Taking back my craft and heaven on earth

My brain is like a cotton candy machine. Inklings of thoughts fly about from all sides, stretching in to the void. They blow about reaching for other thoughts. My spud sugar thoughts start to glom together. Only then do I have something tangible. Something to hold on to an ponder. Other whisps float out on their own, but these ideas just keep getting bigger and bigger until I remove them. Address them.

It's inevitable to ponder change when we celebrate the new year. The older I get the less radical and more realistic I am about my resolutions. I am who I am. I like me. I like where I am. But my life is pivoting. A friend of mine had a theory that every seven years your life changes. The seven year itch. After thirty five years on this Earth I've learned to go with the flow. If the tides are shifting, best to turn your boat. Otherwise you get unceremoniously dumped from your canoe. Which actually happened to me once in the middle of Fish Creek Pond just off Saranac Lake in Upstate New York. In May. (Too cold and wet for my tastes.)


This is not Upstate NY. This is California in December.
I dove into blogging and sewing and making a business of my craft while I was at home with my babies. When they started to not be babies anymore I went back to school, as was the plan. I never planned on having my craft be a potential legitimate source of income, and although that possibility is very real (and tempting) to me now, I have a finish line in my sights.

In the next five months I will graduate from sonography school. My first baby will be registered for kindergarten. We will no longer be a family who buys boxes of diapers when we go to the store. My family dresses and feeds them selves (for the most part.) I will become a full time, out of the house worker again. These times, they are a changin', and I'm rolling with it.

I've glommed my thoughts on the subject into two larger conclusions. Firstly, I'm taking my craft back. Making and sewing is my joy, my love, but more importantly it's an outlet. It is what I do when I need to escape. I've never been big on making money from my blog, but even more so now I feel the pull to make it all completely mine again. From now on I sew what I want to sew. Not because it's XYZ Sewing Week. Not because someone gave me a free pattern in exchange for a blog post. When I have free time I will sew. If I have more free time I will share it. If I come up with something I think y'all should know how to do, I'll show you how. It feels good to know that sewing is mine again. I have obligations to no one. I've been cleaning up and organizing my studio. It's exciting.


Handstitched felt cuff, Carolyn pajama pants, and a new dress for zombie dollie
The second idea that's been whirling about my head is about time. Time has become a huge commodity to me. We are comfortable with finances, but my family can't ever seem to get enough time. Too many days are spent on obligations. Week ends are too short. Time off flies by. I don't want to be the people who look back on life and think, man, I wish I could do it all again and do it differently. I want to do it differently the first time.

Danny and I made a conscious decision to have children. I never wanted to have kids because it was just what married people did. We decided to raise human beings and want to raise them into awesome people. We want to read them stories and take them on hikes and teach them to explore. We want to stoke their fires of adventure and show them the endless possibilities of life. When we're bogged down in obligations that time is cut short.

I recently read a blog post about a man that was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. He's a father and wrote about milking the time he had left with is wife and his kids. He said that he was living a heaven on earth. That *this* is what is most perfect and wonderful and awesome. It plucked my heart strings. Not because he was dying (which is sad and sucks) but because he was right. For all it's corniness, I'm living heaven on earth. I've got everything a thirty something woman could ask for right around me and I'm going to enjoy the hell out of it. I have two awesome kids who adore spending time with their parents. I've got a husband who freaking rocks. I'm healthy and young and able. This is my heaven on earth and I'm not going to be foolish enough to let it all slip away.


This is my heaven. Corny? Cheesy? I don't care.
So what does this all mean to you? Not much. (ha) I just had these balls of sugar rolling around in my brain and I needed to get them out. It feels good to put them out there and make room for more. There will still be plenty of Made with Moxie. I've got patterns in the works (which are really clothes I'm drafting for myself, but while I'm at it I'll make your sizes too!) There will also be more Perfect Pattern Parcels this year, just later this year, once I have passed my remaining two board exams. Things are looking good and I'm happy with the direction my tides are turning.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some House of Cards to watch while I do some free hand embroidery of nothingness. Life is good.






P.S. Danny and I now joke to each other that "this is heaven on earth" on nights when the kids are driving us bonkers and we're wondering what the hell did we get ourselves into. Keep it real, cheesers.

Constant Change

"A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving." - Lao Tzu

Go with the flow. Pliable. Roll with the punches. Adaptable. Call it what you want, life is constant change. As soon as we figure out who we are and what we're doing, the table turns and we find ourselves faced with new and uncharted waters. I like to think I am fluid. That change doesn't throw me off balance, but I'm human (despite all my pleas to become a robot.)

This past summer I embarked on a new adventure in going back to school. It was not an sudden choice, but one my family and I had been planning and preparing for for a few years. Alas, it was still a big life change. Gone were my days of being a stay at home mom. I didn't think I would miss it too much, but I do.


I looked forward to this change, being a student. But I forgot what it was like to not know something. Going back to school in an intensive full time program is every stress and time challenge they said it would be...and then some. Some days I just feel so lost. I don't know the answers, I don't know what I'm doing and I'm just a blank. I hate not knowing. I hate not being able. I want so badly to skip forward to the part where I get it. Where I am comfortable. When I can move automatically with confidence.

That day is not today. Or tomorrow. I am in the middle of change. I try hard to just go with it. The harder you struggle against the flow the more likely you are to drown. I try to remind myself that this is a journey, an adventure worth taking. How is this a learning experience? How am I adding to who I am by taking this path? My friends and family remind me that I am okay. That I am doing well and one day will look back on this and think how silly it was that I was to frustrated. But to be honest, some days just end in tears. Tears of exasperation. Tears of inexperience. Tears of feeling awkward and uncoordinated. Defeat. Failure. Self-doubt. I struggle and grasp for branches to save me.


Some days I come home and I am compelled to do something I know how to do. I need to feel like an expert in something to remind myself that I have already journeyed this far. I have climbed many mountains and achieved great heights. I have overcome a bad marriage. I have run successful businesses. I have grown and birthed and so far not yet killed two small human beings. I can cook. I can sew.


Oh, I can sew. I come home, I lay down my books and my burdens, and go into my studio. It is familiar. I know where all my tools are. I know how they all work and their quirks. I press, cut, fold and stitch fabric. It's without deep thought or much effort. I make small projects. I need to take something from start to finish, to create completely, to have that sense of accomplishment. It feels so good. And in those actions I can restore myself. I step back from the edge, regroup, refuel, and set my sights forward again.


Each day that I finish is one day forward. It's one more day of experience in this new adventure. One more day as a seasoned traveler in life. I go to bed knowing I will wake up with clearer eyes. I will lace up my boots and push on, climb higher. I will take deep breaths and float on the river of change. I am not a drowning animal. I am a leaf, floating, twirling, and occasionally taking a tumble.

"When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be." - Lao Tzu

I'm sharing my experience with change as part of a week long series led by Jenya of While She Was Sleeping and Renee of Nearest The Pin called Constant Change. The goal is to bring you inspiration and celebration in the variety of change we all experience in life. Please head over to Renee's blog, Nearest The Pin to meet today's other poster, Suz of SewPony.



This bag I made during a recent bout of doubt. The exterior fabric is a piece of Ikea curtain. The interior and tabs are unknown designer quilt cotton. The lace stripes are scraps my great grandmother had saved and were in the box of her vintage lace that I had just been bequeathed. I also made my Anatomical Skeleton Hoodie with her vintage lace, too.

“It doesn’t matter where you are, you are nowhere compared to where you can go.”

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...or so it seems, I wore well cut wool suits, authentic cashmere pashminas and Italian silks. Each day I was a fashion plate with a triple shot latte. As a retail business manager, I lead a stellar team and was a killer saleswoman. Working long hours, late night happy hours, my life was a career filled adulthood and I longed for nothing more.

Change sneaks up on you. I met Danny and together we decided to have babies. I wanted to have a family with him. We'd be kick ass parents. It was our opinion that our mothers did us right by staying home with us during our early years, and despite all my ambition, was the low earner on the totem pole, so I became the designated stay at home parent to our babes. I kissed my department store wardrobe goodbye (not very practical and hell, they don't fit postpartum), and said hello to things you can easily launder spit up and poop off of.


No one will ever call me a graceful mother. (Or graceful at all, for that matter.) Stay at home motherhood is daunting. I felt alone. And fat. And hormonal. I was just not me in my own skin. But I don't make commitments lightly and was determined. Every single day, I got up, showered and dressed. I tried my damnedest to be a good stay at home mom knowing the whole time that a finish line was in sight.

I am a fantastic mom to our kids. I know that. But "stay at home mom" is never a hat that fit comfortably on my head. I resented my husband for business trips. At company happy hours I was sure his coworkers made assumptions of me. I used every creative way to say what I did without saying "stay at home mom", including but not limited to the time I recorded my profession as "retired" on a form. (I am truly sorry for that as I am now hounded by the AARP. Seriously. I had to tell them I was going to report them for stalking and to come back in 20 years.)

Somewhere during my tenure as the stay at home parent I decided to change careers. The retail management requirements of worked holidays and weekends don't jive well with family life. Despite not ever feeling comfortable as a stay at home mom, I was very interested in being an active parent to my kiddos. I just needed the adult interaction. I needed validation. I needed recognition and to have goals to work towards. So we decided I'd go back to school when the kids were old enough to go to school.


But what about my blog? My shop? I've sold a variety of things I've made through my shop the five years I've been the stay at home parent, but I like being able to make and sell what I like. Any time I start mass producing something, I quickly grow to hate it. My blog has always been about me. It's my expression. It's where I show off what I make and teach you to make them too, if you want. The 'ads' I post are my friends and shops I respect. The sponsored posts and tours I do are for patterns I'd have bought anyways. My opinion can't be bought. I'm far too mouthy to lie to you all and to be honest, I don't want to shill stuff to you. This it my place and I'm humbled there are so many of you still listening after all these years. Thank you.

Becoming a mother has taken my former self and stretched and confounded and shaken her up until she has settled and grown into this new person. A women with the skills and obstinance from before, but with the mighty roar of a bear. Motherhood tried to break me but I have emerged victorious! I am bigger and better and stronger. I have broken out from my cocoon to stretch my wings.


If you've be around here a while you know I've been taking some classes here and there. Prerequisites for the sonography program I have been accepted into. (Sonongraphy = ultrasounds. Not the people who write down everything that's said in court. That's a stenographer. Think Aquaman, but more badass. Also, it's not just for pregnant ladies. Far from it.) It's going to take me 13.5 months of full time, hard core schooling. From here on out, it's all highlighters and ramen, baby.

This week was the big week. My babies had their first day of pre-K on Monday, and Tuesday was my first day of full time school.

My stay at home motherdom is over. It's gone.

I've been looking forward to this moment for years. I can leave the house without diapers and wipes. I get in and out of the car and don't have two little ones to help. I can walk as fast as I like when I'm late and not have to hustle anyone else up. I'm smart and my peers and professors assume exactly that. No one looks at me and only sees a mom.

So why does it feel so bad in my heart? Why are my eye leaking? Damn my non-robot-ness!

I had the privilege of having dinner with Shalagh last week. We talked about many things, but one of the nuggets she left with me was to look up this poem by Khalil Glbran:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

I am strong enough for myself, but am I a strong enough bow? An ache hollows my heart to know that I must set my arrows to fly, but I know I must. How is it that I've been looking forward to this for so long and now that it's here I feel guilt and fear? Damn you, motherhood. You've done this to me.

And so I embark upon this new chapter of mine. To master a new skill and learn a new trade. To hone myself within motherhood, so that I can be the strong and stable bow. May my aim be true and my arrow fly straight. There's no turning back now.

Getting Happy

Hey, all,

It's Friday! Hoorah! Our house has been running 24/7 lately. We work all day, have family dinner and bed time, then my husband and I go back to work until midnight. Jimmy likes to climb into our bed in the middle of the night. Thankfully we went to Ikea a few weeks ago and bought ourselves a king sized bed. It's a luxury, but with an additional body (or two) in our bed, it buys us more room to sleep.

It's been one of those weeks where I can't decide if I want it to hurry along or slooooow down. I always look forward to Fridays because it means the weekend is here and we can all be together. But the arrival of *this* Friday means that it is one week until Perfect Pattern Parcel launches! Have you signed up for the newsletter? Do you want to be the first to know? GAK! (waves arms like Kermit the Frog) It's almost here. Rachael, Danny and I are really psyched. Like super psyched. Start the countdown clock, friends, it is almost here and you're going to be floored.

This morning was a bit of craziness. Despite my chipper, go get 'em, attitude, the kids were real grouches. I was perusing my newsfeed when I happened upon Lacy of Living on Love's newest post. She a momma of two with a third on the way any day now. She's been doing a project all year called Living on Love Project. This month she's working on the fact that she is *not* a morning person. But she knows her mood sets the stage for the rest of the family and their day. So she's working on Waking Up Happy. In her post she shared a music video. I wasn't about to let two grummy kiddos set the mood for the day so I took charge!



It took three playings of the song to get both kids dancing with me. When the kids were smaller we used to always have Dorsey Dance Parties. I'm officially bringing them back! We danced to Happy only 8 times. We were sweaty, being creative with our movements and laughing. Friday has been saved. Thank you, Lacy!


I need your help. I need to build up my Dorsey Dance Party playlist. What's your favorite (mostly kid friendly) dance song that makes you happy? Mine is Me and Julio by Paul Simon and Bamboleo by the Gypsy Kings. Help me out!

Now go dance! Get happy!

Bold. Brilliant. Beautiful. YOU.

Have you ever done something so out of the box, so out of your comfort zone that it makes you a little ill? Or makes you feel so many emotions at once you could burst? I just entered my Fuck you, Lymphoma quilt into a quilt exhibition and that is how I feel right about now. The Voices in my head wanted me to just think about it for a while, but the application deadline is this Friday and I know those Voices are just trying to psyche me out. So I did it. It isn't the rejection that scares me, but what happens if my quilt is selected. I'll have to go to an event. I'll have to stand next to my quilt. I'll have to talk about it and accept compliments without curling up in a ball or walking away like an odd little weirdo.


This is part of my plan for 2014. I've joined a fabulous group of people online who are taking part in a new project. We're taking the pledge to be more Bold. More Brilliant. More Beautiful. More YOU.

What does this all mean? I don't know. You tell me. It means something different to each and every one of us. Every one has something that makes them feel awkward or overly emotional. That thing that makes us feel like we are standing naked in front of the world.

We're taking that thing and we're facing it head on. We're setting out to conquer those things and to help each other out in order to achieve those goals. Because when we help each other we establish trust and we start a grow a community. We can look around us and feel safe. And free. Free to just be ourselves. Once we can feel free to be ourselves then we can truly SHINE.

So I'd like you to join me. Join us in our plan be more Bold. Brilliant. Beautiful. You. It's not going to happen in one day, one week, one month. But you can do it. We'll do it together.
Here's what I am working on:

Bold.
I recently watched this video of Amy Pohler talking about taking risks and having courage. One of the things she said was this: "Great people do things before they are ready. They do things before they know they can do it." That has really resonated with me. So for 2014 I'm pinching my nose and jumping in to the deep end of the pool, friends. Entering my Fuck you quilt into an exhibition is an example. I've never done this before. I don't know if my quilt is good enough, but damn it, I'm doing it.

I'm also taken what I feel like is a huge risk and started a new company with some trusted, talented friends. We're really going out one a limb here in bringing something new and bold and unique to the indie pattern business. It's called Perfect Pattern Parcel. I invite you to start following us on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Expect to hear much much more about this in the future. You're going to like this. A lot. (I may poop my pants.)

Brilliant.
When I think of brilliance, I think of stars, diamonds, shining, and light. It's my goal for 2014 to become more involved in the sewing community both online and off. There are so many of us out here and I can't help but feel we're like buoys bobbing in the ocean. Now is the time to swim! Not only do I want to reach out a hand to those who want to learn to swim, I want to orchestrate an entire synchronized swimming ballet.

Beautiful.
A good portion of you are mothers, and a good portion of you are past your twenties. Finding yourself and truly feeling beautiful at this point is not easy. I think a lot of us think of ourselves as the older, lumpier versions of our formerly beautiful selves. It's not fair and it's not true. It's my goal to stop comparing myself to some one else's definition of beautiful. I spent my childhood wishing I had curly blond hair. My hair is brown and as straight as it comes! It is just ridiculous. Plain stupid.

In 2014 I'm going to work on being beautiful in my own skin as a thirty something wife, mother, student, maker, blogger. I'm not letting anyone else tell me what is beautiful. I say what is beautiful. While I'm on the subject, I've always thought tattoos were beautiful. And tattooed ladies. Anytime you overhear discussions about tattoos and women, you hear things like this: "But what will you look like on your wedding day/in a strapless dress?" Or: "What will you look like when you're 70?" I tell you what I'm going to look like. A seventy year old beautiful women with tattoos all over her. I've decided life is too short, and while I have not completely lost my mind, I'm expanding my tattoo collections. I'm expanding my canvas onto body parts that are more visible. Why buy art to hide it in the closet?

Feast your eyes on my latest artwork! I'm so thrilled with it. It was designed by Little Jenn Small of Charlotte, NC last weekend at the DC Tattoo Convention. I was so pleased to collaborate with and support another female maker in her art. Plus, it's totally rad!

Fake it 'til you become it:
I watched an amazing TED talk last week by Amy Cuddy. Everyone needs to watch it. I don't care how much laundry is waiting for you. No laundress ever conquered the world. Watch it. Now. It is twenty-one minutes of awesome. She will change your life forever. I want you to go watch that video today. That is your Bold.Brilliant.Beautiful.YOU homework assignment. And after you watch it, I want you to start practicing your power posing. You're going to feel like a dork at first, but it works. I'll be doing it, too. Together we're going to fake it 'til you become it.

Want some extra support? Join the Bold. Brilliant. Beautiful. YOU. group on Facebook. It is a closed group so we can chat among ourselves without fear. I'd love to see you there. I want to see your power posing pictures, too! Use Instagram and tag them #boldbrilliantbeautiful & #powerposing. You'll feel so strong and awesome.

Together we're going to kick some major ass.

Bold. Brilliant. Beautiful. YOU.

Go play outside

If I think back about it, a large portion of my childhood memories were outside. My brothers and I spend a lot of time outside in our front and backyards. Climbing trees. Building forts. Riding bikes. All the sticks, leaves and dirt we could handle. My mother was forever telling us to go outside. Go play outside.


"Go play outside" is a phrase that was missing from my mom vocabulary up until this point. I spent all spring and summer trying to send my kids out in our un-fenced back yard while I studied indoors only to look up and wonder, where the hell have they gone! Every few minutes I'd look up out the screen door and, poof, no kids. They'd be playing with the hose, or in the drive way, or, my personal favorite, on the porch ringing the doorbell.


I don't know what did it, but suddenly something has changed. My kids ask to go outside. I bundle them up in hoodies or jackets, and hats and mittens, then out they go. They collect leaves. They make piles of sticks. They play pretend and are secret agents solving mysteries. They love it, *and* they stay in the back yard now. Which means I can finally get more stuff done.



"Go play outside." It's such a beautiful thing. I want to cry, I love it so much. Being a SAHM to two small kids, going back to school, and running a business is a lot. It only takes a straw to break the camel's back. But now the burden is eased! I've got an eight page paper due on urinalysis? "Who wants to go play outside?" Kitchen full of dirty dishes and two kiddos running and screaming like cowboys and Indians? "Go play outside!"



I've found myself a small sliver of ease. Slowly, but surely, I am gaining my sanity back. Ok, not sanity so much, as balance. I have time to take a break now. Just a few more minutes in my day to get things done. I will champion the insanity of my life.

The beauty of it all is that my kids benefit from playing outside too. They get a little vitamin D. They expel some of their boundless energy. They learn to play together. They develop creativity. By playing outside they gain independence. So I can feel good about sending them out to play. If only cookies were good for them...I'd be invincible.


Now go play outside!

My Parachute Packers

I shared the story of Charlie Plumb and his parachute packer over at Buzzmills this morning. Jane asked me to take part in her Thankful Tour. All year round, Jane writes posts called Thankfuls. It started when she and her husband began asking their kids what they were thankful for at bed time. They would each come up with something. Usually they are tiny things, but still good things. They began to call them "thankfuls" and she borrowed the term for her own blog posts.


Today I am thankful for:

...a husband who is my sidekick in life. Who not only accepts me for who I am, but rejoices in all that I am.

...that my ex was so so wrong and you can keep that love spark alive years later.

...teeny tiny hugs and little hands that squeeze my fingers.


...a room all to myself for my sewing studio.

...fresh hot coffee in Polish pottery mugs.

...freckles all over my loves.

...a very comfortable bed.


...the beach. I miss your sounds.

...my artistic abilities and my nerdy tendencies.

...a family that I love and in-laws I'm happy to call family.

...waking up to these faces everyday.


What are you thankful for? Have you thanked your Parachute Packers today? Don't forget to head over to Buzzmills to hear The Parachute Packer Story.

I'm a Tough Mudder!

On Saturday, October 19th, I did it! I finished the Tough Mudder! You may have read earlier this month about how and why I trained for the Mudder, and I'm happy to report that I have achieved my goal and finished. I promised to share some pictures with you. I apologize for the quality, but they were either from my phone, which was the only camera I brought along, or from spectator photos.


My husband and I before the Mudder

Sliding down a hill during the Mud Mile into a pit of mud

Soaking the caked mud off before the washing machine.

Turns out, you should wear long sleeves when you will be army crawling through mud and gravel at multiple time during the day.

Over 10 miles of mud, ice water, climbing, jumping, electrocution, have helped me to know the ends of my physical capabilities and fears. It was an amazing day with awesome obstacles. It tested my abilities and mental resolve like nothing else. The 30 hours of childbirth I experienced with each of my kiddos wase easier than this. No joke.

Will I do it again? Not likely. I proved what I set out to do, but I'd love to do another obstacle race again. Just a much shorter one.

Did I have fun? Hell, yes. It was very fun. It was awesome to do with with my husband, and with our friends. It gave me a renewed optimism in humanity as complete strangers helped me and everyone else out when they needed it. Training for and completing the Tough Mudder was a humbling and inspiring experience. I may have cried crossing the finish line.


Me in my hard won Orange Headband!

Oh my gosh! I almost completely forgot! I need to give you all a HUGEMONGUS THANK YOU for everyone who donated to my Wounded Warrior Project fund as part of my Tough Mudder run. Together we raised $1,190, which will be matched by my team sponsor, Microsoft, to become $2,380 for the Wounded Warrior Project. Our Microsoft Team was the top fund raiser at the Mid Atlantic Tough Mudder that weekend, raising over $23,000. You guys are so freakin awesome. Many, many thanks.

Tough Mudder

This Saturday I am running the Tough Mudder. If you've don't know what that is, it's a 10 to 12 mile endurance challenge with obstacles designed by the British Special Forces that include ice water, tons of mud, log carries, wall climbs, fire and electrocution. This is no cute Mud Run. This is not the Spartan. It's the mothereffing Mudder. If you think I've lost my mind, you are probably right.

It all started just over a year ago. We had friends of ours over for dinner and one of them had finished his first Tough Mudder the day before. His arms and legs were torn up, he needed an extra dose of ibuprofen, and was slightly concerned he may have broken his nose. More importantly, he challenged himself. In a event where most would decide they were too fat and lazy to bother, he emerged victorious.

Days before we has just celebrated Jimmy's first birthday. While I was no longer wearing maternity clothes, I was overweight and out of shape. I used to be a runner. I could run 5 miles a day for days in a row with no major physical discomfort. Having two children and quitting my career to be a stay at home mom left me buried in an unfamiliar cocoon.

I felt lost.

I couldn't find Me.

I needed to make a change.

At that dinner last August, I decided I would train and finish the Tough Mudder next year. I talked my husband into doing it with me. It was a good excuse to get back in shape and set a specific goal and time frame.

We bought two of the least expensive running strollers and started running. We found two framed backpack kiddo carriers at a consignment store and started hiking as a family. We cut out fast food. We ate at home. We did yoga videos and got a medicine ball to exercise with. I decided to do a plank a day, everyday. In May, we climbed a volcano to over 11,300 feet above sea level.

But training time is up and my Tough Mudder is in two days. In the beautiful, autumnal mountains of West Virginia. I'll be honest. I go back and forth between totally pumped and scared shitless. But I set out to do the Tough Mudder and finish it, and damn it, that is exactly what I am going to do.


Me, August 2013
I'm going to do something I don't often ask you do to. I want you to make a donation to my Tough Mudder race. The extra bonus is that I am running the Mudder on Team Microsoft and Microsoft has pledged to match every donation I collect for the Wounded Warrior Project.

The ante has been upped and my husband has pledged to match all your donations as well! Thanks, lover!

Give $50 and make dinner at home instead (Your $50 becomes a $200 donation!). Give $30 and skip the lattes this month (It will become a $120 donation.) Give $10 and pass on a yard of new fabric that you don't really need (It will become a $40 donation.). Give something. Because this money goes to benefit people who left their families and put their lives on the line so you didn't have to. They fight so you don't have to and they came back with no legs, or missing an arm, or have sustained some other injury that you won't ever encounter in your daily routine.

Please make a donation today. If you absolutely can't make a donation, please share my story on your facebook and twitter. Pin this post. Tag me in your instagram. Help me meet me goals. And I'll surely be posting the before and after pictures next week!

Need more inspiration? Check out this video about the relationship between the Wounded Warrior Project and the Tough Mudder.

Thank you in advance for your generosity. See you at the finish line! (And don't forget to make a donation!)

Teaching compassion

When I packed to spend a week in New York with my family earlier this month to celebrate the holiday, I packed us all funeral clothing. My grandfather, Dziadziu (Polish for grandfather, say Jaah-Joo), had been living in a senior living home with my grandmother. During the weeks prior to our trip, Dziadziu’s heath had rapidly declined. Hospice was called and his doctors said it could be days or weeks. No one knew. The next day when family visited him he was not only out of bed, but sitting at the dinner table with everyone else wolfing down chocolate creme pie.

The morning after we drove up to New York, I took my kids along with my mom to visit my grandparents. I anticipated that this trip would likely be the last time I would see him alive. When we arrived my grandmother was in the living room. The kids and I sat with her while my mom went to check on Dziadziu. We sat with my grandmother and played with the cards from the game Memory. While Jimmy and Jane enjoyed identifying the animals for my Grammy, there was an irony to it all. Grammy has Alzheimer’s and most days doesn’t know who we are. Regardless, her eyes light up to have children doting on her. The gave their best moos, oinks and baaahs, and rolled around the floor as only small kids can do and make you smile.

Only after my grandmother was looking tired did we walk down the hall to find my mother and Dziadziu. She stopped me at his bedroom door. Dzuadziu was in bed and dying, and my mother was worried that it would upset Jimmy and Jane. As much as I want to protect my kids from any unnecessary upset, I didn't want them learn that old people are scary. So many visits to the home my grandparents were in, taught me that the sick and old are left there. I never saw many other families visiting, even on holidays, so I always taught the kids to say hi, blow kisses and hold hands with everyone there whether we knew them or not. We’re everyone’s grandkids and great grandkids when we visit.

I gathered my kids into my arms and walked in. Dziadziu was in a hospital bed and gown. He was sedated and conscious, but unable to speak. My mother and aunt had been sitting and holding each of his hands to comfort him. They explained that he occasionally got upset and that physical touch helped him calm down. I took a seat next to his bed as my aunt left to call family to let them know that his passing was likely soon.

I explained to Jane and Jimmy that Dziadziu was having a Rough Day. In our house, when you’re sick, cranky, or upset, we say that you are having a Rough Day. When you’re having a Rough Day, the rest of the family is extra nice you you. We get drinks for you, we snuggle you up in blankies and read books to you, and sometimes the best solution for a Rough Day is a good nap. I told them we were helping Dziadziu because he wasn’t feeling well and was being a crankus (Moxie-ism) and we needed to help him take a nap. Any hint of awkwardness my kids felt at first washed away.



With Jimmy in my lap and Jane next to me, I held Dziadziu’s hand and he laced his fingers between mine. I stroked his arm, kissed the back of his hand and held it to me cheek over and over again. When he became agitated,I rubbed his chest and told him everything was going to be okay, that he could just rest. The kids played with the Memory game cards again on the floor and periodically climbed on my lap and petted Dziadziu's hand. It was so sad to see, but I was glad we were giving Dziadziu as much comfort as possible.

After a while it became clear that the kids were hungry. We had been there for at least two hours so my husband picked us up to take us to lunch. I hugged Dziadziu and gave him a kiss. I stroked the hair on his head and told him I’d see him soon. While we were at lunch, he sat up, took his last breath, and died. His Rough Day was over and he was finally having the nap he needed.

Fast forward three weeks to yesterday. My kids have been sick and I swear there is a full moon. Or they have their periods. Or something, because they are both having Rough Days. Really Rough Days. There have been much fighting, many time outs and a boat load of frustration. By the end of dinner time I am just done. My husband takes Jimmy upstairs to get his jammies on while I sit with Jane as she slowly, slowly finishes her dinner. I put my elbows on the table, my head in my hands and a few tears rolled down my cheeks.

Jane gets out of her chair and before I can ask her where she thinks she is going, she is at my side. She asks me what is wrong and without thinking I tell her I am having a Rough Day. I worry.

“Like Jimmy and Jane is having a Rough Day today, Momma?” I tell her yes. Then she picks up my hand and tries to lace her fingers between my own. She uses her free hand to stroke my arm, kisses the back of my hand, and then bends over to rub my hand on her cheek. She tells me that she loves me and that it’s going to be okay. I burst into real tears and I scoop her up and squeeze her tight. These kids never cease to amaze me. The make me look like a good mother.

UnMaking

Some days aren't about making.
Lord knows, I tried to today.


Jimmy unraveled the Yoda hat I am working on.
Jane colored my Anatomy flash cards with a highlighter.


Together, we assembled a Cozy Coupe.
It only involved four time outs.


Jimmy put the claw side of my hammer into the hardwood floor.
I made macaroni and cheese. With ham.


My patience is worn.
I'm having a beer.


Physics class starts in two hours.
Tomorrow is another day.

Starting the New Year

Hi! Remember me? I've been writing blog posts to you all month long, but the tele-typer in my brain doesn't seem to be functioning very well. Maybe my wireless is on the fritz? I have some goals and plans for 2013 to share. Oh, hey, and a tutorial I promised you months ago about how to make your favorite tshirt into a hoodie. Oy!

I've been sewing quite a bit since I am in between semesters as school and loving it. The kids and I also ate something bad last week and spent a few days making lots and lots of laundry. I'm supposed to be 'taking it easy' as per my husband's orders. I don't 'take it easy' very well. It would take major effort to sit still for ten minutes and you know I'd spend those ten minutes thinking about everything I could and need to be doing.

In the spirit of 'taking it easy', I'm excited to post that the lovely Kara at Me and Elna picked me for her Liebster Award. If you don't know what it is, that's okay. No one does. It's the blog equivalent of a chain letter that changes over and over again.

Kara did ask my to answer some fun questions as part of the Award so I thought I would share them with you here. Lucky you! Before I do thought, if you could please take the time to go to vote for my blog here, I have been nominated as one of the Top 25 Creative Mom blogs for 2013. Thank you in advance!

What's your favorite fabric line?
I don't know if I can pick one line. I fall in love with too may fabrics everyday! My latest love is Salt Water by Tula Pink.

Where do you do most of your crafty making?
I am super lucky and have a have a studio set up in the office room of our house!

Tell us about your day job.
I currently am a stay at home mom to my two kiddos and am going back to school to start a new career as a congenital cardiac sonographer.



If you had a week to spend with nobody but yourself and an unlimited amount of funds, what would you do?
I would do to Fiji and read on the beach and get massages.

When did you start your crafty empire?
I started as a Maker full time when I quit my job after my daughter was born. It was only then that I had the time to focus on making and selling. And raising our children.

What's your favorite quote or philosophy?
Dare to be Different.
Never let your fears stand in the way of your dreams.
Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. (Emerson)



What makes you happy?
I make me happy. I am in control of my life. I am in a daily partnership with my best friend. We have made awesome sauce little kids. Also, fabric, beer, fabric, and getting mail.



What's the biggest crapper of a mistake that you've made while being crafty?
Making something for someone who didn't appreciate it. It was a waste of my time and effort and I worked so hard on it and it is gone.

Tell us your guilty pleasure!
I suppose it would have to be reading. Because I'm not making anything or doing anything productive. I'm taking the time to be selfish and relax and disappearing.

Toilet paper- over or under?
Always over. Under is wrong. Just wrong.

Describe yourself in one word and one word only.
Moxie.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some sunbutter and jelly sandwiches to make. Hope you all are enjoying the new year!

-Jill