To Sew or Not to Sew...

So after deciding that the only way I would get any sewing done was to set up the machine in the same room as husband - I actually accomplished one of my projects! :) No, I still have not finished Sesame's quilt, however I DID finish a baby gift! :)

I even took photos.

Not great photos...but some nonetheless! :)

A happy red flannel! I sandwiched some quilt batting between the two flannels and sewed for the first time in non-linear patterns to hold it together! :) It's not the prettiest, but it was my first go! :)

The "E" and rocket ships are removable. That's why the blanket is smaller -- it's meant to be more interactive and grow with baby E. :)

LOVE this fabric! Especially since it's for one of husband's college friends - they were in aero/astro engineering together! How appropriate! :)

The back. Cute fabric how I love thee.

Not done with the matching bib yet. I'm gong to use scrap of the red as "hem-tape." At least...I'm going to try!

You can't tell, but the Baby side is a blue terry cloth. Again, don't know how the sewing on of the baby letters will go...but I won't learn if I don't try! :)

Anyway...I'm going to rest while Sesame is!

Sick, Silly & Sappy

I've been sick this weekend. yuck. Let me say this: I don't like feeling icky & I have THE BEST HUSBAND EVER. Seriously. He swooped in, all Batman like, and became super Daddy the instant I said, "I don't feel good" Er, that is to say, he swooped in after correcting my grammar "I don't feel well," and smirking. I don't blame him, man has to have priorities. I'm glad my husband's is good grammar. :)

Anywho, Grammy called today and reminded me that photos of random beagles and chewed cribs are cool...but pictures of Sesame are better. :) She's been up to all kinds of antics lately. This growing up thing is the most bittersweet experience EVER! I'm all excited and happy yelling, "Husband, come look at what she's doing now! You won't believe it!!" and two seconds I'm crying "She's [sob] climbing the [stairs] without [heaves] me! She's [sob] sooooo [huge heave] BIG!!!" Poor husband...he has to think I'm manic/depressive now! Anyway, without further ado...what you all really read this blog for:

Okay. I PROMISE I didn't purposefully teach my child to smile with a scary scowling, wide-open, I'm gonna eat your eyeballs smile. She came to us this way. The best part is, sometimes, when she's really happy, she includes with this fabulous expression a deep, throaty growl that sounds like Batman in The Dark Knight. Why? Because she can.

"Daddy, look what I found in the batcave! Something that's just my height for climbing!"

Oh. And we learned to point last weekend. I'm probably explaining that it's her in the mirror because, apparently, when a child points and anything I feel compelled to explain what it is, where it came from, what color it is, why we are around it, etc. Do you know how many times I've explained who Homer, our dog is. I could write a novel describing him now. Anyway, she points, it's cute and she doesn't stop doing it. She even waves by bending her pointer finger up and down. Too. Cute.

Sick Momma + Distracted Baby = Best Photo EVER!

Her hair is starting to curl. Her eyes have most recently settled on a hazel-gray color. Her limber limbs are working to her advantage with her new found standing and climbing. Her feet aren't so small anymore. Her words are more clear. Her actions are more intentional. Her eating is frenzied and grabby. Her people skills are killer. Her need for social interaction is apparent. Her hands are still small enough to fit in mine. Her snuggles are still for Momma and Daddy. Her joy is inescapable.

She Did What?!

Yesterday Sesame woke up from a nap. (Stick with me. I promise it gets more exciting that this!) I heard her yammering to her happy self and grinned. She's so smiley when she wakes up, it makes me feel like I'm in a musical. I like it. And yes, I do sing to her when she wakes up. Every. time. :) Moving on...

So she wakes up and I walk in to find the new standard, a crawly baby gripping the crib rail and standing. As I look closer I see what appear to be the remnants of oreo crumbs ringing her lips. 'Hmmm, that's odd.' I think ' I don't remember having oreos in our house.' [Yes, that WAS my thought. No, I didn't think it was odd to assume I gave my 8 month old oreos IN HER CRIB.] Upon realizing my train of thought was ridiculous, I noticed this:

Yes, ladies and germs, my daughter ate the stain off her crib railing and even sanded down the wood while she was at it. What an industrious lass we have. My next thought was, 'Oh crumb. They aren't oreo crumbs.' I then call my husband, who was most likely in a meeting of sorts judging by his "office voice" tone.

"This is husband."

"Um...honey...do you have a minute?"

"Yeah. Real quick."

"Uh...Our daughter ate her crib. Should I call poison control?"

Every father's dream phone call at work on a Friday! We quickly reasoned (after a call to YiaYia) that they couldn't use a stain that wasn't non-toxic on a crib and she would be fine. As long as there aren't too many wood chunks floating around in her tummy we won't have a trip to the ER anytime soon. Now I have to excuse myself to find some Oreos in the house.

And People Say They'd Get Bored Staying At Home...

So far today...

We have cleaned the kitchen. Like Hard-Core CLEANED THE KITCHEN. Under the microwave. In the microwave. Under the dog-bowl mat. All the little dirt specks screamed and headed for the hills when they saw us comin'.

Done some laundry.

Discovered how the office door works. I heard a THUD! and looked up to see a grinning girl. Then came bang-giggle-bang-dada-bang-giggle-bang-momma-bang-giggle-bang...you get the idea.

Played in the rain.

Picked some gardenias. In the rain. We even smelled them. In the rain. And our noses got wet. In the rain.

Manifested a GIANT playpen in the living room from foot stools, coffee tables, ginormous blankets piles, toy-boxes and big-girl car seats. Too. Much. Fun.

Played in a blankie tent. Had a photo shoot in the blankie tent that requires a giant "epic fail" stamp.

Found a beagle. Named him Smiegel. Called Animal Control. They took Smiegel away.

Snuggled and watched Dick Van Dyke. We're teething (Nells not me) and it's raining - so we took a personal day. :)

Pondered where the sewing machine is going to live.

Worked on a graphic for our Middle School Youth Group. P.S. I have NO IDEA how to use the functions that create graphics in photoshop. Any ideas???

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So I think Smeigel the Beagle needs more than a line on the blog. Afterall, I did take photos. That's right, a strange dog was running around my house, leaping on furniture and balancing on my fireplace while my daughter was crawling on the floor safely in her play pen, and I took photos. :) Well the story goes like this..

Once upon a time and mother and baby were having a very productive day. They were singing and dancing and folding laundry when all of a sudden Homer-dog when bananas. Like C-R-A-Z-Y bananas. The generally rainy-day mellow dog was doing back-flips off the couch in excitement over something in the backyard. Mother went to see what in the world worked Homer up. To her utter amazement a slender little beagle was romping in the backyard. Mother opened the back door and coaxed the little sucker closer. Not only did the beagle come closer. He ran inside, which also let all order to the day outside. The beagle was running and jumping and crawling and climbing with Homer close on his heels.

Baby was screeching with joy, clapping her hands and making a noise that can only be typed as: "EEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH! da-dee dah-ma!" (P.S. If you speak this language Mother is looking for an interpreter. Inquire below.) Mother even stopped to take pictures because, let's face it, a woman has to have priorities. Oh and Mother's phone rang during this whole scene. And she answered it, once again stopping and allowing a STRANGE DOG TO ROMP IN THE SAME ROOM WITH HER DAUGHTER!! Apparently EVERYONE, except mother, was glad and happy to see the doggie racing around the room. 20 minutes later Once everyone was calm again, mother wrangled the dogs and penned them in the garage.

Oh, and it was raining. So both dogs were wet. Not just sprinkled with mist wet -- soggy, sopping, dripping on the carpet wet. So it was NECESSARY for mother to flip on her handy, dandy wax melter thing - aka a candle for forgetful people who can't remember to blow out wicks.

After 5 minutes the room smelled like a coffe doused, wet dog. Nice. Tagless Beagle Smiegel (because, you can't have an un-named dog in the house. It just isn't right!) ended up not belonging to any of the Mother's neighbors. She called house after house only to find no one was missing a Smiegel Beagle. But not to worry Animal Control came and took Homer's doggie friend. Word is they will let Mother know if his owners don't claim him. He would make a nice addition to the family. Afterall, Mother did rig up a second lead in the back. It's here Smiegel - waiting for you to return.

Where'd They Go!?!?

I don't know what happened. I don't know why. I just know something did happen.

All of my blog links randomly disappeared.

All. of. them.

That's how I read my blogs?! HOW WILL FIND YOU ALL AGAIN!?!

[sigh.]

Maybe I'm being taught a lesson.

Italy Happens

Okay, now that he's returned I can proclaim it on the interwebs: HUSBAND WENT TO ITALY FOR WORK LAST WEEK! :) How cool is that...cool but sad for us here at home. We missed husband/Daddy TERRIBLY! Of course there were some firsts whilst he was away:

1) The standing occurred. This would all be good and well (it IS) but we couldn't call him and tell him. He doesn't have international calling and it was just crazy. So we stood, we cried, we clapped when it happened.

2) Sesame was disciplined for the first time. We spilled coffee on the floor. Ick. So the two of us ran downstairs to snatch carpet cleaner. In my haste I didn't think to put Nells in the crib, I just plopped her on the floor next to me. She, being 8 months old, reached out for the cleaner. I said "No!" and she obliged-stopping. The second time she reached for the bottle, I smacked her hand. She was stunned. Then sobbed. Then I picked her up and explained why Mommy smacked her hand. Then I sobbed too. And called my mom. Momma's are good to call when husband's are in Italy. I think the conversation when something like this: "This is [heavy gasp] going to be [sob] so haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard." Yeah....gotta love the Momma! :)

3) Husband brought me shoes. From Italy. I have Italian shoes! :) YAY!

4) Husband brought this AWESOME book for Sesame - It's an Italian alphabet book with writing practice in the back! I LOVE IT! :) She does too - She drools over it and tries to eat it. In Sesame language = love.

5) Homer missed Daddy like no tomorrow. He didn't even really eat while he was gone! Poor guy.

A Webcam Video for you!

Because it's WAY faster than uploading form our real video camera...and it was in the same room! :)

Inspired By Another Post...And Jesus

I read several blogs. I know, pick yourself up off the floor and take a moment to recover, because you had to be shocked by that! :) One is MckMama's blog. She's a wonderful writer and an amazing photographer. She wrote a fabulous post today on Christ. A post that I couldn't resist echoing a little on my own blog. I'll admit I skim-read a couple paragraphs of her post, so don't hold me to all the details...but I read enough to know that I don't disagree with her point.

For several years now I've been praying on and off for a close friend of mine. She is probably reading this post right now. Now worries I'm not going to shock her with anything here -- she's heard it all before from me! :) It's just that the post I referenced reminds me so very much of thoughts I've had, rather, conversations we've had.

I'm a Christian. For me that means that Christ is the Son of God. He was both fully* man and fully God. He walked and talked and sang and danced and rejoiced just as you or I would here on this earth. But at the same time He was God. He was there at the creation and will be there at the end. He is the Lamb. He died for my sins, and yours, and the weird old man that lives down the street from me, and then rose again on the third day. And now, this is the awesome-tacular part, he is seated at the right hand of God looking out over us all, and (get ready for a run-on sentence like you've never seen) when God looks at me, he doesn't even see me anymore, since I accepted Christ as my Savior He sees Christ, not the sinful creature that is Emily.

I know you're sitting there if you're not a Christian going, "What the heck?! He doesn't see you!?" No. He doesn't. I'm sinful. To God I'm an untouchable - as I am. The truth of the matter is I need saving**. And God, in His Sovereignty, knows this. So, He sent His Son. Crazy, right? I can't imagine now...having a child of my own. It makes this picture God has painted even more poignant. It's like letting your child walk out in front of that emergency vehicle that's going 65 mph - times 1,000,000,000 - knowing that they will be in agony, knowing that you won't get to ride in the ambulance with them, knowing they will be scared, knowing they will be in unimaginable pain -- and you let it happen. But allowing it just the same. So God did this, and Christ died because a blood sacrifice is the only way to atone for sin. He paid the ultimate price.

He paid the ultimate price. There is nothing we can do. "For by grace you are saved through faith, and not of yourselves - it is a gift from God - not of works, lest any man should boast." Eph. 2" 8, 9 It is all through the cross.

Wow...what a tangent...sort of...I don't think I could ever consider the gospel message a tangent! Anyway...

Back to the original thought of this post - You believe this (the above) or you don't. In MckMama's post she draws a fantastic metaphor. She took a photograph and said (and I paraphrase): "Either you think I took this or you think I didn't. One person can't say I did and another say I didn't and they both agree that they're right. Either I did take it or I didn't." She continues to say, much more eloquently than I am doing now, that there is absolute truth and it's not rude and intolerant to say so. :) (This is where I stand up and cheer yay! rah! I agree fully!) It seems to me there is a trend in the worldview to be so tolerant of others that you can't say what you believe without being rude and inconsiderate. To say I don't agree with you, concerning religious beliefs particularly, means you are unaccepting. Such is not the case. And such is not what I feel I, as a Christian, am called to.

Christ calls believers to share the news. This doesn't mean we have shove the gospel down people's throats, or do it in a rude manner, it means we have to be honest. And sometimes honesty is absolute. Actually, honesty is always absolute, because it is true. And where this is truth, there is usually a lie. And when someone believes a lie, they don't like to be told.

Anyway, apologies for the rambly nature of this particular post. And the length. Jesopete, this is why I don't write about the Lord much -- I'm just so verbose on the subject matter! :) Please let me know if you have questions about my confusing explanations - I would love to explain myself better.

* So I totally spelled fully incorrectly the first time and wrote 'bully man.' Now there's a picture of Christ if ever I saw one! The bully on the playground, I think not! :)

** "This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.." Romans 2:22, 23

Inspiration

I'm finally feeling motivated to do something with our home. The time frame we had to move out of our apartment and into our house was short - two weeks if memory serves - and thus the house received no fresh paint coats or interior decor love. I hastily painted the "pink carpet" room upstairs when we purchased new furniture...and STILL have not finished the trim. We're coming up on year two folks. Sesame's room and the batcave remain the only completed rooms. Ours was painted last summer, as was the half bath and that's all. No more thought or time other than paint. Poor rooms. Poor house. I think I hear the master bath bawling.

Anywho, I've found myself motivated lately. I have this awesome-tastic coffee mug from Starbucks (thanks Mom!) with greens and blues and chocolate brown...I'm thinking it's the perfect inspiration for our master bath. Problem: The people who owned the home previously had a penchant for mauve and gray-blue. Remember that whole decorating scheme from the 80s...yeah it's in my house...in the fixtures. Our toilets are gray blue and our counter-tops are mauve. yay. joy.

So, question is, do I carry on with said inspirations for my space and ignore the elephant in the room (read: scary mauve counter top) or do I try and change my decor around the counter top??? I'm thinking it might be cost-effective to tile over the counter top??? Any thoughts?

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edit to add:

The in-laws came! :) I keep forgetting to post a bit more! It was fabulous to see them. We accomplished several projects -- rather the boys did. Grammy and I just enjoyed Sesame! :) Here are some more photos:

They really are best buds. Especially with her crawling after him and pulling up on him. Homer is such a good sport!

gasp is that a photo of (shock dismay) Sesame with her MOMMA?!? Do such photos exist?! Thanks for capturing one Grammy!!

Next time on Children Gone Wild: When Babies Feed Themselves.

How ADORABLE is that $4 suit and hat from Old Navy?! I would TOTALLY wear one in my size...but not at the same time as Sesame...that would be weird and result in a horriffic photo that would scar is both for life and end up on failblog.com or something of the sort.

Okay, everyone together, "Awwwwwwwwwwww"

The Hobbit Hole

My In-laws were here over the long weekend to visit Conrad and me and Nellianne. It was nice to see them and they hadn't seen Nells since last May - way too long. :) I'll write more on that later.

Over the past week or so Little Miss. has become increasingly more adventurous. Her mad crawling skills have improved to the point that she cannot be placed on the floor because in .2 second she will be halfway across the room. It's true. Ask Homer - the unfortunate recipient of her antics lately. He's so stinkin' patient with her! She pulls on his tail, screeches in his ear, fiddles with his dog tags and tries to eat his toys. He just looks at me like "Mom if you EVER bring another one of these home, I will eat it." Then he licks her and wanders off. Unless she's holding his tail. The he yelps, cries in pain, looks at me, tries to wander off again, yelps. cries in pain...well...you get the picture.

Our office is upstairs next door to Sesame's room, as I've mentioned before. We both go upstairs when it's time to work. She scoots around on the floor and I click away at the screen. The other day I felt tiny little hands on my feet. I glanced down between my legs to find a goofy grin staring up. She gurgled something that sounded like a bellowing elephant and returned to eating the chair leg. Which I promptly stopped. Or didn't.

Yesterday she decided her new lodging should be beneath the desk. That's right, I said lodging. She doesn't just play under the desk anymore, she is moving in. First, she tailed her blankie behind her, Linus-style, which I thought nothing of. Frankly, the blankie is a third limb for her. A flailing gelatinous limb, but one nonetheless. When she scooted in the second time, she brought her Dr. Seuss Giraffe. This exercise continued until the cubby beneath my keyboard was covered with several toys. And a baby. 20 pounds of baby. On my feet.

I stealthily pushed the keyboard in and peered between my legs. She replied with her scrunchy-nosed, gaping mouth smile and a shriek. Then continued playing as if I was nonexistent.

It's like a Hobbit Hole really. A tiny little entrance. Lots of knick-knacky items lying about. A short, midget-like lady inside. Happy smiles. Silly sounds. Odd ages. A slight foot obsession (she can't stop playing with my feet!). We just need a minute, round door and we're set. :)

I just put her down for a nap and kicked the toys as I sat down. I started to pick them up and changed my mind. The time when a little hobbit inhabits the space under my desk is brief - fleeting. I think I'll hang on for as long as I can.

Sesame at the Lake

More to come soon! :)

Freecycle, Oh Freecycle...

Freecycle and I have a lov- hate relationship. I mean, who couldn't love a forum where people offer items for FREE?! It seems there are some...well...hiccups though. The forum itself is improving. Yay! At first it seemed antiquated, like dial-up internet or mile-high-aqua-net bangs-still around, but not the best. It's moving in the right direction now, what with all it's organized tabs. I feel like Post-it finally got a hold of them and gave them a talking-to. :) Wait. Back-up. Do you even know what freecycle is?? No??? Then check it out here at this nifty little linky and promptly return. :) Or just read the next paragraph.

Freecycle: (n.) an internet site where people can offer items they no longer need or ask for items they do need. a virtual garage sale with a price tag of free. yay.

Now this all sounds well and good, right? Not so much. Since we live a world of virtual EVERYTHING and communication for this awesome-tacular little site is via EMAIL you have to read your email. I tend to think of myself as a person who reads her email. My office is next to Sesame's room. So, after resting her in Seussian splendor I generally pop next door and glance at the screen. Two items are accomplished here: 1) I check my email and 2) If said babe should stir, I'm right there to resolve the issue before it escalates...something VERY worth my time. :) It appears that every living being involved with freecycle has an iphone glued to their palm. No. seriously. I have attempted to recover at least 35 items - I have been in communication about actually picking up 3 - all to have been lost to "another interested party."

I was so jazzed a couple weeks ago because I had procured our little household a fridge for the garage. A FRIDGE!? I mean come on, even the Beverly Hillbillies would be stoked about that one?! We had plans, that fridge and I. I even rearranged the garage in my head, sweeping out a small corner space. There were visions of 2 liters and frozen meat purchased on sale and shiny glass shelves overflowing with Thanksgiving leftovers. But no. TEN MINUTES after emailing me with the exciting Christmas-morning like news that I HAD BEEN CHOSEN for this glorious refrigerator I received a second email with that dreaded title...

[Freecycle-CountyState] TAKEN: refridgerator* (city)

*they spelled it this way...not I...except that I did to give you the full effect...or is it affect...one is a verb and one is a noun...right???? moving on...

Yes. It's true. APPARENTLY in freecycle-land you can be AN INDIAN-GIVER because it's free and you just want someone to come and take your crap. And APPARENTLY having someone less than a mile from your house that is jumping up and down in front of their computer because they finally snatched something on freecycle ready to pick up your crap is not close or fast enough. So APPARENTLY they had to change their mind in TEN MINUTES and give said crap to someone else. I mean the new picker-upper HAD to lived NEXT DOOR. Maybe they saw MY item sitting outside in solitary confinement, waiting on a loving home and felt sorry for the fridge, and thought to themselves, "Awww, poor fridge you need a home...let ME take you!" Must have missed the sign that said "FOR LETTERS MOVING!!"

That's fine.

It's okay.

Really.

I'm not bitter.

Alone in my festering bitterness for all things Freecycle.

Alone, alone. And bitter.

I did, however, have a good experience with freecycle. I was able to pass along old knitting items that I don't use now. I had some scrap yarn, etc. And Sharon (who knows if that is her real name!) met me at a Starbucks to pick them up because I was afraid Refrigerator Man's neighbor might find my porch and steal Sharon's knitting supplies to share my address. She seemed happy. :) Which made me happy. Which made me forget about my bitterness and start reading my Freecycle emails again. All is right with the world again.