WWMD?

I find myself constantly grappling with my inner thoughts, goals, and cheapskate. I've learned, as of today, that my life's philosophies have generally boiled down to one common thought: What would Martha do? While I have yet to design and properly hock my plastic bracelets, I find embracing my internal Martha-ness to be oddly comforting. It's like sipping a fine chamomile tea from my latest antiquing score, obviously a depression glass mug, while warmly cloaked in my latest hand-spun alpaca blanket on my Amish milled front porch swing overlooking my peach orchard at sunrise. Now, I should add that I drink whatever tea was sent to me in a gift basket, I practically break out in hives at the mere thought of antiquing, I'm more than likely allergic to Alpaca and I don't even have a porch, let alone a peach orchard. Oh, and sunrise is WAY past my bedtime. Regardless, I feel like I covet every last item on that list. I'll cast aside the part where Martha Stewart is a money hungry attention whore who'd sell her soul for the chance to have a top selling line at Kmart. I also choose to ignore the fact that she is a raging frigid bitch. I just adore the way Martha that speaks in that low, slow, uppity Connecticut manner, completely shunning her Nutley, NJ roots. I love how everything is a process, with strict methods and snobby quality practices. Things always are three times as difficult as necessary and require specific utensils for each step. Martha never just jabs at construction paper with safety scissors in the hopes of cutting a circle. She delves into her pottery collection after measuring (with a pure wooden ruler as an homage to hand spanking nuns everywhere) the dimensions necessary for her project. She'll then trace with a pure graphite pencil onto the finest of velum, cutting on a mat with an exacto and then sanding the round perfection with the finest grit sandpaper. There must be 20 of her.
I ooze inspiration, but often lack motivation. It is the bane of my existence. I've met the loveliest of women who actually comes as close to my idea of perfection as I can imagine. I'm sure she may not even realize she possesses such fine traits, but I assure you she is glorious! Thanks to her, I have picked up new hobbies, and found new obsessions to dominate my life. "A", the inspiration and knowledge I've collected from you is immeasurable! ;) I swear there is nothing she doesn't know about! I also dig that she has a blog/link for everything!!!!! So, my new project makes me swell with joy and has me itching to get started: I'm going to make laundry detergent. May not sound amazing and glamorous to any sane person, but I've never claimed to be on the side of sanity. I'm more excited to make detergent than I was to wed. Can you even imagine???? You'll clean your clothes, linens, and diapers with detergent made with your own hands. Yes, I am that lame.
Another not-so-secret of mine is that I'm mad about Borax. I adore it. There is simply nothing I can't do with Borax. I love that it is old-fashioned, I love that it is natural, I love that the box has tiny mules on it. There is an entire museum dedicated to it, and better yet... it is in the town of Boron. How perfect! Seriously, I'd list all of the reasons I covet Borax, but there is no way anyone would read this post, let alone any blog I ever write in the future if I did. Let's just say it is an invaluable member of the family. Counter tops, bathtubs, carpet deodorizer, laundry, brainwashing... it does it all.
As a happy side effect of this never ending cycle of gather, collect and purge, I sent my family off to de-clutter the house this past Sunday. My missing sewing machine was unearthed, thus staving off impending divorce proceedings. Check that off of my list. Now I'm all a tizzy with ideas and visions of my foot happily pressing the treadle. My imagination far exceeds any perceived skill I may possess, but a girl can dream. I'll be adding fabric to my list of things to throw money at when I'm at a craft store: yarn, felt, fleece, flannel, decoupage medium, scrap booking paraphernalia, picture frames, tiny things that always need dusting, and a proper sniffing glue. My children don't really need a secondary education. They aren't even old enough for a first-ary one.
I'm in no way deluded enough to believe that I AM the next domestic idol. Quite far from it in fact. You'll find that most ambitious projects I attempt result in an utter fail. Things take twice as long, cost three times as much, and never even resemble what they were intended to be. That being said... I'm happy to occupy my time in that matter. It keeps me off of the streets. It also keeps me from squeezing my babies until their eyes bulge. I could be a drinker, but instead I'm a hobby-pusher. I'm a craft enabler. I'm sure I'll never stop coming up with things to do, just as I'm sure I'll never do them all and a good portion of them will remain unfinished. Martha would hate that about me, but I believe there are far more reasons to hate her, so she should shut her yap. I don't at all believe she practices what she preaches, after all... I've seen her daughter's show. No woman who spent All Hallows Eve bobbing for handpicked apples in the perfect copper tub could hate her mother that much. That is why I know her methods are an illusion, and she pays her minions to carry out her whims for her. She's a whip cracker. Perhaps I DO aspire to be her....

Win a Bumbleride

This is a quick post..... if you follow the blog: The Bragging Mommy, you have the opportunity to enter and win a Bumbleride Indie Twin!!!! As ANYONE who has ever met me, spoken to me, or walked by me knows.... I LOVE MY STROLLER> It is as real and pure a love as has ever been. I'd let it sleep next to me in my bed and I'd even share my pillow!

I researched strollers HEAVILY before feeling comfortable enough to reveal that we were "with child" (and by WE>... yeah, I mean me!). Looking for strollers kept me from spilling the beans! After MONTHS of looking, calling retailers, etc. I finally decided (with the help of Melissa at letsgostrolling.com) that the Indie Twin was for us! It is the ONE decision I've never second guessed! It is amazing! It opens incredibly easily, if folds even easier, the attachments are GLORIOUS... we particularly love the bassinet as it allows baby to sprawl out and when he screams it is super easy to whip him out and shut him up! ;) The foot muff attachment is even better because he can be cozy and sleep in a cocoon of comfort. I can chase my toddler, drink my coffee and talk on the phone while pushing with ease and accuracy! If I hit you with my stroller you can rest assured that I MEANT TO HIT YOU. The foot break is invaluable as I often have to break and run to catch said thieving toddler.

Being that I'm EXTREMELY short in stature, the adjustable handle is a glory. I can even lower it enough to put my almost 3 year old to work! Who doesn't love that? I will spread the love of my stroller to the ends of the earth. I have no idea how I made it through my oldest son's first 2 years without one... I MUST get a single Indie when and if there is ever a day I don't need my Twin! Seriously. I love it. Just ask my parents, who I battled with for weeks saying I would rather die than travel without my bumbleride and all of it's toys! I HAD to have it in the airport and the baby spent the entire week sleeping in the basinet (NO need for a pack n play!!!)! I fight for what I love! So, enter for yourself if you will (Just copy and paste the link!!! :http://www.thebraggingmommy.com/2010/01/bumbleride-indie-twin-stroller-review.html

Unholy Holidays

First fiscal mistake that doomed the holidays this year: Awwww! Let's have a baby! Why not? Our other costly bundle has every medical anomaly known to man, and I'd love nothing more than to insure the the powers that be at Blue Cross and Blue Shield have a Merry Christmas in their sprawling mansions! So, here I am, counting down the days until our met deductible is rolled over and wiped out, praying major illnesses occur before the New Year ball drops. There has only been one year where I've followed my own excellent advice and finished my holiday shopping the first week of November. It was pre children, in the wonderful days when we could just go and shop. Wake up, shower, dress, get in the car... whenever I wanted, whenever I felt like it. I could walk around shops in silence. There was NOTHING on my arm, no wonky walking with the infant carrier on one arm and a toddler on my hip. Amazing. Those were the days of disposable income.

The yuletide was a tidge skimpy this year. That's ok, as I reminded myself that it is about baby Jesus, not Baby Einstein. Try explaining this to my near 3 year old who has recently discovered the glory that is Santa. It all worked out, he had an entire paycheck worth of gifts opened in under a minute. He loves the toys, though he would love nothing more than to have 5 more weeks of gifts. The baby was utterly oblivious, so he happily gnawed away on boxes and tissue paper, forgoing the pricey chew toys. He'd have been just as happy to have milk and a clean diaper, but how would that look in his baby book? Baby's First Christmas: We fed you, clothed you, and nourished your loins. Me thinks he'd be less than thrilled. That's the stuff that therapy is made for.

Needless to say, my children were thrilled with their winnings. Oldest was practically running down the aisles, hands waving, ready to bid on the tasteful lazy boy recliner. He received the obligatory loud toys in the form of a complete tool bench and proceeded to run through the crowd providing free gynecological exams with his power drill, pro bono. Thankfully he was sporting the appropriate safety eyewear. The baby fared well also, though not as well as big bro but who's going to tell him that. He's not even 6 months old, so he doesn't care. He relished in being passed around, but as he is slightly less social than his 3 foot counter part, eventually he'd had enough of the crowd.

Now that the festivities have drawn to an end, I'm drowning in a sea of miniatures. Teensy cars, tiny legos, and a small army of "castle guys" who each have at least 40 miniscule accessories including belts and bracelets. My son is now obsessed with this tiny men and their correct outfits... though I am the one that must dress them. Oh joy. I wish we could just grow a pair and purchase him a barbie, but my husband is slightly inclined to follow imaginary gender roles, so the castle is technically not a dollhouse. My son may still have a daddy, a mommy (complete with 5 o'clock shadow), and brother armed with sword, crossbow, and mace, and he MAY be putting them all to sleep in the dungeon, but it is NOT a dollhouse. Sorry to break it to ya hubs, but EVERYTHING is a dollhouse to him, even the miniature car garage for greasmonkey tots.

It didn't quite feel like the holidays should. By "should" I mean the way that it is commissioned on Funny Farm. People in victorian garb caroling, and skating, and spreading joy. It was more about scrimping, saving, battling crowds, finding appropriate coupons, and cursing UPS. Mommy was a glutton for punishment and scheduled baby's vaccinations for Christmas Eve Eve. Proper crabbiness and fretting about the low grade fever that followed ensued. Silly me, I thought it would be smart to add two flu shots to the mix! Probably not one of my finer moments. Hubby's workday on Christmas Eve went from ending at 2pm to 4 pm which began an avalanche of issues. Mother nature was on the rag and proceeded to dump crap weather on us as a bird flip to the yule. We worked it out. All we really needed was our young, core family... but I didn't want to buy groceries, so we battled the elements and made it to our destinations for subsequent rounds 2 and 3 of presents.

All in all, the holiday proved to be less magical than I'd have hoped. Though there was still magic and mystique for my kids, I'm not sure I can pull off the magic of Christmas at 5 pm any longer. This may be the only year I can convince my son to go upstairs and pretend to be asleep at dusk because I "think" I hear Santa. If I tried again and fail, I'd ruin Santa for my son just for the sake of convenience, so I'll be figuring that one out for the next 12 months. I hope that I am smarter next year, and learn from the error of my ways. We began some new traditions, so that was great, and will pave the way to better Christmases in years to come. My opinions on the subject are moot, as it really has now shifted my focus to my children and that is how it should be. It isn't about me and what I want any longer, it is solely about the boys, the toys, and the smiles and eye twinkles. That was gift enough. Oh, and the left overs help too!