Stocking Update

Sewing is stupid.

Sewing is a stupid liar and I hate it. I'm going to trip it when I see it on the playground and spread rumors and tell all the boys that it wears a retainer at night. I mean, how dorky of it right?! (P.S. Don't tell the boys I wore one too.)

Take THAT sewing.

Yeah, that's right, your not invited to my parties, EVER.

I can throw a good party.

Take THAT again sewing.

It's been, lets count, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday and MONDAY. So, one, two, three (Are you with me, it's a lot of numbers?), four, FIVE. FIVE days and the thread is still NOT through the needle.

Well, I thought I got it though because it doesn't really tell you HOW to thread a needle, the directions just tell you to thread the needle. OH and speaking of directions, they go something like this...

"1- Embroider, sequin and personalize piece one then attach to piece two."

I ask, HOW DO YOU EMBROIDER? What does that even mean? You can't just tell me to do it, you have to explain, I need pictures, I need an assistant, CAN YOU SEND ME AN ASSISTANT?!?!

Okay, back to the needle. So, I'm trying to pull this fat thread that has way too many strings through this non-exsitant hole and when I say non-exsitant, I'm NOT exaggerating! Okay, maybe I am because there IS a hole, you just can't see it unless you have laser eye sight and a bright light. So, I only get a few strands of the thread through and just try to pull the rest through which unwinds the thread and ruins it, then I'm all DUH, I don't NEED the WHOLE thread through, I just need a little bit and I'll tie a knot right on the end of the needle and be done. So I do it, not really thinking straight and tie a knot where the thread meets the needle hole (Is there a technical name for needle hole?) and realize, how the hell do I get that though the sequins, or felt or ANYTHING?! So I remembered once when I saw the costume designer at Club Med "thread a needle" and she put the thread though then pulled it half way through and tied a knot WAY far away from the needle, you know, like doubling up? So I realized that I DO need to get the WHOLE thread through the needle and cut off my knot leaving me WAY less thread and I don't think the stocking kit realized how much thread I was going to be cutting away in mistakes before I even STARTED. I'm getting all pissy and thought, be calm, collect yourself, you aren't FIVE. I tried to think of this process like yoga: relaxing, but the longer I tried to thread that damn needle, the more annoyed I became. Let me tell you, I gave that thing to Geoff to do. He said it may be possible with some tweezers.

Tweezers?

Here it is Monday night. I'm low on red thread and even lower on patience.

Did I mention how much I hate sewing?

The World we Live In

Target has Mens XBox Call of Duty pajama bottoms.

In the MENS department.

In MENS sizes.

I'm predicting a downward spiral from here on out.

(I also told Santa about them. Shhhh...)

High E

I always said if I could get plastic surgery on one thing, it would be my vocal cords, so I could sing.

I also say my singing is a little too ahead of the time for people to appreciate NOW. It's okay, I'll be off the charts 500 years after death.

At a cookie party in college, my not so shy friend and I busted out 'Where are you Christmas?' from 'The Grinch who Stole Christmas' soundtrack. We were so bad, it was good (in a bad, screeching sort of way) and named ourselves, our voices, our talent: High E.

Years later, I'm still not voice shy, though I should be and at over one year, my son even knows this.

I guess he is just one and half so has not yet LEARNED how amazing my voice truly is.

Yesterday we were all dancing to Mamma Mia, and just like I would anywhere else, I was envisioning myself IN the musical and started singing.

Sawyer went from dancing with hands free, to hands over his ears doing whatever he could to block out my incredible voice to his impressionable, innocent ears.

And I swear, if any of you taught him that, High E will take over your ipod.

Decoration Inspiration

This just became a house decoration inspiration.



I love you Anthropologie.

Bucilla Christmas Stocking

I decided to title this post so matter of fact purely for the search engines and no, not for extra traffic. You know how I wanted to make Sawyer a stocking and was going to be all Craft Whore and thought about my fancy stocking that someone made me with lots of love? After some searching, I'm pretty sure my stocking came from a kit, a Bucilla Stocking Kit to be exact. The felt, the sequins, the designs, it's right on with my childhood stocking. After a tiny bit of searching, I decided to go with my gut and bought this one...


Image here

After some more searching, I found cuter, more elaborate stockings I liked better then realized, they were MORE ELABORATE and decided my gut might of chosen correctly.

Then I started to freak.

Does it come with needle and thread? How do you even SEW on a sequin? Iron on felt? You can even IRON felt?

So I started searching for reviews and tips and the only thing I really found was all these people LOVE these kits, and "though on my 40th stocking, I can't get enough, do give yourself enough time, start in the summer...". Ummm, did this person say 'start in the summer' and it's her '40th stocking'?! HUH?! I found no one freaking out, no beginner jumping into a shark tank. No one I could relate with.

I think I'm in a shark tank but the sharks are sequins and stitching and I'm going to have to swim for my life.

Back to the bland title. If anyone out there decided on a whim they were going to prove their love through a homemade stocking and is now flipping out... You. Aren't. Alone.

I'm terrified.

Let the journey begin.

Money Box

I know I complained about Geoff purchasing some war game for the stupid X Box.

That was until he informed me that he moved our stock to the company that makes the war games.

Dear Everyone: Go out and buy Call of Duty games. I guess I changed my mind, the games aren't dumb, not dumb at all, or a pointless time waster. No, nothing like that.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to find some stocks that focus purely on male obesity because apparently when you sit down to play, you can't get back up... ever.

12 Weeks!

Two weeks since my last prego update. Geeze, I know I talk about how fast time is flying, but wasn't I just ten weeks yesterday?! I love that this is going by fast, the last pregnancy inched ever so slowly, soooooooooo slowlllllly.

Food just doesn't sound good. I'm surrounded by every restaurant possible and nothing sounds good. It's noon, I just taught a kick butt hour long fitness class, basically I'm starving and have no desire to eat. BUT, I'm not barfing up anything and THAT is nice, I also haven't had a headache in about a week and THAT is nice as well. Things are nice!

The un-nice thing however is probably me. It's amazing how incredibly powerful hormones are, they take over your body like an alien invasion and there is nothing you can do. I'm pretty verbal, I tell people how I feel, I'm don't beat around the bush but PREGNANT and hormonal and CRAZY, I really let people know what I'm thinking. I'm going to count my friends and then count them after this little one is born and see how many I lost. Anyone want to start a poll?

Onto the belly pics avec shirt.



I swear the thing keeps getting smaller. Are you okay in there rhino???

Love you guys! Please stay my friend through my hormonal peaks!!!

Excuse me while I complain...

Geoff just bought Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, or something or rather.

It's the only thing we fight about, the damn XBox.

It even came with night vision goggles.

I need a drink.

Craft Whore in Progress

In my effort to be the worlds greatest Craft Whore, I went to Michaels in search for ingredients to make a stocking. I have been to this store a few times, once I walked out nervous knowing I was WAY over my head. Next time I sat in the isle reading a book repeating 'I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.' and the last time, I went back for more paper. Eventually I was left with homemade invitations for Sawyer's birthday party that looked... like, uh, I made them?

So, I went back cause I'm street like that and I can handle my own AND left in fear yet again. How does this store do it, it's so damn intimidating?! There are all these ladies in there that walk around with mini carts full of things I've never head of or seen and they have vision. THEY HAVE VISION. The see stuff. I think it's almost like psychic math, something plus this plus sparkles plus other things will equal A NEW CAR! I mean, how do they do it? HOW DO YOU DO IT?!?! I want to be crafty! I want to have a talent, maybe even have other people purchase my services, I want to be a craft whore too!

I'm just not. How hard is it to make a stocking? When I was little, I had the cutest stocking, it had my name on it, and all sorts of sequins, and it had a pocket with a removable Santa and all sorts of other Christmasy things. See, my brother didn't have a stocking like that, he had a, dare I say it, STORE BOUGHT ONE! I knew that because mine was homemade and his was store bought that my parents liked me better. It's just truth. I speak truth. My family is not incredibly talented, no one is craft whorish so this stocking had to be easy right?!?!

I saw no easy stocking recipe in sight. I figured they would have kits, you know like they have cookie dough in a tube if you suck at baking, why don't that have you suck at crafting, craft kits for people like me?!?! I want to fake it!!! After not seeing any kits and realizing that I didn't even own a needle and thread that I was indeed in the wrong place. People looked at me but no one asked if I needed help. I mean, even the people in J Crew ask if you need help and you don't really need help but there I was, lost and scared and alone and NO ONE OFFERED HELP!!!!

I walked out deflated, yet again. Michaels, you win but I'll be back, I'm a sore loser and I'll fight dirty.

New Trick

This week Sawyer learned how to sign 'blanket' and 'car' and finished up his tricks by getting up on the couch all by himself. Can you tell it's the little things that will make a mommy proud? Also notice how he doesn't take simple directions like saying bye to daddy when making him a video. Oh well, next time kid.

This is why I now dress my child dorky.

Pregnancy makes me nuts and all I want is a margarita WITH SALT as large as your head. And, if your head isn't a big one, I'll pass it up and have one as large as your friend's head.

Moving on.

I bought Sawyer a pair of super cool Puma's from Nordstrom ON SALE (Cause I'm cheap.) and couldn't wait for Sawyer to grow into them.

He grew into them.

Figured out how to use his diaper pail.

The shoes go missing.

After a week of searching and a day of deep cleaning, I'm sure those shoes (along with almost ALL of his socks and several toys) were thrown out with the diapers.

He wore them, I think, TWICE.

I told him I'm never buying him another pair of shoes again, like he understood or cared.

Last seen with those shoes:



RIP

Things that are going on.

I didn't actually TELL you guys because I thought once I said it, I wouldn't be able to do it, totally go blank, but turns out I still failed.

Last year, the thing that kicked off this blog was National Blog Posting Month, NaBlPoMo or something like that. Aren't the initials a little too long to be helpful? Anyway, you are suppose to blog EVERY DAY! Seriously, every day for a month. I got like three in a row and was so proud, I wanted to take my OWN temperature, you know, just to make sure I was still okay.

And I failed because there is no post yesterday. I MEANT to post, I even had stuff to say, but the day just flew by, just like the last few months have. I mean, did you guys know it's November? It's not August, or September and I'm pretty sure October got skipped but it's NOVEMBER!!! I can't believe it! Yeah, so, a day got by me, oops.

Since I've been asked, here is the deal with the house...

I have NO clue what real estate language means! Until yesterday, we have not heard back from anyone. All this waiting is driving Geoff nuts but somehow along with all the crazy I've become, I've also become patient. It's like patience is my new super power. I'm all super power patient... with EVERYTHING!!! I'm also not all obsessive about things (Weird huh, Aurora?!?!) and fell back in love with our little condo. I was checked out long ago, got annoyed at it often and was sure the hormones, once I became pregnant, would make it worse. But it didn't. I'm happy here and am going to miss it when it's gone but the key word, is it eventually needs to be GONE. We have to sell and until we do, there isn't a house for us. So, all this waiting was good, no sold condo equals no bought house and I was fine, patient.

BUT yesterday we got a few emails in some other language that wasn't offered in my high school foreign language selection and now I have NO idea what is going on.

Story: My step grandpa is super smart, creative, funny; he INVENTS things! I thought this was soooo cool when I was younger. One day on the drive back from his place my friend and I asked my step mom how growing up with him was. It had to be awesome, right? Your dad just builds and invents cool toys and games and plays with you all the time. It's like a dream! I'll never forget her story. She said it had its drawbacks. For Halloween one year, she wanted to go to some party, dress as some thing BOUGHT from a store. It was cool back then, you know, to BUY your costume. Purchasing wasn't going to do it though and her dad had it covered. She came home one day to the most bizarre outfit sitting on her bed: pants with one leg cut off, crazy shirt that wasn't a long sleeve or a short sleeve, different socks, etc. After finding out that THIS was indeed her 'new costume', she asked what the heck she was suppose to be. The answer? A Confuse-A-Cat. You walk down the street and confuse all the cats. A Confuse-A-Cat. She was mortified.

I feel like that is exactly what real estate language is. A big Confuse-A-Cat. We get this email that says the file has been closed but a closed file can always be reopened and the new negotiator is unwilling to negotiate the price further. Well, we didn't ask to negotiate the price any further and why is the file closed if you keep extended the foreclosure date? The agent also said something about finding their bottom price and junk. I don't get it. Say what you mean. If the bank doesn't want to negotiate any more from OUR price, than accept our price! If they don't want to negotiate from the asking price, then don't accept our price and we'll OFFER you the ASKING price. But MAKE A MOVE! We are not far off from the asking price as it is, basically if the bank wasn't so dang wishy-washy, they would of made that difference in mortgage payments by now. I think the whole letter meant, we are going to say a bunch of stuff to confuse you because we actually haven't done a damn thing including winterize! I would of been so much happier and less confused if the email I got back simply said, "Confuse-A-Cat." Cool, I get it, thanks, makes TOTAL sense, I'll keep waiting!

I'm shutting up now, I have to make sure I have more to say tomorrow, you know for National Blog like a Lunatic Month.


Peace, love and confusing outfits,


me.

A Nursery Rhyme

I was reading a book of nursery rhymes to Sawyer and felt the need to stop in the middle of this one.


The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy, you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"


Ummm, do any of us remember being rocked to sleep to this? Is this a classic? Just wondering.

A Christmas Sock

You guys know I'm lame right? And not a perfectionist? Am a bit mediocre?

So, did you guys see Sawyer's costume?

Yeah, I posted pics... of him in his costume, his Halloween costume... which consisted of a shirt, jeans and an old little cap. Yup, I said cap. Happy Halloween, lazy mommy doesn't have a costume for you.

In my defense, I've been tired, incredibly tired, too tired to fight the crowds for a halloween costume and then when I actually TRIED to find one on the morning of October 31st, nothing was left but fairy princess costumes.

Then I thought, as much as I want my maybe future little girl to be in tutus as much as possible, maybe I won't dress her as a fairy or princess or combination of the two, because DAMN, can there be any more fairy princess costumes in this world? Maybe I was bitter because they had nothing for my manly, handsome, manly (Did I say manly?), NOT FAIRY PRINCESS, little man?

I look at the last pictures and hold my head in shame. Maybe I'm going overboard, but get this, I DECIDED to make Sawyer his very first Stocking. (Yeah, I know LAST year was his first Christmas but he didn't have a stocking, are you at all surprised?!) So, I'm going to be all mom like and festive, and artsy and dear God, wish me luck...

Dear Sawyer: Almost a year and a half!

I've written a lot about the baby growing inside me, the baby that will be your little brother or sister, but I wanted to let you know that you aren't chop liver, you just don't make me feel sick and when someone is making you feel sick, you tend to talk about that a little more.

But lets talk about you, amazing, fun little YOU!



WOW, are you fun and SMART! You are the most funnest thing ever, on the planet, in the whole history of the world, I just love all your fun! You always want to play, demand attention every minute, every minute needs to be play time. I wish that I had the same mentality. Why do adults lose all the fun? Every new minute is a new opportunity to discover something, play with it, know it inside and out and laugh really hard. It doesn't take much to have a blast with you. I stick out finger, you grab on and lead the way. You lead me to your magical fun world and I'm amazed that you get all this entertainment out of our small condo. Running and slipping on the wood floor in our socks pretending that we are skiing, jumping up and down to the music daddy is playing, throwing all your books on the floor just to hear them thud, playing ball, building lego towers, playing hide and seek, you are never one without ideas. As long as we are there for the ride, up for your games, you couldn't be happier!



Smart, you are sooo smart. One of the trainers in the gym I work at calls you the smartest baby in America, another guy we saw at dinner a while back sat there, mouth open wide as you signed away to me, everywhere we go, people seem to be impressed by you. You are picking up signing almost faster than I can keep up. The other week, you learned 'cookie', and I've never had to say no to you so often in the span of one day. You can put your signs together and almost sign sentences, 'cookie' 'please'. And when I don't give it to you, I see, 'MOM!' 'cookie' 'more' 'please' 'PLEASE!' 'more' 'cookie' 'mom'. And when I still don't give it to you, you blow me kisses, try to butter me up. I love you, but only so many 'cookies' in a day, okay! You also just learned 'baby' and it's the cutest damn thing!

The little things you do amaze me. Like today, I was looking at the way you wave. You used to wave, full hand flapping up and down, but now your hand stays still as your four little fingers move up and down, waving hi. It's the cutest thing, you can tell you think about it, want to wave like me and daddy and you do. Even the little things like your wave just blow me away.

You're a mamas boy. Holy crap are you a mamas boy. This mama boy thing keeps getting more and more intense. Last night, I was in your room, hanging shirts. You can't see me from the hall when I'm in front of your closet. You ran around the house, and at lap two, started crying, lap three cries turned into the saddest sobs. I had to walk out and hug you. Your cries stopped instantly but wanted a long cuddle, knowing that I was there, didn't leave without saying goodbye. It broke my heart. I just LOVE you and I promise to never leave without a kiss, never.

It's got to be the hormones, but reading news stories of missing children just make me cry. I can't help but lash out in full maternal mode. I never ever want to leave you alone, even when your 20, I always want you to be safe and the thought of someone ever trying to hurt you makes my blood boil. When something goes wrong, either flight or fight kicks in. I don't think I have a flight, I'm assuming I'm all fight. I have to push these thoughts out of my head, I have to hope that you have a healthy, happy, generally easy life because if someone messes with that, they will face my wrath, and if my imaginary wrath is frightening, even to myself, I can't imagine what my full blown fighting wrath will be. I would do anything in this world to protect you. I'm still amazed that I can love anything as much as I love you, it's the never ending reserve that keeps doubling in depth every time I blink. Life with you is the coolest, most amazing thing and I hope you never, ever forget that. Like I tell daddy, if you ever are not feeling loved, I'm doing something seriously wrong, I hope you always feel my love!!!

Forever and ever,

Your mommy!