creative little daisy

Dang it's hot and other ramblings...

Is it as hot where you are as it is here in the stinkin', sweaty, humid beautiful southern US? If you walk outside after around 10am it feels like sticking your head in an oven. Seriously. I prefer warm weather to cold, but a nice comfortable spring would have been nice.

Since I last visited this spot, there have been changes. Large and small. I've done some sewing, mostly skirts for Bayleigh. Talk about your instant gratification. I made three in one day. In a matter of a couple of hours. No pictures, sorry. I had some computer issues, as in both my laptop and desktop decided to die within days of each other. Nice.

I do have pictures of our little garden. We did two beds this year instead of one.

 We should be able to have a 'mater sandwich in a few days. Yum!

 Bayleigh and I love to go out every day and see what's growing.

She got a trampoline for her birthday. It's right beside the garden and at least once a day she jumps and I pull weeds.

We've been blowing bubbles again this year. I don't know who loves it more, me or her. Or is it she or I?

Bayleigh got a tattoo. Yea we went to Myrtle Beach for bike week and she got her first tat.

I kid! We didn't really go to bike week and she didn't get a tattoo. Not a real one anyway. But she has temporary ink all over. On her arm, on her leg, on her side. It isn't pretty at church I tell ya, but she loves them. She wants to be like her mommy. That's so funny to me. Growing up, that's not something I ever heard a kid say. I want a tattoo, like my mommy. Times they are a changin'. Alyssa only has one, by the way. I think that may have sounded like Bayleigh wanted to be covered in tattoos, like her mommy. Not covered, just one.

I've seen some really interesting ones on pinterest and have even given thought to getting one. I think I'm too old for that though. Too old and not nearly cool enough. I'd want something small but meaningful. Alyssa wants us to go together and get one. We'll see. What are your thoughts on tattooed grannies?

Speaking of pinterest, are you pinning? I'm so addicted. That's probably part of the reason I've not posted in a while. Most of my computer time is spent on Pinterest. I think I should be sufficiently inspired enough to keep me busy for the next six years. If only I could stop pinning and start doing.

On the topic of doing... don't you love how I flow from topic to topic? Mitch, Alyssa and I have a big project ahead of us.

 

Alyssa and Bayleigh will be moving back home. We are going to convert our unfinished bonus room above the garage into an attic apartment. It will be almost entirely DIY. We will probably have to get some professional help with a few things like electrical and maybe building the stairs. Right now we just have fold down attic stairs.

We are thinking of starting a separate blog with updates about the progress of our tiny budget reno. Are you interested in following along? We'd love to hear suggestions about making the most of a small space. It's 11' x 22'. We aren't sure yet if everything will be upstairs or if we will close off part of the garage as well. If you've done anything like this and have words of wisdom, we'd love your input.

 

This Boy

  


This blue eyed boy.

He was home for the weekend. After he left I noticed that he left his wet towels and dirty clothes on the bathroom floor. I'll be honest, I was annoyed. For about one second.

One second was all it took for me to thank God for those towels on the floor. Those towels and the two hospital gowns.

This handsome blued eyed boy came home wearing a couple of snazzy hospital gowns Saturday night, because they cut his clothes off in the emergency room.

 

He takes after his mom and doesn't like getting his picture taken.

He does like riding his dirt bike. That's what he was doing Saturday afternoon. He doesn't remember how he ended up off his dirtbike and on the ground.

Thank God our neighbors saw it happen and called 911 before calling us to let us know our son was lying in a field. They stayed with him and kept him still until we arrived. 

Let me tell you, watching your son be put on a backboard and placed in an ambulance is not something you ever want to experience.

After being thoroughly scanned and x-rayed, they determined he had a concussion and a bruised kidney.

It could have been so much worse. I can't even let my mind go there. I just sit here tonight and thank God for those wet clothes on the floor and for that boy who left them there.

 

At least she looked angelic

Bayleigh and Mrs. Jill

A week before our church's Christmas program I was asked to make costumes for the three littlest angels, Bayliegh included. Needed were three dresses, three halos and one set of wings. The dresses and halos were easy, but the wings gave me a bit of an unexpected fit. When we had a week to play with Alyssa got online to find a set we could buy. Oh no, there is no need to buy, even if they are only five dollars a set. No, they will be easy to make. I was so sure they would be so easy, I didn't stress at all. Just use one of the sets we have as a guide, bend a coat hanger, cover it with white tights or pantyhose, add some glittery accents and done. No prob. You know where this is going, right? To make a very long story short, after a few failed attempts for various reasons, on Sunday afternoon, I still had no wings. In a panic I grabbed a set of pink fairy wings off the shelf at the Dollar General with no idea how I would make them work.  I rushed home and painted them white with acrylic craft paint. I'm sure you can imagine how that worked out. Not too cute and still pinkish. I grabbed a can of white spray paint and saturated them, hung them outside to dry and prayed. Just as I was beginning to think I was going to have to cut a set out of cardboard Alyssa came to the rescue. She remembered an old costume hanging in her closet. Attached to the hem was a big white feather boa. She said, cut this off and glue it onto the white spray painted wings. Oh yea, I can do that. I can glue like nobodies business. With minutes to go, I emerged from the craft room with a beautiful set of angel wings. So beautiful we worried that it may seem I was playing favorites by making Bayleigh a prettier set than the other angels. Of course that wasn't the case. Here she was being angelic in the vestibule of the church. It went downhill from there. As time drew near for her to walk down the isle of the church with the five other angels, she began to protest. She wanted Nana to hold her. OK fine, I'll walk down with you, I can carry you and  I'll even sit with you in the choir loft. As the doors opened the tears turned to sobs, the further down the isle we went the louder the crying. The angels were to walk, two by two, down the isle, step onto the stage and enter the choir loft from either side. As we approached the stage the crying and wailing had turned to screams.  I stepped onto the stage and didn't even bother going into the choir loft. There was no way I was going to sit up there with this wailing child.  I  walked right off the side and tried to clam her.  Her mommy came over and retrieved her, since between the wails she could hear I want my mommy. Even after being placed in her mommy's arms, she continued the crying, only now she's calling for nana. Unable to console her, Alyssa took her out of the sanctuary and waited in the fellowship hall for the program to end. Her big stage debut was over. Oh well, she sure did look pretty. Maybe next year.

 

 

I'm getting a little nervous about my party planned for Sunday. What if no one shows?  I can see myself like the geeky teen, who invited all the cool kids to her birthday party. You know the scene, the poor geeky kid is eating chips and sipping punch by the lonely food table at midnight, because no one showed up for her party. I hope you'll show up and bring a friend with your cool projects made using a Silhouette or Cricut. Sunday beginning at 8pm.  I even made a little button you can take if you like buttons. The button and code are over there on the right.

 

Bubble Therapy

   

Every day, we've been blowing bubbles.

 

I love that face. Oh, that dirty little face.

Thinking some deep thoughts over bubbles...

 

 

She's getting pretty good at it.

Bubbles and Bayleigh,

have a way of making everything better.

A letter to my girl

 
My first born, my girl, my sweetie. There aren't enough names, titles to fully express what you mean to me. How important you are to me. How thankful I am to God for letting me be your Mom.

You were a happy baby. A smiling sweet, curious, smart girl. Such an easy baby, except for the fact that you were a very, very slow eater and you demanded your formula be warm. Night feedings involved at least one trip to re-warm the bottle before you would finish.

You were a delightful, loving child. A little actress and performer from early on. It wasn't enough for you to sit and watch a movie. You had to watch in full costume.

You were such a good student and just an all around good kid, you made being a mom easy and a pleasure.  Transitioning to the role of mom of a college kid, not quite as easy.  I was so lost at first and shed many tears, but like any painful transition, it got easier with time. 

Then it happened. The need to break away, to find your self, to be your own person struck you like hurricane force winds. You weren't sure what you wanted to do with yourself but you were sure the only way you could find out was to be away from us. We wanted to love and protect you but you only felt suffocated.  I'm not sure how the best way would have been to navigate through that time. As parents our job from the beginning is to love and protect. As a young adult instinct tells you you don't need protecting. You need to spread your wings and fly. What happens when it seems like your wings aren't quite ready or that the winds are too dangerous for you to fly safely? It was a tough time, wasn't it? There were stumbles and tears, but fly you did.

 

I'm so very proud of the woman you've become. You are so loving and generous, kindhearted and understanding and above all, you are a wonderful mommy. 

I'm proud to call you daughter, my sunshine, my friend.

Saying goodbye is never easy

In the past year, we've said goodbye to three four-legged members of our family. Gracie died last May, very unexpectedly. She was ten years old.  She died in my arms and took a little piece of my heart with her. 

Last month we made the very difficult decision that life was just too hard for our Angel. She was nearly sixteen, blind, nearly deaf and very, very feeble. Arthritis made it difficult to walk. I hoped she would peacefully go in her sleep, but I came to the realization that keeping her alive was more for my well-being than hers. Life had no joy for her anymore. I  tearfully had to face the truth.

 

Then a couple of nights ago, our little Lucky man was hit by a car. He was only three years old. I'm just heartbroken that he died such a violent death. Alone. I miss the little guy so much. Every time I sit in this chair I still expect to hear his little paws running my way to snuggle up next to me. When I lay down at night I wait to hear him jumping on the side of the bed, ready to be helped up. I know the hurt will lessen and seeing his little face in pictures will bring about a smile instead of tears. I'm just not there yet. 

 

That's a quart sized can of paint- he was such a tiny baby.

 

Each of these creatures came into our lives and made themselves at home in our hearts. They had distinct personalities and quirky little qualities that made them special and lovable. I miss them so, and am so glad to have shared my home and heart with them if only for a short time.

In the span of a year, we've gone from a four dog family to just one. I loved each of them as if they were a child and my heart is surely a lot fuller because of the love and joy they brought to my life. Toby will certainly be overprotected, but he doesn't mind the extra doting and attention, one bit.

 

Man, this was a hard post to write! Looking at all those old pictures was heartbreaking. I really, really miss my sweet wet nosed babies. Sniff, sniff...

My favorite gifts...

Jewelry? Nope.  Perfume? Not that either. Shoes? Designer clothes? How about a shopping spree at the mall? Nope, nope and nope. On second thought, that shopping spree would be pretty sweet if the mall had just the right stores. The best gifts my husband gives to me are the gifts of his time and talent. 

I'd rather have him for the day armed with his power tools than almost anything that could be wrapped in a box. 

Making it all the more precious is the fact that I know what he's giving is out of love, and not necessarily mutual desire. It never entered his mind that our cabinets needed some crown molding. They were perfectly fine just the way they were. Why in the world would he waste a day off work cutting and nailing molding to cabinets that look fine the way they are? Mostly to shut up my nagging I'm sure, but also because he loves me. 

 

Nearing the end of this already long day of installing molding, I sat at the bar and pondered how to go about suggesting one more project while he had the tools out. How to word it so it didn't seem as though I were nagging. How to make him want to do it and not feel pressured into doing it to shut me up, even though I know, down deep, he'd be doing it to shut me up already! So I just go for it.

Me:  Remember the picture I showed you, the one where the girl made a cover for her range hood? Do you think while you've got the tools out, that would be something you could do? You know, since I'm going to be painting the trim and stuff. If it's something you think you could do, it would be good to go ahead and do it now, since you've got all the tools out now and I've got to paint anyway.... I can show you the picture again if you want....

Well,  it must have been my lucky day, because not only did I get the gift of crown molding, he put a great big fancy bow on the box.

 

For comparison, here are the cabinets before the molding and with ugly black metal range hood.

 And after:

Lest you think I sit by and give orders while Mitch does all the work.

As you can see, Bayleigh tried to get in on the action.

 

 

I love hugs

And that's exactly what it felt like, reading all your comments on the last post- like a bunch of warm, caring hugs. For that I thank you so much! You guys get it. I knew you did, I just hoped that in sharing all the joys being a nana brings to me, I had not inadvertently led anyone to believe that Bayleigh does not have loving caring parents.  We just happen to be a family who feels like you can never have too many people to love and nurture you and the fact that I am in a position to help my daughter out with childcare while she finishes school and can selfishly spoil my granddaughter in the process is just a double bonus.

Comments from strangers who can't be responded to shouldn't bother me, but...

they do.  It's only happened a couple of times, the folks who take the time to comment here are always kind and thoughtful. Really, I feel like we are all friends, and sometimes even friends who mean well can be hurtful when they don't think before they speak. I'm hoping that was the case with the comment that is bothering me, even though I keep telling myself not to worry about it.  I deleted it right away. Right after I tried to respond by email, but my email came back undeliverable. I deleted it because I felt it would be hurtful to Alyssa. My first reaction was to respond politely to the commenter, delete the comment and forget about it.  Then my email came back, leaving my polite response unheard, or unread in this case.

The comment was on my last post, the one about Bayleigh's birthday party.

                            Does her mom do anything for her? Does she live with you?

I'm sure it's just the bluntness of the wording that caught me off guard and the fact that long before I was a doting nana, I was a doting mama, who loves her daughter very much. This is the response I tried to send- 

Bayleigh lives with her mom and dad. I care for her during the day, while her mom is in nursing school. Her mom does a wonderful job of caring for her, but she isn't the author of my blog. I write about things from my perspective.

I plan to delete your comment. I'm hoping you meant no harm by it, but I know the wording would be hurtful to Alyssa and she reads my blog regularly.

I fully realize that I don't owe any explanations to anyone about the content I choose to write about on my blog or the photos I choose to share, but just in case anyone else has wondered the same thing, I'd like to clear things up. Bayleigh lives with her mom and dad. We are a very close family and we live in close proximity so we spend a lot of time together.  I realize that I've had little to talk about on the blog other than Bayleigh since she was born, but this blog originated as a craft blog. A place to share a little of this and that, but mostly my creative ventures. Before Bayleigh was born, I had a lot of spare time that I spent sewing and spray painting and moving furniture about, now that she's around, my spare time is spent differently. Since I don't have as much sewing to write about, when I take the time to write a blog post, there's a pretty good chance she will somehow be involved. So that's what you see here, photos and snippets of my life that I choose to share. If it were Alyssa's blog, she may write about the struggles of caring for a child while attending nursing school full time. Only she could tell you what it's like for her to be a young wife and mom, to have tests and clinicals to study for, dinner to cook,  a house to clean. Hers is a story very much like many others, but it's hers and not mine to tell, so I share photos of my beautiful granddaughter and things she's done to brigten my day. 

Bayleigh with her daddy at her party
 

and with her mama.


 

The New, The Proud...

Is that a handsome guy, or what? 

For some reason I'm having a really difficult time writing about this. The words just are not flowing. Perhaps it's because I know they are important  words to write.  I want to share our boot camp experience in a way that my be helpful to others going through it,  and not be all wordy and boring. For now I'll share some photos and a few words. Maybe the right words will come later.

Packed and eager to leave the place that had been home sweet home for 13 weeks.

Catching up with Dad on family day.

Relaxing a little for the first time in a long time.

After seeing this picture, Casey was really surprised that he was taller than this particular Drill Instructor. He said "I was sure he was about six foot four." I guess his attitude and demeanor made him seem much larger (to the recruits) than he actually was.

He wrote home with instructions to bring a cooler full of Mountain Dew.

Standing so tall and proud. He never used to stand up straight.

Graduation Day

I (machine) embroidered tees and sweat shirts for us all to wear.

Sister and brother.