First of all, thank you for all of the supportive responses to my last post. It means a lot to me that there are others of you who can relate, or at least send some positive vibes.

My mom was one of 13 kids. She was raised in a very musical home (here is my grandpa on PBS playing jazz piano, and my uncle Mark on bass. Mark is awesome and played bass with Meatloaf on Saturday Night Live! He is still a very active musician and producer).
My mom didn't play an instrument. When asked, "What do you play?", she would respond, "I play the sewing machine!"
Needless to say, she wasn't a huge athlete growing up. As an adult, she became a triathlete, and did running races and swam with the Masters. She used to tell me that exercise was the only way she could get a break from us kids! She always set a great example of a fit lifestyle, and right before she died she was in better physical shape than me! She kayaked, rode her road bike, swam, played lots of tennis (like 5-8 times a week), cross country skied, and ran. When she died, one of the things I took of hers were her running shoes. Mine were shot and I knew hers were in good shape. She had orthotics that fit under the insole, as she had broken her ankle while running about 10 years ago. In my head, I thought that they would help me too. I didn't take them out. I felt like they would somehow help me channel her energy while I was running, and that our feet were so similar, that why wouldn't they be beneficial? I felt weird taking them out, let alone throwing them away.
When I started training for a half marathon, I felt good. About 2 weeks in, my knees and ankles were really throbbing, even when I wasn't running. I quit training, and backed off of running for a little while. Then I realized maybe it was the inserts that were hurting me. I finally let myself think about them, and how possibly trying to keep part of my mom around was actually hurting me. I didn't want to take them out, it meant admitting she was really gone in ANOTHER way. I took them out, and I threw them away. I cried thinking about it, and in continuing to realize that she is gone. And yes, she is with me everyday, in different ways, and she is with me when I am sluggishly "running", or holding my babies, or eating too much candy, or laughing loudly, or ripping out my floor. When she first died, everyone told me that there was so much of her in me, and I am finally starting to feel that, and embrace it, and love it.


Not in the Mood

I am filled with a bad attitude right now. I am sick of being a mom today. I am sick of wiping butts, fixing food, cleaning up after that food (with no dishwasher and 3 kids), sick of doing laundry only to have the kids spew it all over the floor, sick of wiping up spit up, sick of breastfeeding, sick of not having any time to myself, sick of baby weight, sick of missing my mom and needing her, sick of being in this tiny ugly house. I am sick of not being paid for the 24/7 work I do, not receiving any paycheck, cigarette breaks, coffee breaks, lunches with coworkers, uninterrupted bathroom breaks, time alone in the car.

OK, I got that out. I am thankful for today. I am thankful that my immediate family is alive and healthy. I am thankful for the sun coming out after a rainy, cold morning. I am thankful that I can sew with what time I do have. I am grateful that I am able to breastfeed. I am grateful for heat and a home and a husband who has a job. I am grateful for my kids.
Alright I have to go tend to my screaming baby who is up all night and fussy all day again. No sleep=cranky mama. Ugh.


Sense of Style

Sometimes I feel uncomfortable when I think about my sense of style. I am kind of all over the place. I like vintage, I like some antiques, I love modern, I love farmhouse, and I love industrial. I love to hate Ikea. I like simplicity and clean lines, but I also love intricate word work and old, tattered things.
One of my moms cool vintage pieces I always lusted over
Here is one of the items that I always loved at my mom's house. I secretly wanted to steal it.
I love my mom's sense of style. She had a lot of old, wooden dressers, a nice old rocking chair, tons of hand embroidered linens, and some great dish sets she scored at thrift stores. I used to make fun of some of the things she bought at thrift stores, but now I love them. Not just because she is gone, but because they actually came into style in the last couple of years! That makes me feel fake, and like I don't have a style identity of my own! She was often able to see trends before they happened.
I guess it takes time to foster one's identity, and money and space to be able to make some mental dreams come true! What about you? Does money or space or do your kids get in the way of your personal style? Do you even think about your style? How does your style match that of your partner's?


New Fit Guide for Rebourne Wool Diaper Covers

I love when people ask me questions about one of the items I sell. As the maker of some niche items, like wool diaper covers, it is good to be reminded that sometimes my descriptions, photos, titles, etc. are unclear or not completely explained. Recently I had a potential customer ask me about fit, particularly how to measure baby. I sort of explain that in my item descriptions, but I thought a visual would be helpful for moms to SEE how to measure. I know that with kids, I've increasingly turned into a more and more visual learner. I often am too busy to stop and read directions, articles, etc. Here is the updated image I made last night while on a date with myself (!!) to our local beer store (it has a cafe and a ridiculous selection of international and local beers, and you can buy delicious snacks and one beer and sit and hang out...HEAVEN.). I hope this photo will make it clear. Notice anything that isn't easy to understand or that could be more clear? I always appreciate feedback.


My Boy

Have I mentioned how obsessed I am with this boy??

He is sitting next to me in all his chubby glory and it's all I can do not to eat him for lunch.
When we conceived him, it had been a month since my mom passed. I did not want to be pregnant yet, my husband was laid off, and I was in school full time (and finishing 3 classes' work from the previous semester that I hadn't finished because of mom's passing). I felt like I needed time and space to mourn my mom, which I barely had with two kids under the age of 4 and a full work load. It was depressing to me. I didn't know how I would ever have the space to love a third child, not now. My midwife appointments were pretty much therapy sessions: I cried the whole time and talked about my mom. That was the first reason I chose homebirth midwives-for the personal care and holistic attention to my entire situation, not just my uterus and growing baby. Even until the end of my 41 week pregnancy, I was not excited to have another baby, to be nursing again, to be up all night, to be carrying a baby around, to be back with diapers, etc etc etc. I still didn't see how I could have the capacity to love or care for another human, while my grief is still so present and rage and sadness are always lurking.
Well now that has almost completely passed. I look at Ryder and have this insatiable need to love and squeeze and nurture him. Every little face he makes is adorable (now that he does something other than cry all day). When he wakes up in the morning next to me in bed, he grunts and farts like an old man, and then slowly opens his eyes and cracks a huge smile. It is a great way to start the day, especially for someone like me who needs 3 cups of coffee before I even want to think about changing out of my pajamas or talking to anyone.
A month before my mom passed, she told me I should have another baby. I balked at the idea of it, at least for another few years. Thank God he's here now.



My middle daughter is 3 years old. She has been waking up at night since about a month before baby was born. She has been getting up 3-4 times per night, and crying out for me or my husband. She sleeps fine if she is co-sleeping, but our queen bed is not large enough for all four of us.
I think of this night waking as a normal part of middle child syndrome. She often does not get the attention she needs or wants during the day. She is exposed to movies and stories that are probably too visually dramatic and scary, simply because her older sister is watching them and I don't think twice about it. She was the baby for almost 3 years, and now she is second or third fiddle. 
My friend Lois recommended making a dreamcatcher. The girls and daddy went out looking for sticks yesterday and I assembled some yarns and beads from a broken bracelet. We made some really pretty dreamcatchers! Dreamcatcher from branch and yarn
They didn't work. She was up a ton last night. This too will pass!


Running to the Post Office

Running to the post office to ship your orders!
My running schedule called for a 27 minute run/walk yesterday. I had a Rebourne order to ship to Canada, which requires me to bring it to the post office in person. Usually I can print my shipping labels right from the comfort of my own home, and put them in any post office box on the street. Hubs was home, so I got to take a run by myself! I decided to run my package to the post office. I also figured I would hit up this local bakery that I saw featured on Etsy. I wrote about my yummy cupcake at my other blog
The calories consumed negated the run, but it was fun. Living in the city is really fun sometimes!



Fern has been wearing her Cinderella dress everyday for the last month. Yesterday she wanted to wear a crown, but not the pink one I made for her a few months ago. Duh, that wouldn't match Cinderella's blue dress. I said I would make her a blue one, so the girls both came up to my studio to pick out their blue material. They played with buttons while I cut, pressed, stitched, trimmed, and stitched some more. A few hours later (okay, maybe one) and some fighting and pushing and messes later, out came these crowns.
I think they already lost them.


Ear Infections,...again??

Well, baby boy is 4 months old. He has already had a couple colds and minor coughs that passed on their own. After visiting family last week, he came down with something. The cough was pretty bad, and he was just really clingy, whiny, and snotty. He didn't want to be laid down, which should have been a red flag. If you are unfamiliar with my history, my 3 year old daughter had 12 ear infections in the first year of her life. Then she finally got ear tubes and has been fine since. I took my son to the doctor yesterday, dragging all three kids out across town for a 4 o'clock appointment. I thought they were going to say, "Yes, he's sick, but it's just a cold, there's nothing we can do."
Wrong. Double ear infection and bad bronchialitis (basically bad cough, phlegmy, could turn into pneumonia). Wow, poor baby. No wonder you've been fussy. She didn't swab for strep (what we were exposed to on our trip), but said the amoxicillin would knock that out as well.
So I am glad we went in, but I'm hoping we don't repeat big sister's experience with small ear canals and needing surgery.
Today I'm trying to spend some time in my studio, but we'll see what happens!