Freezer Paper Fan

My shopping trip the other day was a bunch of fun, except that I was worn out when I was only halfway done. WHAT?!!? I know!! What has become of me? I don't like seeing cash leave my purse, and I knew I had work to do at home. I got a few stores in, hit the Taco Bell drive-thru, and in spite of the napkin tucked into my seatbelt, dropped the last bite of burrito on my white maternity shirt. Lovely.

The new fabric store was definitely a good one, though. I had a few ideas in mind for the nursery and for a framed picture in the living room, and even had my inspiring pictures riding in the buggy, but got overwhelmed by all the excellent choices of fabric. I chose some bolts that just happened to be 60% off, and purchased some yardage for a new diaper bag. I'm still waffling on new curtains and crib bling for the baby room. The practical me tells me to use the white stuff I have, since the baby doesn't care. The creative me wants something totally different. *Sigh.* I know I can't justify spending a ton of money on my decorating pride. It's like eating the leftovers in the fridge instead of going out for supper. So dull, but so necessary.

Because I was weary of shopping, the hot pink fabric paint on my list got postponed until another day and another fresh Joann's coupon. That freezer paper stencil is still is my mind, however.

Instead, here's another one I finished:
It was my trickiest stencil so far, and I'm not completely happy with it, but Owen absolutely loves his fan shirt!

Time flies, especially if you're an alarm clock

If there's one thing I hate, it's an annoying alarm clock. The blaring start to the day can trigger some instant rage, and my arm goes a-whacking for the snooze. I'm an extremely light sleeper, and Jason is not, so when it's HIS alarm going off, well, sometimes I have to apologize for my rude shoves.

A long time ago, before the overhaul of the downstairs bedrooms, I bought new, grown up, non-battery-operated alarm clocks for guests to use. Not long after, our remaining travel alarm clock surrendered to its regular beatings, so one of the new clocks migrated up to Jason's side of the bed. Since I don't have very good uncorrected vision, I wanted a closer target to squint at in the middle of the night if I awoke for some odd reason, so the other got plunked on my nightstand.

But we soon noticed something funny about these two clocks--they gained time. Every day. We didn't pay much close attention at first, because who notices a minute or two here and there? When we would realize our clocks were wrong, it would be by a good half hour or more. It was easy to blame the kids, because we knew their penchant for clocks and other electronic devices, and we considered Timex to be a trustworthy brand.

Not so much. I got slightly more investigative with it and figured out mine was gaining about 1 1/2 minutes per day. What a nice, polite amount of time, hmm? Not over-indulgent, just a slight mincing of my getting ready time, a little nudge-nudge to hurry it up in there already. But 1 1/2 minutes a day turns into nearly 10 minutes a week, and if I reset my alarm clock as often as I dust my bedroom furniture, it could quickly become an hour or more--fast! I'm all for setting clocks a little speedy, but the changing time has been getting on my nerves.

I'm going shopping tomorrow after my 28-week check up and lovely glucose tolerance test, and as much as I hate plunking money down for a new set of alarm clocks, I just might. I am that fed up.

Mama's Morning Out

This morning was glorious!! I got up early, ate my Grape-Nuts in relative silence, fed Jack, and headed out the door to the church's semi-annual yard sale to work my shift, since I was a contributing de-clutterer.

I had a lot of fun working with my friends. And I picked up some more stuff, other people's junk....funny how that works.

When I got back home after lunch, Owen and Helen came running, happy to see me. All three kids had gotten baths and were dressed in clothes that matched, and by "matched," I don't mean comprehensive coordinating outfits, I mean individually matched, that Helen's overalls and her shirt matched, and Owen's pants and shirt looked OK together. Jason usually does well with dressing the kids, but every once in a while, I will quietly pull a kid aside and swap out a shirt.

They had all eaten lunch, and Jack was sleeping. There was a floral arrangement on the table, courtesy of Helen and her daddy. They had picked flowers in the yard for me. Precious!There was bagged pasta on the counter. I had left a drying rack full of homemade noodles smack-dab in the middle of everything, and Jason had put it away and swept the floor before the kids got into it this morning. (Last night Jason was away, and I was making pasta with the ankle-biter battalion. Owen ate as much dough as he could get his fingers on; he even scraped off the counter where I had kneaded it. He and Helen took turns cranking the machine until Helen discovered the drying rack. She quickly lost interest in the pasta-making process, and there she stood by the finished product, rapidly eating fresh noodles. Jack swam around the floor and got flour on his tummy.)

The sink and drainer were empty and clean, and the dishwasher was running. You might think I'm some kind of freak for posting a picture of my dish drainer, but I'm just bragging on my husband!And outside, there were towels flapping in the breeze. Jason had done a load of laundry! I must add that all of his work this morning was unprompted. I was merely expecting him to entertain the kids, feed them, and keep the house relatively neat. He usually does an awesome job of cleaning up the kitchen, even better than I do, although I'm afraid that's not saying much, since I can be a tad lazy in that area. What a great guy!!!

And now another story, but I promise it connects with my morning, if you can just hang in there...

Last week I had a moment to run into town with only Jack. I stopped by the Economy shop and told myself I couldn't spend over $4. I immediately saw this dollhouse for $2. It was very dirty, and some little girl had colored all over it. I brought it home and cleaned it. My only disappointment was that it didn't have any furniture and was missing some windows and doors. I'm going through a Beth Moore study of Esther right now. In the whole book, God's name is never mentioned, but like Beth says, his name is all over it. What some people may dismiss as mere coincidence is God's providence. It's got me thinking of all the ways God has worked out details in my life. He has done some pretty huge things for us, like the timing of buying and selling houses and vehicles. It's been amazing the way he has led us and provided for us. But I also know he cares about the small details of our lives, and we can talk to him about the littlest things that trouble us.

Before I went to the yard sale, I asked him for some dollhouse furniture. It was a request mainly for my own benefit, since the kids are enjoying the dollhouse just as it sits right now. But, you gotta know me, I just drool all over myself at dollhouse furniture. I think it's so cute, I want to play with it myself! I knew I could be happy without the furniture, but I also knew it wouldn't have been a problem for God to provide it.

And look what I found:It's a whole new dollhouse, on a very much smaller scale, full of furniture and dolls. The front door even has a doorbell! A very sweet girl had outgrown it, and put it on the yard sale to make some money. God is so awesome.

And on another completely unrelated note except for the fact that my husband is so nice and accommodating, Jason ripped out the brown shag carpet in Uncle Phil's old bedroom downstairs. Now to tear down some wallpaper......

Shopping and Junior Miss

My Black Friday shopping trip did me well. I found lots of great bargains, and I stuck to my list. The worst store was Joann Fabrics, which had two lines--one for the cutting counter and one for the cashier. There were lots and lots of people out for the deals--I had no idea Pensacola had so many creative women. While waiting, I browsed, along with everyone else. I found myself getting stuck in the middles of aisles, with slow-moving/stopped women at either end. Near panic attack. I was joyously relieved when my cutting number was finally called. A young, hip-looking girl smiled smartly, back from her break, and proceeded to assist me at the cutting counter. She complimented my fabric choices, like a good fabric cutter does. I thought--ha! I got the fast one, the one who knows what she is doing with these electronic fabric receipt thingamajigs with all the technology that confuses most fabric cutter-people! She slowly and surely proved me wrong, I am sad to say. She ran into loads of problems with her techno-gadget-thingie, and had to ask her coworkers for advice numerous times. They inattentively and somewhat distractedly responded. I finally had my ticket in hand and was about to get Jan's fabric measured, when I noticed an error in her entry--she had only punched in 2 1/2 yards of my flannel instead of the 4 1/2 I had gotten. Even though it was a measly two bucks we're talking here, my conscience won out. So I very politely called her attention to it, and she debated me. (Insert internal roll of my eyes--I'm doing your store a favor, chick, don't question me; thank me!) Then she re-measured my fabric to make sure, and said, "Oh, you were right. I'll have to redo the ticket." I asked her if she couldn't just make a new ticket for 2 yards (since, you know, 2 + 2 1/2 = 4 1/2.) She didn't notice the feverish desperation in my eyes or the sweat on my forehead. She certainly didn't notice how extremely patient I was being. "No, you see, this ticket is WRONG," and she grabbed it, crumpled it, pitched it, and proceeded to re-enter all the information for the third time, having to go out onto the floor to find one bolt of fabric that had already been put back in its place. Meanwhile, my phone is ringing every 2-3 minutes. Jan wants to know when I'll be done, since she is holding a place in the cashier's line for me, and she is getting closer and closer to the end. Just 5 more minutes, I kept reassuring her, nearly in tears of panicky desperation and annoyance. Can't this girl just hand me over to someone who knows what she is doing?!

Fortunately, we all survived. Some of my fabric turned into a little red-n-white number for my kitchen. What a fun apron. Even pie crust answers to its siren call, and obeys my rolling pin's every move. Just kidding.



















Here are some outtakes of Helen's 1 year shot. I didn't end up with anything.




















This morning, I taught the 2s &3s at the 9:00 service at church. Since we had a lunch meeting after the 11:00 service, Jason brought the kids to the later one. While I was on the floor with 7 sweet toddlers, telling them the Christmas story with the manger scene--what a privilege!--Jason was at home, getting our kids ready. He got Owen in the tub, and left to dispose of a really nasty diaper. He told Helen to stay put. While he was out of sight distance, he heard a clunk, but no crying she made. Lo and behold, when he arrived back at the bathroom, here she was. Little stinker! The soap you see in the background has a tiny mouth-shaped piece gone from one corner, complete with little teeth marks. We haven't had a problem with her playing with the bar of soap since that bath, but we have seen bubbles in her diaper. Just kidding about that last one.

Feastus Giganticus

Stabs of jealousy were ripping through my chest as I lay in bed listening to Jason lightly snore, all the while desperately trying to go to sleep. It's a losing battle, because...

I'm just too excited!!! Tomorrow is the day I forget about the kids, forget about the husband, the house, the chores, but hopefully not the budget, and go shopping! I am ready, baby! The kids' bag is ready for Grandma's house. The kids' clothes are laid out for daddy to get them dressed. Their oatmeal is pre-raisined, sugared and cinnamoned with cooking instructions taped to the container, and is in the bag. My oatmeal is similarly made up, on the counter, without the cooking instructions. My outfit is planned. My make-up is laid out, in the order I use it. My purse is cleaned out and re-organized. My checkbook balance is caught up. My list is rewritten and grouped according to store. My Jo-Ann's sale flyer and coupons are freshly re-read and neatly stacked. My felt scrap from a bootie that needs matching felt and a matching onesie is in a Ziplock sandwich bag in my purse. Chocolate is in the purse. Am I missing anything? Maybe I could pre-grind my beans and get my coffee ready to brew. I'm meeting my sister-in-law Janice in Atmore at 5:00, and we're planning to hit Pensacola, so watch out for us if you're at Kohl's or Target! I've only ever done this Friday-after-Thanksgiving thing once before, and wasn't planning to this year either, but when your mother-in-law says, "Hey, I'll watch your kids and Jan's kids the day after Thanksgiving so you can go shopping," you say, "Yes, ma'am!"

This tryptophan thing is bogus. I ate turkey, so I should be sleepy. Am I sleeping?

This wonderful Thanksgiving day started out with Jason letting me sleep in until I got up--a little after 9. I haven't slept that late for years! I drifted in and out, but while awake, listened to him with the kids and just smiled to myself.

"Owen, do you want cereal or oatmeal?"

"Helen's highchair!"

"No, you sit in Owen's chair. Now do you want cereal? Or oatmeal?"

"Highchair!"

I finally stumbled out of bed while Jason was giving the kids a bath. Helen didn't really care about seeing me, but Owen hollered, "Mommy!!!" Helen was a self-proclaimed daddy's girl for almost the rest of the day. What a nice break for Mommy. I made up for my Mommy-time-off later in the evening by changing 3 poops in 5 minutes. I won't say whose.

We had a wonderful feast with the extended Weber family, over at Mant Airy Hane's house, as Owen calls Aunt Mary Jane. He loves Mant Airy Hane's house because of the cool toys. Right before prayer, Great Grandma requested the Doxology. Aunt Velma started it high, so we smilingly screeched away as we sang. I saw one little cousin holding his ears. We had a great time with everyone, and we had some great food too. We got us some good cooks! Homemade dinner rolls that melted on your tongue. Baked turkey. Fried turkey. Creamy garlicky mashed potatoes. Gravy. Bread dressing. Cornbread dressing. Gingerbread dressing. Some kind of wonderful, creamy, full-o-goodness California vegetable casserole with mushrooms in it. Creole sweet potatoes. Broccoli salad. Cranberry salad. And let's not forget the most wonderful appetizer--an impressive fruit sculpture complete with toasted coconut ginger fruit dip and 3 different flavored yogurts to dip, dip, dip! Goooo Lisa!

I was puzzled when Helen didn't eat as voraciously as usual. (She out-eats Owen nearly every meal.) I fed her before the official mealtime, and she only ate half of what I thought she would. Later, I saw her hanging around her grandparents, getting fed pumpkin pie and pumpkin dessert, spoonful after spoonful. Aha--she was holding out for the sweet stuff. Owen ate as expected--he downed his mashed potatoes and didn't want to try anything else. I put a piece of cooked cauliflower drowning in cream soup and cheese in his mouth. It came right back out, head shaking, "I doan wannit!" Same tale with the cornbread dressing. He was more interested in Airy Hane's cool toys.

I love this season of the year, Thanksgiving and Christmas and the excitement leading up to it. It's the weather. It's the time with family and friends, the good food shared, the thinking and planning of gifts and all the special thoughts you have of the ones to whom you are giving. It's the full heart that comes from quiet reflections with God, thanking him, loving him, adoring him, basking in his love.

Speaking of quiet reflections, I am finally getting sleepy. I'll have to speak with Airy Hane tomorrow to see if the coffee I grabbed from her pot was decaf, or regular pretending to be decaf.

Ratsicles

Yesterday I was running errands in town. I needed more coffee beans, and since Roaster's Gallery was closed, I had to go around the corner to the Community Cup. I parked on a side street to avoid Main. I was carrying all 23+ pounds of Helen, grasping my purse, stowing the keys, and holding Owen's hand. Suddenly, Owen hollered, "Himey!" (Kitty!) Yeesh!! NOT a kitty, but a huge rat, lying dead on a grate right beside the bank building. I said calmly, "No, that's not a kitty," and entreated briskly, "Come, let's go to the coffee shop!"

I was a little suspect. This didn't appear like the average nasty sewer rat, but looked almost like a domesticated rat, if there is such a thing. It had a white body and a brown head. And usually the sidewalks in Atmore are kept clean.

Today I was running errands again, and since I only bought a 1/2 pound of beans yesterday, decided to try again for Joel's shop. The doors were wide open, and he yelled, "Hey, Owen!!" from the back, and promptly came up to offer Owen a coffee bean, which he ate with gusto. I got another 1/2 pound of coffee, my favorite, Monsooned Malabar. I found out that the "strange" woman who kept waving to me at the park on Sunday was none other than his wife Celia--how embarrassing that I didn't recognize her!!

I like the feel of the shop. He has his art hanging all over the walls, several claw-foot tubs he is restoring, a few potted plants, some worn couches and braided rugs. And more often than not, downtown business owners will stop by for a cup of coffee and a chat. Today, Mr. Joe Brantley came in. Helen took one look at him and dove for his arms. He just had that grandpa look and sound.

We were about to go when Joel piped up, "Hey, Owen, wanna see some RATS?!!" He strode over to the fridge, yanked open the freezer compartment and withdrew two gallon-size Ziploc bags stuffed with frozen rats, exactly like the dead one we saw yesterday. Apparently before the pet shop two doors down closed, the owner lost track of some rats. When he cleared out, he left them behind. When they ran out of food, they started running the street. And when Joel sees them, he shoots them with a pellet gun or something else of that nature, and then saves them in his freezer. He rolled his eyes when he recounted how the bank ladies wouldn't even go in their door because of the dead rat. "Tell Jay-Bob I said hi and I miss him," he imparted as I went to the truck.

I drove home shaking my head. Only in Atmore.

Need Hangers?

Last summer when Helen was still a bean, I had a fabulous wardrobe. Maternity clothes used to be just awful, but thanks to our friends at Old Navy, Gap and Motherhood, a woman can now carry a child to term in style. Thanks to Lynette who let me borrow her preggy clothes, and to a few other women who offloaded their wardrobes on me, I had some cute, fashionable clothes to wear during a time most women don't feel cute and fashionable.

And I snickered to myself the whole time, comparing the up-to-dateness factor of my maternity clothes with my regular clothes. My normal clothes lost. Big time.

When we moved, our closet space was cut at least in half, if not more. I was forced to go through my clothes. With much glee, I tossed. Out went the old stuff that I hadn't worn for a couple of years. And the stuff that was just hanging there, good for nothing, not even paying closet rent, that I knew I wasn't going to touch again. I didn't listen to the voices in my head that said, "Oooooooooh, you'd better keep that... maybe some time it'll be just what you need to make a perfect outfit." Yep, I ignored that voice. Because if I felt stupid wearing it the last time I wore it because it was (slightly faded, slightly out of style, a bad cut, the wrong color, all of the above), it for sure wouldn't be enhancing my feelings about myself the next time I wore it EVEN IF it gained back the privilege of gracing my body. I also got rid of some of my *gulp* favorite things that I found out Jason HATED.

What I had left wasn't much. So THAT'S why Joyce kept wearing that purple T-shirt! And I discovered something. I thought I was going to feel like I had a hard knock life, like I was greatly wronged or mistreated by not having a closet full of all the right clothes, poor lil ol' me. I was so wrong, misled by my emotions or by culture or by all the lies I'd been believing about what I HAD to have to be happy. And interestingly enough, I felt a new freedom. Freedom from stuff. And a very practical freedom, too. For instance, if I had to get ready to go, I didn't lose time picking out clothes. (Guess it'll be the purple T-shirt. That was a good buy!) I even found myself able to genuinely compliment others on their new cute clothes and not be jealous, but to truly be happy for them. (For me, that's a wow.) I also didn't panic about getting new clothes or have what-if-I'm-stuck-with-this-purple-T-shirt-for-the-rest-of-my-life visions, because I knew that God would provide what I needed when I needed it.

Well, I really didn't have very many clothes, and Jason knew it. I couldn't believe it when he sent Owen to me the day before Mother's Day with a card, and a hundred dollar bill fell out! And Helen gave me a card too--with another chunk-o-change!!

Being the thrifty shopper that I have come to be, I first let the money rest up in a cupboard for a while until I was able to plan a good shopping day. For a girl who usually uses her debit card, large denominations of cash are elative but sobering, inspiring awe and trepidation. (Do I really want to break my $100 on this?) Then I visited various and sundry places of business, scouring the clearance racks. I finally spent the last of it a few weeks ago. All the clothes I bought with this money were new. I got:

a white eyelet lace skirt--very cute
a white Liz Claiborne polo shirt
an orange tank top for layering
a black tank
a white tank
a black/white sleeveless top
brown dress capris
a polka-dotted top with frilly sleeves that make me feel pretty darn cool
casual brown capris
a Nike t-shirt
a supercute sundress with coordinating sweater
2 necklaces
a brown t-shirt
a red Reebok tank top
green shorts--that new really cool shade of green that I'm in love with
black running shorts that even have built-in undies in 'em
a swim suit (a sort-of halter top and a skirt bottom)
a black t-shirt with some cute feminine detailing
a black floral dress top (which I'm planning to return because I brought it home and decided it was a no-go)

I bought all that and even dipped into the cash for some babysitting money! And with some other money--a very paltry sum--I bought a few clothes at the good ol' Economy Shop and a few things off Lynette at her garage sale and a pair of gold sandals at a big box store that starts with W. I'm enjoying my new clothes, but my closet is pretty tightly packed. Soooooo, what can I get rid of now?? I'm trying to be discriminate.

Really, I believe that clothes should make you feel good about yourself when you wear them. But true happiness can't be found in your closet, either!

Cheap Thrills

You know that feeling when you find an incredible deal on something you're looking for, maybe it's new, maybe used, but it's a screamin' deal, and you can't believe you found it, and you get this adrenaline rush and quickly snatch it up for yourself before anyone else can see what a good deal you are getting because they might want it too and that can't be because you saw it first, so tough crunchies? Then you haul it up to the cash register and smugly pay your little bit of money for your great deal, and crow all the way home. Yep, I've had that feeling. Like when I found a brand-new maternity top for 27 cents.

I had that feeling, however unholy it may have been, 2 years ago at a church yard sale. It was a misty Saturday morning, and I had Owen in a stroller. He was getting a lot of "Aw whatta cute baby," and "Momma teaching you young, huh?" I struck it big time there. I found a huge picture frame and mat for 50 cents, a nightstand for $1, two incredibly cool turquoise painted chairs for $5, a pie rack for an insignificant amount and an exersaucer for $3. I was driving the Jetta back then, and even with my 3-body trunk, it was quite a riot getting everything inside the car. My sister in law, my cousin in law and a man from the sale were all helping. I don't remember if we got it all in or if Jan had to follow me home with some of the loot. Fortunately the church was only about 2 miles from our house. I called it quits on garage saling that day, wanting to end in triumph, seeing as how I was heady with a bargain high. (Wouldn't I be a good gambler?) I then proceeded to explain the fine merits of each and every one of my purchases to my fine, understanding, proud husband who merely scrunched up his face and said something sniffy like, "What a load of junk--what are you going to do with THAT?" I'm sure my adrenaline rush instantly turned into righteous indignation, but I chose to pour my irritation into the scouring all the dirt off my fabulous treasures. I had to wash the mud daubers off the chairs; paint the night stand (the object that received the most scorn); paint the picture frame, ditch the picture and insert a scrap of cool fabric; spray paint the pie rack; and thoroughly scrub every inch of the exersaucer. This poor contraption had been left outside, and some of the toys had nasty teeth marks on them. Those got pitched. In my undying enthusiasm, I discovered online that you could order replacement parts for exersaucers, but Jay said NO, NO. The seat cover was mildewed, but at the time I just washed it. And Jay did finally admit that my purchases were great, save for the nightstand, which still fields small insults and contemptuous looks from him.

Not long ago I was fabric shopping with my mother in law without the kids and without my husband. Oh joy! (Bless their hearts.) You can't fully appreciate fabric shopping without Jason until you have tried to look for that perfect piece of fabric with him along. In fact, he hates shopping in general, unless it is for manly things like lawnmowers, tools, cars and ice cream. Ruth found the cutest striped material for recovering her exersaucer--she keeps lots of toys around for her grands. When I saw her finished product, I had to tell her she was wrong for that, because then I saw how shabby mine was. The generous woman then found some fabric at her house that she had forgotten about and gave it to me to redo mine.

So anyway, Helen got her exersaucer recovered, and she was so glad to get back into it after several days' hiatus. I am pleased with it and so is she. Onward toward more bargains! But let me not forget generosity and become stingy for the sake of saving a buck.