Pictured above, number Two in the kitchen of our first home, when she was one year old. We had just moved in.
When I was in college, I worked in a sporting goods store on breaks from school for a couple of years. I remember one of my coworkers rolling his eyes and sighing because his mom had made him, his dad, and his brother paint their kitchen for a fifth time because it wasn’t the right shade of yellow. I commiserated. Who does that?!
A few years later, I was married and living in our first apartment, the upper floor of an old house on Long Island. It wasn’t a typical apartment; the walls were painted shades of brown and gold. There was original dark trim and wood built-ins were throughout our upstairs dwelling. The kitchen had granite countertops and cheery, sunshine yellow paint.
The house our rental was in was situated in a strange way. It seemed as though it used to have a much bigger plot of land around it. It looked like some previous owner and had gradually sold off bits of the land to different developers, so that our street ended just after our house in a small sort of road that led past one more house and to a nursing home whose entrance was clearly visible from our kitchen window. You can just see the nursing home in the background to the right behind the trees in the photo above. (We used this pic in our immigration interview photo album, but that’s another story. Keep an eye out for it this summer.)
The nursing home employees would come outside to smoke on their breaks and it always felt like they were looking in our windows, but I hated to assume.
Last night, about an hour before bedtime, Six quietly told the Chaplain he didn’t feel good, and curled up on the sofa. A few minutes later, he was asleep.
An hour later, as we were putting everyone to bed, the Chaplain lifted Six off the sofa to transfer him to his bed. He found Six was burning with a fever a shade under 104. We feared he wouldn’t go back to bed, but after a dose of children’s acetaminophen, he snuggled willingly into bed and went back to sleep.
Three hours later, the Chaplain and I were reading in bed when I heard a cry coming from the room Six shares with his older sisters. I paused to make sure I had heard him. There it was again. As I walked into the room, Two made a dramatic pronouncement along the lines of, “If he does that all night, I’m going to die.”
Back in April, I mentioned I was trying a new plan for Mother’s Day. I told my family ahead of time what I wanted, and then tried not to feel guilty for asking.
My family delivered. A big part of my plan was not being responsible for preparing meals on Mother’s Day. I honestly can’t remember what we ate that day. Which is fine. Because whatever it was, I had nothing to do with it.
My family actually OVER-delivered, because they willingly let me get more family photos of them than they have in a very long time. We spent time outside together. It was relaxing. There wasn’t a lot of pressure.
It was just what I wanted.
I’ve made a few shirts with sleeves, and the one I actually wear may someday make it into a future post. However, the type of top I’ve been most successful with is the tank top. I’ve made 5 so far, using three different patterns. It’s given me the opportunity to work with fabrics I hadn’t tried before, like double gauze and rayon.
I wanted to round up the tops I’ve made so far so I’ll have them all in one place. Also, for people like me who like to see photos of what others have done with patterns and what they look like on actual human beings – hopefully this will help.
The patterns I used were: Lotta Jansdotter’s Kiomi top from Everyday Style, and Rae’s Ruby and Gemma tops.
When I was pregnant with Seven, I went to the chiropractor regularly. It started before he was born.
I have a lot of responsibilities. Some might say, more responsibilities than I am capable of keeping up with. So in order to get a break, sometimes my body just quits working. This can look like a head cold, a stomach bug, or a sudden, unexpected nap. In this case, I tried to lift my head off of my pillow one Monday morning and it felt like something in my neck had snapped.
