8 posts tagged “scrap”
Show us peace.
This picture was taken the day Allie was born. This was the first moment after her birth that I wasn't worrying about visiting family, breastfeeding correctly, wondering where that headful of dark hair came from, or stressing about whether or not I was cut out for this whole "Mom" gig. This was the first time that we just checked each other out and decided we like each other just fine, and would go ahead and keep each other, thank you very much. She was so alert and observant right away, and it hasn't let up in the past 5 years.
Went to visit the older sister for Labor Day. Between the two of us, we have six kids. Which sounds kind of scary, but in reality they all entertained each other for the entire weekend, so I was able to hang out with my sister and obsess over her color wheel. (Sorry about that.) The kids were pretty much glued to the trampoline, and I took enough Rescue Remedy that I wasn't envisioning broken necks and/or retracing my intricately planned triage steps every 3 seconds...
I haven't taken it since being laid off, because really... at what do I need to be efficient? Reading? Knitting? Eating cookie dough? I've clearly managed all of those. But I realized that I am moving in two weeks and could use some of that elusive focus to help me start packing, so I dusted off the prescription bottle and set off in hopes of productivity.
Erm, well, I was productive. But more in like a Photoshop way than a useful productive way. Oh well. I haven't done any pages for the girls in a long time and it felt good to get these done. Plus I designed FOUR different birth announcments to give my sister options from which to choose. (Don't mind my awkward grammar. I'm having a preposition problem lately. Winston Churchill is surely shuddering in his grave.)
The fruits of my labor are as follows.
If there were ever possibly any remote sliver of doubt that Allie is my exact clone, it was eradicated this weekend when she dismissed the cheer choreography and made up her own little dance in front of the crowd. Such a little performer. No idea where she gets it from ;)
When I dropped you off at cheer clinic, I was worried you would be too shy to enjoy yourself. You show signs of sharing my social anxiety when around large groups so I stayed for a bit, watching from the stands until you were acclimated enough for me to feel comfortable leaving. When I returned 3 hours later, I could see you had finally found your groove some new friends, and a comfort level that I know was welcome after your initial reservations. The cheerleaders split the whole class into groups to put on an exhibition for the parents. I was excited for you to have the chance to perform. You perform non-stop at home; songs, dances, plays, stories. But true to form, you get shy when doing so in front of anyone other than me and Avery. I recognize the performer’s heart in you and had hoped you would find it that day. Find it you did. When reciting back the cheers, you had the words down, but not all of the moves. You clapped to your own beat, and stamped a foot purposefully when in doubt. When it came time for the dance demonstration however, all bets were off. The music started, the others began a choreographed cheerleader style routine, and you - front and center -- felt moved another way by the beat and followed that rhythm instead. You threw your hands up, wiggled your bootie, threw in a couple of high kicks, and wiggled your bootie some more. I watched ypu proudly, laughing loudly at your antics, and then realized that most of the other parents were lauging along as well. You put on quite the show and everyone enjoyed it greatly. I’ve always known you would march to the beat of your own drum, but it made me extra proud to see you share that beat with the world. Keep it up girlfriend. It will serve you well.
-May 2007
I missed my camera so much while it went on vacation without me, that nothing was safe from my photographic mania once I got it back. Proving that anything can be art, I journaled about my shampoo collection. (An easier to read transcript is below the photo.)
I‘m sort of a shampoo junkie. In another life, or at least with another budget, I might turn my unhealthy retail therapy towards the shoe department. But for now, it’s my shower that is cluttered and not my closet. I’m aware that it’s an issue, and immediately proclaim my awareness everytime an eyebrow is raised when someone stumbles across my collection. I used to rationalize it by explaining that it’s healthier for one’s hair to alternate shampoos and conditioners every week. But I know that’s kind of bs. Sometimes, I just need a little something to make me feel pretty, and the $7 to $15 a new haircare combo will set me back seems a reasonable amount to spend for a little pick me up. Somewhere in my mind, I wonder if maybe ylang-ylang is the secret to happiness that I’ve been lacking. Or maybe if my head smelled of peppermint, things would go a little more smoothly. The meaning of life...it’s not 42, it’s jojoba.
On a (seemingly) unrelated note, I’m also a bit of a hypochondriac. When I’m fatigued and have a sore throat, my brain skips straight over the possible strep or mono diagnoses and heads straight for West Nile Virus. Within 1 hour of finding a breast lump earlier this year, I’d determined that my insurance would cover a double mastectomy and found a website selling wigs. You know, for the chemo I’d be getting next week. I’m obviously very glad that my mammogram was clear, but in the 2 weeks it took for my OB/GYN to arrange the test, I probably checked the lump 20 times a day. Even at work, in the bathroom of course.
I don’t want to be a shallow consumerist type person. Nor do I want to have a terminal illness. In both cases, I’ve determined that all I really want is an easy fix or a definitive answer. I want a conditioner that will make me feel pretty and outgoing. Shiny hair might just make me a shiny person and I’ll breeze through life making friends left and right. And/or I want a clinical reason for why I feel the way I do. Maybe if something were really wrong, then I could have a surgery, take a pill, excise and eliminate all that is wrong with my life, and things would be better. Maybe I’m exhausted, moody, and losing weight because I’m ill. Maybe there is a cure for it all and I just haven’t found it.
Or maybe I’m just a silly girl who likes her hair to smell good and I need to pry my over-active imagination away from my tattered and ear-marked Merck Manual. That’s the answer I’m going with and it’s the most likely one. But you can’t ever accuse me of underanalyzing anything. Not even my shower is safe. Oh, by the way. I cleaned out my shower tonight. I was ruthless. I’m down to only 6 shampoo combos. It’s a start. -April 2007
I've been oh so negligent of my scrapping duties lately. I think it's because I've been blocked on traditional methods. So I just gave up and went "Ashley Style". Voila.
Journaling reads:
Number 8,498 on the list of how you girls are my exact clones: Manic love for roly-polies. We were in the middle of the Mercer Arboretum, surrounded by beautiful flowers, friendly butterflies, and endangered species of plants - which I was certain you would try to pick and/or trample if given a chance. Nothing quite held your interst as much as the plight of this particular insect. Or arthropod. Or whatever it is - it’s a bug, no matter what the phylum. But you two were insistent that he climb on a leaf, enjoy a brief respite in your palm, and be christened “Furmpa”. Avery dictated the name in her usual manner of stringing together random syllables and declaring them a name the instant they fall out of her mouth. Furmpa enjoyed his visit and I was (eventually) able to find a nice flower bed near a water source for him to call home. -- March, 2007
April can probably now set her watch by the sound of her phone ringing. I got in this nasty habit of calling her everyday when I left work. 5:00pm here in Texas was 3:00pm her time, and she even answers the phone sometimes “Is it three o’clock already?” I’m one of those people who has a hard time being in my car and not talking on the phone. (Yes, I’m that person. Go ahead and curse me now.) I used to call Mom whenever I was bored. It wasn’t uncommon for us to talk five or more times a day. My sister called her that often too. When Mom had her aneurysm, that was the trigger that made it more real. I’d pick up my phone and press the number 4, which would speed dial Mom’s cell phone. It usually took me that long to remember that she was laying in ICU at LSU Medical Center, and I couldn’t tell her all about my stressful day, what funny things had happened, or just say hi. April has always served as my surrogate big sister, and once I couldn’t talk to my mom everyday, she also filled that role for me. There for awhile I probably called her 5 times a week. Sometimes we’d talk for nearly an hour. Sometimes just a few minutes. But knowing there was someone in the world I could call and talk about nothing with, took away that emptiness left when I lost Mom’s voice. I’m trying to get much better about not calling her. I know she is busy with those sweet kids, those amazing pages, and the inspiring photography. But it’s just an addiction I can’t shake. For some people, the smell of apple pie or the sound of a lullabye is soothing. For me, it’s the sound of April unloading her dishwasher, while Sophie asks if it’s Cinderella on the line and Aiden wrestles with the cat in the background. Even though we’re two time zones away, I know I can always pick up the phone and feel like I’m at home.
My mom is sick today and can't watch the girls. My sister isn't answering her phone. I can't miss work, so the girls are with me today, coloring on my dry erase board, playing with post it notes, and charming everyone who walks by my office. Unfortunately, Allie was getting bored, and her idea of "charming" my co-workers is telling them "My panties stick to my bagina sometimes," so I had to think of something a little better to entertain them with.
Kiddley has some great ideas for activities for kids of all ages. I tracked down these paper doll templates and set to print them out. Then I realized that I didn't have enough crayons and markers for them to adequately decorate them. So I fired up my Photoshop, perused my ridiculous collection of Jen Wilson digital scrapbooking kits, and created a coordinating wardrobe for the dollies with papers from Nostalgia #6. The girls are probably more excited about cutting things, but they are quiet and entertained, and that is a GOOD thing.
