Milk Box Magic!

A couple of days ago, I decided to clean out my nightstand.  The first thing that you need to know, if you don't know it already, is that I am a pig by nature.  I'm just naturally messy.  I put things in wrong places, stupid places, and on the floor. My nightstand, that I had cleaned out not too long ago, was again a disgusting conglomeration of hair bands, jewelry, orthodontic rubberbands, tissues, receipts, money, and all manner of strange small objects.  It's an ugly nightstand to start with and it was just really embarrassing.  I've noticed that if I  organize well and use containers to keep things that I am able to actually effect change in my habits, at least for that area. So, after cleaning it out and using some little bags and containers on the inside, I decided that the open shelf on the bottom needed containers too.

 They needed to be cute, fit perfectly, and be free!  

The idea vanished as quickly as it appeared.  

Then we went to Costco, and after spending oodles of money on food, I found myself contemplating the milk boxes,and wondering if they would fit in my nightstand. 

And they did.

3 of them fit.

Perfectly!

So, instead of cleaning, which always waits for you, I spent my morning sewing covers for these milk boxes.

First I scored the tops and glued them down inside to make them stronger.

Then I traced the boxes on some fabric my Mom bought from Home Goods.  It was $3 a yard and I had started with 2 yards.  Part of it became a new cushion cover for my rocking chair.  The rest, added with some muslin and cream colored fabric I inherited from Grandma, was perfect for this project.  The only money I actually spent was for the Muslin, about 2 years ago.  I thought I wanted it for a project and later decided it was wrong. So, that was about $1 worth of fabric.  

I had no idea what I was doing and I didn't want to look up a tutorial.  

I just figured it out as I went along.

They are not perfect.  Even I can tell that. But, they turned out pretty cute, and I can live with the imperfections.  It's much cuter than a milk box!

One of a Kind Table Runner

Have you ever heard that every thought has already been thought?  Every idea has already been had?  Every story has already been told?  This is such a lie!  Every person is unique, a one of a kind story that is different than every other person.   Just like every snowflake, no two people are ever alike.  It's amazing when you think about that. There are endless possibilities of combinations of traits and experiences that make each human an individual.

What does this have to do with my post title?  Well, it has to do with sewing because sewn creations are like people or snowflakes. They can be unique creations, impossible to replicate exactly.  I have come to really enjoy the creative aspect of sewing. There is a combination of precision and free expression that comes together to make something beautiful and one of a kind. It is highly unlikely that anyone is even capable of replicating the table runner that I just made.

It was for St. Patrick's Day.  I finished it today. Oh, well. It is just green and neutrals so I can use it at other times too.  I got the idea to make a table runner because I wanted to practice making half square triangles. We've been doing a lot of them for quilt class and I stink at them.  My sister got a special ruler that makes them easier and faster so I borrowed it and concocted a plan.  I looked up an idea on the internet and I found this:


http://quilting.about.com/od/Easy-Quilts/ss/Easy-Scrap-Table-Runner-Pattern_2.htm

I didn't follow the exact directions for dimensions because I had some 7 inch pieces of fabric that I wanted to use. So, that determined the size of my squares.  I just looked at the picture and said, "I can do that."

The creativity for me came in my fabric selections.  Some of them were from 7 inch squares I won as prizes at quilt class. Some of them were from fabric I inherited from my grandmother. Some of them were fabric from the 80's and 90's that my mother in law gave me when she was cleaning out her fabric stash. One was the leftover pieces from a sheet my mom gave me that I cut up and put in a blue jean quilt. Nobody else is going to have access to those exact fabrics in that combination.  It's unique. It's different. It's one of a kind. It's weird and I didn't sew it perfectly, even though I tried. But, I like it.  I would love to make a scrappy table runner in blue.  Who wants to donate a square of blue fabric so that it can be unique?

Put the Glass Down

Life is stressful.  And lately, in my life, and the life of my family, challenges have been coming almost too fast to process.  It has taken a dedicated effort to keep our heads above water.  We aren't going through anything unique, just a lot of little things and a few big things all at the same time.

1 Broken bone

4 Broken appliances

loss of health insurance- of course on the day of the broken bone

sleepless nights

money worries

 2 surgeries

And illness, and more illness, and MORE illness.

I'm not going to type up the whole laundry list here. I'll just say that it's been a hard 6 months and it just keeps coming. The latest struggle has prompted my husband and me to aggressively pursue stress relief and relaxation concepts and techniques.  We've been doing yoga together, eating right, trying to sleep enough, listening to relaxation tracts, and talking through the things that worry us.

One of the most helpful concepts we have latched onto so far has been from a facebook post my brother made.  It was about a glass. People always focus on whether or not they see the glass as half empty or half full, but the author pointed out that it doesn't matter what is in the glass.  IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT IS IN THE GLASS!  If you hold your arm out with a glass of water, regardless of the amount, at some point your arm will collapse.  It doesn't matter if it is 2 ounces of water or a gallon.  You can't keep holding it.

You have to remember to PUT THE GLASS DOWN.

So, the water represents whatever is stressing you out.  It doesn't matter how big or small it is.  It could be your child screaming at you every single morning.  It could be your mother dying. It could be work stress. It could be health problems.  It could be money problems.  It might be something that you can solve or that will get better. It might be something that is going to continue to be a struggle.  It doesn't matter what it is.

You cannot carry it all the time. Sometimes, you have to put the glass down.  You have to give yourself permission to compartmentalize your life and allow your body a break from the stress.

This can be incredibly difficult if you are dealing with a chronic health problem.  I know. It will be 3 years for me in May - 3 years since my mouth went haywire.  I didn't know I was doing it, but now I can look back and see that, when I found ways to put the glass down for a short while, in spite of the pain, it was easier to carry the glass the rest of the time.  I didn't usually hurt when I was asleep, so during that time, I essentially put the glass down.  Even during the pain, I had to find ways to focus on other things and other people, and ignore the pain.

Putting the glass down doesn't mean avoiding responsibility or procrastinating.

It means that when you come home from work, stop thinking about it. Give yourself permission to enjoy some time off.

It means that when you have money problems, you put down the worry and enjoy playing with your children.  It doesn't change anything ,except your ability to pick the glass back up when it is time.

Bodies need sleep to continue to function.  Our minds also need a break from stress.  Nobody can function without sleep. At some point, not sleeping will literally kill a person.  So will stress.  It's bad for you.  But, you can put the glass down. Give yourself permission to relax.  It's okay. That glass will still be there -waiting for you.  And if that problem goes away, another one, or two, or fifteen, will come to replace it.  Yep.

But, it's okay, because you can put the glass down.

Really, there's more to it than that.

Your friends and family can help you carry the glasses of stress in your life.  I've said it before, but my family has been flooded with help.  I can't even start to list it all. It has been there when we needed it, in every form. Some people gave big amounts of time and energy, some did small things that meant a lot.  Every bit of it has helped us.  People want to help.  The miraculous truth is that when you help somebody else,  it is a way of putting  your own glass down for a while.

You can also let the Savior help to carry your glass. He's just waiting for you to ask.  It's hard to explain, but it's real.

So, don't forget to put the glass down.  If you only have 5 minutes, do it then.  Put it down while you shower.  Put it down at church. Put it down during your meals. Put it down while you exercise.

Put it down.

 Put it down.

 Put the glass down.

Every day.

 Then, pick it back up and carry it towards the needed destination.  You can do it, no matter how heavy the burden you can go on carrying it, if you let others help you, rely on the Savior, and remember, that when the glass gets too heavy, put it down.

Heart Pillows- Tutorial

Last year, at the beginning of February, my mom and I went to the Art Market in Sandy. It's a small boutique that is run four times a year for Valentine's, Mother's Day, Halloween, and Christmas.  While there, we saw these adorable heart pillows. They were really funky looking with old fabric patched together, ribbons, ric rac, and just whatever.  They were also $20 each.

We thought they would make a great project for Activity Days, but I was having my meeting in 3 hours and it wasn't going to work last year.  I also didn't have a sewing machine.

Fast forward to 2013. I have a sewing machine. And I planned ahead. We've had one meeting already and it will probably take one or two more for the girl's to finish, but they are going to be so cute.

Here's how to do it:

STEP 1: Choose your fabrics.  I used hand me down fabrics from my grandmother, mother in law, and some leftover pieces from my projects.  I also cut up two pairs of brown corduroy pants that had become compromised in the seat department.  The fabric is thick and wonderfully soft.

STEP 2: Cut your fabric into strips.  You can make everything the same width or use varying widths, ranging between 2 and 5 inches, or whatever makes you happy. The length will be determined by what size heart pillow you want and where you plan to use each strip.  I just cut everything about 12-15 inches and used varying widths.

STEP 3: Lay out your strips in a way that is pleasing to you.  You will need about half an inch for seams.

STEP 4: Sew the strips together. Press as you go.

STEP 4.5: If you want to add ribbon, now is the time.

STEP 5: Choose fabric for the back and cut to match.

STEP 6: Draw a heart on the wrong side of your sewn strips. You can draw freehand, or use paper or cardboard to make a template.  You decide.  It really depends on what kind of heart you want.

STEP 7: Right sides facing, pin the back and the front together.

STEP 8: Sew along the drawn line, making sure to leave an opening big enough to turn your pillow.

STEP 9: Cut away the excess fabric.  Leave about 1/4-1/2 inch seams.

STEP 10: Snip the curves.

STEP 11: Turn the pillow right side out and stuff. You can use regular stuffing, or you can stuff it with plastic grocery bags!

STEP 12:  Hand sew the opening closed.  If you want to, you can stitch all the way around to mask the opening, or just sew that part closed.

STEP 13: Go show everybody the adorable pillow you just made!

Super Pyscho Killer Power Yoga

I love yoga! Really. I love it!  It's flipping awesome! I especially love Adrienne Reed's Power Yoga.
I have 6 of her DVD's and I love them all, even if they are super pyscho killer power yoga torture sessions.

http://www.adriennereed.com/TvVideos.htm

To the pain, baby.  Adrienne says just to go until you feel sensation, but for me, that would usually mean sitting on the mat watching her. This stuff hurts.  Because, let's face it, not every "yogi" can twist her body into a shape that not even a pretzel would attempt.  But, the beautiful thing about her DVD's is that she always has some people on there who are normal, who cannot do the "full" pose.  Most recently for me, this was the pose where you start in a plank position, then bend your elbows, then lean forward and put your legs on your arms and lift them up and them straighten them out to the sides.
This one:


The modified version is to not straighten your legs, but to keep them resting on your arms, with your knees bent.  I tried to show my kids how to do it this morning.  Most of them just stared at me and couldn't get past the plank part.  When I SHOWED them the pose, Reuben said, "Mom, that is only for professional gymnasts".  I cannot extend my legs yet, BUT I WILL!  Even if Reuben says it is impossible.  I guess he thinks I'm an old lady.

 But, I digress.

The point is that I love it!  Unlike some videos, which will remain unnamed, Power Yoga is hard, but doable.  Even if I can't attain the full pose, I can do something.  I once watched a yoga video where this extremely flexible fellow guided us through a series of backbends, where we were supposed to be bent completely backward with our legs still fairly straight.  It hurts just thinking of it. And yes, all I did was stare at the video while this guy contorted himself ala Cirque de Soleil style.
Not unlike this:


Okay, truly, it was more like this:



Just kill me now, because I am not doing that!  Adrienne does do some terrible back bending business, but she also offers intermediate poses for those of us who want to be able to walk later in the day.

Then there are the yoga videos where you stretch just enough to get ready for a nice nap.  Up dog. Down Dog.  Baby pose.  Corpse.  Nighty night.

Adrienne Reed Yoga is just right for me. It gives me something really hard to reach for, while still giving me something really hard to do while I'm working towards those harder poses.

And she wears clothes.  These clothes actually cover her body, so we can focus on exercising instead of staring at her midriff or bosom.  I'm not embarrassed when my husband walks through the room.  Win. Win.

AND, and this is REALLY important,  Adrienne doesn't say super annoying things. She doesn't threaten to come through the t.v. and kill you, like a certain famous lady who likes to pull her pants down lower and step on her assistants to make their pushups harder.  Her name might rhyme with Billian Pichaels.  

Adrienne doesn't have a fake cheery voice either that makes YOU want to reach through the t.v. and kill HER.  It's really important to have a balance there where nobody is having a desire to kill anyone.  You know, so you can do the yoga breathing and everything.  I like her.  She's cool.  And so are her DVD's.

Decluttering

I've had the big D word on my mind lately. The important one- decluttering.  It started to simmer and brew when I had my jaw surgery and spent 2 1/2 weeks at my parent's house. It was so clean and peaceful there. Then I came home.

Assault on the senses! Woa! There was stuff everywhere!
And my husband took advantage of my incapacitated state to rearrange the family room. Sorry to my dear sweet eternal companion, but I HATE it when he does that.  And I couldn't undo it.   Just when I was feeling good enough, I had a second surgery.  And that one took me out for the count.  I had no choice but to sit around and let entropy take over, perhaps even at a slightly faster pace than nature intended.

What a mess!

So, I've been allowed to really clean, do laundry, and vacuum for a few weeks now and I have kept myself busy.  But, as I clean one thing, I notice another, and another,and another. . . woa Nelly! Slow down.  How did I let things get so out of hand?

The truth is that I am a natural slob.  Being neat and tidy does not happen for me unless I force myself.  Cleaning and organizing is generally NOT the reason I rise out of bed each morning. Yet, a near 3 month break from most cleaning has really given me the itch.  Then my husband got into his head that we need to adopt another child. I'm not exactly on board with this idea, but I have agreed to take the foster care classes, which might lead to a home study, which might kill me.  Do you know that you have to keep your medicines and cleaners locked up to pass a home study?  Okay, maybe you guys already do this, but I have a linen/medicine/cleaner closet. I have another cabinet with cleaners. They do not lock.   I keep extra cleaning supplies on a high shelf in the basement.  I'm a Mormon. We buy in bulk. We believe in having a one year supply. I'm really behind if you look at it that way.  It's only one shelf of extras.  So, how the heck am I supposed to lock all of these things up?  I don't have any locking cabinets. Anywhere.  In. My. House.  How about all the toxic items in my garage?  Paint.  Fertilizer. Weed killer.

Um, can I put them in the nonworking station wagon stored in my garage and lock that?

Why not?

So, I'm de-cluttering.

It started with the china cabinet. Who knew there was actually a picture on the wall above that?  Oh, and that's where I put the bird seed and pinecones.  And the desk calendar from 2007.

Then my bedroom.  Does anyone need 18 gallons of candy?  Hey- remember- a year supply. I do have 6 children.

Next I attacked the closet in the spare bedroom/computer room/sewing room/storage room. The one that might not be a "spare" bedroom anymore if my husband gets his wish.  I unearthed my missing puppets, 6 ponytails destined for Locks of Love, and the plastic gems I had wanted to glue on the prince  crown my mom and I made Judd for Halloween. Dang! 3 months too late.

My kids had a day off of school so we addressed the mess called the coat closet.  I had this strange desire to be able to close it, just so we could open the front door.  Everything was evicted! Then each child was allowed to put back one coat and one backpack, one pair of boots, and their scarves and mittens. Everytime I open that closet and I can actually see what is in there, I want to cry happy little tears! It's so beautiful!

The linen/medicine closet was next on my hit list. I promise, nothing was more than 7 years expired and I only had 42 pillowcases in there. My children tell me this is okay because 42 is the answer to everything.

I spent two hours cleaning out a "junk" drawer in my piano dresser.  It's really a lingerie dresser, I suppose, but who needs that much lingerie? It's just right to hold my music.

This made me feel brave, so I tackled the craft closet in the basement.  I might actually be able to use some of the sequins and beads that I bought in grab bags at Michael's about 11 years ago- now that I know where they are in my house. I doubt that I will ever want to use the Snuggie that I had hidden in there, but I am giving it another chance. We'll see. They should have called it Shocky.

Yesterday, feeling quite bold after all of my recent de-cluttering success, I entered the pit, I mean the basement, specifically the unfinished portion where we store things.  This was fairly scary because I could barely even gain entrance due to all the stuff I had shoved in there after decluttering the upstairs. But, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.  I filled up both big recycle cans outside of my house.  I found out that I have a 2 year supply of wetwipes, and a 3 year supply of chocolate milk powder.  I also have 8 Halloween tubs and 7 Christmas tubs.  Don't judge me. Judge my husband. He is the one who keeps buying more decorations.  But, at least they all fit in there now that I no longer have to hold onto clothing for every age and both genders.  We are down to only 7 rubbermaid totes of girl clothes being saved for Emmeline, Audrey, and Clara to grow.  Dang, this is making me tired just reading it.

De-cluttering is exhausting!  And I'm not finished.  I'm still determined to convince my blessed spouse that we do not need a year's supply of stuffed animals. There are 3 totes full of them in storage.  Please, somebody come and rob us and just take those. PLEASE!  And maybe, there is no point in keeping 300 cassette tapes from the 1980's. Wouldn't it feel good to just let go?  Don't even get me started on any of the other stuff that belongs to someone that is not named Becky.

But, the sad moral of the story is that I still do not have anywhere to lock up my cleaners, unless DCFS would consider the station wagon.  Maybe?  I have no more space.  I have nowhere to even put a locking cabinet.  NOWHERE!  Not yet, anyway. . . watch out clutter.  I'm coming for you! Mu ha ha ha.

Laundry Lamentation

This post is actually something I wrote 3 1/2 years ago. I was reading it in my journal and I thought to myself, "That's funny.  I'm putting that on my blog."  Since this laundry lamentation was written I have made several changes in the laundry and I no longer spend hours folding clothes.  I let the children handle their own folding.

Here it is:

I think we all have that one chore that we absolutely detest.  The one that we avoid with careful planning, that we put off, try to forget, and that visits us in unpleasant dreams to mock us and remind us that we have yet to accomplish the dreaded task.  For me, it is the laundry.  Not the washing.  My washing machine does a stellar job of getting the clothes clean with minimal effort on my part.  I am also very proud of my dryer for always getting the job done.  My only contribution there it to toss the clothes in, add a dryer sheet, and press start.  But, after running 8+ loads through on an average week, which would be more if I didn't have such a big washer, my steam sizzles out.  The daunting task of sorting and folding looms before me like a root canal appointment without anesthesia.  I try to dull the pain by watching a movie while I work, but it drags on and on and on, and when the first movie ends and I'm still folding, I start to have dangerously violent thoughts, usually directed at my children and husband.  Thoughts like, "Why is it my job to do your laundry?  Can I poke you with something sharp and hot so you feel like I feel right now?"  Okay, I guess the 22 month old really can't wash her own clothes.  But if the three year old can paint her body in peanut butter without getting her dress dirty, why can't she learn to push a few buttons and dump in some detergent?  If she can unload her closet and dresser in the time it takes me to shower, why can't she neatly fold her shorts and shirts and place them lovingly in her bare naked dresser?  And if she can do it, the 6, 8, and 10 year old children should be old hats at laundry by now.  But, strangely, they are not. They seem to have the same genetic loathing for the task as me! Even when I wash, dry, sort, and fold their clothes into individual baskets, they act like I am asking them to solve the conflict in Israel when I request that they put their clothes away! Excuse me! I draw the line there.  I am not the maid! I do not get paid and I do not get to go home after my work is done.  We're supposed to be in this thing together.  Instead, I am taking a break after 3 straight hours of folding laundry to write this little rant before I go back for another hour, while the rest of my family is relaxing in the soothing air conditioning of the nearest dollar theater.  Yes, I admit it is two weeks worth of clothes, but that still doesn't explain how my 6 year old wore 24 pairs of panties and 12 dresses, in addition to a full basket of shirts and shorts.  My ten year old only used 2 pairs of underwear.  Could this explain the stench emanating from his room? Ew! On top of the physical labor I have to deal with the trauma of this underwear issue.  And then there's the socks. I hate folding socks!  I hate sorting socks! I hate checking to see what color the stripe is at the bottom of the sock and decoding to whom each sock belongs.  But, more than that, I hate checking the socks for holes.  My 8 year old is a hole factory.  I have no idea how his heels are capable of ripping through supposedly tough soles on a weekly basis.  It's time to buy stock in the sock company to get some of my money back.  And then there is the issue of my husband's work clothes.  Not being able to afford dry cleaning, I have especially delightful honor of laundering his shirts and pants. And of course they must not be wrinkled.  And of course I SO do not iron.  So, those have to come straight out of the dryer and fly directly to the nearest hanger before their final destination of his closet.  Sometimes I wonder if he thinks a magic fairy picks them up off the floor and returns them clean and fresh to his closet rod.  I want a fairy like that!  Just once, I want to NOT be the person who makes this magic happen.  I want to come home from work, which will be difficult since I am a stay at home mom, and find dinner on the table, cherubic children waiting with outstretched arms, and Kirkland's Best laundry detergent scent wafting outside from the dryer vent.  The clothes will be clean and residing in the correct dressers and closets, and I will pretend that it wasn't a monumental task.  I will sweetly kiss my spouse and say, :Hey, thanks for doing the laundry." And leave it at that.