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Of late our couch has become something else. On any given day it’s a fort or a pool or a boat or a trampoline or a jump pit. But rarely is it a couch. Unless you’re watching TV, and then it’s a bed?
But sometimes it’s easier just to leave it alone and find your own little corner.
Do you ever wake up in the morning and think, ‘I can’t believe it’s only Wednesday’ only to discover that it’s actually Tuesday and that noise that woke you was your chit chatty child chatting away in his crib and you look at the clock and it’s not yet 7 and damn, it’s still dark out? Yeah. That. But wait, that same thing happened the day before and it was a Monday and the day before that you got yourself up before 6 on a Sunday so you could go for a run. And next thing you know it’s dinner time and despite the fact that you’ve been awake for HOURS AND HOURS and what seems like days, you have no idea what to make and can we please just have pizza? Oh, and the boy to whom you gave birth and is the sunshine in your day won’t stop hanging on your pant leg and for the love of George Clooney, I just need to cut your mango and PLEASE give me a break. And as you sit down to enjoy your lovingly prepared meal (that no one will eat but you), someone screams from the bathroom that they need-toilet-paper-soap-wipe-my-butt-pull-my-pants-up-keep-me-company-are-you-coming? Gee honey, no, I only opened this bottle of wine at 4 to allow it time to breathe, I haven’t been drinking all afternoon. And oh hey it’s time for a bath please don’t drink the bathwater and Stop Licking Your Brother and BRUSH YOUR TEETH and good-night-I-love-you. Good night. Good night. Goodnight. Goodnight. GoodnightGoodnightGoodnight. “MOMMY DIDN’T SAY GOODNIGHT TO ME!!!!” And what do you mean it’s still only Tuesday???  Damn I love my kids.
I got my geek on in a big bad way this weekend and I had SUCH a great time! If you sew or read sewing blogs (I’m not sure you’d do that if you don’t sew…), then you should be jealous that I got to spend some time with Karen Lepage of Sewing for Boys  Karen and Karen  Rae and I Anyway, Friday night there was a meetup complete with super yummy desserts (which maybe I tried one or two of) and great conversations and fabric (because a party isn’t a party unless you buy some fabric). My plan had been to head to Whipstitch after putting Courtney to bed but Paul told me I could go early, so I bolted out the door. I’m not sure I could have moved any faster, maybe if he’d told me the house was on fire. It was such a great night, I mean when was the last time you sat around sewing and talking about chicken poop and rat balls? FOR REAL.  Check out how cute those pants are Saturday afternoon the sewing madness continued with a class on how to make Karen’s Treasure Pocket Pants. The class was full of 12 or so wonderful women. We sewed and chatted and laughed and made the CUTEST pants EVER (and if you’re me, you pulled out a few hundred stitches as well). Patrick will NEVER be able to wear them, they’re just too cute and he’ll ruin them in the first 2 minutes. I’ll be making these pants over and over and over for everyone. Holy SO cute!  Check out the sewing motion picture - what a shot! But the entire sewing weekend really boosted my self-esteem. We had many conversations about seam rippers and mistakes we make and how even people who are “sewing superstars” make mistakes. I am NOT a sewing superstar but maybe someday. I rip out what seems like as many stitches as I put in, and I’m not alone. I did a TON of sewing this weekend and I’ll be posting lots of pictures but I’m really feeling like I finally have a clue as to what I’m doing.
It’s really beautiful here. But it’s hard to get past the feeling that Mother Nature is trying to kill you with the pollen.
It’s been exactly a year since Patrick had his surgery. You know, the one where they cut his head open, took out the bones and then put them back. A year. I can’t get over it. Where has the year gone? It’s amazing what a person can endure when they have to. The strength that one can draw on from family and friends when they find themselves in a bad place. A place of fear and doubt and the unknown. Of sheer terror. As long as I live I will never be able to erase that memory of them wheeling my tiny baby away on that huge gurney, all alone without a care in the world. I will never forget standing there, my heart ripping in two. The urge to chase him down and scream no, don’t take my baby! The worries I had that what we were doing was wrong and unnecessary.
A year’s gone by and my baby boy is so perfect. He’s so happy and so cute and SUCH a flirt and it’s like that day never happened. While I may have lost 10 years of my life, he came through it with flying colors and no issues. Any parent would tell you that they’d lay their life on the line for their child. I would have given anything to have had my head cut open instead of his. But we made the right choice and he came out OK. Don’t get me wrong, I NEVER want to do that again. I can’t imagine even something as routine as a tonsillectomy. Nope, no thanks. If this is the worst thing we ever have to go through, I will consider myself hugely lucky. But something tells me, this daredevil of a boy is going to break some bones and need some stitches. I just hope I can survive it.
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