still fighting for that balance thing from last time

Okay, it's gotten harder.

A swathe of stress-inducing emails in my inbox, all related to this PhD I'm not even sure I want.

A swathe of whole new schedule issues for next week. Yes, the same week I'd cleared on the calendar for a month and tried to make workable for a month and have had covered for a month. Plan foiled. Spontaneous reactions... not as laser-quick as I would like. Still, laughter is key.

Oh. And a swathe of cold difficult silences on the partner-front because we just can't seem to get ahead on this one big issue. No matter how hard we swim.

Sigh.

I'd remembered Real Life as hard, but this is gonna be harder than I thought.

Here goes.

craving balance

I missed the Autumn Equinox. Which is telling.

It happened, but I missed it, in a day of running around, trying to get the grocery shop done, trying to convince partner that his 'quit' regime was working, trying to meet up with Best Friend who just got back from Canada this weekend... too much running, not enough balance.

In and amongst the manic day, there were moments of sheer bliss - chatting and catching up with Best Friend, baby laughing and clapping all day, lovely sunset over the bay, watching clams on the beach. So it wasn't all manic.

The above photo is from a collection by a local artist, but it's all about finding that stillness right now, which is my goal of the week. Only saying yes to that which heals and moves at the right pace. So right now? Yes to seed bagels with cream cheese, peach yoghurt for baby and some nice slow crafting in the morning. Yes yes yes.

just being here

this weekend, friction on velvety-rub-the-wrong-way fabric

timing all wrong, except when it was ohso right sweet mornings and mussed hair and cuddles

but we have a teenage oyes she is here with a vengeance

and at dinner its all no no

no

no

and its all we can do not to roll our eyes at each other across the table because the trouble is

she's smart enough to notice

and cranky enough to care

and suddenly she's hurt herself on the trampoline (like always)

so he's out the door like a flash of light

like the flash of light that fatherhood is

in all its heroism

because nothing moves faster than a father summoned by a quavering voice

and she's folded in his arms

like she's six, like she's two, like yesterday when I blinked,

folded up and crumpled lips and a tearstreak still glistening and shakey fingered

so we tuck her up cosy cosy cosy in the Big Bed, all warm,

with the ice pack (thank god for those when children always hurt themselves on tramolines)

and the old photos from the 70's,

just because I know she'll laugh at his mullet,

and my heart is full because inside that

no

no

no

girl there's still this.

Winds of change.

Stormy n'easterly winds?

Sounds like a good night for fish and chips at Preston Sands.

The waves were crashing over the sea wall while we ate.

The winds are blowin.

Only two more weeks at home with bebe, and then a-frolicking off to Brainland I go.

I'm sadder than I thought I would be, somehow.

And just for one final celebration...

sweet victory

Well, there are a lot of dangly threads and I'm not sure yet what to do about the buttons and the dreaded buttonholes... which is where I usually mess up all knitting projects...

but...

it's done.

(Pieced together at least.)

(and the knitting is over.)

(provided I don't decided to add some panelling and an extra bit at the bottom.)

Sheesh. That was a long two month project. Thank god it still fits.

oh sweet unravelling

I will not be defeated.

This little hoodie jumper will not defeat me.

I vow it.

I've run out of yarn, and have thusly unravelled both sleeves to add some cream edging, trying to get a few more inches....

so close!

Oh, And This.

lace and flannel

The results are in...

I'm never going to be a world-class sewer. I'm great at envisioning, great at general concept and complete crap at finishing. Buttonholes, binding, zips, hems, ironing seams, etc. Rubbish. That said, here are the crumply, rumply, threads-hanging results of my week of anti-nest energy. It's been a whole lot of fun.

Refashioned surfer shirt from Partner's closet. Now knickers and a summery top. I love this one, partly because it's baggy and comfortable for Bebe, but also because the stripes go one way on the top and the other on the pants. It's the little things that make me laugh. I think she'll wear this for a long time - and it's good for hanging out on the floor, going to the park, or at the beach. Romper wear, with a bit of funkiness to it.

Refashioned peachy-cream skirt. Made from an old top that my mum left with me after their visit. I hated the cut - made me look pregnant again! But it's a lovely little ballerina skirt. Layered over old pillowcase cotton with lace edging. This is too big, but should fit just as she's learning to walk at the end of this year. A great walking-out outfit.

Comfy-shlumpy lazy weekend trousers. Red cotton fully lined with white fleece. Yes, they ended up looking like Santa trousers, but they are HUGE, so they'll still fit at Christmas. Perfect. (Wish I'd planned it.) I want a pair of these, seriously. Fully lined trousers rock. Then add the inner-fleece factor, and it just doesn't get any cosier than that.

Okay, I'm not sure yet if I love this or hate it. Old soft flannel sheet, refashioned into a pair of dungarees. I think I want to make a fully-lined version. What I DO like about it is the zip on the side. The older this baby gets, the more in favour of zippers I am. Faster in a fretting emergency, and generally easier to install from a sewing standpoint... especially given my oh-so-non-finishing persona. I think I like these dungarees. I'm just not sure how fashionable they are. But they do look comfy! She wore them happily all morning, rolling around on the floor. So that bodes well.

One more little stripey skirt. Huge again. Maybe when she's three? The best thing about this is that it has inner attached knickers to match. Should have taken a photo of those too! Soon to come.

Off to do more dungaree mock-ups.

Madness.

The stash dwindles as the chaos in the crafty corner grows.

Anti-Nesting?

I find myself awash in desire to MAKE THINGS, as the 'return to work' date seems to be rushing headlong toward my doorstep. I think it's a kind of anti-nesting... The only nesting impulses I seemed to have in pregnancy were about cleaning and organising, like sorting the tins in the cupboard by type, for god's sake. But now, as I think about my week's hours becoming stress-filled and my to-do lists changing from:

-breakfast

-bath

-nappy

-sew tunic

-read book

-library

to something more like

-read article

-read article

-read article

-race for train

-drop baby at childminder

-race for train

-read article

I am filled with a wave of desperate cram-in-all-that-craftiness mojo that must be fulfilled.

So I've been sitting at the sewing machine for the last three days, churning out (well, honestly, mediocre) projects. And to make matters worse, it's been on our dining table, so we've been eating on the living room floor as a result. Which partner has yet to mention. So either he hasn't noticed or he's frankly pleased about our permanent-picnic situation. Or he's noticed my near-psychosis about the end of maternity leave and has wisely chosen silence as the correct means of support. He's a smart man.

But at any rate, I'm saving all photos.

Why? Because nothing as of yet merits any outside eyes...

I'm sure something will turn out. Eventually. Either that, or I'll post all the god-awful mistakes just for a chuckle.

happy things

Okay, it's been a good weekend.

A good week, all told.

The balance of the universe has been full of joy, the scales have tipped, the moon is waxing, it's all good.

Here are some happy bouncing bean-things...

*Sandra Juto's illustrations, such a smile-to-your-face kind of thing.

*This suit, which will never be worn again, but hooray for baby-suspenders, which WILL be made again... perhaps sans the clown-suit ankle pieces. Experimental no-pattern sewing can result in some seriously laughable outcomes, but I do do do love the the suspenders-on-baby look. Oh yes, it will be repeated.

*Working through this....

The fabric stash is out of control, and thusly, we are 'experimenting' with all kinds of refashioning.

This tired-out man, who's passed his level 2 coaching assessment. So all those hours of paddling over the last three years have finally actualized. Yes, that's him sleeping with his certificate.

*And lastly, these.

Because baby wellies are beyond cute.

Especially when said baby can't yet walk, so they are totally superfluous.

But provoke an 'awwww' anyway, don't they?

A reunion, of sorts

My father took this photo. In Bath, in the square by the Abbey. He took it, without realising that I was in it. On the bench. On the far left. Nursing the baby. Which is a statement both about my father's ability to focus on things past the point of reason (like taking a good photo versus noticing his own daughter's in the shot?) but also on this...

I sat in this square in 2001, on my first trip to England. I was 21, a bit lost, very lonely, and unsure where I was going. This photo captures the 'after' of that series. Sitting on (virtually) the same bench, 8 years later, one teaching degree, one masters degree, one marriage, one baby, and a partial PhD later. Life spins.

I am so much more whole, happy, cynical, content, and willing to be still now. I treasure the really challenging experiences that have brought me here, and I am cognizant that nothing stays still. I think I'll go back to that square in another 10 years or so, just to touch base with myself.

Happy anniversary, womanhood.