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Having one of those days....those poor, poor pitiful me days.

The ones where you feel like a super loser. Where you can't shake your mind from all the stupid things you've ever done....and then feel embarrassed about all the embarrassing things you've ever done.

Where you replay conversations in your mind, emphasizing all the parts that make you look a fool.

When you look about your home and see only the projects that you want to complete...you look in the mirror and see only the things you wish to change....look at your situation and see what it isn't.

Where nothing seems to go quite right. And even though you recognize the familiar turns of this road well travelled, you can't exactly snap yourself back around.

But then you remember Who's you are. And you remember what you have. And you start to see the glass half full beginning to refill....

.....and you bake a pan of blondies and the sun comes out.

sleeping....a little less

Alright.

Last night wasn't so hot:

Baby sleeping by 7:30pm.

Baby awake at 11:11pm. (My eleven's were up. That's for you, Dad.)

Baby back to sleep with nuk + blankie.

Baby awake again at 1:30am.

Baby still awake at 3:00am.

Baby finally back to sleep at 3:20am.

Mommy still awake until 4:20am.

Baby awake for the day at 5:45am.

Daddy awake for the day at 5:45am.

Little Debby Snack Cakes for breakfast.

sleeping...a little more

Last night was the third in our sleep training adventure. It went pretty well. Babe went to bed at 7:30 pm and woke up for the first time at around 11:30 pm. I fed him and put him back to sleep. He woke up again at 3:00 am. I gave him his nuk and his blankie, and laid him back down. He cried. For about 20 minutes. And then he went back to sleep. Until 7:00 am.

I think I would be dancing on the counter tops if someone (who shall remain nameless--but is the man that I married 11 years and a few weeks ago) inadvertently made DECAFFEINATED coffee this morning.

I am dragging.....but glad....with a headache....and hope.

sleep training

Friends, I'm tired. Very tired. And I'm tired of feeling tired. My reserves are being depleted faster than they are being built. Friday night, I decided it was high time to teach my (not so) tiny baby to sleep. With our first baby, we were co-sleepers. Not on purpose, but by accident. And out of necessity. She had us so trained. But a body can only run on fumes for so long. So, I bought a book. "Sleeping Through the night." (It had me at "Sleeping.")

The process laid out in the book involves a bit of crying. Both by the baby and the mommy. But the end result is sleep for all....so by cost analysis, and the greater good of the apartment complex we were living in, we went for it.

The plan was simple. You put your baby to bed. Baby cries. You go in every minute, then two, then five, then ten....whatever works for you...you say a calming word, touch a loving touch, then you leave. And crying ensues, and you do it all over again. (In a nutshell.)

(THIS APPROACH IS NOT FOR NEWBORNS.)

It goes against every fiber of your being to listen to your baby cry. You will cry. Your husband will be crabby. You might need to buy some cookies, chips and peanut M & Ms to get you through.

The book says that the first night is rough. The second night is rougher. The third night gets better, and the subsequent nights even more so. With our first, she cried for 45 minutes on night one. The second night, she cried for an hour and a half. The third night, she cried for over an hour. She kept this up for almost two weeks. BUT, Amazing Grace, she finally started sleeping.

Our second baby slept with us until he was about 6 or 7 months. Then he slept (poorly) in his crib for another 4 or 5 months. Then we started sleep training. And the first night he cried for about 30 minutes, the second night 60....by the third he had it down, and was sleeping almost through the night. I am just fine with almost.

This third baby....he slept next to me in his bassinet until he was 6 months old, and 5 pounds over the weight limit. (I know. I know! But, he wasn't pulling himself up yet or anything...just a big chub of unmotivated snuggle bunny.) I moved him to his crib, and things have been going pretty well. And by pretty well, I mean that he wakes up about 6 times every night. So, not so well.

On Friday last, my parent's took my older two to their place for the weekend. We seized the opportunity to train. The first night went okay. Last night was craptacular. But I am not discouraged. Tonight is another night.....he'll either catch on, or give me a serious run for my money.

I'll keep you posted.

a re-cap

So Refest.....

Refest was a bit of a flop. While I managed to sell a few pieces, there just weren't enough people in attendence to really make it worthwhile. There were seven girlfriends with stuff to sell in our little booth. Which was nice...in that, no one had to make a ton of things by themselves. We each took shifts manning the booths, making the time spent behind the tables much more enjoyable. The day itself was lovely. Warm with a nice September breeze. The other artisans were really fun. And there was a coffee and donut booth right across from us. None of us sold much, but it was fun none-the-less.

And now we all have a supply of goods to fill up our Etsy shops.

Speaking of...you have GOT to see this one. These are AMAZING. You will wonder how you have lived so long without one. Please.

See for yourself.

Locust St.

the gallery

More of me and less of you.

That is the theme of my decor, as of late.

This is my gallerylivingroom.

But wait! There's more.....

silhouettes

I've been busy. Making these.

For this weekend.

I'm really hoping that I can sell at least a few of them, because they are taking over my home.

And not just these.....I've been painting other stuff too...I'll show you my living room tomorrow.

I feel like I'm slowly turning my home into my own little gallery. It's a bit silly.

his famous apple crisp

We started a tradition a few weeks ago. It's working well.

Tuesdays, my girl makes dinner. My boy makes dessert.

Dinner tonight is cornbread and acorn squash with butter and maple syrup.

Dessert is my son's "famous apple crisp." (Self named.)

I let them take control over as many aspects as they are able. I encourage them to tweak recipes to make them their own. They both delight in "secret ingredients." (Usually vanilla extract or a blend of spices.)

The apple crisp was pulled out of the oven a bit before it could really get golden, only because the chef called it done. The apples are perfectly tender, and the smell is fantastic. He has only allowed one tiny nibble to test...patience is our virtue in the waiting.

eleven

A lot of years ago, this really hot guy asked me to a movie.

I wasn't sixteen (15 years, 8 months) and old enough to officially date yet by my parent's standards. But I told him 'yes' anyhow.

He came by to pick me up, and I hollered to my mom, "I'm going to the movies with Amy." And left in a flourish of excitement and Aussie hairspray.

As time went on, I watched this hot guy play hockey. And football. And baseball. Oh, the baseball.....I watched so much baseball. (Baseball had the best uniforms.)

When I close my eyes, I can still see him in my mind's eye. After the game. Walking from the dugout towards the stands, where I would wait for him. He has this walk...

Saturday marks eleven years since the day we wed.

If I could go back and relive it exactly as it has been, I would.

I'm so lucky.

The moral of this story:

Always lie to your parents.

:)

apple red Betty

One of these will go to my Aunt Betty.....only I'm not quite certain which one.

still remembering

(a repost of last years entry on this date)

On Friday, September 7th, 2001, I was on my way to an evening design class. The road I was on had a series of synchronized lights...the kind where you could get through all of them if you pushed it, just a little. The car in front of me was getting us through them...we were nearly at the end of the set, when the last one turned yellow. The gal in front of me stepped it up, and so did I. I reached down to grab something out of my back pack and looked up. She was hammering her breaks. I hammered, too. But it was too late. The roads were just a little wet, and I rear ended her.

I got out of the car in a panic. Was she okay? She was okay. I was a wreck. I was crying. I felt horrible. Her lovely car had one little schmick in her bumper. My neon was a crumpled up mess. I called my dad, who was also, conveniently, my insurance agent. He arrived. The police arrived. My husband arrived. I couldn't stop crying.

The poor sweet lady I ran into was so lovely and gracious. She reassured me that everything would be just fine. It was so bizarre. When all was said and done, my husband drove me to my class. My neon went to the shop. The nice lady drove herself home, with my insurance information. The police gave me a ticket, because insult and injury go hand in hand.

The next morning, I woke up very stiff. And emotional. I was about to grab a handful of Advil, when it occurred to me that something else was rather amiss. I took a test. It had two lines.

I did not take the Advil.

The rest of the weekend went by with me in a state of shock and a state of shock.

That next Tuesday, I said goodbye to my husband as he left for his daily college routine. I was getting ready for classes in the same way I always did...breakfast at the coffee table while watching Good Morning America. A plane hit the World Trade Center. Watching in disbelief, a second plane hit.

What is going on?

What is going on?

I watched until I had to leave to get to class. On the drive over, the radio spoke about the Pentagon. All the pieces were beginning to come together.

I parked my husband's truck in my parking lot, and began the 7 block trek to the Apparel, Textile, and Interior Design building. Something hot began to pinch my arm. A bee. I was being stung by a bee. It made me angry. I stepped out of character and squished it with my hand.

I ruined my car. We were having a baby. Something horrible was happening in our Country. I got stung by a bee.

I made it to class, and there were only 2 other people that showed up. Everyone was moving around really slowly. Televisions all around campus were tuned into live coverage.

I went to grab a coffee. Brought it back to the studio, and decided to work on my project. As I rendered the office space I had been working on, life felt very different. What am I doing? An Interior Designer? How do we change the world? What kind of world is this to be bringing a baby into? My arm hurts, stupid bee. What do we all do now?

in the name of full disclosure...

....yesterday I fell off the wagon and into four packages of Little Debbie Nutty Bars. At 320 calories per package.

Um, the good news is that I ate a delicious salad for lunch.

And, that as I was sneakily opening the last package of nutty bars after washing up the noon dishes, I was smacked with the reality of what I was doing. So I called to my kids and gave them each a half and sent them out to play.

It's a bumpy ride on this road to healthy living.

I should get a seat belt.

tree no. 5

tree no. 3

For a girlfriend's new office.