Wallflower Grown Wild

The entire family is sequestered while we try to complete the massive amount of stuff that needs to be done before we leave for our “Not Back To School Days” trip to Disneyland. The older boys proved incapable of doing schoolwork on our spontaneous trip to the Vegas last week, so that means dozens of lessons have to be finished in addition to their regular work. No one is very happy at the moment, least of all me.

Some things that are making me happy:

Mon.thly.Info – This site keeps track of your menstrual cycles and predicts when I will have my period (and ovulation, if I was into the idea more babies right now). It even e-mails a helpful reminder two days before the “event”, so I don’t have to make a rushed trip to The Store That Shall Not Be Named for tampons. Brilliant use of technology.

Ruche – This online boutique has a feeling that’s similar to Anthropologie, yet I don’t have to sell my first-born child to afford it. Also: some organic cotton items. I highly approve. I bought this Magenta Flowing Forest Scarf, this Wooden Branch Charm Necklace, and these Leafy Filigree Earrings. I wish I wasn’t too fussy to buy shoes online, because these Brown Lacey Lace Flats are calling me.

The local library added shopping baskets for use by patrons. As someone who wanders among the shelves while balancing a precarious stack of books, this addition is greatly appreciated. Now if only they could block MySpace on the public computers…Thirty-two computers, and every one is occupied by a preteen.

Twitter – Now that I have an iPhone, it is 10x more fun. I can twitter while doing interesting things, as opposed to every post being along the lines of: “Sitting at my desk. Working.” TwitPic is my friend. (Not so much: the Twitter application for Facebook. I gave it the boot after it filled up my profile page with status updates, making me look like a loser who hangs out on social networking sites all day long.)

Brady fell in love with a kiddie piano at FAO Schwarz and I hesistantly plunked down $50 to bring this one home (because a pink Baby Grand for $175? Not happening.) Would he continue to be enamored with it enough to justify the cost (as well as the hassle of dragging it through Caesars Palace)? Oh, yes. Brady thinks he’s Baby Elton John, tickling the ivories all day long (and sometimes teething on the piano lid, using it to pull himself to a semi-standing position, or falling over and hitting his head on the keys with a resounding “PLONK!”).

I kicked off the day with a dentist appointment, and left with an aching mouth and an exhortation to floss (which I do, religiously).

School starts in less than a week, and we have yet to receive our books. I can’t get organized, and my sanity depends on organization.

I’ve got an inbox full of correspondence I’ve neglected.

My hip is acting up for no discernible reason (aside from scoliosis).

Brady was fussier than usual.

And my grandpa died this afternoon.

Yeah, it was a bad day.

At least I have this to cheer me:

Brady with the piece of tortilla he mooched at Chipotle, 8/3/08

While trapped in the house due to chicken pox quarantine and blazing heat avoidance, I’ve been trying to accomplish things around the house. Most of these things don’t lend themself to blogging, unless you’re interested in:

• disposing of plastic food storage containers with no matching lids (or vice versa),
• recycling cardboard boxes strewn about the garage,
• putting books on the bookcase we moved upstairs,
• packing up old school books to send back to K12 to make room for the new books that will arrive any day now,
• posting our old microwave on Freecycle,
• or pulling the creeping weeds of evilness that invaded our yard.

One project is photogenic enough to warrant mention, though. Using this starched fabric decal tutorial, I added a giraffe to Brady’s room.

The recessed area above his bed was definitely lacking something. I wanted an easily removed, cheap bit of artwork since the Pottery Barn jungle animal motif will disappear when the baby outgrows his crib. Using this lamp for inspiration:

I bought two yards of white and yellow gingham fabric for $2 at our local Store-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named, as well as a 52 cent scrap of orange. I made an enlarged paper pattern of the giraffe using Rapid Resizer, cut out the body, and stuck the fabric up there using the tutorial directions. I was concerned that the bumpy wall texture (prevalent in Arizona houses) would cause a heinous end result, but it worked out fine (although smooth walls = best results). I then cut some freehanded orange spots; in retrospect, I would have liked a lighter orange, but not enough to warrant a trip to another fabric store.

Kyle thinks that I should add a tree. And clouds. And a bird. (This project was easy, but not THAT easy.)

I vaguely recall that this was originally supposed to be a knitting blog. My knitting output has diminished greatly since the baby arrived. (Note: I was knitting prior to his arrival, but failed to document any of it. It involved booties and hats that were outgrown in the blink of an eye, because Brady is in the 90th percentile for height/weight.) But while we’re discussing crafty stuff, I’ll post this:

The second sleeve to my #@!* Hourglass Sweater, which had better fit this time around. I am so close to finishing it, but am so bored of endless stockinette stitch with Classic Elite Bam Boo (Bougainvilla) yarn that hurts my hands.

And this:

A Shadow Scarf in Knitpicks Shimmer (Bayou). I was working on one of these before my lace yarn met a tragic end and I frogged the whole thing. (Pussycat has only attacked the yarn for this scarf during the initial winding, resulting in minor damages. Knock on wood.) I like knitting lace. It appeals to my perfectionist side. This project is highly portable with an easily memorized pattern (about all I can hope for at the moment) and the resulting fabric is super soft and cuddly. Yay!

As far as babies go, Brady was quite amiable for the first six months of his life (give or take a couple weeks).  He never engaged in unjustified crying, slept through the night at an early age, and greeted the world with a gummy smile. Now? I fear that I broke the baby.

It started with our trip to Michigan, which wreaked havoc on his schedule. Signs of never-before-seen crankiness appeared. I began getting up in the middle of the night to quell the fussing in the Pack N’ Play across the room. My dad and I took Brady for numerous outings, as riding in the stroller was the only thing that ensured contentment (as long as we didn’t slow our pace, even to window shop).

He amazed our relatives with his newfound sitting and rolling prowess, but also began whining for food like an insistent dog. I think this habit started with a slice of pickle I gave him to teethe on, and was reinforced with bits of baked beans and melted marshmallow slipped to him by family members on the 4th of July. I knew that I was in serious trouble when he had a five-alarm meltdown because I wouldn’t allow him to drink my pop. (It finally dawned on me to buy teething biscuits- messy, but proffering them at meal times maintains the peace. His new fancy European cow sippy cup, courtesy of Grandpa, is also of great help.)

So traveling with Brady was not a rousing success, but his bad temper was manageable because there was a constant supply of adoring people to hand him off to. I thought he would sort himself out once we returned home, but then came a fever, followed by…

Chicken pox. (Caught from Aidan, who had the vaccine and acquired a mild case that I thought might be bug bites or an allergic reaction.) Thankfully, Brady’s case of chicken pox was also fairly tame (in comparison to mine*), but it certainly did nothing to improve his mood. He is now in the recovery phase, but the past week has been a blur of toys-whinging-bottle-lullaby-nap-repeat. (Also, I feel guilty over the fact that Brady traveled on an airplane at the height of contagiousness and exposed numerous people to his germs, including my pox-free brother.)

I am mentally preparing myself for tomorrow. Brady has an appointment with the family doctor, which will undoubtedly include shots of some sort. Fun!

* Yours truly, with chicken pox:

Why aren’t there any decent ice cream trucks in Arizona? Trucks that look like this:

As opposed to the ramshackle old cargo vans plastered with stickers that travel down our streets, hawking a wide assortment of Mexican candy (possibly containing lead) in addition to the traditional sherbert cartoon character heads with gumball eyes.

And why do they all play a tinny version of the “Popeye” theme song?

As this post proves, the rumors of my demise were patently false. There were a variety of reasons behind my blog neglect, which included:

• An incident (unrelated to this blog) which made me question the wisdom of making personal information readily available on the internets,
• Pregnancy and the resulting confinement to my bed/couch, which limited my blogging inspiration to such scintillating topics as “Why hasn’t someone at All My Children told Jacob Young that his hair looks wretched?”,
• The arrival of Baby Brady and the discovery that followed: One-handed typing while holding an infant? It’s quite difficult.