We’ve been a bit busy round here, now that the sun has decided to show itself.
photo notes for blindmama
boys digging in the dirt, cooking with a new book, rock climbing wall being scaled by biggest boy, terraced green space at the docks, midsized boy with bubbles, wee girlie with her bubbles and biggest boy with you guessed it… bubbles.
Yeah, that is me raising her hand in the corner.
LIVID.
Totally livid… and I’m not supposed to know about this until August.
It is going back to the store. I’m hoping HE will get the money back and put it where it belongs… in to the bank account. Or I will sell it myself. What a dumbass. I’m actually so angry I can’t even think straight.
Some days… I wish I wasn’t married.
*photo note for blindmama pretty ring, with shiny little stones… which WILL NOT BE GRACING MY FINGER EVER!
The ebola bear, pre surgery.
The innards removed
Restuffed and awaiting suturing.
In to the washer…
Back where he belongs… and less contagious.. for a few more hours.
Photo notes for blindmama
the ebola bear in his germ infested glory.
with old stuffing beside his carcas, looking rather deflated.
needle and thread where most men fear it would tread.
Curled up with midsized boy on the couch after I talked to you this afternoon.
Oh my goodness! No, I am not using one sock and putting it on opposite feet and doing a bunch of photoshop magic!
These are photos of both my feet at the same moment and space! Encased in funky socks!
They match, but they don’t… this is going to drive people INSANE! tee hee.
Oh supreme goddess of the sock… do you get bonus points for the first adult pair of socks knit? 
Brought to you by midsized boy. On the play structure, checking out the pea gravel and riding his hand-me-down tricycle. This is what seems to be our new routine. And cookies. We made oatmeal, cranberry ones today… oh and a handful of chocolate chips were thrown in… you know that they suggest that as optional!
Take your camera outside.
Hello Mr. Peregrine falcon… glad you could enjoy a nice fat birdie that we have spent the winter fattening up.
The neighbour children were suitably impressed with the entrail tossing and bone crunching sounds we got listening at wee girlies bedroom window. This photo was taken from her window. Yes, he noticed us. sooooo cool!
Picture one: empty ’stuffies’ box upstairs… never a good sign.
Picture two: Wee girlie having removed everything but the onsie and cloth diaper with only a squirrel for company in her crib.
Picture three: Midsized boy realizing that his life is hanging by a thread… sleep is the only thing that might save him.
Picture this… me, searching frantically for my sanity and defending the decision to keep her in the crib for a few more months.
And the sad state of affairs is … I don’t mind either. Second sock will be kitchener stitched properly… all the way across…
I hope.
*photo of wee girlie feet wearing the sock and a plain old white one.
*moose wearing a sock with a ‘turned heel’! SQUEEEE! Instructions from the Sock Goddess *note to self, algebra savy friends ROCK! and my very own copy of Knitting Rules! Canadian knitters Rock too!
I am finished the ‘heel flap’.
I have bravely plodded on to the next set of instructions.
I have sliped the first stitch. knit to almost the end. slip, slip and knit (with the help of this lovely site!) knit and turned.
The next row makes absolutely no sense.
slip one. gotcha.
knit a few… umm okay.
slip slip knit again. sure… almost can do it without watching the video first.
knit one. easy peasy right?!
turn.
turn?
She wouldn’t be asking… She knows what the heck she is doing!
Dolores is a the sheep muse of a male knitter in the US.
*Midsized boy has been coached with the sweetest phrase.
Welcome to the dark side! We’ve got cookies!
yeah… parenting does have perks!
Have much to say, little brain power left to say it with.
Childbirth/doula volunteer time was lonely. Person signed up to be at the booth with me never showed… okay they showed up for the morning shift and went home. Yeah. Four hours on my own. Yes. I am glad I bought more sock yarn. I actually got another sock cast on and about 30% of the way to matching its friend. Yeah me.
I think I did an okay job of manning the booth on my own. Gave out copies of the magazine we put out like candy. EVERYONE got the one on cesarean birth. Felt my own agenda creeping in there did you? Well good! It needs to be in there. One third of women are having major abdominal surgery… when other country’s are at less than 10%. What the f&%$ is with that?
fear and lawyers.
’nuff said.
Going to bed now.
I had this inkling that I’d read a great quote in the knitting book the Sock Goddess loaned me… but I can’t find it. 
Something about casting on the second sock immediately in order to up your chances of having a matched set or some thing to that extent…
Huzzah indeed. I’m ahead of the game… except for that whole being finished the first sock thing.
*photo of the sock and its new friend…. what shall we call the other one?
Bought more yarn for ‘the sock’. Because I knew the sock Goddess did not provide enough yarn already…. you can’t hide for long! I know where you live!
So, in an effort to take along my precious sock. I went to get more yarn… and ended up with another ball in the next colour I’ll be going completely out of my mind making another delightful pair of socks with.
I’ve now got a swanky bag to attach to the ‘not really a purse’ purse.
Cripes. I’m being sucked in!
*photo of my ‘not a purse’ purse with attached yarn/needle holder awaiting the trip to the doula/childbirth ed booth I’m going to be at all afternoon. huzzah!
My friend is in the hospital at the moment. Right now, those who ask me how she is doing… don’t get much out of me. Partly due to confidentiality reasons, partly from my own anxiety.Last night we sat and had her ipod between us watching her belly roll and bounce. It was nice to just sit and listen to the music, think of the words and talk. For now she has been given more hope than she’s had in the last few weeks. Now pay attention. This may not ever happen again.
“Thank you neo-natal pathologist, super duper OB and perinatologist who scares the living daylights out of me!”
God… I think I’m getting a rash.
Any way.
We got to talking about music she may want to have at her birth. I’m trying to make sure this birth is not as traumatic as either of her other ones. Her husband is charged with the duty of staying with the baby for the ENTIRE process after it is born. I am charged with her mental and emotional well-being. no pressure right? 
We spent the night going over what was not acceptable. Well then… that leaves ummmmm maybe two Beatles songs and perhaps one or two others floating out there on i-Tunes. Between the two of us it was insane how we could rationalize what could not be played. We talked about my being pissed at the husband for leaving the LoTR CD at the school when I was labouring with wee girlie *note we were all too busy telling jokes and laughing at chickens during midsized boys birth to bother with music*
I was desperate to hear Annie Lennox and Mr. Shore in those last few hours… In hindsight. I’m glad it wasn’t around. Despite having named wee girlie after our favourite character from the books. Long before Mr. Jackson went and made that amazing film trilogy of the books. thank you very much! In all honesty I was leaning towards not giving her the name she has… until she was born and we didn’t have any time to discuss it. In the end, we had no choice but to give her a name that was strong and brave. Because that is what we all had to be in the end. Brave and strong.
I sometimes wonder if the outcome of wee girlie’s birth would have been the same if I’d been entrenched in these words
In to the West -Words and music by Fran Walsh, Howard Shore and Annie Lennox
Lay down Your sweet and weary head Night is falling You have come to journeys end
Sleep now Dream-of the ones who came before They are calling From across a distant shore
Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms You’re only sleeping
What can you see On the horizon? Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea A pale moon rises The ships have come To carry you home
And all will turn to silver glass A light on the water All souls pass
Hope fades Into the world of night Through shadows of falling Out of memory and time
Don’t say We have come not to the end White shores are calling You and I will meet again
And you’ll be here in my arms Just sleeping
What can you see On the horizon? Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea A pale moon rises The ships have come Too carry you home
And all will turn to Silver glass A light on the water Grey ships will pass Into the West
I guess this rambling mess is all about the effects music has on our emotions and how music affects us. Husband can tell me all about the physics of it, the thesis’ written upon it, the pure and raw breakdown of the notes, chords and spacing of melodies…
But to me, today, it is the stuff that brings me up when I’m feeling so down. It is what keeps me from the insanity when I hear the ambulance sirens go (I’ve learned to sing really loud in my head to drown it out). It is what gives R the peace to drift off to sleep and wake up thankful it is another day that babe is still alive and kicking inside.
Music is the emotional salve that heals a lot of wounds and helps us stitch up the once that aren’t quite healed yet.
wee girlie finally where she was supposed to be. Safe in my arms just sleeping
Anyone got some ideas on the hitting front.
Go say you are sorry. with the accompanying hug isn’t working.
Quite seriously, she is smacking the living daylights out of midsized boy. It has escalated to hair pulling. AND NO!!! he isn’t asking for it either… I know! Shocking isn’t it?
Any ideas…
Stuck on the stool as punishment for being naughty… cripes… even that didn’t work!
and here it is… apparently only a few more rounds and I’ll be allowed to continue to the straight knitting portion of it.
Yeah. I knew you’d all be impressed. If you don’t mind… I’m going to wallow with my water bottle for a bit now.
photo is of the knit n purl portion of a sock for wee girly and my water bottle.
