i make things

Some crazy number of years ago I started this blog. It was mostly craft stuff, because that’s what I did.

Then I made a couple of babies, and now that’s pretty much what I do. Babies and toddlers are less compatible with crafting than I originally thought, mostly because of the pins and needles and grabby hands.

Except babies really are great to make stuff for. So sometimes I still manage it during naptimes, after bedtime, in stolen moments where I should be vacuuming the living room.


Like this little “lovey” quilt. I finished it during today’s double nap. It’s just a tiny thing, basically just big enough to teach myself to quilt, which is also just big enough for Ellie to play with.


I just used a pack of pre-cuts I got from the fabric store, but I’m going to (hopefully, probably) do another, bigger quilt, with fabric I picked out aaaall by myself, like a real quilter.


I think she likes it.


washing day

Ellie is 3 months old now, cute as a button, generally an amazing magic unicorn of great sleeping at night, but terrible at naps. Seriously,  kid, take a nap.

Since she’s awake all day, every day like a weirdo baby,  and she doesn’t like her swing much, I thought I’d switch it out for the exersaucer. I went to wash the little cloth seat, and wanted to throw a couple other baby seat covers in the wash, too.

First off, if you don’t have kids, you would be shocked and appalled at the number of baby-holding devices I own. Exersaucer, swing, chair, crib, car seats, etc, etc, etc.

But secondly, you would not believe how badly Graco does not want me to remove my stroller cover. It took me a half hour and a screwdriver to remove the majority of the hooks, snaps, elastic bits, and other fastening devices. The last two were so difficult that despite quite a bit of effort on my part,  I ended up giving up and cutting the damn things off.

Why don’t you want me to wash my stroller, Graco?

fairy tales

I’m apparently not very good at telling the classics without something to read from. I just ended the tale of “Snow White” thusly:

… and the Prince kissed the sleeping Snow White, like a big ol’ creeper.  But it was okay,  because she woke up and…wait,  what am I teaching you? Not okay. Bad touch. Anyway,  they got married, and she was a princess. The end.

I may also have described the villain as “a mean ol’ queen b.”

Maybe I need a book for this stuff.


Two years is such a short time. But also such a long time. Two years is long enough to go from tiny infant to little lady.  From high-pitched newborn cries to complete (if not always grammatically correct) sentences. From 21 1/2 inches long to fully three feet tall,  all long limbs running at full speed.

Two years have taught me about princesses,  dinosaurs,  and choo choo trains. About running through sprinklers, grapes cut in half, and all the words to all the songs in Frozen.  About patience,  compromise, humility, and love.  So much love. She has transformed me entirely by love.


Happy birthday,  baby girl. These two years have been the best.




Allow me to introduce you to Eliza. She was born at 11:26 pm on April 29th, a mere half-hour early for her due date.

I expected her much earlier. Her sister was 10 days early, and I’d been having Braxton-Hicks like crazy since the  beginning of my third trimester.

But no, despite a lot of false starts and fake outs, she showed up pretty much exactly when she was supposed to.

The last few days have been crazy. We’re still working out how to be a family of four, and the wild woods of newborn days are a lot harder with an almost-two-year-old running about.

But Eliza just takes it as it comes (unless it’s eating….we’re working on that) and I’m so glad she’s here to make our family whole.

Captive audience

Zooey has started this thing where she takes me or her dad by the hand & makes us come over tho where she wants to sit and play blocks or color or whatever. We are not there to participate, just to watch. If I try to color, she takes the paper away. If I start building a block tower, she takes it apart. She did let her dad help her make a play food sandwich this morning, so maybe I’m on some kind of punishment. I don’t know.

So when she came over to me this afternoon and grabbed my hands and said, “out out!” I figured she was going to lead me somewhere to watch her transfer crayons from one box to another (she does this at least once a day). Instead I got up from my armchair, and she let go of me, and promptly gave my seat to Bob, the stuffed leopard.

I definitely think I’m on some kind of punishment.

Bigger than my stomach

You guys! I’m going to redo my entryway! Today. Like, this afternoon. Like, while I care for an 18-month-old, and gestate a fetus, and recover from the holidays, and also vacuum (because my house totally needs to be vacuumed) and do a load of whites.

Adorable nook, all by removing closet doors. – http://pinterest.com/pin/163888873913876375/

That. That is what I’ll do. And it will be so cute, y’all! Even though that also means I have to buy and install all the bench/shelving stuff. And throw out like half my coats (which, I have a lot of coats, but most of them don’t fit any more. Having too small coats is depressing….I prefer not to deal with them. Aaaaaanyway….) And also find a new place to keep my vacuum, and tv trays, and a half dozen board games and other random stuff. Oh, and remove a door + hinges from its frame. And probably spackle and paint.

I’m going to do this! Totally! I will follow through with it and not leave board games with choking hazard-sized pieces lying around on the living room floor when I give up halfway through. I will not make a half-finished eyesore that will fill my husband with frustration and regret every time he opens the front door after a long day at work.

And, oh my god, you guys, can you just take a moment to feel sorry for my husband, who was at work when I thought of this idea, so won’t know about it until he reads this on his phone during a much needed break. He’ll be like “oooh, she blogged. Maybe there’s a cute picture of my daughter.” And then he’ll read with mounting horror because he knows this is exactly the kind of thing I do.

Like, he’s hoping, based on my description & post title that I’ve talked myself out of it, but he also knows he might have to come home to just utter chaos, and possibly take off work to drive me to the hospital for exhaustion/stupidity. This is the life he lives every day, folks.

He could walk in the door to find his daughter coloring on the walls while I play candy crush (I was too tired to stop her, I’ll clean it up later) and also I didn’t make any food and there are no clean clothes. Or she could be peacefully napping while I prepare an elaborate dinner, and the laundry is folded, and I made the bed and put away the dishes. Or the entire living room could be covered in fabric and glitter because I had a great idea, I’ll clean up later, ooh, but then I wanted to make a cake and somehow used all the dishes we own. Wanna order takeout? I didn’t make any actual dinner, just cake and a mess.

Utter laziness, beautiful domesticity, creative madness. This is the roulette wheel that spins every day at my house.

Oh, and just to be clear, husband, I’m not actually going to take the door off the hall closet or paint anything. I might go to Target and buy a shelf with little hooks on it to hang my purse, though. Ooh, and I’ll think real hard about throwing out the extra coats, but I probably won’t get to it. I will wash the whites.