Skipping Quilts

I just got done with a new black and white table runner. It is not what I envisioned, but it is growing on me. My mom helps talk me through the hard stuff, in life and in quilts! With her help, I finished this and uploaded it to ETSY.com.
I think that is what I need most right now in life, someone to walk me through the hard stuff. For some reason, I get stuck-stuck life a CD the skips, playing the same 3 seconds over and over, making the same table runner over and over. Do you want to know something funny...I haven't made anything for my tables. I am stuck on table runners and have nothing to show for it. What strange irony in life?!

Quilt

I have spent the bulk of my time the last two weeks making quilt tops to sell. I made two table runners and put them on Etsy.com. This is a big step for me. I made something and put it out there in the world-hopefully to sell. I realized some time ago, that I complain about my life, or my situation, or my lack of direction, but don't do anything to change where I am or where I'm going. Selling two simple quilted table runners is a small way to change my internal direction and this means putting myself out there to be judged. I am so insecure that I had to fight off a panic attack while I was listing my wares. Before I listed, I went through the steps in my head and made a solid plan so that I couldn't back out. Now that I am out there-I feel excited!! So much stress and anguish associated with such a simple act, but I did it. It may be a small step-but I have completed a project and placed it in the world to sink or swim!!

Scraps of Paint

I tried to paint a picture yesterday while my daughter was having a nap. I learned that poster paint does not act the same way as really painters acrylic paint-I had better luck with the toll paint, in fact. If paint doesn't act the right way,it doesn't allow the feeling to come out. Needless to say, the painting in my head didn't come to fruition. I only get one go at things and I missed the window. It is so strange to me that I can see this painting so clearly one day and the next it is fading. The edges fuzz, the colors fade, the canvas gets soft...and it fades into nothingness...so abstract.
Sewing for me is more concrete. I can piece together a quilt in record time. There are definite steps in quilting. Cutting, block making, combine blocks, finish quilt. I love to see how a quilt develops. I kind of let the fabric speak to what I wants to be. I love going on the journey with the material. I love to see as scraps become strips and strips become panels and panels become finished and that can keep me warm. I know the proper way to quilt involves much measuring and planning, but I really like the idea of free-form quilting. I buy scraps of fabric, 1/4 yard or less at a time, just because they caught my eye as I walked by. Eventually I get enough to start cutting and creating. The colors usually mesh-it is the old 'Taco Principle.' Painting should be so easy.
I think painting frustrates me more than quilting, because I would really like to be a painter. I feel that anyone can learn to sew straight lines and created a quilt, but it takes a special talent to turn a white canvas into beauty. Maybe, my perspective just needs to change. Maybe I need to accept that painting may not be my thing, and possiblly quilting is?!?

Come to Jesus

I am on the verge of a 'come to Jesus moment.' I had one a few weeks ago, which you all were witness to, about my frustration with life. There is pain associated with life; pain associated with exposure of feelings and deeply held self-truths. The pain I felt after reading my inner critic was immense...I cried and stewed for days and days afterwards. Everything made me upset, my mind wouldn't stop racing, my body hurt with the pain of agony and the battling of wills. After the pain comes Jesus. When I couldn't do anymore, or be anymore or pretend anymore, all that is left is to give it up-come to Jesus and give it up. Give up the pain and the stigma and the worry and the hiding and finally accept that this is who I am and I AM DEPRESSED and that doesn't make me bad or lazy or stupid or less-just different.
I was always taught that Jesus would take away the burden of things, but never really believed it. Maybe I believe more in the idea of Jesus than the actual person, the idea of someone else taking care of me and making it okay to be me is a very warm thought. 'Coming to Jesus' is a last ditch effort to give up the battle and walk away from the war and accept that I am okay. I am now free to fight new battles and win new wars. I am on the verge of another 'come to Jesus' about my weight. If it is true that your 30's are the best years of your life, I am running full speed at best-ness. Two 'Jesus incidents' and I've only been 30 for 5 months...

The Doctor

I've done it! This time I have a serious problem. How did I get here and what am I going to do next? Well...I have a crush... on Dr. Heinz Doofinsmirtz (Evil Inc.) from Phineas and Ferb. I know, I know, this just isn't right, but I am seriously overcome. Maybe it is that he is evil, or the fact that he sings a lot or maybe it is the thick German-esk accent. Whatever it is, I'm beat! Of all the cartoons to fall in love with-he had to be the one. He is a tortured soul with an ultimately good heart. We are kindred spirits...minus the being evil part!

Time

My time is not my own. I spent time this morning cooking breakfast for everyone and cleaning it up. I spent 5 minutes in the shower, because we have problems with our hot water. I spent time today shopping for Valentine's Day stuff for my daughters preschool class. I spent time with my mom at lunch-thank you mom-which was interrupted by the plumber, the landlord and my husband, twice. Later, running errands was interrupted by Kristins need to have a nap. Now it is 3 pm and I have only accomplished a portion of what I wanted to do. I got way off track today. Do you remember the Seinfeld episode with the phone face-off?? I have a real life face-off everyday. Everyday I have to decide to do for my husband, do for my child, do for ...the plumber, and I miss out on doing for me.
In my next life, I want better time management skills and the ability to say no when I think no and yes when I think yes to other peoples requests of my valuable time. I sound very disingenuous, I think I am frustrated. I have a picture in my head of a painting I want to paint, and I know there is only a certain amount of time it will be available in my head until it is lost to the madness. Oh, for the days when I could just paint or draw or sew and not have to plan time.

Other Air

I was reminded today that the things you despise most about others are the things you despise most about yourself. What is it I really can't stand in others? What do I look at and turn away in disgust? Many things I see that I hate and secretly want to have/be, for instance: Style. I saw a woman in the store today that was pretty with nice hair and perfect, subtle makeup and an attractive outfit with adorable shoes. I hated her instantly-more to the point-I wanted to be her instantly. She gave the air of 'success.' I want to have that. I think at one time in my life I was on my way to outwardly having that, but inside I was far removed from success. I think now, that if I had inward success then the outward wouldn't matter so much. Confidence, they say, comes from within.
There are those in my life who reek of...passion. Passion for life, passion for work, passion for learning, passion for others. My 3 year-old has a passion for life, for learning, for humor, for movement and activity. I hope that these traits offer her many opportunities throughout life. I hope that these innate traits she can carry into adulthood. (Inside I hope I don't do something to break her of passion-it is always the mothers fault-right?) I wonder what traits I showed early in life...I wonder why they have left me. Maybe I have just reached the 'quiet time' of my life, and now I need to learn to be.

Day One

Today is my first day back as a full time Stay-At-Home-Mom. This was a very difficult day. I made a breakfast that burned. I had trouble with my daughter in the shower. I forgot to get money for preschool-until after class. When Kristin came home from preschool I made lunch that she decided would be better eaten off the carpet instead of the plate. Later, nap time was in the car from point A to point B-which means a grumpy little girl this evening. Some how during the course of the day, the floors got clean and a few loads of laundry were done. Dinner turned out, but I don't know how I managed to make such a mess. I guess this is life. It would have been easier to be at work today and only really have to deal with dinner and laundry and floors.
There is such pressure to be a SAHM. If my kid acts out in school-it is my problem-I spend everyday with her and should have corrected bad behavior. If my husband is hungry or unhappy-it is my problem-I should have made him a better lunch or massaged his feet when he got home. There are now an infinite number of things that I should be doing to make everything run perfectly and if I am home and things don't run perfectly-it is a reflection on me, and me alone.
It was different as a working mom. If laundry didn't get done daily-or semi-daily it was okay. If I was too tired (more likely out of ideas) for dinner, pizza was okay. If my kid only gets 5 hours one on one and not 10 it was okay because it was 'quality time.' TV cannot be a babysitter if I am here all day. My mind-set has to change. I now have no time to myself-no 10 minutes to think on the way to work. No distraction from all the things I am doing wrong...no excuse.
I am determined (okay semi-determined) to do better at meal planning and housework and quality time with my kid. This time I am going into SAHM-hood knowing full well what I am getting myself into. I am determined to succeed. I now realize that my family depends on it.

About a Boy

"About a Boy" is one of my favorite movies of all time. I was listening to it as I cleaned the kitchen and mopped the floor this morning. As I was working my thoughts were taken back to years ago when the movie first came out. I had a friend that would tell me that I was the crying, suicidal, hippie character. I would tell her that I was the pretty, artistic, 'with it,' character. I was in denial then of who I really was. I didn't recognize then, that I might have a problem; I just took the pills and kept my mouth shut. Now, I don't take the pills and am trying to work through my hippie, crying life.
Denial is a powerful thing. Denial has allowed me to avoid some pain, to avoid some heartache. Denial has allowed me to put blame elsewhere and not embrace the roll I have in my own life. How silly does that sound? I always knew I was different and blamed my circumstance or my socio-economic class for my issues. It is so much easier to be in denial, to place blame, than it is to take responsibility for myself. Looking back on my life I wonder when this started, when this denial became my coping mechanism. I think of myself as someone who deals head-on, but I am s-l-o-w-l-y learning that just because I am confrontational does not mean I have a healthy sense of myself.