It's a thin line between love and hate

Well hello there.  It's just me, your friendly neighborhood blogger.  Don't mind me, I'm just having a good old fashioned anxiety attack.  Meh, attack isn't even the word - episode is more like it.  I'm having an anxiety episode; on vacation no less.

We've spent this past week in Hilton Head and it's been wonderful.  The resort is great, the weather is great, the food has been great and if you could see Sofia swimming, you'd bust open from happiness.

So why the anxiety?  We're on vacation, it makes no sense.  That's the funny thing about anxiety; everything in your life could be great and you could still be wide awake and not sleeping because your brain won't turn off and you can't calm down.  Wanna hear how ridiculous it is this time?  Sure you do.

TV.

I'm having anxiety over TV.  That's how stupid anxiety is; you'd think I could be freaking out over the economy or the environment or something worth freaking out over, but nope.  This little episode is brought to you by TV.

Specifically, my daughter watches too much TV and it's my fault because I let it happen.  I'm the one who downloaded PBS Kids to the iPad.  I'm the one who allowed her to have Drew's old phone and had him put all the episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba on it.  It is my fault that the kid wakes up and says "May I see PBS Kids on the iPad?"  "Mommy, want Sofia's phone."  That was all me, and I'm kicking myself now because I can't sleep.

See, she wakes up before I do and on the weekends, Drew gets up with her so I can 'sleep in.'  I put that in quotes because it's not like I really sleep, because mere seconds after the both of them are up, I hear either the big TV, or the iPad or her phone, showing whichever episode of Gabba or Martha Speaks or whatever movie he's put on for her.

I tell myself that I can't complain, that I should relish the few extra minutes I get to 'sleep.'  But I don't, because all I can think about is how the kid doesn't freaking blink when she's watching TV.  How her brain is turning to mush, how she's not being engaged, how she's probably being over-stimulated and of course, how I'm being selfish because I'm choosing to sleep when I should be up and out of bed and reading to her, or playing blocks with her, or coloring, or playing with her dollhouse, anything besides letting her watch TV.

And that's why I can't sleep - because I know that she'll wake up before me, that Drew will wake up with her and before she even knows what's happening, she'll have her phone in her hand and Yo Gabba Gabba all cued up.  And it's my fault.

I mean, it's not 100% my fault - Drew could not give her the phone or the iPad.  He's her parent too; he makes that choice too.  It's just that he doesn't see the problem with her watching TV.  He doesn't think it's that big a deal.  But DUDE, the kid doesn't BLINK.  And there is no study anywhere that says that screen time is good for you.  

I searched Google Images for 'kids watching tv' and the results

were depressing.  Nothing but a bunch of little zombie kids.  It didn't do much for my anxiety.

And then of course there's the accompanying article that came 

with this fun little image.

Yet, we're the ones who just bought a bigger TV less than a month ago.  And I'll be the first one to put a movie on for Sofia when I have to do laundry because there is literally no clean underwear in the house or I have to get dinner started because Drew will be home any minute.  I'm sure there are two-year-olds out there who can entertain themselves with books and toys and whatnot, but my kid is not one of them.  I can set her up with her markers and paper and she'll play with them - for ten seconds.  Again, maybe not all toddlers are that way, but kid has the attention span of a gnat.  So, if I don't want her watching TV I have to stop what I'm doing and find another activity that might engage her, which if successful, will buy me about three minutes.

I've also tried to have her help me.  I try to get her to fold laundry with me, which is a big fat joke.  I'll give her a pile of washcloths, hoping that will occupy her long enough that I can get a few things folded.

Minute one:  I can get the diaper covers and inserts sorted so I can 

stuff the diapers.

Minute three:  It's way more fun to knock over the piles and take the 

inserts out of the diapers and then run away.

It's the same thing at dinner time.  I'll pull her tower over to the sink and turn on the water, hoping that'll give me a few minutes to get stuff started.  Except, we have one of those nozzle faucets and Sofia can pull it out, which means water all over her, the tower and the floor, so I have to stop and clean it up before she slips in it.  Then we try non-water activities like sorting beans in a muffin tin, until she dumps the beans all over the floor and I have to clean it up, and aren't I supposed to be making dinner?  

So I give up and hand over her phone and she happily runs to the sofa, plops down and zombies out.  And I hate myself.

This is from the blog Daughter of the Sun and this is her daughter.

The caption says "Where would you rather have your child? In a field of 

wild plants and flowers or in front of a television screen?"

I don't know that I'd have the courage to live like they do, but I sure do love the idea.

I mean, I'd love to live off the grid and be one with nature for real, but seriously? 

My first thought is 'Nope! I'd get way too hairy, way too fast.'

And that's the truth.

But for real, I'm in love with that blog.

I flirt with the idea of doing a 30-day TV cleanse.  No TV or iPads or phones, for any reason, at all.  Nothing.  I don't know how I'd get anything done, but I'd sure love to try.  I've gone a day without TV and I'm embarrassed to say that I was sweating by the end of the day, telling myself that we went the whole day without TV, it's ok to let her watch one show.  It's hard work being the sole entertainment for an active toddler, and not that I'm not up for it, but geez.  We play dollhouse, we play blocks, we read, we eat, we go outside, we chase, we look for bugs, we go inside, we change diapers, we color, we ride the tricycle, we ride in the toy car, we play with stickers.... and I look at the clock and two hours have gone by.  There are eight more hours to go.  Then there's tomorrow, and it's all the same books and toys and games and stickers and how in the world are you supposed to make them fresh and interesting?

I read the stuff that says your kids should be able to entertain themselves, but I'm not entirely sure they're talking about toddlers, or that they're talking about toddlers who are only children and the mom stays at home, because expecting Sofia to play by herself while I'm in the next room and I'm waaaay more interesting than anything she's got going on?  It doesn't happen.

I'm pretty sure I'm doing something wrong, but I'm not sure what it is.  I just know that it's six in the morning on my vacation and I can't sleep because I don't want her watching TV tomorrow and I'm most certainly going to be made out to be the bad guy because of it.  I just loooove being Bad Cop, btw.  It makes me so proud to hear Drew all loud and over-dramatic going, "NO SOFIA.  YOU CAN'T WATCH TV BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER DOESN'T WANT YOU TO."  I feel so good when I get the privilege of whisper fighting with Drew and it's so much fun to be like "Turn off the GD tv!  Be a fucking parent!"  Oh yeah.  Those are the moments I look forward to.  

*sigh*

Well anyway, I got this off my chest.  And I'm sure I'm going to get an earful when a certain someone reads it, but whatever.  I need to speak to my people and I need to hear from you:  Have you ever done a TV cleanse?  How hard was it?  Did your kid get the DTs from withdrawal?  Would you die without TV?  Because don't get me wrong - I love my programs.  Supernatural is my favorite show and I love zoning out at the end of the day with some good trash tv - Million Dollar Listing New York is a good one.  I love any and all design shows and could spend days watching them, so I'm definitely not on anybody's high horse.  I'm just one addict talking to another.

Ok, I'm going to try and get some sleep so I can get up when Sofia does and try this whole 'standing in a field of flowers' thing.  Wish me luck, and thanks for listening.  You're the best.

Babies are complicated

Just as soon as word got out that I was pregnant, nearly everyone was like Maybe it'll be a boy!  Especially when I didn't feel the same as I did with Sofia's pregnancy, the chatter got louder.  Maybe it's because you're having a boy!

I get it.  Our society's preference for boys is nothing new and until now, I could have cared less.  I was in my own bubble of multiple miscarriages, wondering if I would even get to have kids.  Obsessing over whether it was a girl or a boy was a pastime for people who had normal regular pregnancies.  Instead, I was obsessing over whether or not my baby was alive.

But when they told me Sofia was a girl, I was ecstatic.  I didn't know it until that moment, but I wanted a girl.  I mean, I wanted a girl and having Sofia in my life has been an absolute dream come true.  She's my buddy, my homegirl, my mini-me and it's awesome.  I absolutely love having a daughter and when I became pregnant a second time, there was no doubt in my mind.  I wanted another girl.  I wanted Sofia to have a sister.  But I kept my mouth shut, because that's not what I was supposed to want.  Apparently, having 'one of each' is what I'm supposed to want.  I'm supposed to want a son.

I wish they'd celebrate girls like this, you know?

When they told me that it was another girl, I was overjoyed.  I got what I wanted - I got my girls.

But then it got complicated.  I got what I wanted, but it was no secret that Drew wanted a son. With Sofia, as soon as the doctor said it was a girl, Drew half-jokingly said "Well, I guess we're having another one!"  I punched him in the arm and well, the rest is history.  Drew loves his daughter more than anything and he will love his second daughter just as much, but I know his heart hurts a little that he may not get a son. 

I say may not, because I'm not opposed to the idea of a third child; it's just that conversation is a loooong way off and I'm old.  My baby-making years are coming to a close and we may decide that two is plenty.  But I get the disappointment, because if Sofia had been a boy, I would've been like Hell YES we're having another one.  And then if the second baby had been a boy too, I would've been like Hell YES there will be a third child.  And so on until I got a girl, so I get it.  In my book, Drew is the only one on the planet allowed to feel a slight bit of disappointment.

That's why I got all sorts of pissed when I told a family member that it was another girl and they were like OOOHHhhhhhhh.  Sofia's going to have a sister.  I got all Mama Bear and was like Hey!  That's my daughter you're talking about!  You're not allowed to be disappointed!  It's not your kid!  You're only allowed to feel joy, dammit!

And now all of a sudden I'm thinking about what it really means to have two kids.  I don't ever want this new baby to feel like it's not okay that she's a girl.  I want her to feel as loved and wanted as Sofia, because she is.  I don't want her to have a complex about not being 'enough.'  I also don't want Sofia to feel like she's being replaced or that she's losing me.  I want both of my girls to feel like they are honored members of their family and I don't ever want anyone to EVER treat either of my daughters like who they are isn't acceptable.

Besides, having a son doesn't automatically mean you've hit the 'jackpot.'  There's nothing guaranteeing that he'll do what you want - i.e. have babies and carry on the family name and whatnot.  You could have a boy and he could decide that he doesn't want kids and there goes your family 'legacy' (which chaps my hide because girls can carry a legacy just as much as a boy.  Are we really this hung up on a name?  If it's that big a deal, keep your name after you get married.  It's not like you stop being a member of your family if you get married.)

I never gave any of this thought until now, but now I'm hyper-sensitive to the environment I'm bringing my new daughter into.  I want her to have to the same loving and adoring world that Sofia had when she was born.  I want her to feel just as welcome as her older sister, and the thought that anyone, anyone would treat her otherwise?  Ooohh, it gets my blood pressure up because that's my baby you're talking about.

Now, I'm not trying to get all Women's Studies on you, namely because I'd be in over my head in about two seconds.  But having two girls has really opened my eyes to this part of society that I never noticed before.  I mean, I knew that boys were preferred, I knew that in China, sex-selective abortions are extremely commonplace (which is totally biting them in the ass, by the way), it was just never anything *I* had to think about.  But now that I'm going to have two girls, I'm totally obsessed with making sure that my second daughter knows that she is perfect just as she is, that she's valued and treasured and loved completely and totally.

But am I right for doing that?  Is there 'error' in overcompensating?  It's not like I'm going to say to her every day "It's fine that you're a girl" because that's just weird and will most definitely give her a complex.  But I have this need to protect them both, unlike anything I've ever felt and I'm not sure if I'm trying to protect them from something that isn't there.

I should know better than to let one ignorant comment dampen my parade, but I can't help it.  I'm not naive to how stupid this world can be and I know that the 'so when will you try for that boy?' questions will come.  

I was even good about it during that particular conversation - I didn't jump their shit and be like WTF is wrong with you?  What, like my daughter isn't good enough?  My daughter is perfect, just like her older sister and you can go drink a nice tall glass of shut the fuck up!

See, I was good.  Instead, I glossed over it and changed the subject, like an adult.  

And then I came to my blog to vent.

People are dumb and they're going to make ignorant comments and ask rude questions and just generally be assholes.  And it's fine when they're dumb assholes to me - I can handle it.

But oh my God, the thought of someone making my daughter feel bad that she's a girl?  Seriously, my eyes are welling up with tears just thinking about it.  

Girls are awesome.  Boys are awesome.  Babies are awesome.  And maybe one day, in the far-off future (we're too stupid to get our shit together in the near future,) when someone has a baby, we can just hug them and be happy and joyful that their baby is alive and that once again we get to witness the miracle of life.

Babies are the best.

*Also, thank you guys for sharing in my joy at having two daughters.  You guys most definitely are NOT dumb assholes.*

My girls, my girls, MY GIRLS

Talkin' bout.....

That's right y'all, I am gestating a girl-child!  Do you have any idea what this MEANS?!?!? DO YOU?!?!

Why, I'm glad you asked, because THIS is what it means...

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It means photoshoots, obviously. 

I've known since the second ultrasound (I go by heartbeats.  Of everyone I've ever known, the heartbeat has been right in predicting sex) that it was going to be a girl and to have it confirmed just means that I can officially go crazy planning for MY GIRLS.  I've had these pictures for a while now and I'm so flippin happy that I finally get to share them!  But if you will notice, there is a shortage of brown sisters on Google Images.  I went looking and couldn't find any for this post, and I single-handedly plan to remedy that little situation.

Although I did find this and I died from the cuteness.

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But there were no brown baby sisters, so I'm going to have to fix that.  I fully plan to inundate the internet with pictures of my adorable brown baby girls (!!!!!!) because I'm about to have two daughters!  Sofia is going to have a sister!  From birth, like you're supposed to! (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

Sofia really doesn't get it yet, but I'm hoping and praying that they will love each other and be friends and not fight too much.  And holy balls, I am nervous about having two kids but that'll be for another post.  This one is pure celebration and girly squealing because I'm going to have two daughters!!

Sisters!!

Griswold family vacation

I'm supposed to be packing, so of course I'm blogging.  Makes perfect sense.  We're leaving on vacation tomorrow for a million days and I'm supposed to be packing the house because Drew is obsessed with not forgetting anything.  You'd think we were going to the wilderness, not the beach with all modern amenities nearby.  It's all good tho, I'd rather my husband be obsessive than clueless and flighty.  So he gets a pass; especially because I'm blogging when I should be packing.

Also, I really wanted to post this picture.

I'm fervently hoping that this trip will be better than Puerto Rico, so y'all cross your fingers for me on that one.  I'm feeling 100 times better than I have been, so I have hope.  Which PS, I need you mothers of more than one kid to weigh in for a second:

How was your second pregnancy compared to your first?  I was all kinds of sick and tired and nauseated at 8 weeks, but at nine weeks it's all completely gone.  If I didn't know I was pregnant, I wouldn't think I was pregnant.  Which is oh so fun for someone who has had multiple miscarriages, by the way.  I've already been in my OB's office, ugly-crying because I was convinced the baby was dead because I didn't feel sick anymore.  They did an ultrasound and I shit you not, the kid waved at me.  Waved.  My stomach is pretty much flat, my boobs don't hurt and haven't changed size, I'm not nauseated and my legs don't even hurt!

I haven't had to bust out my compression hose or anything!

I haven't even been *that* hormonal (shut it, Drew.)  I wonder if my body has figured out this whole pregnancy thing and isn't freaking about it like, Oh so being pregnant *doesn't* mean pain and agony?  My bad.  Who knows.  Anyway, was it like that for you?

Also, this is the vacation where I'm going to meet the sister.  That should be fun and interesting, if by fun and interesting we mean weird and awkward.  Because that's what I mean.  I sent my one email and I'm hoping that I'll be able to make it through without completely embarrassing myself.  I'm not holding my breath.

Oh yeah - you guys are way too nice to me on the pillow thing.  It's ok, I know I can't sew and as soon as I get some more time, I'm going to try again.  Maybe.

Okay, that's all I've got.  Don't forget to tell me about your second pregnancy and pray for my husband because I'm sure I'm going to forget something and I'm sure his head will explode from the exasperation.  Please remind him that we're on vacation. 

Okay for real, I'm getting off.  I have to pack.  No more procrastinating.

*Watch, we're going to be stuffing the car at midnight tonight while Drew cusses me out.  Actually, y'all might want to say a prayer for me, now that I think about it.  Especially if I don't get off this computer...

Let's sew some pillows!

Laughter is vital to life.  Without it, all you're doing is waiting to die.  Laugh every single day and you may not live longer, but the life you do live will be way more worth it.

This is why I'm so thankful for this blog and for the readers and friends that I've found through it.  We found each other and when I get down in the dumps, I write and you read and then miracles happen because you make me laugh and then I forget that I'm down in the dumps and all becomes right with the world.

So I'd like to return the favor and perhaps bring you a little laugh today, courtesy of my friend Ashley.  She left the most brilliant comment on my last post, regarding my sofa pillows.  It was a seemingly innocuous question, a perfectly legitimate query.  But when I tell you I actually laughed out loud - one of those BAH!! kind of outburst laughs, followed by a genuine smile and a chuckle of glee, well....um.....I did one of those BAH!! laughs and then genuinely smiled and chuckled with glee.  ANYWAY!

I want to tell you a story and hopefully you'll laugh.

On the last post, I asked you, my fine readers, where I could get some good pillows for cheap and Ashley was like, Um hello?  Don't you have a sewing machine?  Sew up your own pillows girl!  And then she made my day.  May I show you?

Way back in the day, this was our pillow setup in the old house.

It was Drew's sofa and Drew's pillows, so I'm not going to hate.

At least it's not black leather.

Side note:  Before I had gone to his house, I had a strict no-black-leather-sofa

rule and I would have broken up with him on the spot had he owned a black leather sofa.

Same goes for neon beer signs.

I breathed a complete sigh of relief when I walked into his loft and saw this.

But this isn't about my dating design rules - focus Desiree!  This is about my pillow-sewing prowess.  Fast forward to several years later; we're married, we have a kid, we're on our second house and the tan sofa and brown pillows have moved to the basement playroom.  Brown pillows just won't do in a happy and colorful playroom so I set out to fix that with my trusty sewing machine and a trip to JoAnn's.  I hemmed my jeans, I can sew two squares of fabric together, right?

No.  No, I cannot. 

My pillows are 16x16.  I got my fabric, lined it up and cut two 16x16 squares.  (The sewing people just smiled and shook their heads.)

You need a seam allowance, derr.  That's the part that the sewing machine foot grabs so the fabric will stay straight and it's usually an inch on all sides.  I sewed one side, realized my mistake and was like, no big, I'll just add a strip of fabric to fudge the width I need.

Don't do that, because you end up with a Frankenpillow.

Cute little ikat-ish, chevron-y type print.

The back of my pillow.  Did I line up my pattern? Nope.

Did I do that on purpose.  Nope.

Seam allowance, y'all.  You need it.

The mismatch-y pattern just hurts my feelings but I pressed on.

Fudging the seam allowance on the other side.

Some Franken-stitches on one corner because I still didn't get my measurements right.

Seam allowance!

You have to say in your 'Toe pick!' voice.

Seam allowance *and* closing it up.  Oh so pretty!

You'd think that sewing two squares together wouldn't be that hard, but this is me we're talking about.  I'm the one who put nineteen holes in the wall to hang a 1x2 piece of wood on the wall.  However, I was not to be deterred.  I had other pillows!  I'll just try again!

Same print, contrasting color.

PS, I have no idea why I was drawn to these prints because I hate them now.

'Fun' does not equal 'busy' and these are too busy for me.

I gave myself a proper seam allowance and I was even able to almost line up my pattern!

Except.....

Ummm.....

(The sewing people are wiping the tears from their eyes right now.)

See, on the edge of every fabric there's something called the selvedge.  It tells you what colors are in the fabric, the name of it, the manufacturer and whatever else you need to know about the fabric.  You should not include the selvedge when measuring your seam allowance, but I was so excited that I had solved the seam allowance mystery that I didn't even think about the selvedge snafu.  So ended pillow number two.

I was so annoyed by then, I didn't even bother trying to leave a small opening to stuff the pillow through.  I literally stuffed the pillow and sewed it closed with the pillow inside.

But I'm no quitter - I got started on pillow number three with renewed strength.  My next fabrics didn't even have a selvedge so there was nothing to trip me up!  It wasn't wide enough, but I knew how to measure for a seam allowance so I wasn't scared.  I envisioned a cool color block design and got to piecing it together.  

These pictures are harder to see because the center fabric is pink and the outer

fabric is red, but you get the idea.  I can't sew.

However, I did get a little wiser and use a long strip of fabric so I'd only have three seams

to sew instead of four.  Somehow I thought that would make my lfie easier.

As you will see, it did not.

I sorta got the colorblocking right on one side.

Then it kind of fell apart on the other side.

I kept getting the measurements wrong 

and I just kept adding strips of fabric until I got it right.

I'm using the term 'right' very loosely here.

Using the flash so you can really appreciate what's going on here.

We're not even going to talk about the pillow with piping because this is as far as I got.  

I told myself I could figure out piping.  I can put it back together, I told myself.

No.  No I can't.

Now, these were my very first attempts at sewing pillows.  I want to believe that I've learned something and that if I were to continue, I might eventually get mildly proficient at sewing pillows.  Then again, I could just buy some pillow covers from Etsy and leave the sewing to the people who really know how to do and save myself the headache.

But where's the laughter in that?