creative little daisy

Ouch! No wait, make that double ouch!!

You know that old saying, it's not what you say, it's how you say it? That's what came to mind this morning as I read a new comment left on an old post. It was the first tutorial I'd ever written, the basic purse tutorial. When writing tutorials, my intention has always been to share my method of doing something with the hope that it will help someone else who could use a little visual aid, perhaps a helpful hint here and there. I've never  proclaimed to be an expert when it comes to sewing or any other from of crafting for that matter. I'm just a regular person, who happens to enjoy making things. It's a continual learning process for me and I get a great deal of satisfaction out of the sharing aspect of this blog community. I've learned so, so much from other bloggers, and writing tutorials is simply my way of being a contributing member of this wonderful society. I've never tried to profit in any way from the tutorials on my blog or have I tried to imply that the way I do something is the way. In fact, I think I always emphasize that what I'm showing is just what works for me and may or may not work for the next person. I welcome suggestions and input. That's what it's all about, that's how we learn and grow. This comment felt very negative to me (my first), even though she ended with "no offense."

I have a purse that I bought at a craft fair with a magnetic snap installed just like yours, and my purse ripped around the snap after barely a month of use. I just talked to someone who told me how to install a magnetic snap correctly. Sorry, ladies, her method of installing snaps is not for purses you would use on a daily basis or sell for profit! No offense.

Sorry, call me thin-skinned, but I did take a little offense. I wouldn't have minded at all if her comment had gone something like.... I've recently learned that in order to assure the fabric doesn't tear from around the clasp, it's better if you install the snap this way.... That way we can all learn from her great expertise and it doesn't sound offensive at all.
While I'm still feeling a little bruised by the comment, Toby and Lucky begin arguing a bit over who should be closest to me. It started with a little low growling from each but quickly escalated, as neither felt much like backing down this morning. I swiveled around slightly in my chair to tell them to knock it off, getting my leg between the feisty boys and the smallest of the two bit the hell out of the back of my leg. Pardon my language, I assure you, it's milder than what I said at the time. It hurt like heck. I've never really been bitten by a dog. The occasional little snap while playing, sure. But a real chomp down on my bony little leg bite? No.  It seemed the day was shaping up to be a day of not so pleasant firsts. Double ouch!

Here you can see the horrific wound and the vicious creature who savagely attacked me.

I'm pleased to say, that was no indication of how the rest of the day would shape up. It's after three and the afternoon has been completely ouchless.

It's all good...

I sit here on this quiet Saturday morning overcome with just how good it all is. My intent was to type out a quick line or two to let everyone know that Bayleigh is home and doing well. How hard is that? As I gathered my thoughts and arranged the words in my mind it wasn't long before I realized this wasn't going to be a quick one line post. Boy, I've really got to do something crafty so I can stop with the gushy emotional posts already. It has been an emotional week, a roller coaster ride of ups and downs. What is this grandparent deal? Why is it you feel everything you felt for your own children, only magnified? I can't say that I love her more than Alyssa or Casey, but I love her differently. I love her louder and brighter and just thinking about it makes my heart swell and sends waves through my chest and up to my throat and brings tears to my eyes. It was terrifying to put that thermometer under her arm and see the numbers rise so quickly. It was heart wrenching to hear the fear in Alyssa's voice when she called to tell me how worried the doctor seemed. I felt so helpless when Derek called because he had to leave the room as the nurses stuck and stuck and stuck his precious little girl, trying to get enough blood for the tests. Her temperature normalized with one dose of tylenol and was normal for the rest of her hospital stay. By Monday morning she was happy and smiling and wondering what all the fuss was about.

What was causing the big, bad fever? A urinary tract infection. Not a common finding for a such a little one, so she's going to have more testing (outpatient)  to rule out something called  VU Reflux.

I wonder now if Alyssa understands why we tried so hard to shelter and protect her, if she realizes it was out of love that we said no, or seemed too strict. This week she felt a fear greater than any fear she could have ever experienced and Derek who has been to war in Iraq and Afghanistan. I dare say, this experience was just as scary. I'm very proud of these young parents and how they weathered this first storm of parenthood.

Now as I sit here on this quiet Saturday morning, reflecting on the week's events, a busy week of ups and downs, it feels so good to take a deep breath and relax in knowing, for this moment, it's all good.

There was another exciting event this week, but that deserves a post all its own.

And just like that, everything changed...

Of course, I knew things would be different. We'd be changing our routines, making room for the newest member of our family. I knew there would be joy and excitement. I knew I'd be proud. I knew I'd love the new little one, and yet, I didn't have a clue.  I have so much to say, so much to share. I wish you could sit at my kitchen table with a glass of iced tea and chat while I throw a load of clothes in the washer, catch up on the week's events while I do the dishes. I've been spending some of the weekend trying to do a little of the work that has fallen by the wayside while I've been attending to much more important matters, like staring at this beauty.

I'm learning a new role, the role of nana, and what a precious, wonderful gift is this new role. It's all together different from being a mom and yet I'm not sure I can put into words just how. All you other grandmothers know, it's just different. The love is pure and sweet and unencumbered by the worries and fears that come with parenting. Not only do I love this baby more than I thought possible, I have a whole new level of love and understanding for her mother. 

Priceless, that's the only way to describe the experience of watching my own daughter become a mother. Mitch and I were amazed by the strength and courage with which she brought this little one into the world and were so grateful to have shared in this precious moment in time. We were proud of how gentle and loving Derek was with her, even as he was scared to death.

I know the road ahead of them will not be an easy one. They have many sleepless nights ahead, but they will be just fine. I guess the gift of grandparent-hood is being on the other side of those sleepless nights and being able to just love.

Thank you,  thank you, many times thank you for all the sweet welcoming words for Bayleigh. Alyssa and I have read each and every one. I usually try to answer each comment personally because they do mean so much to me, but this time, please understand if I just say thank you to you all. I'm very busy these days, you know, with staring and such.

More pictures of the cutie here.

I did it again!

I let my blog anniversary come and go without a thought, without a mention. It doesn't seem like I've been doing this for two years. My, my, where does time go? And why does it go so much faster the older you get? Why was it so easy for me to post, practically every day back then and now I do good to write a few words once a week? I enjoyed finding material in everyday things, taking a picture of a cake I made or raindrops on ferns. I don't seem to look at things with the same eyes I did then. I miss that. I think that looking at life through those eyes made even the mundane seem important somehow. Now it takes something a little more significant to make me want to take time to document its happening. Somewhere along the way the reason for posting shifted and I never even noticed. I began to filter more, to worry about offending or boring, when the initial desire to start this public diary was to document my everyday. My everyday, not the everyday I thought folks might be interested in. It was my way of saying here I am, this is me, this is what I'm about and what I do with my time. It's what I find interesting and important or what is bugging me. It's what frustrates, frightens, enlightens or delights me. It's my world and what happens in it. That's what I wanted this blog to be and somewhere along the line, just like so many things in life, it got off course, slightly changed direction without me even noticing. With the awareness that there were more than a hand full of people reading my words, I became more careful with the words I put out there. Instead of words or images that mean something to me, I more often reserve this space for words or images that may interest those who read. When I think of it that way, it really makes me a little sad. I don't want this blog to be like reality TV. Like one of those shows that has a camera in the house 24/7 but  condenses it into 30 minutes to an hour and calls it the real life of so and so. When in actuality it's the life they've pieced together and edited to provide entertainment. It's not a true documentation of the lives of those on display. When I started this blog, I saw it as a diary of sorts. I know I've mentioned here before the health issues I have that make me hyper-aware of my own mortality. When you are approaching (and now passed) the age at which your parent died, I think it creates a greater awareness of how short our time in this world is. I have very little tangible evidence of my mothers existence on this earth, most of it is in my memory. I don't want that to be the case for my children or grandchildren. I want them to know who I was and what I was about, from my own perspective, not just from some faded photographs. That's why I started this blog, to put into words and images what my life is about, what I spend my days doing, what makes me laugh and what makes me cry. I believe I still do that to some degree, only these days it seems to be the Readers Digest condensed version. I'm not going to make any New Years proclamations about how I'm going to post every day or anything. I know that would last about three days, but I do want to take some of the filters off, worry less about the interestingness of the material. Hey, in reality I'm not always that interesting, and this is supposed to be my reality, right? If it proves to be boring to some, that's the beauty of choice, they can choose not to read. One day I will print these words, and to the few who will hold it in their hands, it will not matter how many read it online.

Wow, that's not at all the post I sat down here to write. I'm not sure where it came from. I think looking back at those early posts evoked the same feelings I get from seeing an old photograph of myself. That who is that person response. It's hard to believe I looked so young. For me it's hard to believe how new and fresh and excited I felt back then about blogging. Though I have very little control over the effects of time on my appearance, I can control the effect it has on my writing. All it takes is a little change in perspective.

The photo above is a little baby Mary-Jane that I crocheted. It says a lot about what a difference two years can make. I can say with great confidence that when I wrote that very first post, I had no idea in a couple of years I'd know how to crochet or sweet cracker sandwich, that I'd be crocheting a baby-bootie for my first grandchild.

There's nothing like the flipping of a calendar page to throw you into a tailspin of introspective naval gazing, huh?

Because we are all family...

Christie lost her home in the California fires. Please go offer her your encouragement and support.

Faith, Hope, Love.... and Joy.

I know I've said here before, I'm not much of a girlie-girl and I'm not much of a jewelry wearer. I am most comfortable in jeans and a tee. Necklaces are the only jewelry other than my wedding rings (simple bands) that I feel comfortable wearing. Because my uniform is so basic, to keep from being too boring I like an interesting tee, one with a beautiful screen print like the one I'm wearing or a graphic that says something about me. I feel the same about necklaces. I don't want the latest diamond that says "forever" or whatever the diamond industry is pushing as the only way to show how much you love her, until next holiday when they  come out with another way that's the only way. Not for me.  I want something that feels special and has meaning to me. That's exactly the kind of jewelry that Lisa of Lisa Leonard Designs creates. As soon as I came in from the mailbox yesterday and opened the box to find this necklace, I loved it so much I went straight to her website to order another. Something that said JOY.
I've had joy on my mind a lot lately or should I say a lack of joy has been on my mind. I've become increasingly aware that I have been in a bit of a funk for quite a while and am frankly quite exhausted and worn down. I am 39 years old and feel so much older most of the time. Getting to this point has been a gradual process, a slow wearing down of my body and my spirit. If I were to try to pinpoint the beginning of the slow trickle of joy out of my life, it was probably around the time I had to quit working. I was told I would have to have a lung transplant and that my line of work was detrimental to my health. I became more conscious of where I went and who I was around and eventually became more comfortable at home than anywhere else. Once a shop till you drop kinda girl, I cringe at the very thought of going to the mall. So here I am, a stay at home mom at a time when my kids are seeking more and more independence from mom. I have made it no secret, being the mom of teenagers has been the absolute hardest thing I've ever done. We, because it is we going through this, not just me. Mitch and I have been on a roller coaster ride of fear, worry, frustration and heartache for something like 2 years now. When your identity is so tied up in being a mom and suddenly you feel that you have failed at your job. You have failed miserably and you don't get do-overs, it bruises if not breaks your spirit. Anxiety and worry made me finally seek help in the way of medication, but there really is no magic pill in a bottle to heal a spirit. I hate to sound sappy or cliche' but an awakening moment came for me this week watching Oprah.  Like I said, I've been thinking a lot about joy lately. In fact I mentioned a sermon a few weeks ago in which the pastor presented the question, What would your one wish be? What do you most want? I couldn't answer right away, because I really wanted to think if through. Finally I decided what I wanted most, what I felt would be the most beneficial to myself and those I love, was joy. I wrote on a piece of paper I wish for joy and peace.  I don't know exactly how to put to words the feelings I have. It's not like I'm walking around crying all the time. I just know I'm not joyful and I'm not spreading joy.  I guess it's like a low grade sadness... does that make sense? A constant low grade sadness combined with the occasional and usually out of the blue crisis that would result in a more acute sadness.  All of this chipping away more and more of me. More of my awareness of who I was and what I wanted out of life. More of the security that everything will be all right. Slowly and insidiously  joy has slipped from my life. Forced out by the constant feeling of having my guard up to as a defense for my battered spirit.  This has been a hard thing to face. Hard to put to words, mostly I believe because I don't want to inconvenience anyone. That sounds pretty silly doesn't it? I don't ever want to be the reason anyone has to go out of their way, I don't want to be the cause of someone else's upset. I try very hard to keep things on an even keel and just praying that things would just magically get better. You know the old this too shall pass thinking. Never mind that in trying to keep my feelings inside really doesn't work and doesn't benefit anyone. It's a never ending circle of unhappiness. Back to the Oprah thing, she had Dr. Christiane Northrup on her show, a doctor/author who specialized in women's health. She discussed how stress and unhappiness increases inflammation at the cellular level. Most diseases are the result of inflammation. I have two chronic diseases that are inflammatory in nature. So, (and this really isn't news to me, I'm a nurse, but it was the message I needed to hear at this time in my life) all this stress and unhappiness in my life is not only wearing me down spiritually, it's detrimental to my health. Like I said, this is not news to me, I think I've even discussed it here before, but I think what's different is I said it aloud. I may blabber on and on here about feelings, but when it comes to actually speaking- actually saying what's in my heart doesn't come easily for me. It seems nearly impossible to make my mouth form the words and leave my mouth, but I did it. I talked to Mitch and to Alyssa and Casey. I told them I am tired of feeling this way. I'm ready to be a source of joy they can come to. This doctor, the one on Oprah said something to the effect that a being a joyful mother is the best legacy you can give your children. As unhappy as the world can be and as much disappointment as there is out there, everyone needs to know there is a source they can turn for joy. My job of being a mom isn't over. I still have time to spread a legacy of joy and that is my wish. I know I can't do it on my own, I plan to be much more communicative with those I love, to let them know what I need to be happy, because it really is true, if mama ain't happy...and for me, if mama ain't happy, mama ain't healthy. In a few months I'm going to be a grandma, and I have a lot of living left to do, I need my health.  I've made an appointment to talk to someone who's job it is to listen to people whine and help them through it.   My wish is for joy and if I have to work a little bit to find it again, that's work I'm willing to do.
Boy that was probably TMI  just to say I can't wait to get my new necklace, I'm getting the mini circles necklace with the words Joy and Peace, a tangible reminder to myself and everyone I see that joy is my wish.
If you made it through all that, I promise I have some crafty things to talk about. Maybe later today, if I can ever get a good picture.

Peek-a-boo!

I'm just sticking my head out to say hi and that I am in fact still living, just in case you were wondering. I could write a really long post about why I haven't blogged. The reasons are many. What has it been, like two weeks? So much can happen in the span of just half a month. Some good times spent with family at the beach and some not so good times that I'm not sure I want to talk about, not yet anyway.  Just taking a minute to be quiet and catch up on friends.

Weighing on my heart...

Thank you all for the kind comments and loving words about Devon. Sometimes it takes a tragedy to open our eyes. I know it has opened mine and I hope it has opened the eyes of other teenagers who don't take seriously the responsibility that comes with driving a car.

What I've taken away from this is a new appreciation for my son. My relationship with him has been a difficult one at times. I've felt a great distance between us for a long time. I look back at pictures and home videos and I see a closeness and I wonder what happened to it. Parenting is such an important job and there are so many ways you can fail. Hopefully you realize your mistakes, learn from them and do better. Oprah frequently quotes Maya Angelou saying, "when you know better, you do better." You hope so, but not always. That's where the headbutting comes in with Casey and I. I know in my head that Casey doesn't respond to negativity and is rebellious to authority. He responds much better to positive reinforcement. I know this in my head, You'd think since I know it, I'd do it. You'd think. Instead I respond to his rebellion with more correction and negativity and in turn, he rebells more. A vicious circle. I feel like I can't give positive reinforcement when he's not giving me anything to praise him for. Most of this centers around school work or his total lack there of. He does not bring work home, does not study for tests, and generally puts almost no effort into school. He's a very bright kid and remembers most anything he hears. Key word here is hears. He only hears what he wants to. He does not respond to removing privileges. Even the threat of not being able to get his drivers license didn't motivate him. It seems the more you tell him a behavior is unacceptable the more determined he is to do it. I spend a great deal of time being unhappy with him and him with me because we both have our heels dug in. I don't feel like I can let up, after all I'm the parent. I am trying to prepare him for his future....

This week I was faced with the harsh reality that we are not guaranteed a future. If I were in Devon's parent's shoes today, all the time spent fighting about grades and rules would seem trivial. Yes, an education is important, but there are more important things. I saw a different side of Casey this week.  I watched in amazement as he wept for his friend, he reached out to the parents, and  he put his arms around other friends who were hurting. There is a soft loving kid under the tough exterior he shows me. I guess he's had to develop a thick skin where I'm concerned. I'm not proud of that and I hope I can repair the relationship that has been broken for too long. I do still want to show him the importance of doing well in school (don't get me wrong, I'm not pushing for A's and B's, we've gotten to the point that we hope for passing grades). More important than getting through to him about his grades is getting through to his heart. Talking to him about the things that matter and letting him know how important he is to me. I have to separate the boy from the actions and let him know it's his decisions I don't like. I'm sure through his eyes its hard to realize I'm upset with him because I love him so and I want the best for him. Tough love doesn't feel like love at all to the recipient.

I tell him I love him every day, but does he feel it every day? Probably not, and that has to change. Knowing in my heart how much I love him isn't good enough. It has to be evident in all that I do. Yes, Devon's death, as tragic as it was, has changed me, in a good way. I'm not glad he died, but I am glad that from this terrible, terrible event, something good has come. His death has given me a wakeup call that the future is uncertain. I've wasted too much of the present worrying about the future. My focus needs to be on the here and now and making now as good as it can be. Making the present a happy place to be for those I love.

I'm sorry for two heavy posts in a row. I do have some light hearted, fun, craft related stuff to post about and I may just do that today. Can you stand 2 posts in one day?  I need to lighten up, but first needed to say what was weighing on my heart.

Overwhelming sadness combined with heartwarming admiration

That's what I was feeling tonight. It was an experience that I wish never to have had and at the same time one I will keep with me forever. Devon was Casey's friend, he was only seventeen years old and on Sunday night he lost his life.  It was a terrible accident, one that didn't have to happen. He was speeding and lost control and his car hit a tree. In an instant his life was gone and so many other lives will never be the same. We attended his wake tonight. It was heartbreaking and at the same time I was so impressed by the support shown by his fellow classmates. They lined up for several hours to let Devon's parents know how much they will miss him. At least 60% of the people there were teenagers and most of them came on their own.

Last night Casey got off work at 9:00 and wanted to go to WalMart. He wanted to buy tee shirts and transfer paper so that he could make shirts with a picture of Devon and the words You Will Be Missed. He wanted to do this because he needed to do something. Something to honor his friend. My heart was full of sadness and pride tonight as he and so many other young people came together with broken hearts to show their support to a hurting family. Such a grown up act. As much as it hurt to be there, I'm so glad I was able to witness this incredible display of love.

Devon, you will truly be missed.

It was 20 years ago today

A young girl, only 18 years old walked the isle of a little country church and said I do to boy she was born to marry. It was a small simple wedding, put together entirely by the loving hands of family. Not a grand event at all. That's how it goes sometimes, amazing things happen quietly, unexpectedly, unnoticed by many. The ceremony was fitting of the couple, someone even remarked the bride was the most humble she had ever seen. Unsophisticated was probably a more accurate description. After all, she was only 18 years old. Still a child, really.  The groom was a little older, 23 but what did these two know of the world? How would they make it on their own? She had just graduated high school, he was still a kid himself. They had no money and no plans. What were they thinking? Why didn't someone stop them, tell them they were too young?  It made no sense to jump into something as serious as marriage with no security, no worldly experience, no wisdom.

She may have been a child, but it was love at first sight. She told herself after the first date, this is who I'm going to marry, and a little more than a year later, she did just that. On May 2, 1987 happily ever after began. There were sad times ahead, scary times, unsure times, and yes screaming mad times. Through it all, the love was always there. It's what carried them through the premature birth of their baby girl, the frightening first months of their son's life when he was so sick. It's what they leaned on as they buried her mother. It's that love that made those two kids know 20 years ago that getting married was the right thing to do, and the same love that has grown stronger and stronger every day since. It's that love that has made the happy outweigh the sad and the good days more plentiful than the bad.

I'm so glad no one told that unsophisticated little bride she was too young. I don't know if she really knew at the time how lucky she was, if she knew that this young man would grow to be such a perfect husband, the greatest of friends, a wonderful provider and an awesome dad.  I'm so glad that handsome young man didn't get cold feet and decide he had more single days left in him. I don't think he was sure what he was getting into. How could they have known what a special day it really was. The past 20 years have been magical and I can't wait to see what the next 20 will bring.

I love you my sweet potato!! Thanks for sticking by me through good times and bad and as these pictures show, good hair styles and bad. Big and bad!