Thanks-full.

My D-Hubby and I were going over finances yesterday.

Yeeee-uck.

We live very frugally. Our rent is relatively cheap. We (usually) stick to our budget. We have the cheapest cell phone plan you can get. If we ever eat out, it's off the value menu at the nearest fast food restaurant (save on gas, too, y'know) and it's not that often. We avoid unnecessary debt like the plague.
We live off student loans, babysitting, and 2 early-morning paper routes.

Oh and love; we live off love, too. (Buys a lot of groceries, that stuff...)

So...we added and added again to somehow make the numbers say something different this time around. It was looking very, very bleak...like, my-grocery-shopping-list-is-becoming-my-Christmas-wish-list bleak.....and not-going-to-be-able-to-go-home-for-Christmas bleak..... Going into debt for gas to get to family and back would not be the wisest move ever made. Not to mention Christmas presents. Our presence would have had to do, IF we were even able to come.

All this naturally made a great atmosphere in our house for a little bit.
Stress over finances + cranky baby with a cold = the perfect storm.

We were brainstorming things we could do to make enough to cover the demands from "The Man" for our money while I sat teary-eyed over not being able to visit family for Christmas.
While we were discussing what we could sell, who could work when, and how much we could get for Baby-Rae (kidding!), Darren was inspired to look over student loan stubs again; when we had calculated everything at the beginning of the semester, we had enough to cover our needs. Sure enough, as he looked through everything they said we should get and everything we had gotten, there was a discrepancy. Long story short, he called about it...and we will still be receiving thousands of dollars we hadn't counted on, due to a lost cheque.

I felt really, really grateful right then.
I felt grateful to a Heavenly Father who asks us to put Him first so He can bless us. And how he keeps His end of the deal without fail.
I felt grateful that Renae would get to see both sets of grandparents at Christmas time, one set who hasn't seen her since the summer.
And I felt grateful for moments that teach me not to lose faith, that everything will work out the way that it should if we're doing our part.

Lotsa lotsa thank-You's in order.

Toddlers as a Microscope.

I babysit a little 16-month-old bundle of toddler every now and then.
She's cute.
She's little.
She's quick.

I've worked with children for most of my working-life: I had lots of opportunities through practicums and assignments for school as I worked toward my Bachelor's in Elementary Education...and I worked part-time at daycares and after-school cares the whole way through. I thought I'd developed a fair bit of patience with kids, especially because some of those experiences were with some kids with extremely destructive behaviours. I think I was bordering on cocky.

Well, I've realized I actually have NO patience. Or at least a LOT less than I originally thought.

I've realized this gradually as I've chased this perfectly innocent, but perfectly busy toddler around my teeny not-really-baby-proofed apartment, in between tending to the needs of an increasingly loud little 4-and-a-half month old baby. It all came to a head as I turned around in the middle of unloading the dishwasher to find the little squirt licking as many clean spoons as she could before I leapt back over to the dishwasher. Then, just right exasperated, I exclaimed "What are you trying to do, kid!? Show me how imperfect I am!!??"

She cocked her head a little...and said , "hi."
Then she leaned her head against my leg and gave me a few little pats on the calf as if to say, "it's okay."

I'm pretty sure this little toddler was sent to magnify just a few of the many weaknesses I still need to keep working on, so I couldn't claim blissful ignorance any longer.

...But I guess I don't mind.

Love Piano.

My D-Hubby found this beautiful beast of a piano for free.

He and a few very helpful friends moved the thing into our apartment this morning, and I haven't been able to keep my hands off those chipped keys since.

It's missing a couple ivories. It's been around at least 50 years and a couple generations of kids have learned how to play on its surface.

It's seen a lot better days.

But it's got a story.

And I'm in love.

I think I'll name him Howie.

How Do I Love Thee? Um, Not-so-perfectly.

I had an interesting day yesterday that I'm still thinking about.

I bought an entirely hideous, almost-free lamp off Kijiji with the intention of making it my new project. I asked my hubby to go pick it up for me because I told the lady I was coming pronto and Baby Rae was going to wake up soon and she would be hungry. I happen to be her source of food. Him getting the lamp was obviously the most logical solution. Did I mention he had just gotten back from picking up some storage shelves for us?

He said no.

I even tried begging with big puppy dog eyes and a hug...

Didn't work.
Oh, and the car needs gas...will you fill it up while you're out? He says.

So I did what any normal wife would do (right...?):
I sulked.

Baby Rae woke up just then so I could feed her first...then go run out and get the lamp myself. I sulked to the car. I sulked all the way there. I was disappointed and grumpy that my hubby wouldn't do something extra-nice for me. I started fuming to myself about how unkind, how unfair that was, 'after all I do for him'...how I do this, and that, and blah, blah, blah...and on and on my list went. Before long, I had wound this small incident into a (completely untrue) representation of our relationship, with me cast as the martyr: self-sacrificing and unappreciated.

...Gag.

And all because he didn't want to go pick up a stinkin' lamp for me.

Even while it was all unraveling in my psyche, I knew at the back of my mind that this was all rather melodramatic. Which it was. Entirely. Utterly. Completely, even.

So. Once I had picked up the lamp and was on my way back home, I was able to think it through a little better.

I needed help getting out of pity-party mode...so I sent a silent plea heavenward with a request for help to think clearly, for-goodness-sake. I continued my prayer aloud as I drove alone down a busy street.
What I would have given to know what others were thinking as they saw me visibly engaged in an apparently one-sided conversation. Ha.

My prayer went something like this:

"Heavenly Father...I am being a big baby right now.
And I feel silly coming to thee, whining about someone not appreciating me this one small time...knowing how Thou experiences that times a billion ALL the time. I don't want to complain and whine about it. I just need help being a little more like thee. I really need to love D-Hubby better. It's not really about whether it's fair or not, is it? It's about how I react when it isn't. I'm not doing so hot there. I'm kind of having a temper tantrum, actually. I do love serving him and going the extra mile for him...but kind of lose my enthusiasm for it when I don't feel like I'm getting that back. But who would know what that feels like better than thee?..So..thanks for that, for loving me so perfectly even when I don't appreciate it. Or deserve it. Please help me to love D-Hubby like that...to love and serve him when it's hard to do."

And I felt heard.
I felt comforted.
I felt...loved.

I've decided that it's not easy being a wifey. And it's especially hard to be the perfect wifey that I've always wanted to be. For all my whining and wailing, I wasn't remembering how he was watching the baby right now. Or that he had just gotten back from moving a couple storage shelves for us. Or all the ba-zillion times he has done extra-nice things for me. It doesn't matter if, for some strange reason, I'm under the high-and-mighty assumption that they don't "add up"...because that's not what love is about...it's not about keeping score. It's about loving someone no matter what.
And I think that if I really want to learn to love like that, then I'd better be prepared to handle myself a little better when given the opportunity to learn how: the opportunity to love when it's hard to do.

I'm really grateful for such a great hubby, in case that message somehow got lost along the way. I'm so stinkin' lucky to have him, it's ridiculous.

And I'm especially glad he loves me.
He even loves me when I sulk about having to go pick up an ugly lamp off of Kijiji all by myself.

Now that's impressive.

Friday Night Poetry.

Little Things

I looked at you
all of the sudden
you blew your bubbles

you smiled so proud.

I laughed.
and stirred the salad with my urge
to squish you against my chest.
you're... so...

I got dinner on the table
and you found your feet

your bubbles and your feet
my salad beside the meat

we smile so proud.

Photo Evidence...

Remember this dress?

Totally made it.

And here's my proof:

Ta-daa!

And I think my Baby Rae's starting to teethe.
Drool-a-rama.
And chewing on things like crazy.
At 4 months...is that normal?

Obsession.

I think these craft blogs I've discovered are going to be the death of me.


All I can think about is what craft I want to do next.

I think about what I can sew...what I can cover with scrapbooking paper and modge podge...what junk I can turn into a masterpiece. Nothing is safe. And every spare minute I can afford, I'm bent over the kitchen table (which has become my creative lair...) acting like the next... (...um...insert name of famous sewer/crafter/scrapbooker here. Because I don't know any).

It happens to me all the time (Remember how photography consumed me but a month ago?).
Maybe I have a naturally obsessive personality.
(er...)

Scratch that.

I'm calling it passion. As in, I get passionate about new things that are exciting and creative and challenging. The sparkle of it all reaches a rolling boil inside of me until it finally settles to a comfortable, sustainable simmer...having changed me...because I've made it a part of me: a part of what I do, what I like, what I've experienced, what I've tried, what I've tackled.

Oh, yeeeeah.

So last night I went to see Julie & Julia.
It's a show about cooking.

Uh oh.

I want...

to try to make:
these shoes
and
this dress.

Wish me luck.
I'll post the results if I haven't accidentally sewn anything to my hand or modge-podged anything to my forehead.

Or maybe I will post the results if that happens. Might be worth seeing.