The Fabricated Goddess

Never Work With Kids Or Animals....

Simply because they'll out-cute you every time.  

Meet Inu.  Our furry four legged family member.  She is rather sweet and unusually loving.  The kids fight over who gets to snuggle her.  She's just happy to be loved.

 

Just To Be Clear....

Fecal dust is not a term we throw around here regularly.  It's a term we use in order to communicate effectively the importance of hygiene.  Germs are just too, too, um, well, invisible.  We found it necessary to make it real.  To make germs a little more concrete.  

Because nothing sends an Aspie running for the soap and water faster than imagining poop particulate is clinging tenaciously to everything they touch.  

Parenting.  Oh yeah, I got that one sewn right up.

 

 

The Return....

Are you ready for it?  

Yes.  Yes, you are.  

The return of 'conversations with my son'. 

 

Ethan:  So, let me get this straight, if I decide to be a lawyer when I grow up, I get to negotiate all day?

Me: Yes, you learn the laws and then use them to form an argument that supports your clients case.

Ethan: Neehhh-go-sheee-ate.

Me: Um, yes.  Your favourite thing to do and you could get paid to do it for other people.

Ethan:  And do lawyers get paid a lot?

Me: Yes.

Ethan:  Wait, one question, do I still get paid if I lose the case?

Me: Yes, for the hours you work but you won't get the bonus you'd get if you won the case and got to keep some of the money the judge would award your client.

Ethan:  Mum, mum, look at me.  

Me:  <looking>

Ethan:  Can you see the dollar signs in my eyes.

Me: ...

 

Weekending....

As this last week draws to a merciful close, I am reminded of all the good that has come out of the last 6 months worth of stress and anxiety.  We have made a major reroute in our mutual careers that has greatly changed the way our family will function, for the better.  This week feels like the dust is almost settling.  I know that there are still some hurdles to leap over.  But earlier this week, even when I was feeling stressed, Erin turned to me one night and said, 'it's so good to have laughter back in our family'.  And I couldn't agree more.  The last 5 years have built a cumulative wall of soul sucking stress around us, leaving us all feeling helplessly isolated from each other.  What was clear over the last year (especially with me starting back to work full time out of necessity) was that something had to change.

And change it did.

Someone asked me a few weeks ago if I had known going into this major change how it was going to be - the level of stress, anxiety, etc - would I have done it anyway?  Without even a moments worth of pondering I answered a resounding 'yes'.  And I really meant it.  Even in the most brutal moments when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, I really knew that I could and would take more.  That I was strong even in my weakness.  And I know I've blathered on about this in such a horribly cryptic way this week, but I needed to process through some of it here.  

Feel free to just skip over this last post about it while you wait for the lighter hearted variety that is sure to come back soon.  I'm sure that my sense of humour is about to kick into full swing after so.much.melodrama.

Till tomorrow.

fg

 

 

The Inevitable....

Today is Ethan's 12th birthday.  It's impossibly hard to comprehend that twelve years ago today I was wondering what the hell just happened to me.  I felt as if I'd been run over by a truck.  Not to mention this baby that I suddenly had.  It's such an odd thing when you have your first baby - or, well, at least it was for me - to become a mother in one swift instant.  To realize that no matter what happens from that day forward, that you are unalterably change from the girl-woman you were into a mother.  It's an incredibly, if a wee bit scary, thing.  

This year has been full of great changes for Ethan.  The least of which is his diagnosis, although of course that was pretty big.  A year ago he was an inch and a half shorter than I, with a piddly sprout of hair on his upper lip just beginning to grow, and a rapidly deepening voice.  Today he is a full 4 + inches taller than I am, shaving and sounding like a man.  Also, he smells distinctly like a goat most of the time, but I digress.  He has grown so much, not only in his physical self, but in his understanding of who he is and what he needs and although it's clear we still have a long way to go, he really has come such a very long way.  

So, happy birthday, dear Ethan.  You introduced me to parenthood.  You stretch me and make me reach beyond what I think I can handle (sometimes on an hourly basis), you always make me laugh - even when you are simultaneously pissing me off, and you still let me hold your hand at the mall.  In fact, you reach for mine more often than I can count and that, my boy, is an amazing gift.  

 

Coming Out Of Hibernation....

   

It's definitely winter around here.  Snow, snow, and well, more snow.  In all areas of my life I seem to be in hibernation mode.  I'm exercising a little less.  I'm napping more.  I'm slacking in all areas of creativity.  I mean just look how I've neglected this blog!   I didn't intend to take such a long break, it just sort of happened and now I need to ease myself back into it.  Sort of the same way you ease yourself back into a regular shaving routine once you realize that you can't cover all that leg hair up with layers and layers of clothing.  You know, one day you look down and realize your legs are sporting a nice downy coat.  But it would be sort of overkill to groom all your extremities the first go.  A girl's got to ease into this sort of thing.  So, you know, you shave that little confused patch of hair that insists on growing on your big toe.  And, maybe your ankles.  Now at least you can wear you flip flops and capris.  Next time, up to the knee.  And maybe after a week of maintaining that you go ahead and tackle those troublesome knees.  

So shall I ease into blogging again.  Just a little bit at a time.  Can you believe I used a leg shaving analogy for that?  I'm more than a little impressed myself, you know, since usually I just whine incessantly about how lazy and pathetic I am. 

Also, I had a dream about blogging which inspired me to take a crack at it again.  I'll be back later to tell you about the dream.  But rest assured, it was just too silly to ignore.  A message from beyond the blogosphere.

Father's Day....

Camping weekend. Cast of characters:

Jessie, the wonder dog. Eight months, chocolate lab. Love.

Pocahontas.

A rare and mysterious forest creature. Looks a tad dangerous.

The extremely common, if new to me, 'spider dog'. Apparently only allowed out in mixed company during camping excursions.

Here's a closer look.

A Blue Bird? A Blue Jay? A wild Amazonian Crested Blue Finch? No? Okay. I don't know for birds.

My husband, pretending he doesn't notice my camera. I'm NOT FOOLED!

A very rare cabbage patch dolly. Not indigenous to the forest.

And a not so rare camping squirrel.

Good times. Good friends. Good food. WAAAAYYYY too much laundry.

Today....

Today I was able to see a project - a BIG project - come full circle. From inspiration to creation, from purpose and process to completion. And for a prolific starter like me this is no small milestone. The quilt that I have been working on for my late friend's wee daughter is done. I took it to the M.O.M.s group that Susan and I both attended, both served on leadership team, both loved, laughed and cried and in general did life together. With the help of these dear ladies the binding was joined to the back of the quilt and it was finally, at long last (insert heavy sigh of relief here) DONE.

I am ever mindful of the gift I've been given: these eyes that see in fabric and paint, these hands that are still willing to learn new skills, this brain that is capable of sorting out the how of this project. I spent long hours thinking about how to approach this one, the weight of it ever on my shoulders and in my heart. I simply didn't want to make a mess of this. And I thought of Susan every step of the way. Of her humour and her heart. Of her willingness to lend a hand. Of the pain - very real and often severe pain - that she bore without a single word never mind a complaint. Of her love for Carley, the miracle she never thought she'd have because of her illness. All this I thought of and never once touched this project without uttering a simple prayer God, you know who this is for and what it means. Guide me and guard it.

A huge thank you to everyone who helped take apart Susan's clothing and who sewed along with me today, who cheered me on every step of the way. Thank you for having faith in me even when I doubted I couldn't bring this home. And most of all thank you to Carley and Spencer who trusted me with Susan's most favorite outfits (those Ikeda overalls!!). I hope it was worth the wait.

Balance....

I'm still struggling to find the balance around here between all the parts of me. The me that homeschools E. The me that need to maintain some semblance of order around the house. The me that need to be attentive to the needs of not just the wee people and wee pup but also the grown up in the house too. The me who's creative synapses are firing in a million different directions right now. The me who is actually producing some amazing stuff.

The problem I'm still having though is that when that me who creates and invents takes over it's a little bit like the Bugs Bunny cartoon where he drinks the potion and becomes Jekyll and Hyde. I feel a little beastly right now. I'm knee deep in a project that needs to be completed by Tuesday and it's going well. I'm so pleased with it. Resentment is mounting though. I mean, when I'm on a roll, I don't even like to stop to eat or go to the bathroom. People, I resent bodily functions when I'm in this state. I mean, how ridiculous is that? It's like I'm temporarily inserted into a manic state, and let me tell you, it's not really all that fun for me or my family. Yesterday I showered (novel idea) and I was in such a rush that I forgot to put on deodorant. And that's not the worst part. The worst part is that I realized I hadn't put any on and I chose to ignore the fact based on the fact that stopping what I was doing and trekking back upstairs would be too much a waste of precious time. I'm starting to understand why some artist are such social misfits (read: total nutters).

The rest of my life is falling apart too. The kids and the dog and the adults in my life have been sadly neglected. The house? Oh the house. It's a disaster. The laundry has sneaked off and multiplied itself under my very nose. The clutter has crept back in. There are (and I kid you not) fabric scraps tracked through the whole house. I keep finding them absolutely everywhere.

I think I need to stop reading blogs like Soulemama and Angry Chicken. These women! I love their blogs (and their work) truly, I do. Problem is they seemingly do it all. Their blogs are full of lovely photos depicting happy children doing crafts (!) and project updates and beautiful studios with stacks of neatly folded fabric on display and recipes for actual food they serve their family and (AND!!) they write books. Beautiful books all while nurturing their families, sewing things for their shops, photographing every lovely moment. Don't they ever have meltdowns? Don't they ever serve grilled cheese with carrot sticks and apple slices for dinner again? Don't they ever look around and want to scream at the piles of project and the long list of other demands? Don't they ever scream and have to apologize after? Is the sun always shining in their world? Maybe it's all just carefully edited. Maybe they are just as nutters as me from time to time. But clearly, peaking into their worlds is not helping me cope with mine.

Here's what I need. I need to find some real mama craft blogs where after a day of harried sewing/cooking/cleaning/fight-breaking-upping they sit slightly slumped and glassy eyed on a couch full of unfolded laundry and drink a glass of wine before shuffling into bed, which for the record, is unmade.