Scales of Time

My 2011 is a cliche. Yes, I'm trying to lose weight and exercise more. I could only be more cliche if I had a smoking addiction to kick. Thankfully I don't.


I'm also going to try to carve out more sewing time. I thought about calling it "creative time", but honestly creative time is always happening. What is needed is more execution time. The last sewing was the girls' Christmas skirts. Here is the promised photo of skirt set 1.
If I were to do them again, I would shorten the front panel. Due to natural waist/swag of the girls bellies, skinny or chubby (and I have one of each!), the panels lay longer than the skirt hem, whereas it would look best if they align. Just a tip, if you're watching at home!


They're mock Scottish skirts. The girls are interested in Scotland, my father's origin, so that was nice. The fabric itself had a sweet story--originating from a special request from one friend to another friend's visiting relative. "I'd love some plaid fabric and teddy fabric." She made her children pajamas. Years later, the unused remants found their way back to the friend's house, until recently they were passed on to me.

Several skirts later, I'm craving quilting time. I hope to get to that soon.


In the meanwhile, my cliche takes centre stage. Empty the house of sweets and snacks. Begin the daily walks. Weigh myself.

Wait.


We have no weigh scale in the house. We used to have a fancy digital scale. A fancy tempermental scale that you had to step, pounce, step back, wait, re-step, and settle before it would reveal the magic numbers. I was hardly impressed. And even less bothered when it stopped working last year.

I missed the swinging climb of the numbered wheel in a traditional scale. The glassy big electronic diameter of Fancy Scale did nothing for me. DH was its only fan. Personally, I think DH admired the scale's larger-than-usual size. As if by some crazy relation, the more weight, the more acceptable coming from a larger instrument.


Yesterday I found my fitness partner.


A small tidy black and white traditional scale costing 8 bucks. Already DH disapproved. He is the ultimate salesman's target--if it doesn't cost much, it mustn't be good. Quite honestly, I don't need to pay a lot only to be told I've eaten too much. As DH and I were debating the quality of the new device, the girls wandered in. Alas, children have a way of putting all in perspective.


Cutiepie: "Cool! Mommy bought a time machine!"


Oh, don't we wish it were a time machine?


One by one, we climbed aboard and waited for the numbered wheel to stop.


The mom in me fretted as my pre-tween daughters weighed themselves. I figured if we took very little notice of it, we could avoid setting in a deeply-rooted self-conscious.


As DH's size-11 feet covered the entire scale, its numbers spun, bobbing to the nearest to last increment. Cutiepie made her second hilarious observation:


"Whoa!! Daddy made it go almost right back 'round to zero!"


That's right, DH might just like this time machine yet.



May your timing be right for you!

When Contraception Goes AWOL

Here's one for the 2010 Bizarre File:
In September, I was in the hospital for a Minera Coil Insertion (aka IUD). A three-inch T-shaped device is a form of contraception inserted into the uterus. My cervix is tricky, surgery is necessary to insert anything as it was also necessary to extract my babies!

In September and October, I was in extreme pelvic and stomach pain. Several doctor appointments and nothing suspected; more tests scheduled for December. (I'm a public patient in Ireland, thus time delay. Luckily, I'm pretty resilient. It takes a lot to take me down.)

Meanwhile, on November 5 after Houston, I awoke to lower left back pain. This, I diagnosed myself: a kidney stone. My kidney spent the next night spasming with the stone finally lodging in the tube. After 136 x-rays and admittance to the hospital, I was prepared for surgery to break up the stone and reset the uretha tube.
Before surgery, the doctor came to my bedside and said he had to discuss something with me. While following the stone movement in x-rays, they found something else. They had been following another moving target. My coil. It had ruptured the uterus and was now touring my insides.

In early x-rays, the coil appears in the uterus region, but upon closer look, it's behind the pelvis.

Other x-rays show the coil in the abdomen beside my gall bladder.


And yet, other x-rays show the coil behind ribs.

The doctor team was, and are, dumbfounded at its mobility and are anxious to remove the coil from the abdomen. Then, as if there wasn't enough bizarre activity, my original OBGYN doctor called my urologist surgeon during surgery and said to leave the coil in. (Apparently they are buddies and Dr. Urlogy sent an x-ray on his iphone to Dr. OBGYN.)

Why Dr. OBGYN wanted to halt the surgery for the coil eluded us all. But he did.

My first visit out of the hospital, of course, was to see Dr. OBGYN. He said he was sorry, it had never happened before, and the act of trying to find and remove via stomach surgery could be worse than if it was left to be in the abdomen. “So just leave it in your abdomen.” I think not.
I actually think he thought I would just roll over and go away. When I said I was going for second opinions, he agreed to consult four colleagues for what to do.

What made it worse, was back in September, in recovery I commented to the female doctor in training that I never even met Dr. OBGYN. I thought it odd that he did not introduce himself before or after surgery, so I had asked her, “Did he even do the surgery?” She said, “Oh yes, he did. You were too groggy to remember him.”

Now when he and I are in his office, and my coil in my abdomen, he introduces himself. (Note to self, he's never met me before.) He began reading the operating notes to me, stressing it was a very difficult insertion for “her”. I told him “she” said he had done the surgery, to which of course, he defensively denied.

Despite this blame game, Dr. OBGYN came back shortly with a new recommendation that the coil be removed. Which is a good thing as all my queries had been returning with vehement yes for removing coil. Surgery is scheduled for 28 January.

Can you believe? Crazy stuff.

Beyond Cutiepie's birth, which was blissfully seamless, this has been my longest experience with Irish health system and Irish hospital staff. The professionalism and the care shown by hospital staff was bar none the best I've ever experienced anywhere. So considerate and caring.
Equally so, they were incredibly candid. With each changing of staff, the nurse would lean in and say, “I saw your x-rays. Wow! That's really bad!” As an American, I was shocked. But I appreciated the humanity of the reaction. It also validated that I wasn't overreacting.

Have you ever heard of such a mess?

So I am now preparing myself for stomach surgery later this month. I trust all will go well.

I'm thankful we're not talking about a certain surgery in, say, nine months?
Because THAT very well could have been the case with contraception gone AWOL!

Skirting Around Christmas

When you sew into Christmas eve, wrap expeditiously and proceed to konk out, you risk forgetfulness. And, forgotten are the photographs of cute Christmas skirts.


Lucky for me, yet again this Yuletide season, money was tight :)...forcing me to once again sew the girls' Christmas outfit. It's ok. There'll come a year when my daughters refuse homemade clothes, and well, we'll have cash flowing for department-store fashions. Positive thinking.


About three weeks before Christmas, my neighbor dropped off fabric remnants. Included was a fabulous red tartan plaid with teddy bears. This first set of skirts actually materialised a week before Christmas--and I did take photos--but can't locate them!

Using a simple elastic waist, I added a front panel for extra Scottish flair. The girls wore them on Christmas Eve. I'll take another photo for posting.


Ever more festive, the Christmas Eve sewing resulted in two Christmas patchwork-tiered skirts, made from my Christmas fabric and matching stash. You can just about see them here.

The girls like them as much as I do. Thankfully. Babydoll, hers in aqua blue and red, has been recycling her look by swapping out coloured leggings below the skirt. She is our fashion diva making the gypsy-ish skirt ubercool.

Since my last post I conquered the post-Christmas kitchen, dishes, and floor. Next the dirty laundry. With any luck I can press the skirts just right and redo for post-perfect photography!

Hey, happy new year!

The Christmas Myth

Discussion of whether Santa is real...overheard on Christmas day:

Cutiepie, 6yo: Do you think Santa is real?

Babydoll, 7yo: Of course! There's no way Daddy or Mommy would do all this!

Merry Christmas

Two days after Christmas, and who's still merry? Me!

Santa brought lots of goodies to the good girls here and I am no exception.
He and DH must be talking. Under the tree was a DVD of The Secret for me. Now, I have the CDs and listen every chance I get.
For those unfamilar, they are "good feel" inspirational tapings. I don't care what religious or nonreligious stance you take, remembering to be grateful and happy can change your whole day, year and life. These CDs help do that.
My DH is a second-hand smoker to my first-hand smoking--only subsitute the fags for inspirational tapings (ie., good vibes). You will never find him turning on the CD player, but believe me, he knows he is a direct benefacturer.
Exhibit A: DVD of The Secret. That amazed me--I personally would not buy the DVD, a refresher of the CDS, but not the DVD.
This is not to be intrepreted as a complaint, just driving home the point. Good vibes are contagious.

As if I needed more motivation--and who doesn't? Days before Christmas I was given the gift every entrepreneur dreams of--a meeting face to face with a very influential person. The timing was whirlwind and because of this short timing, I did little research. Who unfolded before me was and is incredible. To have an hour of his time three days before Christmas was Santa-like. Before we concluded our meeting, he said Happy Christmas and handed me his book, The Unsinkable Entrepreneur.
Four days later. Incredible reading. My inlaws are probably still scorning me, as I buried my head in the book throughout the holiday. What normal entrpreneural mom, wouldn't? Christmas-hyped kids and leftover Christmas dinner and my time was all mine. A real treat.

I hope you all had a great Christmas adventure whether that be head buried in a book or singing Christmas carols for neighbors!

Right now I've got so much get-up-and-go from my two inspired Christmas treats, I'm contemplating where to put that energy to best use? The year holds so much for our family and for the magazine. I could get a head on in the office. I'm a mom--who am I kidding?

Two days and the dishes won't wash themselves!

Peace to all,

Birthday Time Again!

Cutiepie and her pals prepare for a party!

I'd Rather Be Quilting than Cruel

I know most are wondering, when is she going to quilt again?

Well I am quilting here and there.

We had a BYOB party a few Saturdays back. Funny I enjoyed it just as much as when BYOB used to be Bring Your Own Booze. On this day it was Bring Your Own Binding. The best was no hangover!

It was a great day, I had several American-living-Ireland friends visiting; it was a good mixture of quilters and nonquilters, always making the chit chat interesting. Not the same as playing quarters in beer pints, but we aren't fuddie-duddies either! Stitching and bitching. In the end, there was even a few nonquilters fondling fabric and asking about patchwork classes.

Myself, I have a variety of quilts in progress. Let's see, I have a thankyou quilt postcard for a lovely friend who made me lunch, oh, two months ago?? That goes to the top of the list. I have a baby quilt simply needing binding. Three charity quilts needing binding. One twin baby top needing quilting and needing a matching top for twin brother. Still enjoying the Country Club installments from the magazine. And alas, I have started two Christmas wall hangings for family gifts. With any luck this weekend, I'll combine the camera and my projects for a little show and tell.

Summer is over and fall is here. Work has been demanding to say the least. Family life too. But I feel a resurgence. We struggled with a car malfunction, bid farewell to our aupair and produced our best issue yet. Many restless nights. But with the return of the school routine, I feel rejuvinated. Two weeks in and the laundry pile queue is manageable, morning walks awaken me and a reasonable cycle of work is taking shape.

With this newfound peace, my anxiety-driven nocturnal activity is diminishing. I wish I could say the same for Babydoll. Her anxiety and excitement for school reminds me of my early school days; she inherited my sleepwalking. The other night I heard her in the hall. I thought she was going to DH downstairs and he thought she was going to me upstairs. An hour later we found her here:

She generally denies sleepwalking, so this time I captured proof. DH thought it was cruel taking a picture. Was it?

After sharing some of my infamous sleepwalking excursions, I thought she might come to accept her own slumbering ways. As we sat telling sleep stories on the sofa, I noticed fingerprints, that could only come from ninja turtles or my acrobatic daughters, smudged on the very large mirror hanging above us. The mirror is large enough that, if toppled, it could fatally wound one or both of the girls. This offence of theirs is very rare and they know that the fear of it turns me red with rage.

Babydoll spied my face about to erupt and she thought quickly.

"Mom, I'm thinking that might have been done while sleepwalking."

Nah, cruel is actually posting the photograph.