A couple weeks ago I found a whole bunch of wonderful fabric on sale at Fabricland, and I pretty much bought it all. I mean, who can resist a great ladybug print or some wacky birds? It all begged to be made into a fantastic twirly skirt for my sweet girl.
It took me a full week to make the skirt. Looking back, that doesn't really seem too long, but to me it felt like forever. I was doing bits and pieces during my baby's 10 minute catnaps, and I was sure it would never be done. But last night I was able to finish with a flourish and I proudly handed the skirt to my daughter. Who refused to wear it. "Maybe tomorrow", she said.
Seriously, why do I even bother?
So this morning I hopefully handed her the skirt, and after a bit of a fuss, I was able to coax (bribe) her to wear it, and I even got to take some pictures. :)
Twirly skirts of course are good for all sorts of activities. Making pained faces while mama takes a picture, playing with the doll house, twirly around for the amusement of your baby sister, even riding a bike.
As soon as we got home, though, the skirt came off. It appears that no degree of twirliness can compete with a good princess gown.
About half a year ago (give or take a couple months), Facebook deleted someone's account because she posted a picture of herself nursing her child - in fact, Facebook has done this many, many times. In a show of solidarity, mothers across Facebook were called to change their profile pictures to ones that showed them nursing their children. I was appalled at the nerve of Facebook to mark such beautiful images as "obscene", and I immediately went off to find a picture to upload.
But I could only find two. Two! I had been nursing my daughter for three years at that point and apparently I only have two pictures to show for it. Even worse, they were both from the first couple of months. I admit that I generally don't like to have my picture taken, but I still have lots of pictures of me and my daughter - just not of me nursing her. Breastfeeding was so special to both of us, and I'm sad that we don't have any pictures of that special time.
I won't make the same mistake this time. I've already made sure that I have pictures of my second daughter nursing so that we can look back on this time in the future years and remember how beautiful it was. Lucky for me, I now have a huge fan of breastfeeding with 3 years of nursing experience who is happy to take photos of these special moments when ever she can. :)
When my older daughter was little I wanted to get her a kid sized table that she could use for arts and crafts and meals and tea parties and all those other fun things that kids do. Because she was still learning how to walk, and with memories of a bad fall still fresh in mind, I decided to buy the plastic table and chairs from Ikea. I figured that if she fell on it, the plastic would be more forgiving than wood.
And I've regretted that decision ever since. I hate
that table and chair set (apologies to everyone else who has it, which is pretty much everyone I know). I'm not a fan of plastic to begin with, and for the last three years they've been the sore thumb sticking out in my kitchen or living room. I mean, you can't really miss bright green and red.
There was another set at Ikea that I liked a lot more - just plain wood. Simple. Cute. And guess what? This week it all went on sale - 100 bucks off! Score!
My mother tried to talk me out of it at first - after all, I really don't need
a table and chairs for the girls when I have a perfectly
adequate one already. Besides, bringing in new furniture is definitely not helping me in my quest to declutter my home. Lucky for me I ignored my inner voice of reason and bought the new set anyway. After all, I'll probably have a children's table and chairs on my main floor for at least another three years, so it might as well be one that I like.
When I set it up in our living room however, I was kind of bummed at how bland the space suddenly looked. At least the plastic set brought some colour into the room. So I quickly decided that the only logical solution was to sew up some seat cushions to bring a splash of colour.
Enter silly obsessive perfectionism.
When I do anything, I want it to be perfect. I haven't finished a million projects because they aren't up to my ridiculous standards. Knitting projects are the worst - I'm sure every project that I finish has been restarted five or six times because I can't stand mistakes.
But you know what? I've come to realize that it's silly to be obsessed with perfection. When things look perfect, nobody even knows that you made them yourself. Its the little flaws that give things character, and I'm actually big on character. And its not like my daughter is ever going to notice one way or the other. So I decided to ditch the obsessive perfectionism and embrace a zen-like state of craft-induced bliss. At least until I get through this next batch of projects.
So, when I couldn't find fabric in the exact shade of daffodil yellow I wanted with large pink flowers, I took a deep cleansing breath and instead took the bright pink fabric that I knew my daughter would love. I brought it home and I made two seat cushions. The stitching isn't perfect and the straps on one cushion are a quarter inch wider than on the other. But unless you're as anal as I am (or you read my blog), you'd never know.
And I love the way they look. I'm coming to realize that if I aim for 85% instead of that perfect 100, I can get a lot more done. And in the end, I enjoy the process so much more. Read More