Today was cold and rainy. We were stuck at home because Dom took the car in to get it inspected and have the oil changed.
I was torn between baking muffins and sewing but opted for the latter as I can sew and sit while baking would require me to be on my feet and my back was hurting and I still have to roast the chicken for dinner later. So to the sewing room I went to whip up a scrappy pillow for Bella. It occurred to me last night as bedtime arrived and I hadn’t remembered to wash the pillow that got soaked when she had an accident at nap time it occurred to me that having two pillows would be a good thing. She used to have another pillow but Sophie’s been using it. I grabbed it from the crib, hoping Sophie wouldn’t notice; but she did. She didn’t scream too much but she wasn’t happy about giving it up for her sister. So anyway today I decided to make a backup pillow and Bella requested that it be purple.
Trying to entertain two wee ones while sewing. It meant at one point reading Goldilocks and the Three Bears to Bella with a break at the end of every page to redirect Sophie to another activity. Sometimes singing songs (She loves the ups and downs in The Grand Old Duke of York) and getting snacks. Bella was sometimes helpful in entertaining Sophie and sometimes had to be taught lessons in waiting patiently and in being helpful. Still by lunch time I had a back and a front to the pillow ready to be stitched together. Perhaps I was a bit too into the scrappiness. had I opted for something simpler it would have come together faster; but I tend to get a little unreasonable when sewing.
One near-disaster befell: Sophie pulled out a huge hank of Bella’s hair. Bella screamed and I jumped down to intervene and reprimand Sophie. She’s been getting pretty physical with Bella lately, pushing and shoving and throwing things. But surprisingly after the initial wail Bella calmed down almost at once and even kind of laughed about it with me. “Is that my hair?” she asked. “Yes, that’s your hair,” I half laughed finally seeing a bit of humor in the situation. She giggled a little and then as I sat there staring at the clump of hair in my hand, Bella reached over and took it matter-of-factly and offered to put it into the trash for me.
Dom messaged me and told me that somehow the RMV had dropped our registration and showed that our plates had been turned in. Some clerical error, a RMV employee made a typo and entered the wrong plate number. So Dom spent the afternoon sorting out the mess. This involved calling our insurance agent and then the guys from the shop driving the plates up to Dom at work (I love these guys, they are my heroes. It probably doesn’t hurt that the shop owner knows and esteems Dom’s brother). Dom picked up some necessary form our agent forwarded to a local office then spent the afternoon at the RMV, waiting for more than an hour. He finally sorted out the mess and amazingly got out of there without having to pay to get new plates. (Thank goodness he listened to our agent instead of the local guy from whom he got the form, who told him to just cough up the $40 for new plates. And by the way charged him $20 for what our agent said he should have done for free as a courtesy.) So now the car is fine and dandy. I’m just glad our inspection ran out this month. Had Dom not taken the car in I could have been driving for months without knowing my car was not registered. Just imagine if I’d been pulled over, they’d have towed the car and left me stranded on the side of the road with the kids.
Anyway, the evening was crazy. I woke Sophie from her nap as I was cooking dinner and she was cranky all evening until after dinner when I put her into the bath. Then she was in heaven. Oh I am tired and need to sleep. Dom didn’t get home till late and dealing with two cranky children for two hours on my own while cooking dinner was not easy. Especially since I”d slotted roast chicken with roasted vegetables for dinner and that is not something one can do while holding a screaming baby.
I’ve got pictures of Bella’s new pillow and will post them tomorrow when I have more energy. And I’ve still got to get the video of Bella leading Sophie about by the hand. Too cute. Enough to make up for the most cranky of days.
I notice I’ve started to blog daily journal type entries of what’s going on. I don’t know why but I just feel a need to chronicle our days. Must be some by product of late pregnancy but I can’t figure out the connection except that maybe I’m looking forward to when the entire rhythm and mood of our days will radically shift as we incorporate a whole new person into this crazy mixed up life?
I tend to fall between the packrat and the declutterer. There are things I simply cannot get rid of and save but then there can be this strong compulsion in me to have control over a room and do what I can to do so. I’m torn between the sentimentality and my inability to deal with chaos and become forced to balance the two. I know I’ve been nesting like crazy for a while now myself though my back and energy levels can limit just how much I can do each day.
My only advice would be to consider just how sentimental an object makes you. Some things have a greater sentimental value than others. I think it is discerning just which are most valuable that can make it easier to let go of the less valuable. I also understand how pregnancy hormones can make anything like this harder as emotions can be harder to deal with. I had a nice little hormonal break down on Tuesday but it has been nice to have gotten it out of my system. With that thought, maybe things you think you maybe should get rid of but can’t bring yourself to doing it now you could just set aside until after Benedict makes his appearance your hormones are not so influential and then reconsider them? Just an idea.
I’m a Packrat, but, then, I come from a long line of Packrats. My cedar chest is stuffed with sentimental stuff—mostly baby & toddler clothes.
I had to laugh about the bath toys. I still have a bunch under the bathroom sink, even though the “baby” is 15-1/2 and no one has taken a bath in years, except the dog.
But when I see the sharks and the whales and the turtles and the boats I remember fun times in the tub, the wading pool in the backyard, or the community pool. It’s better than having pictures—the object brings back those vivid memories, not only for me but for the children.
We have a small house, too. Bunk beds are a wonderful invention.
I have a small house, but I am not a packrat, at least with most things (books are our—my husband’s more than my—downfall). I do think stopping to think about the objects is a big mistake. One trick might be to put things aside in a box or bag you can’t see into and leave it for a few weeks. If you later can’t remember what you put in there, out it goes. (I would almost certainly not remember and out it would go.)
I’m a packrat, too, and I live in a small apartment. I find that when I manage to do some decluttering, my head is clearer and I can focus more. My problem is that I don’t keep up with it and..well…you know what happens. It all comes back and I get overwhelmed again. Tried the Fly Lady, too; she made me dizzy just reading the welcome page. If I had daily email reminders from her, it would make me insane. And my shoes come off the minute I get home! I just hate to clean and when I vacuum, it hurts my back. I guess we just have to do what we have to do. And the parting of stuff? Five years after my mother died, I still have some of her stuff in storage (although I’ve pared it down greatly over the years). I rarely go to the unit, yet I’m paying for it. Does it make sense? No, but we do what we have to do.