Pay it Forward… with a twist.

Posted on February 3, 2011 by Meghan

The artist at work

I’m sure by now if you travel in crafty circles, you’ve seen one of your Facebook friends or a blogger you enjoy pledge to send something handmade to the first five people to comment on their post and to make the same offer on their own facebook page or blog. If you haven’t, well, YOU HAVE NOW.

Welcome to my Pay It Forward… for Babies post. I’m sure you remember (and if you don’t, there are plenty of links in the sidebar where you can check it out) that last year I pledged to donate money for every mile I walked to save babies. This year, of course, healthy babies are more on my mind than ever. One is banging away on my bladder faster than I bang away on the keys, after all, so it would be hard to forget it.

This year, my due date and the March for Babies date come awfully close to being the same darn date- so I can promise you I’ll be at “The March” only in spirit. Ian and I will definitely make our own trek for babies again, just like last year, but January’s weather has not been kind to us. More on that later.

So, right now, I’ll be paying it forward this way. You make a pledge on my March for Babies page, and Ian and I will make something for you. (Some of his friends may help, too! And he has a lot of friends.) Then, you post a photo of that item on your facebook page or blog, or send it in an email, or host a reveal party (kidding) and let folks know that the first person to make a donation on my March for Babies page and say you sent them will ALSO get something made by me and Ian. We’ll surprise you, depending on where you live, and how much time you give us before this baby shows up, with something we sincerely hope you’ll LOVE.

(See, the original “Pay it Forward” had YOU making things for the next person to respond. Notice how Ian and I do the work… all you do is enjoy your Thank You gift and share the news with friends, while spreading the word that we are trying to help the March of Dimes save some babies. That seems like a good deal to me.)

If you’ve got a blog, hustle on over to join our team, whether you’ll be walking on March Day or not, regardless of where you live- you can change your personal walk location once you join- and make a post just like this one. Then link to your post from this page by clicking the link and following the instructions below. You can post the Linky List of other Pay It Forward posts in your post, too, so you can join the party. Just use the “get the code” link.

Help us make the world a more beautiful place… for you, for babies, for parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and, lest we forget, Big Brothers everywhere.

Pay It Forward For Babies

LOVE, HUGS, KISSES 4EVR

Posted on February 3, 2011 by Meghan

I am blessed with a serious surfeit of alphabet blocks. As in, once I culled an entire set for my kid, I still had an small shipping carton full. Yeah, thrift stores have been good to us. And I have a lot of thrifty friends who know I Like That Sort of Thing, so they pass them along. Although I’ll never approach the heights of elaborate holiday preparation I’m seeing on some of the blogs I read, I still thought I’d get a little creative and have some fun.

Here are some of the letters in their natural state:

Since I want red for my end result, I spray-primed all the ones that weren’t red to start with:

Next, I gave everything a coat of red metalllic paint. The ones I’d primed, I gave two coats:

Have you figured out where I’m going yet? No?

Does that help?

I did a very slap-dash job on these, but that’s okay, because if you have looked at a lot of alphabet blocks (heh) you notice that they have varying quality paint jobs and that, over time, some of them get worn and dinged. So even a lacksadaisical job looks pretty authentic, when you’re done. I considered gluing the blocks together so that little hands can’t disarrange and lose them, but then I thought… seeing what else we can spell will be part of the fun in coming years and… you know I’ll need to add another initial next year. Have fun!

Just for fun, I’m trying something new that I’ve seen elsewhere. You can add a link to your own Valentine’s Day blog posts by clicking the link below. Try it out! (Please link to a specific post, not your whole blog, or the list won’t make any sense!)

Honey Pie

Posted on February 1, 2011 by Meghan

“I made a honey pie!”

“I need a spoon.”

Daddy left Ian alone with the jar of honey. It could have been so much worse…

Welcome to the SuperMax

Posted on January 31, 2011 by Meghan

Yesterday my son overheard me confiding to a friend that I feel like I got hit by a truck. He asked, “Why did the truck hit you, Mommy?” And I explained that it was not a real truck, it was a metaphorical truck. Near as I can tell he knows what a metaphor is… so, rather than ask what a metaphor is, he replied, “Oh. Was I driving it?” YES. You were. This truck has your name ALL OVER IT. And I think it hit Danette, too.

As a result, my darling child who captivated the checker at Home Depot with your beautiful sea-gray eyes today, welcome to life in the supermax facility. I’ve locked the meds up in a heavy-duty toolbox with a padlock. And I HID the key. I’ve also ordered a magnetic lock for the cabinet where the toolbox is kept, purchased a new keyed doorknob for the bathroom door, and ordered a 95db alarm for the bathroom door- which can only be deactivated with a key. And I’m going to hide THAT key, too. (My poor husband might be a wee bit overwhelmed by all this. He asked if we could just get a combination lock, and write the combination on the outside of the med box. HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING? NO!!!)

Then I ordered 125db alarms for all our exterior doors, and I’m busy researching pool enclosure alarms for the back gates. Some of them have had iffy reviews, and I need one that works so well people in the next county get worried and hit the brakes when my kid eventually breaks out of the yard and heads toward the road.

I know you are thinking, “whoa, this dame has crossed over into paranoid la-la land!” Well, enjoy the ride, because there’s more.

I’ve never felt the need to purchase anti-burglar devices to deter, you know, burglars, but I was at Home Depot today shopping for them to keep my kid in bounds. I spent a long time at the biometric safe display and checked out a couple motion sensor systems. Then, I told off some middle aged contractor dude… for touching my cart. Ian was sitting in it and that guy was moving it without even looking to see if he had his hands in. So, for your amusement, I am now that woman who gives total strangers a ticking off if they come too near her child.

I cannot WAIT to hear what kind of therapy Ian needs as an adult. And I hope he and Sophie get married and have TWINS. Because Danette and I want to LAUGH AT THEM. Daily. In the meantime, I’ll be self medicating with ice cream. Because it works. My OB promised me at my appointment on Thursday morning that I would NOT gain another 9 pounds next month. I should have asked her to put money on that.

(Oh yeah… I almost forgot, I did have an OB appointment on Thursday. It seems so long ago… the baby’s doing great, my blood pressure is great. I feel enormous because I have gained 18 pounds, 9 of them in the last four weeks. What can I say, I’m an overachiever. I plan to amaze you all with the size of my rear by the time this kid takes his first breath.)

Truly a banner day…

Posted on January 29, 2011 by Meghan

Yep, they make gowns that small.

Those of you who know and love my son will be amazed that it took us 43 months to get here, but we have now “enjoyed” Ian’s first ER trip. We arrived at the ER at 3:30 pm on Thursday, January 27.

It turns out that not only is Ian tall enough to remove Mommy’s vitamins and OTC meds from the second shelf of the cabinet over the toilet, he is also quite adept at opening “child proof” caps. And that his best partner in crime, Sophie, may not be tall enough to share in the opening-and-dumping fun, but she is not above eating pills off the bathroom floor. (For the record, the penalty for these high crimes is 10.5 hours in the ER, half an hour in an ambulance, and a sleepover at Fairfax Hospital with your partner in crime, followed by an afternoon playing in the snow with Raba and being spoiled by Rama. Oh, and as many hours in a hard chair for Mommy and next to no sleep for both your parents, but who cares about that.)

In case you are thinking of asking about how any of this happened, please see the FAQ I have compiled, below.

1. How did they get the tops off?

Quickly and cleverly. They opened three pill bottles in less time than it would take an adult to read the directions on the lids. From the looks of it, they were thinking that it was pretty fun to watch the pills bounce around when you pour them from up high. The evidence of my own ears tells me that this makes a LOT less noise than you think it would. We caught them before they had time to work on bottle number 4.

“But, Mommy, I don’t LIKE that.”

2. How many did they eat?

Well, when was the last time YOU counted the contents of an OTC medicine? I’ve no idea how many were in there to start with, and rather than kneel on the bathroom floor counting pills (which, by the way, were soaking in a puddle of pee… not sure what mischief led to THAT little detail) I was busy- talking to poison control, cramming boots onto little feet and bodies into tiny jackets, and disregarding Braxton Hicks while I RAN to the car to put little butts into car seats. Yes, folks, I was running like my tail was on fire. I know some of you would have paid to see that.

My first x-ray

3. Can’t you estimate how many they might have swallowed?

See 2.

4. How long did you leave them alone?

See 1. They were quiet for less than five minutes before we caught them in the act and we know EXACTLY what they were up to until they got too quiet. They were never more than 20 feet away from us at any time.

5. What were you doing while they were doing this?

Puking charcoal so hard it comes out your nose takes it out of you.

Well, right BEFORE this happened, I was cleaning up in the kitchen, telling Ian to put pants on and not run around naked, speculating about whether Sophie would decide that Ian being naked would mean SHE was supposed to be naked, and telling baby Jonathan how cute he was. Then I said, “You know, they are really, really quiet all of a sudden.” And I listened to Danette walk the 20 feet to check on them and heard “no. NO.” Then, please see 2.

“I want a cheese sandwich. And fries.”

I can honestly tell you that over the last two days I’ve been scared witless, anxious, stressed, tired, and high on adrenaline.

What I did NOT feel was resentment toward the social worker who inspected my son for bruises and signs of abuse before signing off on his release, defensive when asked to tell the story of how they got the pills 500 times in 24 hours, or judged and found wanting as a mom. Maybe people WERE judging and finding my parenting lacking, but all I can say about that is that what separates me from them is that nothing has happened to their kid… yet. I’m GLAD that showing up at the ER with two kids who may have overdosed on not one but three kinds of pills means that people pay attention and look for warning signs. I hope that it means that some kid who really needs help doesn’t slip through the cracks. And I hope you are ordering a burglar alarm for your medicine cabinet right now.

(By the way… the social worker recommends I “increase supervision” of my child. Near as I can figure, I am never to eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom again. And one of the ER nurses apparently recommends that we not let Sophie play together with Ian any more… I infer that this is based on the theory that my son is a hardened juvenile delinquent at the age of three and a half and is an intractable bad influence. You’ve all been warned.)

Ambulance ride

In fact, other than wanting to slap the tech who lied and told Ian that having his blood drawn would be “fun,” then flubbed it the first time, meaning that a now hysterically screaming Ian had to be forcibly held to the bed while they successfully inserted the port, then told me to calm down when I started to cry after several minutes of listening to my son screaming for Mommy to make them stop because it was “OUCHY, MOMMY NO!” I can sincerely say that mostly what I felt was gratitude.

Finally succumbed: Passed out right in Mommy’s lap.

I was grateful for the high quality of care both kids received (and I did NOT beat that tech, even though he should have shut it before telling me to calm down because *I* was supposedly upsetting my baby when HE was the clumsy dude with the needle). I was grateful that Silver Diner is open late and my husband was able to get us dinner at midnight. I was grateful that Ian is a good kid who mostly cooperated with everything he was told to do- even drinking the charcoal, not pulling on the port in his arm, and leaving his leads on, which meant holding relatively still- not his strongest skill. I was grateful, above all things, that I had insurance and was able to focus on what my kid needed and not how we would pay for it. I was grateful that I have family in the area and that we were able to go spend the afternoon with a couple of loving adults who were there to pick us up from the hospital, spoil Ian, let me take a quick nap, wash the vomit out of my winter coat, and feed us all a good dinner instead of the PB&Js I’d have thrown together for us at home in my sleep deprived state.

Last but not least, I am incredibly grateful that all’s well that ends well. Both kids are fine. And I told Ian and Sophie that the NEXT time they want to have a sleepover, to please just tell me and I’ll arrange for us all to go to the beach… it’ll be cheaper, not to mention much easier on Mommy’s nerves.

Ian’s First Snowman

Posted on January 27, 2011 by Meghan

There was actually a bit too much ice mixed in with the snow to make a proper snow man, so we rolled ONE ball and then we faked it. Ian got to stick the arms in, which means this was just perfect as far as he was concerned.

“Mommy, we need another body. There have to be two.”

“Look, I did it! I put it in!”

I found another arm! Here I come!

Yes, my son…

Posted on January 26, 2011 by Meghan

There are holidays which are not Christmas and are still fun.

This is a garland I made using the heart pattern from my Valentine’s Day Heart Locket. ({filelink=4}) I made a dozen hearts, wove in the ends, and chain stitched them together, attaching a heart every 20 chain stitches or so. For extra fun I am considering doing some white ones with picot edging… This was a good “purse project” for a couple weeks, I used up leftover yarn, and the little dude loves it.

DIY Pet Stain Help

Posted on January 25, 2011 by Meghan

This concoction did a good job of heavy duty odor and stain removal on my light-colored basement carpet, which I had thought a total loss. (We bought the house with the carpet. Knowing how many pets we have, we’d have chosen something different. Note to the world: Step away from the beige carpet. Do not install that in the basement. Pick a nice Berber that will work with you when you try to clean up after the occasional damp issue. It’s a BASEMENT.)

This works on mildew and pet stains, but you’ll need to try something else for rust- lemon juice, salt, and Barkeeper’s friend have all proved minimally effective for me.

1 quart hydrogen peroxide
1 cup washing soda
3 quarts hot water
1/4 cup CLEAR liquid laundry detergent- optional

Mix well.

What you’re doing here is creating an oxygen bleach, chemically similar to OxiClean but at the right strength for the job at hand. (AND CHEAP.)

The laundry detergent will help where there are visible stains. DON’T use a blue variety or you risk staining your carpet or upholstery blue instead. It’s important to use laundry detergent because it’s low-foaming. It’s very important to note that WASHING soda, which is very inexpensive, made by Arm & Hammer, and carried around here by Giant, is not the same as Baking Soda. You’ll find it in the laundry aisle.

I apply this mixture liberally to stains, let it sit for as long as a half hour, and then use my carpet steamer to remove it and rinse the area. I can’t say it’s restored the carpet to “like new” status, because the repeated application down there has resulted in some wear on the fibers. But what it DOES do is remove the odor and stains at a fraction of the price of some of the things I tried that didn’t work nearly so well.

You can store leftovers in a closed container. The hot water is to dissolve the soda; I don’t know that it makes the product more effective to use it warm.

So before you throw something away because you think it can’t be saved, try this. You’ll be out a couple of bucks if it doesn’t work, which is nothing compared to what you’ll save if it does.

Not a new couch, but…

Posted on January 24, 2011 by Meghan

better! Why?

1. No heavy lifting. Fit in a bag, in my Civic.
2. No rearranging the room to get it in!
3. No calling special pickup for the old one!
4. It’s machine washable!
5. It’s just as comfy as the old one!
6. Price Tag: $18.75 plus tax and one trip through the washer.

I am so thrilled to have found a couch cover for the study at Unique Thrift today… it fits better than I thought possible, and now the marker scribbles, the torn arm (which is featured here, in case you missed it), and the sundry stains are all tidily and cleanly covered up. (Why, you ask, do I have a white couch in my study when I have a small child? Because it was FREE. That’s why.)

I’ve known I should put a cover on that couch for a while, but the holdup was the skinny couch arms. Most covers that are made to fit the narrow arm on this couch are nearly as expensive as getting a new couch… and I confess, my thrifty soul has balked at the idea. But here you have it- the price is right, I didn’t need help with the “heavy lifting,” and it took very little time or effort. My favorite kind of makeover.

An open letter to Husbands of Pregnant Women

Posted on January 24, 2011 by Meghan

Back in the day when my friends and I were all hot, intelligent young women who, for some reason, were still willing to hang out with Young Guys Who Don’t Get Us, my male friends all told me that they appreciated the fact that I Spoke Guy. So now, from the other side of thirty, when my friends and I are all hot, intelligent women who, for some reason, love Men Who Have Learned To Sometimes Act Like They Get Us, I am going to do it again.

Dear Husband of A Pregnant Woman:

I love being a mom and I’m deeply grateful to be blessed with not just one child, but the imminent arrival of a second, healthy child, so what I am about to tell you is Not Complaining. I’m just trying to put this in perspective for you.

My uterus is the size of a soccer ball. No matter how many times I hear “cute pregnant woman” or “you look great!” I’m no fool. My belly is pulling the cuffs of my pants up, my waistband is higher than Erkel’s, and Even My Socks Don’t Fit. If I drop a tube of toothpaste at the grocery store, I have to do the weightlifter squat like I’m about to bench a 500 lb barbell in order to retrieve it, because I have kissed my waist goodbye for the forseeable future.

From the back, I still look like a normal sized human, so others are resentful of my wanting enough personal space to account for the soccer ball, and keep impatiently asking me to “excuse” them when they wish to get by. Or worse, they just bump into me. A lot. (Note to those who don’t know: A pregnant belly does NOT “suck in.” Sorry.) Folding myself up small enough to buckle my kid into his carseat in the back of my two-door car feels like being birked. In fact, I feel roughly like I have a 12 year old sitting on my rib cage at all times, and my unborn child’s needle sharp feet regularly inflict sharp blows to my bladder and/or kidneys.

In other words, I Do Not Feel So Sexy These Days.

Which is why I want to tell all of you, Husbands of Pregnant Women, that although I understand that when you talk lovingly of the Nymph You Took On Your Honeymoon, you mean, “I can’t believe she loves me enough to let me do this to her,” what your wife hears is, “Well, you USED to be beautiful.” In terms of this whole man/woman thing, that is going to be about as successful as trying the pickup line, “Well, I’m really into your pretty friend, but she shut me down, so… wanna hook up?” (In case you are in the “Don’t Get Us” category, that line will only work on the type of woman who is Don’t Get Any On You Crazy. Don’t use it.)

Your wife, who feels approximately like a whale that has somehow found itself beached on the couch of your landlocked home, has a living being sucking the energy out of her. The closest she gets to “nymph” these days is watching old episodes of Charmed. If you have told her, sincerely, that she is Really Very Pretty once an hour since the middle of her second trimester, she may laugh this off and continue giving you the “you are so hot” look. (Note to YOU: Of course you are still hot. You can still touch your toes. Your wife has not failed to notice.) If not, however, she will be too tired to tell you that You Are Being a Blockhead.

She will go to sleep, leaving you and your fond memories of her Nymph days alone together, so you may go squat in your mancave and cuddle up with them. When she wakes up tomorrow, barely able to put on her shoes without assistance, she will not look back on this evening fondly.

Which is why I am telling you… SHUT UP about the Nymph. The only thing your wife wants to hear right now is, “You are Really Very Pretty.” You’ll thank me tomorrow.

Sincerely,
A Mom Who Still Speaks Guy

Semele's Riches

Ordinary Mom, Extraordinary Adventures