time keeps on slipping

Having the house listed for sale is a bit like being suspended in a time vacuum. We've already packed up what we do not use often (and a few things that we do, like Smootch's rubber boots) but we dare not pack up more because, well, life continues on even though we are moving.

And life does move. Birdie's first birthday is just three weeks away. My first craft show is a week away. My sewing room is now a little corner tucked behind some boxes.

I'm making a few garments to demo my patterns for the craft/art show (Snell auditorium, saturday april 4, 10-5, if you are in my neck of the woods). It's been awhile since I visited some of the patterns. I had to consult with my instructions to remember how to assemble a lace up dress.

At least finding fabric in my sewing shanty is as easy as opening up a box from the top of the pile of fabric boxes. Finding a specific fabric, well, not so easy.

I lucked out on the second box with an embroidered linen to make a lace up dress with for the show. I love linen. It's made of flax, a crop that uses much less pesticides and herbicides than killer cotton. It's long lasting, it feels good to wear, it breathes, and it's a dream to press. It's one fabric Smootch loves to wear and doesn't care that it's in a neutral colour. It says something about quality when the pink and purple queen wants to wear the taupe.

A few more garments before the show. I'll post them over at my portfolio as they come into being.

dayhome safari

The Man and I have been reviewing a dvd that details a method of discipline encouraged by the dayhome agency we contract with. In the video, the 'expert' advocates parents and caregivers to think of themselves 'wild animal tamers'.

Last week I came upon this little tableau left on the floor after the kids were done tiding up.


A message, perhaps?

suncatchers

A few days ago, this was us:



Today, though, was another story. Someone finally told the sun it is March and time to come out. I spent the day chasing the sun around the house. Well, when I wasn't outside basking in the gloriousness of it all.






I wasn't the only one chasing the sun today.


And birdie boy too...

I caught this little stacker toy hanging out in a sunspot in the living room.


While I was taking a photo I heard the distinctive thump squish scrape thump squish scrape of birdie doing his odd little bum scoot into the room while dragging along his favorite fairy wand (oh, come now, don't we all have our favorite magic wands?) Normally he'd be high tailing it towards my camera, being so close to the ground and invitingly grabbable, but the stacker in the sunlight was the focus of his determined scoot.

And then something neat happened.

I wish I could of taken pictures of all the wand waving birdie did trying to get the sun to sparkle just right across his feet. Eventually I ended up with the wand while birdie tried catching the sparkles. Holding up the wooden stacker discs and catching the sun to flash himself in the eye also provided a bit of entertainment and wonder. All told, birdie spent, oh, 10 intent minutes or so inspecting the properties of bright light and reflective surfaces. Which is a lifetime practically in terms of baby attention span.

And you will never be able to tell him ever that his fairy wand isn't magic. Or me, that the sun isn't medicine.

when you're this big, they call you mama

I'm not exactly sure how this happened exactly, but it occured to me just today that I'm not really a housewife anymore. Yes, I know, given that I have the domestic skills of a nomadic sloth, and you could say that I haven't been much of a housewife ever, but still, I've been edged out of my figurehead position and into something a bit more suiting.

I am no longer sahm. I am wahm.

Right now I have two businesses on the go and am the sole income for this family. I am the breadwinner. I am the provider. I am... The Man.

Does this make The Man the Mama?
Perhaps.

While he does not actually lacate, he has more or less smoothly taken over as chief dispenser of food, bandaids, and fun during the six or so hours a day I need right now to take care of business.

When I mentioned to The Man today that I have crossed acronyms, he took a moment to figure out what his possible title would be. He looked fairly aggreived when he said, "does this make me a wad?"

But, no, he would be a sahd. Which he resents not being awarded the 'w'. Status seeking is a hard habit to break your first couple of months out of the workforce I guess. Of course, The Man's arguement is that what is doing at home is actually quite a bit of work, thank you very much, and he resents not having that acknowledged.

Well, duh. (rolls eyes)

Anyhoo, before I get too far down that road, I'm going to change tracks and just talk about me for a change. Let's talk work.

As many of you know, one of the things I do is make stuff. I've been busy revamping my previously published patterns, fancy new covers even, and busy developing a few more for an art and craft show coming up in april. It shall be my in person debut.

Everything I've done so far has been online, making my model's photogenic natures extremely important (they have to be photogenic to make up for my not so hot photography skills).

So far so good with Smootch. She's a natural. Even when I accidently click a picture of her feet while I'm hoisting myself off the ground and she is running off to do whoknowswhat in a stained tee shirt, she still photographs like a freaky vogue model.
The boy, though, has his mother's relationship with the camera. Not so good. Bit stormy sometimes. I know I shouldn't compare the kids, but for every beautiful photo of Smootch easily taken there is one of Birdie looking like the anti-gerber baby.

Observe, a fairly typical shot of Birdie:The absolute best picture we have of him in the last couple of weeks is of his reflection in a garbage can.I'm sure I need not say more.

He's not the worst of the models around here though. I'm afraid I've won that award. I may or not photo well, I can't tell. I know that I can hardly look at a picture of myself - my eyes are hardly ever open and I'm always making a weird face that looks a lot like I've been caught saying, "don't you point that freaking camera at me!" Oh, I'm fat too. But, whatever. The big issue right now is the what-the-heck-have-I-done-to-my-head dilemma.

Between the sketchy beginnings of dreadlocks, and the very odd mullet making regrowth of my post pregnancy hair loss, does anyone even notice the lovely circle skirt and wrap tee I've made?...

...

What? Oh, sorry. I was distracted by the dreaded mullet.

So, that this my new life as a worker bee. I have no idea what to make of my new position around here, but I am pleased that we all get to try out something different. The Man has an opportunity to enjoy a very close and slightly servantile relationship with his precious children, and I can enjoy the freedom of holeing up in our freezing cold basement to huddle over sewing machines. I am so liberated.

tuesday

A little of what we've been up to.

Practicing our "#$!!&* with me, #$!!&*with my daddy" faces:

Playing in the sun

Making ugly cakes

Being amazed by magnets

Being very, very weird


Finding treasured hand me downs



Sleeping at inappropriate moments of the day

Having our parades rained on

my afternoons

on the floor with birdie

on the other side of january

A while back Smootch did a painting on cardboard. It was strangely minimalist, not her typical style. I asked her to tell me about it and she said it was for her glamour dolls to get married with.

Oh-kay.

Today I watched Smootch in action with her painting: Ah, an aisle for the bride to walk down. Of course!Don't know why I didn't spot it.

Birdie's love of books and birds continues.His new love: vegetables!His curiosity is boundless. One last tale, this one a bit gruesome. Last saturday Smootch did the oddest thing. She accidently swallowed a nickel. The accident happened while doing mouth exercises with the coin in her mouth.

Oh-Kay.

Don't ask me, she's too old for this, and it's all a bit weird.

But, monday the nickel comes back and what a strange sight it is now:The coin on the right is a regular, uningested nickle, the one on the left is Smootch's snack nickel. It's black (and it is clean!) I don't know if it's just tarnished, or if the nickel plating was absorbed by Smootch's system. Anyway you look at it, I'm quite certain Smootch won't be swallowing another nickel. Still, we are now all curious about what would happen to a penny...