motherhood, politics, faith & whatnot

Two of my favorite activities are collecting and sorting. All kinds of things. I wish I could get paid for collecting and sorting, oh, and for learning stuff. A professional student. That would be awesome. I was a dorky kid and I loved school. I have a strong novelty-seeking streak, so school suited that because you were always learning new things. My art history degree, ever-so-practical, is largely a result of this novelty seeking streak. I had always excelled in science and math, but I got off onto a humanties kick. Hey, what’s this art stuff all about? It was a whole new world to me, but I kind of sucked at it.

Anyway, back to the collecting and sorting thing.

So, I want to make a quilt. A small quilt for Daniel to use on his bed. I even have some fabric already. Some with trains and some with cars and trucks. I had bought this fabric for other projects, but it might be better-suited for this quilt.

I saw a small wall-hanging quilt at a friend’s house and thought it would be really neat to learn how to make them. And maybe they would make good, budget-minded Christmas gifts.

What’s the problem, then, you ask.

Well, as I mentioned, I’m a collector and I’ve collected several other projects that I’ve started, but have yet to finish.

Flannel for crib/toddler bed sheets.

A couple of cross-stitch kits that I bought to make gifts with last year, but never made.

My first knitting project — a scarf, that I just restarted.

I have a big canvas that I painted with acrylics in a studio class in college — I want to gesso over it and paint some Rothko-esque, color block theme on it to hang on one of the as-of-yet-uncovered walls in our house.

I started making beaded jewelry a couple of years ago and still have a bunch of beads and clasps and whatnot.

A pattern for a baby/toddler body-sized bib.

A pattern for a simple fleece blanket.

A pattern for simple baby clothes and blankets.

Oh, and then there’s all the scrapbooking stuff I have. I’ve finished about 1/2 an album and intend to scrapbook the rest of our Boston years and then stop, because I just can’t be bothered with all the cutting and pasting and kvetching. I’m too much of a perfectionistic to be happy with the layouts that I manage to cobble together.

And then, I have tons of digital photos that I’d like to print out and frame or put in a photo album.

Then, there’s the bedspread for our bed that I’d like to make.

One thing at a time, my mom always used to say. But which thing?

What kinds of unfinished projects do you have around?

Our 2nd child is not the best sleeper. He routinely wakes a couple of times a night. J gets him, brings him to me and he nurses (the baby, not J. . .) and goes right back to sleep. We had a good week about a month ago where he only woke up once each night. That was bliss and all the stars must have been aligned. Since then he alternately has constipation issues, teething issues, gas issues, full moon issues, leg stuck between the slats of the crib issues, water in the ears issues — all kinds of issues which prevent him (and us) from a sound night’s sleep.

Daniel has slept through the night since he was 3 months old. Turns out that’s really the exception, not the rule. Who knew? Our pediatrician, also a parent of young children, snickers at us when we earnestly seeks answers as to WHY. DOESN’T. HE. SLEEP. BETTER?!

Anyway, from time to time, we talk about employing some kind of sleep “teaching” tactics to help him (read: us) sleep through the night. We tried letting Jim go in and comfort him and try getting him back to sleep without bringing him to nurse. Sometimes it works. But not very often. Or if one of the above-mentioned issues is believed to be causing his wakefulness, we abandon our attempts to ever-so-gently “teach” him to go back to sleep on his own.

Well, last night, Andrew woke up at 2:00 a.m., nursed and went back to sleep. He was up again at 4:00 a.m. Jim had had enough of this waking up thing. He was muttering to himself and saying something like “must draw a line in the sand” and “he’s not getting his way tonight.” He attempted to try to get Andrew to go back to sleep on his own by rocking him, walking him, patting him, and leaving him in the crib for a few minutes at a time.

All the while, Andrew was screaming his head off. And my heart was breaking. This isn’t right. This isn’t right, I kept thinking. I felt like somebody was taking him away from me. At last, Jim brought him into me to nurse since Andrew had started rooting in vain. He nursed and fell right back asleep.

I felt so out of sorts the next day (I’m now finishing this post today, the day after). I would begin to cry each time I thought about it. I was overly attendant to him, worried that he seemed a little withdrawn, not his usualy smiley self.

It turned out that he was constipated and totally full of poo, and is now back to his usual self. But still, no more impromptu “crying-it-out.” Ack.

and if you need one too, check this out.

Stuff On My Cat

and you got fired. Your employer probably wouldn’t hire you back as “consultant” to figure out what you did wrong, right?

Apparently, the federal government operates under different rules. Guess who’s back? Seriously.

Daily Nightly: Whither Michael Brown? - Nightly News with Brian Williams - MSNBC.com

my 41-year-old sister-in-law is pregnant with the long-awaited female grandchild. (Yes, Jim, best to stop reading now.)

Of course, we are happy for them, but I have to admit to a fair amount of jealousy and a smidgen of cattiness. This is the sister who has been the family f*ck-up and who is labelled by her own family as narcissistic. Over the years, she has absorbed way more than her fair share of attention from their mother. And now, she’ll be presenting her mother with the much longed-for granddaughter. Poor baby Andrew, he’s the fourth grand-son. Nobody’s really coming to see him these days, even though he is the cutest, funniest, sweetest, squishiest, little guy EVER, well, except for Daniel, of course.

*sigh* I know. I know. But what better place to rant than my blog.

I was actually pretty happy for them until I talked to her and offered to send along my maternity clothes. Through the course of our conversation, I got the feeling that she had already counted on that and that we’d send along all our baby gear as well. She was complaining about having to spend money on maternity clothes, hint, hint. If they were on a tight budget, that would be one thing. But they are probably making close to $200k, hardly strapped for cash.

Anyway, I’m tired, so I’ll stop my rant there. I’m sure there will be more to come. I’m not sure why she irritates me so much, but she kind of always has, so this isn’t really that different. Better to get it out of my system here.

Have you seen any recent pics of our fair leader? He looks like a beleagured man. His brow is permanently furrowed and his nervous habit of jutting his chin sideways is becoming more and more frequent. I actually find myself feeling sorry for him, a little. But just a little. He’s made his bed or the right-wing-idealogue-neo-cons-in-his-administration-who-thought-he-would-make-a-good- figurehead-after-all-he-is-a-compassionate-conservative,-right? made his bed and now he has to lay in it. And boy is he? This man had no business being in the White House. No business whatsoever.

I kind of had to laugh. The anti-war protests in DC drew 100,000 yesterday. Do you know how many people the pro-war rally drew today? 400.

In a way thought, it’s kind of unfair. All those people who supposedly “supported” the war who are now saying that maybe it wasn’t a good idea. HELLO!!! Maybe you should have had a clue BEFORE we got in there. It’s not like we can just pack up and leave now, is it? Idiots. I’m sorry if I’m offending all the Bush-supporters reading this. Bush doesn’t believe in diplomacy anyway (John Bolton, remember? can’t wait for the diplomatic channels to work before we invade Iraq, remember? the diplomatic channels that most likely would have revealed that THERE.WERE.NO.WEAPONS.OF.MASS.DESTRUCTION without the loss of almost 2000 American lives (so far) and who knows how many Iraqi civilians) so I’ve decided to eschew it as well, in case you hadn’t noticed. Heh.

We were behind an SUV today that had a Bush/Cheney sticker AND a “W” sticker AND an American flag on their radio antenna. Whenever I see cars with Bush or “W” stickers, I have to restrain myself from driving up beside them and glaring at them.

Well, after fretting for a couple of days, we’ve vetoed the Atlanta trip. Spring pretty much summed it up: “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” Exactly. And with a teething 8.5 month old and a boisterous 2.5 year old, I’m not really up for more crap. A minimum of 6.5 hours in the car each way only to have to negotiate family politics and a toddler and a baby out of their element (see the posts about the Ocracoke trip) just isn’t worth it. That sounds kind of bad, I guess. If we had more time, then maybe, but we don’t. And you know what? I felt so relieved after making the decision not to go. So relieved. I’m learning.

I posted this elsewhere, but also wanted to probe the collective wisdom of the blog-community. This could alternately be titled, “Why I don’t go home.”

I need some help from my fellow moms, since nobody else around here is very helpful.

We’ve decided to go to Atlanta this weekend to see my family. My dad had a heart “incident” about two weeks ago which resulted in a balloon angioplasty. He’s fine and in good health (he goes to the gym almost every day), but it was kind of scary and I really want to see him.

So, we will drive down on Friday — it’s about a six hour drive (without a 2.5 year old and an 8.5 month old) and drive back on Sunday.

So, here’s the thing: I can’t decide where we should stay. My parents live about three miles from my brother and his wife and 3 year old daughter.

My parents house is not childproofed and Daniel will get into everything. He’s just like that. My mom says, “Well, maybe he won’t.” OK, yeah, maybe his whole personality will change on the drive down.

However, at my parents house, there are two bedrooms we could use. Daniel would sleep on a mattress on the floor in the same room with Jim, and I could sleep in the other bedroom on a twin with the boo in the crib. Waking up in the morning, it’ll be nice to hang out with Pop-Pop (my dad) — he tends to get up early.

If we stayed with my brother, we’d pretty much all be in one room. Jim and I and the baby would be in a queen bed (what we usually sleep in, sans boo) and Daniel would be on a mattress on the floor.) BUT, they have a three year old, so their house has some amount of childproofing and lots of toys and a big, slobbery lab (daniel loves dogs) and a playset in the back yard.

I think my mom’s feelings are already a little hurt b/c I just suggested that we might stay w/ Gray & Kristy (my bro), but then again, she does nothing to try to childproof anything. I mean, whether my mom’s feelings are hurt or not is one factor, mostly because I’ll feel guilty.

Then again, they are the grandparents and should be able to have their grandkids stay with them, right?

I don’t mean to cause a big stink by going against what my mom wants, but I just don’t know what to do. If our sleeping accommodations at my brother’s were more ideal, I really think we’d go there. But then, I’d really like to spend some quality time with my dad. Not that we wouldn’t be able to if we stayed with my brother.

But, if we are staying with my parents and Daniel’s acting up, it’s not like we’ll have that much qt anyway.

I am afraid that my mom is going to try to get Daniel to do what she wants him to do — sitting through a meal, eating what she wants him to, not sticking his fingers in the bird’s cage when she tells him not to, etc. I try to let that stuff just roll off, but it gets to me.

The bottom line with my mom is that her way is the only way in her house. She doesn’t like the TV on during the day — but we turn it on anyway, but then I can’t help but notice the smirks. And I’m so sick of tiptoeing around her. Everytime we go down there and stay with them, DH ends up decreeing that we’ll never stay with them again.

Ok, Ok. Now you see why I’m driving DH crazy. On the one hand, I want to be the “good” daughter and stay with the grandparents so they can enjoy their grandchildren, but on the other hand,

What would you do? Have you been in similar situations? Do you get along with your mom? How is it staying with your kids at your parents’ house?

Any advice would be appreciated.

I WANT TO SIT ON TRENT LOTT’S PORCH

I joined the yahoogroup, too which is pretty interesting.