. Also, they are nearly impossible to clean because every little hair or speck of lint on your rag/sponge/whatever will end up stuck to the side somewhere.

4. Tub - Most people hate the toilet. To those people I say, "Whatever, at least you have a little wandy thing to stick down in there. You don't have to climb in the toilet. You totally have to climb in the tub. And even then you are probably going to miss something. Or your kids will come home covered in mud and make you do it over again. Or the cats will decide that this is a nice place to play. Or something. There will be blood if you mess up my clean tub.

5. Under the Couch - I don't know if everyone's under-couch is the magnet that ours are, but they are positively disgusting under there. And I'd like to just ignore it (like I usually do) but I can't, because inevitably once the floor is clean, things will start sticking out from under there. A book. A few sheets of paper. A ridiculously squashed shoe. A cat toy. A pacifier from when Brynna was a baby. Halloween candy. A baseball bat. I spend most of this time saying things like, "Where did that come from? Come on! I did this like two months ago, and I haven't seen that for seven years! I didn't even know we owned a baseball bat." It's like a magical place where objects breed and spawn other weird objects. Perhaps one day it'll just suck me in.

Pray it's not this weekend. And commiserate. What do you hate to clean?

Unicorns, Vampire Slayers and PomPoms

When I was little, I loved unicorns. I had about a million things with unicorns. Everything from shirts and posters to music boxes and figurines. I was unicorn crazy. It wasn't until I was an actual adult that I found out that my unicorn thing was actually my mom's unicorn thing. She was unicorn crazy first and I just picked it up from her.

It's no secret that sometimes my kids are a complete mystery to me. Brynna and her cheer leading, pink-obsessed, fashionista, Barbie-loving soul make me believe in karma. Maren's big things are horses and horsepower. I don't get horses. And as for things that run, I love to drive, that's about as far as that goes.

That kid in the middle?
The one throwing me a dirty look?
That one's mine.

I'll readily admit that sometimes my kids are a complete and utter enigma to me. Sometimes I stare at the little girl dressing and redressing her Barbies and the one next to her vroom-vrooming her cars around the floor and I wonder where in the world they came from.

This morning was not one of those times. Brynna's been all about the Buffy musical soundtrack lately, so a few weeks ago, I set us up in the bedroom with popcorn and kool-ade and we watched the episode. I had carefully thought out each scene and what was going to need some explaining and what I hoped she just didn't notice. It went swimmingly. Until she asked if she could watch the rest of them and I had to say no. Then came the desire to dress up as Buffy for Halloween.

My first thought at this request was euphoria tinged with pride. Until I realized what this meant. First of all, dressing up like Buffy means just wearing normal clothes for the most part. I mean we could try to do one of her more memorable outfits, but why bother when your audience is a bunch of second graders. Secondly, at her school, you have to dress up as a character in a book and then bring the book to school. So, not only was I going to send my seven year old out into the world dressed as a normal person on Halloween, but I was going to arm her with one of my graphic novels (which aren't exactly appropriate and are also quite precious to me).

I hope no one left the keys in it.

I've talked her into Laura Ingalls Wilder; which I think is better for everyone involved.

But this morning took the cake. The girls were singing a duet in the backseat of "Going through the Motions," when it came our turn in car line. Brynna hopped out, blew me a kiss and skipped merrily into the school. As I was pulling away, Maren broke into song. It seems my two-year old knows all the words by heart.

Yes, sometimes the Princess and the Shop Girl astound me. But sometimes they make perfect sense. Sometimes they are a little of me and a whole lotta them and absolutely perfect in every sense.

Um... Hello... Sorry about That

I've been missing. Sorry. I wasn't hospitalized. Or dead. Or even kidnapped and held for ransom in some very small, hot and dirty room. No I was here. Muddling through my days. Not blogging.

I've had a lot going on. Last week was my Lilybugs week. I've talked about that before, yes? Yes. Giant consignment sale of doom. This was my first sale ever where I made more than I spent. I'm pretty psyched about that. It's a big deal for me. I bought clothes and shoes and a puzzle because I always try to come home with something fun.

Then, there's the other thing. The thing I haven't been talking about. The elephant in the room. You see, this is my home and this is where I talk about stuff. I have a sense of privacy and I don't tell you all every little weensie detail of my life, but I hit the high points. And the low ones. I share, is what I'm saying. I treat you all like my very best girlfriends (even, and possibly especially) those of you who are guys.

So, when there's something big and I'm not ready to talk about it, I tend to tune out. Because to come here and every day and talk about something - anything - that's not the giant thing on my mind feels like lying. Which is sort of ridiculous, but also sort of true.

On the one hand, as the grand queen of everything in this space, I can do what I want. Plus, it's writing and you don't ever have to write anything.

On the other hand, it seems incredibly disingenuous to continue on, la-di-da, like nothing big is going on in my life.

So, I just shut up. It wasn't even on purpose. I spent all of last week getting ready to write. Coming up with things to write. Thinking about writing. And then not writing.

(Yesterday I had a tooth yanked out of my head. There was massive crying, pain pills and I learned that where my teeth are concerned, I am a giant wuss. I'm telling you this because last week I was a horrible person, but you've got to give me a tooth-induced by on yesterday's miss.)

And even today, here it is 4:30 and I still haven't decided what I am and am not going to say in this here post - the one that I am writing even now. Sharing is hard. Especially when it involves other people. Especially when it's personal. Especially when you don't really want to talk about it. And all three - oh my.

So, here goes. Simplest terms. The husband hasn't been home in a month. I don't know what that means or what's going happen. I have no plan other than get by and take care of myself and my girls. I am okay. Let me repeat that last part: I am okay. I am not angry or terribly hurt or collapsing in a sea of grief. I am okay. You shouldn't worry about me. I just felt like you should know, that's all.

Five Things on Friday - Smile Edition

I've been having some stuff lately. Stuff that I'm just not ready to talk about here. In any case, it's been okay, fine, really, but it's been hard to find the joy. I've been stressed and worried and other things that basically mean the same thing, and although I've been FINE, this week has finally been different.

This week, I've found the joy. At least some. In any case, I thought I'd share

Five Things That Made Me Smile This Week

1. Harry Dresden - The latest installment, Ghost Story, finally made it to my name on the library waiting list. I love me some Harry Dresden and this book was no disappointment. Not only did it repeatedly make me smile, laugh out loud and bless my lucky stars for discovering this joy, but I also stayed up until 1 a.m. and bawled like a newborn baby at the end. Oh. My. Goodness. Heart ripped out of my body and beaten to a pulp and then... Oh, I can't ruin it for you, but trust me. This one is good. So very good. And now I absolutely can't wait for the next one.


2. True Blood - I read the Sookie books when that's all they were, back before the show changed our image of each and every character. But, since I don't have Netflix, get HBO or have any other way of getting involved in the most popular vampire show on TV, I haven't watched it. Until now. I've watched the majority of the first season this week on DVD and wow, does it bring the crazy. You should be warned, this show isn't for anyone. If you can't appreciate the most ridiculous vampire story ever, a whole lot of inappropriate sex, terrible language and gore for days, then you should probably just watch something else. It has definitely brightened my last few days, though. Silly, vampires.


3. Batman - Just this.

4. The Doctor - After a weird midsummer hiatus, the Doctor has been back for about three weeks now, and I am loving the second half of this season. Amy and Rory have definitely replaced Donna as my all-time favorite companions ever. I am missing my River, though. And still - I cannot figure out how they are going to solve that little problem of the DOCTOR BEING DEAD! The writers don't seem to be in any hurry, and honestly, neither am I. I am loving every second of this.


5. These Guys - Just this, too.

Haikus About Childrearing

It is 3 a.m.
She wails from the next room
My head bangs the wall
_________

Tomorrow morning
Will be without fights and screams
Or possibly not
_________

Please pick up your toys
Pick them up right now or else
Aargh! Legos are sharp
_________

Independent cuss
Or strong and willful leader
Please remind me which
_________

Pajama cuddles
The smell of clean hair and skin
I love my children

Crowd Phobia and Kids

You may or may not know that I am highly crowd-phobic.The wonderful world of Google tells me that this is called demophobia. Which sounds about right to me because crowds are demonic. If you've ever seen a zombie mall movie, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

It's sort of like claustrophobia - which I also have a little. It's the feeling of being trapped, of not knowing how to get out of the crowd; of feeling herded that is truly horrific to me.

The simplest solution in my everyday life is to avoid crowds. With the exception of special occasions, I am getting pretty good at this. For instance, I go Black Friday shopping. And I am fine. Because I don't go stand in the crazy throng of people waiting for the door to open and I avoid the electronics. As long as I can move freely, I'm cool and usually this is easy, just slowed down.

Unfortunately, kids are putting a hamper on my crowd avoidance. Kids tend to want to do things that are sort of crowd-imperative. Things like baseball games and amusement parks. Or, you know, Muffins with Mom.

Muffins with Mom is new at my daughter's school this year. Although it's apparently been going on at other area schools for a while. The idea is to offer free muffins and juice (along with the experience of eating breakfast with your very own kid) for free and then lure parents into the book fair.

Let me count the ways in which this is a truly evil empire:

1. I can, on a non-school day, eat a really enjoyable healthy breakfast with my kid in my spacious airy kitchen with like chairs and stuff. Or on my couch with the TV on, because neither of us is at our best early in the morning. Instead I am being led to believe that eating a mostly stale muffin on the floor of a school where germy children spend their days is a great treat. Because we're together. 
2. I am already expected to attend Family Night at the book fair with my kid (which I do super-early to avoid the crowd) and my parents are schlepped to Grandparent's Day, at the accursed fair. I mean seriously, how many trips to this thing do I have to make? Do you really think I'm going to buy more, rather than divide my money up into smaller budgets for each visit?
3. Unlike Grandparent's Day and other school events which are done by grade, Muffins with Mom is for everyone at once. So, let's assume that the school is at 80% capacity - a more than generous assumption for the area. Now, let's assume that 75% of students have a mom or mom-substitute. That puts the school at 40%* over capacity. Now, instead of spreading that 40% out over the entire building, let's pack them all into a hallway to eat then send them into a library where the already full of books room has some added tables and shelves for the book fair books. Yeah. Great plan. 

I managed to make it through the whole experience without hyperventilating. But I did do some deep breathing exercises in the parking lot after leaving. 

The only good news is that my precious sweet daughter is apparently harboring the same issue as she led us to the only empty spot in the whole hallway. 

Ah, genetics.

All in all, it was a horrific experience. That I will repeat for the next eight years (because I'm so smart with my age-gapping ability, yo). Why, you ask? Because unfortunately, I love my kids more than my breathing. Or my sanity. And it's just one of those things. I hope they appreciate this some day.

By the way: Mom, thank you ever-so-much for braving whatever it was that was equally horrible to you in the name of being a great mom. I'm guessing that Girl Scouts and Ice Capades were particularly awful and you should know that I appreciate it.

*Don't ask me to explain my math. It involves substitute numbers and other unscientific oh-crap-I-can't-remember-mathness. 

Five Things on Friday - Long Weekend Edition

This weekend, I have nothing planned. I mean that pretty literally. I have no where to be, nothing that has to be done and a great expanse of vastiness awaiting my presence. That's not to say that I'm not going to do anything.  I'm going to visit my ailing (and pitiful) Grandmommy, I'm going to a first birthday party for a little girl at church, I'm going to do laundry and clean the house and read and crochet and finish some craft projects and then actually photograph them so I have something about which to write a Making It! post. I'm also going to get my car ready to sell. Or burn. Whichever is the least frustrating.

And I couldn't be happier about my vast expanse of down time. I hope there are good marathons on TV and that my kids want to nap a lot.

That said, I was thinking about nice holiday weekends and I thought I would share

My Five Ingredients to a Pleasant Holiday Weekend
(Also, there should be an award because they all start with "F")

1. Family - I am one of those gluttons for punishment who truly enjoys being around my family. Almost all of them. Definitely my kids and my mom and dad and little brother. Even if all we do is sit on the couch and watch 42 straight episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress," it's better than not being with them. It helps that I have a pretty rocking family. I mean, no offense to your parents or kids or siblings, but I'm pretty sure mine are better. Just saying. You can comfort yourself with the knowledge that you are probably better than I am.

2. Food - I love food. It shows. But I'm pretty much down with all of it. And holiday food is by far the best. I don't know that I'm going to get much holiday food this weekend, but I am planning on doing some cooking. Cooking is also where it's at. I don't necessarily like the hot kitchen this time of year, but when you make something that makes people's eyes roll back in their heads, it's totally worth it. My grandma hates to cook and she's mostly the one who taught me how to cook. I can easily understand not liking the process, but to me that feeling of making someone else something life sustaining and rilly-rilly good is downright addictive.

3. Fiber - I can't imagine a long weekend or holiday without some yarn and a hook. I'm easily amused. The colder it gets, the more lap covering my projects get. This time of year, I like to knock out things like Christmas tree ornaments and dishrags, saving my sweaters and baby blankets for a time that I don't mind my lap being covered with what amounts to an ever-moving blanket. I haven't decided what I'm going to work on this weekend, but it's going to be epic.

4. Friends - As most of my friends have their own family obligations over holidays, I don't get to hang with the girls like I used to, but even a Sunday night phone chat, knowing you don't have to get up on Monday morning is pretty much worth it.

5. Frosty Beverages - A margarita or a lemonade or a really icy Coke. I'm easy to please in the beverage department. I'm pretty sure I'm going to make some lemonade this weekend. I'm still trying to master the skill.

What are you doing this weekend and what makes for a great holiday weekend in your book?