Monday, June 23, 2008
Inspired, for a while I thought I’d throw off the shackles as well. I could start small. Release myself from the bonds of disposable diaper guilt. Maybe work my way up to online file sharing guilt and carbon footprint guilt. I was only moderately successful. We still use disposable diapers, but I’ve taken to cleaning my house with dried edamame hulls and rainwater. And we’ve already discussed my crushing SUV guilt.
Le sigh. It’s how I roll.
So today’s theme is more Mommy Guilt. I hope I’m not becoming too predictable. It’s equal opportunity today. I can’t seem to parent either of my children without emotional turmoil.
Sweet Pea’s comes in the form of “what have they been feeding you?” If you’ve met her you know she’s really small. Petit, we like to say. She’s 4 years old and weighs about 26 lbs. She’s not short, per se. I mean, she’s not towering over the other 4 year olds. But when people comment on her size they don’t usually mean her height. And people ALWAYS comment on her size. I tell her she’ll love it when she’s 25.
Yesterday we were at the pool, and Mr. G was talking with a new golf buddy who happens to also be a doctor. He’s some kind of specialist – originally I thought Proctologist. But maybe a Gastroenterologist. (Which, incidentally, makes him more likeable…?) Anyway, he has a daughter the same age as Sweet Pea who seems to be built a little taller and stockier than average. Which is only to say that our two girls, when standing side by side - in swimmysuits no less, represent opposite ends of the growth spectrum. It seems like that’s always how it goes too. And for some reason the child who is in the 90th percentile always looks “normal” and “healthy” and my little wisp elicits a barrage of questions about her eating habits and genealogy. Which is precisely what happened yesterday. And as luck would have it, my niece, of the “she’s built just like her cousin” reference was there too. All we needed was Mr. G’s four foot, nine inch grandmother in a two piece and we’d have had our genetic rationalization right there to illustrate why we don’t sweat being small. Because really, we just don’t sweat it. I was small-ish. She eats. She’s healthy.
So GolferDoctor asks Mr. G if we’ve ever had her tested for a wheat allergy. (Nope.) And goes on to say that Celiac Sprue is very common, and often undiagnosed because some kids will have no symptoms. But one of the big tells in kids is weightloss and/or “growth failure”. Which I totally dismissed until this morning when she got dressed for school in toddler panties and a size 18 month skort that fit perfectly, but only because it has TUCKS SEWN IN THE WAIST. Erm. Did I mention that she’s really petit?
Just now I have been reading about Celiac Sprue on the interweb, and have learned that kids who are diagnosed early – with a simple bloodtest – will often have a big growth spurt if they go on a Gluten free diet.
So now what? Do I take her to the doctor and get her finger pricked based on an offhand comment by my husbands golf buddy? Does that make me all crazy and paranoid? He is a doctor. If I DON’T get her tested am I running the risk that she will have an increased chance of osteoporosis, cancer, thyroid diseases, abdominal distress, etc. etc. etc. etc. ETC.? She is really not going to like getting her finger pricked.
The Sweet William guilt trip is all about how we quit nursing on Wednesday. But that’s stupid guilt, because he could care less. As long as there is food coming at him in some form he is not terribly concerned with the vessel. I think I’m just sad because I wasn’t ready yet. He’s my last baby and all that. But it was getting to be really painful, and I was supplementing with formula anyway – he doesn’t share his sisters small size, or small appetite.
So waaah. She’ll have 3 months of superior breast-milk-enhanced brain development on him, but he’ll go to Notre Dame on a football scholarship. So is that win/win or lose/lose?
I’ll donate some $$ to wind power to make up for all the energy I consumed while selfishly typing all this nonsense. Or maybe I’ll just eat a cookie. Wracked with guilt and voluptuous go hand in hand.
Friday, June 20, 2008
So here are three links to some sites where you can download free fonts for your scrapping/crafting pleasure. I just downloaded about 30, and would love to spend about 12 hours downloading more. I love fonts.
Moorstation - this one has lots of beautiful gothic and scripted fonts as well as some fun dingbats.
Creamundo and DaFont probably have quite a bit of overlap, but it looks like Creamundo has a lot more fonts, and I liked how they were organized by style on DaFont. So both are little treasure troves. Says me.
**Free fonts also confuse me to no end, because I had to design a font for an art class in college, and it was hard work. I wouldn't be doing that for fun. And I wouldn't be giving it away. Then again my professor for that particular class was a hateful shrew, and that may have colored my font designing experience. Maybe. And it probably also explains my deep hatred of balsa wood.
Shudder... OK. Back to my happy place. (And in her defense, I had Dragonlady for a textile class my senior year and she praised my work repeatedly and said I was talented even when my final project - a silk kite - literally disintegrated and had to be scotch taped together for the critique.)
I made a little pillowcase dress for Sweet Pea a couple weeks ago. I'm not a seamstress by any stretch. But I do own a sewing machine. And I can do the basics. So I was delighted that this little project was a perfect match for my skill level. The pillowcase was purchased at Saint Vincent De Paul for exactly half of $2.50. (My niece is getting the other pillowcase dress for her birthday.) And I found very easy to follow instructions at the Red Instead Blog.
The basics are that you measure your child from the shoulders to hemline, then cut the top off the pillowcase to make your dress the proper length. (Which is up to you, obviously.)
For the ties you can either use ribbon or fabric. If you use ribbon, make sure you get some of that no fray stuff for the ends. (You probably knew that though, right? I was lucky enough to remember my friend Stacey's ballet recital horror story from a couple of years back and picked some up when I bought the ribbon and thread.)
And voila! Sew cute. ;-)
Monday, June 16, 2008
I'm adding to this post today so I can share the project I made Mr. G for Father's Day before it is two weeks past Father's Day...
It is a mini album, and you've already seen the cover. (Yesterday's post) I made it on a 6" X 6" clear album. Unfortunately, I used a decopage materaial for an adhesive/gloss. And it got tacky and the pages stuck together. Boo Hiss. So I will be remaking said album, and will have some photos to show of the actual finished product at that time.
These are the finished pages:
The inside front cover included some hand cut elements that I don't have a picture of. And the inside of the back cover is an envelope with "Daddy Bucks" good for things like sleeping in, backrubs, games of golf, etc. I had lots of ribbon and rick rack attached to those which looked very cool peeking through the clear plastic. And also some swirly rub on designs that were pretty cool.
Stupid adhesive! But I'll get'er fixed right up and post a picture. If anyone has any advice on what I should use to replace the decopauge, let me know. Diamond glaze?
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I am thinking about adding a playlist of music to my blog. Mostly because I would like to be able to listen to music here in my cave of an office. So, your opinions please. Would that annoy you to no end dear readers? Plan B is to create another blog where my tunes could live. Would that be better?
And just in case you're wondering what else I'm thinking about today...I have scenes from the Chipmunk movie on a continuous loop in my brain. Which would be enough to drive a girl batchitcrazy if it weren't for the fact that I LOVE the Chipmunk movie. Every squeaky, furry, sassy, last bit of it. I just wanna give that little Theodore a snuggle. True Dat.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Today's dose O'Clover brought to you courtesy of my parents' computer. And since I'm here I might as well post that picture of me looking all blonde and willowy and supermodelish.
Le sigh. I wish I could tell you in all honesty that I think I was "too thin" and that another 10 lbs. would have looked better. But no. I looked good.
I guess I should go to the gym.
Also, check out little baby Sweet Pea. Awwww....
Monday, June 09, 2008
YOU CAN ONLY TYPE ONE WORD
1. Where is your cell phone? Purse
3. Your hair? (Ok, wait. Where is my hair? What is the question here? And what happened to #2? So much for the challenge...) Short
4. Your mother? Beautiful
5. Your father? Smart
6. Your favorite thing? Food
7. Your dream last night? Forgettable
8. Your favorite drink? Wine
9. Your dream/goal? Artist
10.The room you’re in? Office
11. Missing? Summertime
12. Your fear? Hearbreak
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Retired
14. Where were you last night? Parents'
15. What you’re not? Stupid
16. Muffins? Muffintucker
17. One of your wish list items? Firepit
18. Where you grew up? Idaho
19. The last thing you did? IM
20. What are you wearing? Diamonds
21. Your TV? Sufficient
22. Your pets? Stinky
23. Your computer? Appendage
24. Your life? Glorious
25. Your mood? Monday
26. Missing someone? Absolutely
27 Your car? MILF
28. Something you’re not wearing? Rings
29. Favorite Store? Anthropologie
30. Your summer? Impatient
31. Like someone? Girlfriends
32. Your favorite color? Sage
33. When is the last time you laughed? Dinner
34. Last time you cried? Cinderella
35. Who will/would re-post? Puzzler
In other news...
We just got a Sephora here in Idaho - and by "just" I mean several months ago. But since I never go anywhere, especially not the mall, all things are new to me. See how easily entertained I am?
Anyhoo...new Sephora, new haircut, old makeup, and a Saturday evening with no husbands around = me and my mom hitting the mall. Mr. G is always teasing me about my inability to concentrate in the presence of bright colors and shiny objects. And it's no secret that I'm a sucker for pretty, girly packaging. So as you can imagine, Sephora is a lot like Disneyland for me. I wandered around slackjawed for a half hour while Sweet Pea and Grandma played with q-tips and blush. We didn't leave until I had agonized over the perfect shade of pink eyeshadow, and Sweet Pea looked a little like a deranged kiddie pageant contestant. Big fun.
I bought something in a pink and white floral compact, natch. And when I got it out of the (shiny, pretty, brightly colored tissue paper stuffed) sack this AM I was delighted to find a little perfume sample as well. As if I didn't already have a crush on your Sephora. You had me at Lash Bar.
~Clover - who is looking and smelling oh so lovely today.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
I have a closet full of skinny clothes and “transition” clothes. But not a lot in the “things that fit over my potentially permanently spread hips” department. And nothing weather appropriate that covers up the girls without a lot of stretching and gapping.
For now, the transition clothes get to stay because no matter how unattractively they sag, I can pull them up over my bootie. Not to mention that there are a lot of long sleeved options in that particular life phase wardrobe. And since summer seems destined to pass us by this year, I’m getting some good wear out of the 6 identical Eddie Bauer t-shirts (in white, crème, pink, green, blue, and gray.)
But the skinny clothes…the beautiful skinny clothes. The entire wardrobe gleefully purchased at Ann Taylor Loft back in the day when I discovered that weeks of working out with a trainer had landed me in a size 4 petit. (Hello! That’s like a SIZE 2!!) What on earth do I do with the skinny clothes? The part of me that lives in reality land – which is also the part of me that just ate a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie – is not all that interested in being a size 4 petit ever again. It involved a very regimented gym schedule that just isn’t happening now that I have added kid #2 to the mix. And it definitely did not allow for eating off of your 4 year old’s plate, or having Ben and Jerry’s Cake Batter ice cream before bed.
When I was at my most fit, I weighted about 125 lbs. and had muscles in my legs that I could see when I walked. (Damn that was cool.) I think that was some sort of weird post-first-pregnancy-hormone-induced-weight-loss-miracle though. Now, if I were to actually put some effort into regular workouts and healthy eating I could probably be a 135 pound size six and look pretty smokin’ hot. Not to mention feel all strong and have lots of energy and be super healthy, blah blah blah.
Right now I am at 145, all of which seems to be clinging for dear life to my butt, upper arms and stomach. (As opposed to where else Clover? Your toes? Your earlobes. Face it sister you are just plain pudgy in all the places where pudgy exists.) And I am REALLY not in love with the muffin top. (Hello…re-read the last 2 sentences of the preceding paragraph stoopit.)
So what’s a girl to do? Besides the obvious Ben & Jerry’s ban. Should I get rid of my skinny clothes? Pack them away in the garage for a while? Or just keep them in my closet to torture…erm…motivate me? And in the meantime, what on earth am I going to wear??
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
This was supposed to be a family picture, but Sweet Pea flat out refused to participate. Behind us is JR Simplot's house, which I left in the picture as a lil tribute to the Potato King who passed away this week.
My gorgeous mom.
Sweet William chillin' in his Little Man getup.
Look how happy he is to be sitting with his daddy!
3 generations of Moms, and the little monkeys who made the day something special.
Monday, June 02, 2008
"Mommy? Um, Mommy? Um...Do you, do you renember when we were driving our red car, this red car but not on the freeway, only on the street and we crashed into that big black truck? Do you renember that mommy? And you said, 'Are you Ok?' and I said, 'I'm fine Mommy but Baby Will is crying.' And you said SHIT. You said it FREE TIMES Mommy. Shit! Shit! Shit! Do you renember that Mommy?"
Still. Trying. Not. To. Laugh.