Gender Reveal Party: He or She?

"I'm so glad you're having another baby - you throw such fun parties!" I won't disclose which family member said this (with a wink and a smile of course), but truth be told - I share the same sentiment. I love themed parties and the creativity that goes into planning them (Pinterest only makes my "love" borderline obsessive... fortunately, I have strict and realistic budgets to stick to when party planning).

We had a great time three years ago with the gender reveal party for our twins, and baby number three wasn't about to miss out on an equally fun party for his-or-her gender reveal! (Plus, I desperately needed a creative outlet after the stress of our move, so I had another good excuse beyond "fair" parenting - which I'm not necessarily a proponent of all the time. Sorry kids. You'll might have fun parties, but otherwise: learn early that life isn't fair.)

Okay, so. The party. YAY! I designed invites, banners, signage, photo props and all kinds of adorable stuff that I could go on and on about, but instead, I'll just show you the final results.

First Off: Games and Activities. Guests dressed in pink or blue to make their predictions on the gender. We also had a tally board for guests to place their votes. As you can see below, the votes were pretty lopsided. When you already have two boys, people tend to assume that surely your body will magically produce a female child in order to maintain a balanced world populous.

We also had fill-in-the-blank notecards that allowed guests to write some "Wishes for Baby." Some of the answers were really amusing. Example: My ten-year-old sister, Julia, completed the forth question thus: "I hope you aren't afraid of: me."  

For a party game, we played a rather competitive round of "Sugar Baby Jeopardy". The answer to every question was the name of a candy and the top teams got to compete in a Final Jeopardy round to determine who would have the honor of revealing the baby's gender. It was intense. We have some serious game-players in our family, let me tell you. The questions were hilarious (I wish I could take credit for writing them).  Such treasures as, "Q: The Conception. A: What is a 'Skor' bar?" And, "Q: Difficulty lactating. A: What are 'Milk Duds?'"

In addition to wearing our "team" colors, I made pink and blue photo props for team pictures. Mustaches, lips, bows, and bow ties - I don't care if it is a trend, I love the photo prop movement!

Next Up: The Food (possibly my favorite part of any party... we'll just blame it on the pregnancy. Yeah, that's it.)

My inspiration for the party food was that old poem about What Little Boys/Girls are made of. Never mind that it's slightly sexist, if not misandristic, it made for a really cute food spread. The themed food was perfectly complimented by all the awesome trays and serving items that I borrowed from my mother-in-law. My favorite piece was a vintage toy truck that held mini dirt cup shooters - perfect for the boy food.

And Finally: The Big Reveal. We wanted this reveal to be just as fun and playful as when we announced the twin's gender (by popping balloons filled with colored confetti.) Our solution: SILLY STRING!

As mentioned, we had the top two teams from our Jeopardy game compete for the honor of the reveal. We did a race of sorts, where the teams tried to answer four baby trivia questions as fast as they could. Then when the final question was answered by one of the teams, they could race across the lawn and grab a can of silly string. There were only six cans and about twelve adults, so as soon as the first can was snatched, anyone could run and grab the remaining cans (if you've ever played the card game, Spoons, it was a similar idea). It was fast and fun and really heighten the anticipation for the reveal.

And the result was.... BLUE silly string!

Even though the twins had been adamant that they were having a baby sister (they can't seem to comprehend that anyone besides their twin could be their "bro"), I think they were pleased with the result.  

 

(Photos by Devin Hanson Photography) 

The Best Things About Being a Mom of Multiples

"Uh-oh, double trouble!" "Boy, do you have your hands full!" "I don't know how you do it..."

These are comments I receive at least once every time I am out and about with the twins, usually from complete strangers. The general perception of twins is that they are adorable, but all that cuteness comes with an overwhelming amount of extra work. If only I had a dollar for every time someone said to me, "I love twins! But I would never want to have twins myself."

I get it- really I do. When I was a little girl, I often imagined that I had twins when playing "house" (the irony of this is not lost on me). My cousin Stephi and I were often mistaken for twins in high school, which we delighted in. My opinion growing up was that having twins, or being a twin, was awesome. But when I actually became a grown-up and found out I was actually having twins, I literally started trembling. My mind was consumed with one panicked, repetitious thought, "Double stroller, double stroller, double stroller."

For some reason, the thought that I would soon be wrestling a double stroller during all my outings really freaked me out. The Double Stroller represented how different being a mom of multiples would be from having just one baby at a time. I was completely overwhelmed by the thought of caring for two babies at once. So I understand people's "that's awesome, but I could never do it" attitude. Now that the twins are almost 20-months-old though, I have a very different opinion of being a twin mama than I did that fateful day that I sat quivering in the doctor's office.

Sure, there are times when I am exhausted and overwhelmed (and out-numbered) by the boys (especially during those first few months, hoo-boy!), but I have also discovered a lot of benefits to having multiples. So I thought that I'd pass along some of those good experiences. Maybe it will be an encouragement to a soon-to-be twin mom or of interest to anyone who is curious about what it's like to raise twins.

Five Awesome Things About Having Twins:

5). You Learn That Every Baby is Different: With all the parenting "experts" out there offering so much contradicting advice and the "mommy wars" raging with opinionated (and often insesitive) battles on the "best" way to care for a baby, I was thankful to learn early - because of our twins - that every baby is different and there is no one, perfect way to parent them. Our boys - raised in the same environment - were very different from the start and each had needs that were unique to him. This taught my husband and I early to rely on our instincts and pick up on the cues that our boys were giving us. It was the greatest lesson we've learned so far in our parenting journey and one I don't think we'd have gained so quickly had we started with only one baby.

4). Sleeping Buddy: When we moved the twins out of our room around six weeks, I found great comfort in the fact that they had each other in their big ol' nursery. They shared a crib until around three-months-old and I'm convinced they found the presence and sounds of their close-by twin soothing. They didn't necessarily sleep better than your average baby, but it was nice somehow to know they weren't alone. Even now that they are older and in separate cribs, they jibber-jabber to each other every night before they go to sleep. I imagine this is comforting to them as compared to being shut in a dark room alone at night.

3). Not Double the Workload: My cousin, Sarah, (who has identical twin girls) gave me some great encouragement when I was expecting the twins. She assured me that twins are not twice the work - more like 50% more work. "You're already changing a diapers," she told me, "so what's one more? You're already making one meal, so it's not big deal to make twice as much." And she was right - twins really aren't twice as much work - which was a great relief to discover.

2). Attention Getters: When I first started going out with both boys in-tow, I was a little irritated by how often I got stopped in the store and on the street by well-meaning twin admirers. Being a task-oriented gal who tends to overlook people in order to check off my to-do list, I found these stops deterrents to my progress. But I have since changed my tune and now really enjoy being stopped by strangers. Not because I like "showing off" my cute kids, but because it gives me the opportunity to share a smile and a friendly conversation with a stranger. I look forward to going out with the twins and chatting with new people, and I work these expected interruptions into my schedule. Because of the attention the twins bring, I've learned to slow down and put people first. I've had some really nice interactions with folks who I normally wouldn't have spoken to in my rush to accomplish a task.

1). Instant Playmate: The older the twins get, the more they entertain each other. Unlike a singleton, they don't need me to be their constant playmate - they have each other. As a stay-at-home mom, this gives me a much needed break sometimes. Yes, at times, having two kids the same age results in more fighting than with one kid (hopeful a single child is not fighting with themselves... otherwise, you've got bigger problems that entertaining him or her by yourself). In general, the twins have a great time keeping each other company.


These reasons (along with many others) are just a few ways that having twins, while a lot of work sometimes, is overall really fun. So hang in there twin-mamas and acknowledge the blessings you have because of your multiples. And if you know someone with twins (especially a new mom), encourage her with a few of these benefits to her new, double-stroller life.

Dishonest Motherhood

I almost wrote a really nasty post the other day. About my children. And I was actually planning on publishing it. On Mother's Day.

Yeah. Suffice to say, I was having a rough time with the whole motherhood thing.

It was one of those days when the only languages my 18-month-old twins seemed to know was Fusseese and Whinelish. The strain of being home with them all-day-every-day was about to result in a Jen-shaped hole straight through the front door. And I seriously considered the possibility that there might be some kind of conspiracy in place that was designed to trick women into reproducing. Because, I reasoned, surely if I have been made aware of how hard motherhood was going to be, I would have gotten myself sterilized years ago.

And while The Crazy inside me eventually cleared a bit (after a three-hour nap and a glorious hike through the woods), I still think part of my theory is true. The part about not knowing how hard being a mom was actually going to be because no one really told me.

There are days when I feel completely alone in my struggle with being a mom. Why is that? Is something broken in my mom heart? Do I not love my kids as much as other moms? I wonder sometimes when I read sugary-sweet descriptions of motherhood in books and blog posts. When moms recount for me the swell of unconditional love they felt the moment their child was placed in their arms and I just can't relate.

In all honestly, it took me a number of months to experience feelings of love towards my twins after they were born. It was just so incredibly hard to be a mom and no one had even mentioned to me that I might not feel the warm fuzzies and indescribable joy often associated with becoming a mother. What I did feel was indescribable exhaustion and inadequacy, and frankly I was shocked and frightened by the lack of affection I felt for my babies. I'd never had someone tell me that in those early months, those feelings were okay and - for some women - even normal.

I don't hate my kids - truly. I love their smiles and laughter, their emerging personalities and sense of humor. I love seeing the sparkle in their eyes when they understand something for the first time. I enjoy playing with them and helping them discover knew things. But most of the time, I can't relate to the poetic sentimentality that many moms use to describe motherhood. And when I really think about it (calmly, minus The Crazy), I don't think I'm broken or alone. I just think we moms don't share our struggles with the kind of transparency that communicates the deep doubts and difficulties of being a mom. We hear about the squooshy, mushy love (which is important to share certainly - I'm not saying we should constantly complain about our kids - there is a whole lot to love about them!). We'll share a crazy, funny story about the things our kids do or say, or that time they threw up all over the car on the way to a new friend's house. But rarely do we talk with each other about the really hard stuff.

Hard stuff like the loneliness of being home alone with children all day, or the guilt of not being able to be at home with them. The frustration over discipline, the feeling of wanting to run away, the strain of daily putting yourself aside for the benefit of someone else. And the doubts and pressures that come with the responsibility of raising a little human. Whether it's because of pride, lack of vulnerability, fear of judgment, or what-have-you, we don't talk much about the hard stuff and we end up feeling alone. And there is very little that is as debilitating as feeling alone. We suffer as a result and our children do too. All because we can't (or won't) share with honesty the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly of being a mom.

I'm not asking that women bemoan their role as mothers - it is a privilege and a gift to invest in and mold these little people that God has placed into our care. I'm simply asking that we be a little more honest with each other and ourselves about the struggle. Not with complaining or bitterness, but in a way that results in us encouraging one another. Letting other women know that, yeah motherhood is incredibly difficult at times, but you are not alone in those feeling. Let's not allow pride or fear of judgement keep us from being honest with each other. Let's allow transparency in so that loneliness and guilt fade, and (hopefully) joy and encouragement can start to take their place. This will make us better moms, not pretending we have it all together while we waste away inside. Motherhood is a great gift, but it can quickly become a burden if we feel we are alone in the struggle.

Because sometimes motherhood feels like this:

And other times if feels more like this:

Lil Monsters Birthday Party

Being that I'm quickly become the most inconsistent blogger ever, I thought I would post a fun little update. And what is more fun (or more cute) than the first birthday party of twins? I submit - very little. 

The theme "Lil Monsters" seemed appropriate as both boys are walking now and into everything. And Weston's favorite activity is running around the living room with his arms in the air screaming like he just don't care. That kid is a ball of energy and then some. And both boys think it's hilarious to let Weston playfully bite Isaac's fingers and for Weston to grab Isaac's hand and hit himself with it. Lil Monsters indeed. Those two are constant entertainment, I tell you.

All five of the boys' aunts helped out with the party (much to my eternal gratitude). Aunt 'B' helped make the cupcakes and cake pops, Aunt Kristin made the monster cakes, Aunt Julia and Aunt Katie (my little sisters) made all the monster cups, and Aunt Shannon took me shopping to pick out special birthday outfits. And Grama and Papa hosted one amazing backyard bbq (complete with a homemade corn hole toss game) and Grandma (my mom) made the best beans in the entire world. We have an awesome family. 

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what being parents to twin boys does to you... at least, that is our excuse.

(Oh and a quick little update on the whole "moving to Colorado" thing: there is nothing new to report. We are still planning on going, but don't know exactly when. Good talk.)

This party was awarded "Best Decorations" by partypail.com (which is pretty awesome since I designed all the decorations myself).

Ugandan Mamas and Me

Truth be told, my spirit has been a little stir-crazy since traveling to Uganda and getting all pumped about loving the poor through action, then coming home and having twins and realizing the "loving the poor" thing might need to take a back seat for a little bit as I care for my babies. Well, not a back seat exactly. I still sponsor two sweet girls in Uganda through Compassion International and we still give to a number of organizations that are doing some amazing things to help make a lasting change for the poor. So I guess I'm not taking a backseat, I'm just not as hands-on as I would like to be because I've got both hands full with the two little ones God has blessed me with. Maybe it should be easy for me to let that be enough right now. But it just isn't. There is too much suffering going on around the world and too much comfort in my own life and it just doesn't sit well with me. I have to do something more.

As I study my Bible, I'm finding again and again that for someone who claims to love Jesus, loving others - especially the poor - is a huge, non-negotiable response. A natural, overwhelming desire from a heart changed by Christ (don't believe me? check out this verse). 

I don't get (or want) a "veto" card on the caring for the poor thing just because I'm a mom with young babes. Motherhood is a huge calling, a lot of work and a precious responsibly, don't get me wrong, but even the "Proverbs 31 Woman" cared for the poor while caring for her own family ("She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy" - verse 20). But there is no denying that it's hard right now with the twins being so young. 

I find myself dreaming of the day when I can involve my kiddos in loving-the-poor-projects and use those opportunities to teach them about the love God has for the world and how we can show His love to others through the way we live. Those will be incredible moments that I will cherish and that I eagerly look forward to, but those times are still a few years out. 

So I started thinking - what talents/abilities/opportunities do I have right now that I could leverage to love the poor? Where can I start right now? And after a little planning, I am super excited to share with you what I've come up with.

You may (or may not) know that I make and sell beaded crosses. One of them (the one pictured on the upper left of my blog) is made with recycled magazine beads from Uganda and each time that cross sells, I give 50% of the proceeds to Amazima Ministries which provides approximately sixty meals for a child living in the slums of Uganda. But I also have many other styles of crosses, so I thought, why not use those crosses to help the poor as well? So I've opened an online boutique through Etsy (which is something I've been dragging my feet on until I got inspired by this idea) and 25% of all of my profits will be donated to Kiva - an organization that provides small, low-interest loans to help those living in extreme poverty start a business. (By the way, the repayment rate of these loans is incredibly high: 99% of those receiving a loan pay in back in full.)

One unfortunate misconception about the poor is that they are poor because they are lazy. However, more often than not, the poor are extremely hard-working. They simply lack the hope and opportunity to lift their family out of poverty. A micro-loan of just $100 would give someone living in extreme poverty the capital needed to start a business and begin using their talents and abilities to provide for their family. Giving them not only sustainable income, but confidence, empowerment, a sense of achievement and HOPE. All things that can break the cycle of poverty and be a catalyst for lasting change for the poor. Not a temporary hand-out, but a life-altering hand-up.

Here's my favorite part of this venture: I'll be providing loans specifically to working mothers in Uganda. As a working-from-home mother myself, who also happens to love the people and country of Uganda, it is a perfect match. (My heart just fluttered a little bit even thinking about it.) 

Another reason I chose mothers specifically is this: I love adoption (I have two adopted sisters whom I adore), but I would love even more for a mama to be able to keep and provide for her babies instead of having to give them up for adoption because she can't make enough money to feed them. I would love for kids not to be orphaned by AIDS because the only available way for their mother to make a living was to sell her body. A Kiva loan can change these things and keep babies the arms of their mamas. Be still my mother's heart. And my poor-loving heart for that matter. ::flutter flutter::

If you are interested in what I'm doing, here's the link to my Etsy shop: www.etsy.com/shop/jhcraftynotions

And here's a little peek of a few of the crosses I have available:

Thanks for listening to my excited ramblings. Creativity, helping the poor, mamas and their kids, Uganda:  this kind of stuff just gets my heart pumping!!  

Raising a Herd of Chicken Lovers

Devin and I love great food. Especially when it's free. We love an integrity-filled business. Especially when said business is known for giving away free food. And we love any excuse to dress up in a fun, creative costumes. Especially when it means we'll be rewarded with free food. All reasons that make Chick-fil-A's Cow Appreciation Day the perfect annual event for our frugal, creative, food-lovin' family. Dress like a cow - get free chicken. Don't mind if I do.

Devin and I have been participating in this event since the first year of our marriage. We even camped out overnight in a parking lot to snag ourselves a year's worth of free Chick-fil-A. And this year, our children got to join our crazy Chick-fil-A antics. Well, technically the twins participated last year too:

Weston and Isaac happily kept their outfits on the whole time, were hailed as the event's cutest customers by the employees and both boys loved sampling Chick-fil-A chicken for the first time (but trust me, it was hard for mom and dad to share).

Aren't they just the cutest little calves you ever did see? My dairy-farmer grandparents would have been proud. We entered the boys' photo in the Cow Appreication Day Photo Contest and if you'd like, you can vote for them here. We'd love to have your vote and we'd love to win some more free Chick-fil-A. You can vote once per computer, so if you have a desktop and a lap top (or blackberry, smart phone, access to a large network of computers...) go and vote for our boys as many times as you can! Okay, I'm kidding about the computer network thing... sorta.

When the Sweet Potatoes Hit the Fan

You know those days when so much goes haywire, you can't really do anything but be flexible and try to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all? Yeah, that was my Tuesday.

Here's what my day was supposed to look like: My mom and siblings were scheduled to arrive from Tucson for a day visit at 10:00am. Devin was at work with our one-and-only car, so I would borrowed Mom's van in order to visit my friend Jamie (who just had a sweet baby girl and also has a cute little man who is 18-months-old). Obviously, arriving with my twins in-tow would severely impede my ability to assist Jamie, so my eager-to-babysit family gave me the perfect opportunity for a visit and for some snuggle time with the wee newborn babe. After Jamie's, I would return home and enjoy dinner with my mom and siblings before they headed back to Tucson. Sounds nice and neat don't it?

This is what happened instead: Mom calls at ten-til-ten to inform me that due to my siblings' (ages 15, 10, and 9) ineptitude at getting ready on time, they would now be forty-five minutes late. Which doesn't seem like a lot, but when you are trying to catch the twins while they are happy and awake, there is only a two-hour window in the mid-morning, and my family would now miss forty-five minutes of that time. Mom is livid.

Mom calls back ten minutes later in tears. She has a flat tire on the side of the highway, cars are speeding by like bats out of you-know-where and no one is even slowing down to a reasonable, "I'll try not to kill you" speed, let alone stopping to help. She'll call me back.

When she does, forty-five minutes have passed and she is now on the side of the road again with a second flat tire. You've got to be kidding me. She's waiting for a tow truck and will keep me updated.

Meanwhile, the twins are ready for lunch. Isaac, who is our champion eater but has refused baby food for the past few days, is finally chowing down on his sweet potatoes. After lunch, I set the twins down to play while I make a long-over-due meal for myself. Just as I take the first delicious bite of my sandwich, I hear Isaac throwing up. Great. Sandwich down, I go to Isaac and discover piles and piles of sweet potato chunks where he was playing. Super.

However, as I grab him up from the mess, I realize that the sweet potatoes are all over his legs and in fact coming out of his diaper. Oh crap. Literally - I've got a major poop-spolsion on my hands (and I do mean on my hands), all over my baby and all over my carpet. Then it dawns on me - I heard him throw up. Oh sweet mercy, did the baby eat his own poop??!! A quick examination of his month confirms that he did not. Well thank goodness - that's something.

I rush to the bathroom to hose down the poopy mess that is my child, but then remember that I have twins and the other one is crawling around unattended in the next room.  Still holding Isaac, I shut off the water, rush back to the living room and spin around in a confused circle between the twins as I try to decide what to do. Finally, I set Isaac back down on the floor- far enough away from the poop that he won't get a second chance to ingest it, but still on the carpet, which left more droppings to clean up and still made a feces feast available to my child (fortunately, he did not take advantage of the poop buffet before him). Plop goes Weston goes into the exersaucer, and I awkwardly scoop up Isaac while trying not to get any more infant excreta on my person.

I strip down the odorous culprit and put him in the bathtub. He happily plays, oblivious to my plight. Pulling out the diaper sprayer, I rinse out the unbelievably nasty cloth diaper into the toilet and seriously question my choice to cloth diaper. I wash up the baby, dry him off, re-clothe him and bring him back to the living room to play with his brother.

With a sigh, I spy my sandwich across the room - perfectly poised on the plate with one bite removed  and beckoning me to partake in its deliciousness once more. And then I remember - there are still piles of baby poop to clean up. Six piles to be exact. Piles that look like chunky sweet potatoes and smell like death. Terrific.

Out come the rags, the baking soda, the vinegar and the scrub brush, and I turn another round of confused circles as I hesitantly try to figure out the best way to clean up the filth. I'll spare you more details about that process, but suffice to say it was disgusting.

I grab the sordid rags, the soiled towel and sullied baby clothes and toss them onto the washing machine to deal with later. Ironically, today is laundry day and I have completed this chore just moments before the catastrophe. Fantastic.

Baby cleaned, mess cleaned, Mom and siblings on their way via tow truck, and stomach still empty, I call my friend to cancel my visit. Disappointingly, there is no way that's happening now. I finally get to eat my sandwich (which is considerably less appetizing after all the mess). I shrug and think to myself, Well that's life...and it's only 12:30.

Follow Up: It's the next day, and the Forth of July. We are on our way to our friends' house for a party and fireworks. Isaac projectile vomits in the car which results in Devin cleaning up the car seat with baby wipes in the Wendy's parking lot while Weston screams like a banshee and I attempt to clean Isaac up in the Wendy's bathroom were there are no paper towels and no baby changing station. Yeah, that was fun. But, at least I managed to snap a twin picture before Isaac's half of the patriotic paraphernalia was sabotaged (I say "sabotaged" because it seems that a good majority of the days which I dress the twins alike, one of them protests the wearing of matching outfits by whatever means available to him. Usually in the form of spit up, vomit, explosive poop or impressively wet diapers.)

And that's life.

Sew NOT a Seamstress: Goal #4 Complete

More progress on my Project 101 in 1001 list. Read about my journey here.
Goal #4: Sew an article of clothing and wear it in public  - COMPLETE


I've mentioned before that I know the basics about sewing but to actually sew an article of clothing and wear it in public? Well, that's something I've never done (and probably for good reason).


My original plan was to sew this cute little number:

"Sewing Level 1: Very Easy" the instructions promised. I can figure this out, I reasoned. Then I opened up the pattern which was covered in letters, symbols, notches, and dotted lines of varying lengths and thickness and felt my head start to swim. Yeah... that's not gonna happen without some semi-profession help.


On to "sewing an outfit" round two. I hunted down this simple, old tank + elastic + fabric = dress on Pintrest:

(source here)

Simple enough right? Yeah, that's what I thought too. Then a few thing happened which slowly unraveled my sewing aspirations. 


Thwart #1: Discount bin fabric. If you've hung around these parts long, you know I'm a gal who loves a frugal bargain. So off to JoAnn's discounted fabric rack I frolicked. I found a fabric that I really liked for $2 a yard! Problem was that it only sorta matched the old tank top I was planning on using for the project. Don't buy fabric that sorta matches. Just don't. 


Home again (home again, jiggity-jig), I happily began my project.

And then... Thwart #2: Attempting to cut fabric on the floor while fighting off two curious twins. Trying to avoid accidentally removing the fingers of my children with my extremely sharp rotary fabric cutters, I wasn't exactly paying close attention as I quickly sliced the fabric while also nudging the twins away from the dismemberment zone with my foot, elbow and/or knee. The result was that I cut the fabric too short and the wrong direction. Awesome. 


However, stubborn and cheap as I am, I did not scrap the unfortunate fabric that had been improperly sheared by my careless wielding of rotary cutters. Instead, (though I'm embarrassed to admit this because I know is at least one individual reading this post who happens to be completely brilliant at garment creation (yes, I'm referring to you Jordan N.)), I patched together the too-short, wrong-direction fabric with a panel of the remaining fabric. Resulting in a double seam on the back of the dress  which was made more noticeable by a pattern that did not line up.


Thwart #3: Buying patterned fabric. 


Thwart #4: Impatience, a short-attention-span and laziness. When I start a "just for fun" creative project, especially with something I'm not especially talented at (i.e. sewing), I like to crank it out fast and have instant results. Compounding this need for instant gratification and lack of skill was the frustration that the further I got into the project, the more I realized it was no turning out like I wanted it to. Not only did I have a double seam, but a funky, not-hanging-right hem. To confirm what I suspected (that this dress was beyond saving), I put it on and tried (unsuccessfully) to avoid the thirty pins holding the mess together.  And it looked awful. 

The colors did not match (please refer to "Thwart #1), the fit was all wrong and not even a little bit flattering. There was obviously only one thing left to do (give up you say? heavens no, that would be too easy). I only half gave up - and the top portion of the dress was given a new home: 

Whatever. The tank top was over ten years old anyways and too short. But daggonit if I didn't pay good money for the skirt fabric and elastic. I was determined to figure out something else, double seam, awkward hem and all! 


My Solution: Leaving the hopeless hem and irreversible extra panel as it was, I hiked the skirt portion of the dress up to my armpits, folded the elastic to the inside, tied on a sash to create an empire-waist and hailed my simple, strapless, shift dress completed.


Now for the second portion of the goal - wear it in public. Gulp. I don't get many opportunities to wear a dress in my line of work (that is, a stay-at-home mom), so it seemed my only option was wearing my creation to church. To my young, urban, artsy, hipster church. Double gulp.


But I did it. And when the whole outfit came together, even though I knew my dress was a bit haphazard, I still felt attractive wearing it. 


The moral of this sad tale? Sewing clothing takes patience and skill, and should not be entered into lightly. But (should you forego the aforementioned advice) with enough of the right accessories and a little confidence, just about any mess of a homemade dress can look pretty good.

Why being a new mom is like being a 7th grader

I keep trying (and failing) to write a blog post. In fact, I've got two really (potentially) good posts half-baked but every time I try to finish them, my would-be brilliant insight just kinda fizzles. I start with a really good point and end up with crickets chirping in my mental void. So I thought I'd just start writing with no plan, no point, and see what came out.


Primarily to blame for the lack of blogging of late is my unbelievably scattered "mommy brain" (so much worse than "pregnancy brain"). When I have down-time (rarely) it seems near impossible to straighten my thoughts out enough to form full sentences. And in regards to wit, grammar, spelling, depth and flow? Forget about it.


Of course, there is also this pair of blond, blue-eyed cuties taking up most of my time, will and brain-power:

But I can't really hold it against them that I'm seemingly incapable of blogging. (Besides, I really don't want to become a mom who spends more time blogging about my kids than interacting with them.)


I think though, my blogging hiatus has been caused by more than mere distractions and a brain departed. I've got this tender new identity as a mom, which seems to means that I'm more sensitive to criticism than I used to be. I try to be really laid-back with my parenting and trust my instinct, but feel like I don't know what I'm doing a large portion of the time and that can be a scary place for a high-achiever to be. It's harder still when people make comments (well-meaning or otherwise) or give a little look that suggests that I'm falling short as a mom. 


When people make judgement about me - when it's just about me - I try to not let it bother me (at least not deeply and permanently). But judgements about me as a mother (perceived, passive-aggressive, accidental, or actual) reflect not just on me, but on the well-being, development, and survival of two helpless little people that I'm responsible for. That makes any critiques really hard to bear right now. So when it comes to blogging and sharing my thoughts, struggles, opinions and experiences, it's not as easy as it once was. Part of me is hesitant to write about anything much because I'm trying to protect the shaky identity I'm developing as a new mom. Pair that with a brain full of fragmented thoughts and here my blog sits silent. 


I know some of my feelings of judgement are perceived only. Like back in middle school when you are sure that the girls whispering are talking about you and you are sure that everyone in the room is staring at your long, gangling legs. Being a new mom is like that - your confidence is wobbly, you are not sure who you are or what you are doing but you are sure that everyone else is judging you as much as you are judging yourself. "Mom-guilt" I believe it's called and it's a doozy. 


So yes, some of this is just in my head. Not everyone looking at me in the grocery store thinks I'm in over my head with the twins (but oh if I had a dollar for every time I've heard the words, "Well don't you have your hands full!"). And some of the time I'm just being overly-sensitive. But some of the time, mom-guilt is real (though I know very little of it is ill-intended) and it's intense. 


It is hard as a parent to not feel judged and to not be offended by other's comments and observations on your parenting (or on parenting in general). A friend of mine once commented during my pregnancy (when I had unintentionally offended some people with my thoughts on natural childbirth), "Welcome to parenting - it's the most volatile topic EVER." Boy was she right. 


As someone who is pretty outspoken with my thought/feelings/views, this new sensitivity is a two-sided-coin. On one hand, I don't want to share for fear of being found lacking. On the other hand, I want to share openly because I really feel it's important to be honest about ones struggles in the hopes of encouraging someone else in the same boat that they are not alone. On the other, other hand (apparently this is a three-sided, three-handed coin), I'm more aware that the opinions I share could be hurtful to someone and make them feel judged by me. 


Oy. What to do with all of this? I have no idea. To share? To hush up? To be sensitive? To grow thicker skin? Maybe some Frankenstein-esque combination of all of them. I'm not sure, but I am seeing how important it is for a new mom (or just a mom in general) to feel like she's doing a good job with her kids. Okay yes, there are some moms whose parenting needs an intervention, and there are times when we mess up. But for the most part, most of us are just doing the best we can and that needs to be good enough for those around us - whether they fully agree, or have a different opinion or think there is a "better" way. We all can show each other a little more grace in the parenting department, myself (to myself and to others) included. 


(Showing myself grace is proving to be the most challenging part of parenting, especially when my middle-school lack of confidence takes over. But the thing I'm most thankful for right now is that I've got a steady husband who is constantly assuring and reassuring me that I'm a good mom. Considering he sees the good and bad of my parenting day-in-day-out and is my accomplice in raising these boys, his encouragement is invaluable to keeping me sane and semi well-balanced.) 

But I don't want to be a mommy blog...

There is nothing wrong with mommy blogs. There are a number of really good mommy blogs that I enjoy reading and have gained some much-needed encouragement and wisdom from. Moms have a lot of really great (and entertaining) things to share sometimes. And after just one short month of being a stay-at-home mom, I can totally see how mommy blogs are a sometimes essential bridge to social sanity for the women reading and writing them. It's just that I never wanted this space - my little spot to reflect, share and talk about topics that I find meaningful, fun or interesting - to morph into a mommy blog where I only ever talk about my kids (not that my kids aren't meaningful, fun or interesting to me... awkward silence...).


The thing is though, my life itself has morphed into a world predominately conquered by my kids and it's hard to come up with anything interesting to write about that doesn't revolve around the twins (who, while lovable, adorable five-months-olds, are not all that interesting). On top of that: mommy-brain is a doozy and holding down a thought long enough to wrestle it into a fully-form sentence seems nearly impossible most of the time.


So here my blog sits - unable to assert itself as much at the moment because it's run by a gal trying to grasp her new identity and adjust to being a full-time, stay-at-home wife and mother. Poor blog. Do not loose hope my digital friend, you will rise again. Someday, ponderous tidbits and amusing stories will once again flow across your htlm-coded pages. Cling to that little blog. Cling to it like boogers on a baby's nose (dang it - mommy blogging).


So yeah. The adjustment to my new career as a nanny/laundress/cook/maid/mom/wife or what is now considered the p.c. term - "a home manager" - is slow going. Some days I absolutely love it. Some days I just want to pawn my wee babes off on anyone who is willing to take them for a few hours (days??) so I can go on a mental vacation and spend some quiet, quality time just me and Joe (as in, Mr. Cup O'). But every day, no matter what the joys, stresses or boredoms, I am truly grateful to be home and able to pour more energy into my husband and kids. It's a blessing. And while I'm struggling with wondering if the daily tasks of a stay-at-home mama is "enough" in light of so many needs and troubles in this world (which press so heavily on my heart), I am praying that God will show me how I can best serve Him and others without neglecting the new responsibilities He has place lovingly in my arms.


This time last year I was on my way to Uganda, Africa to love and serve some beautiful, precious people. A big chunk of my heart still pulls me towards them - to their needs and to their inspiring hope and faith in God. I don't want to forget them as I care for my own. While tending to my two small babies, I don't want to forget the mother somewhere who is struggling to feed and provide for her little ones. While loving my hard-working husband, I don't want to forget about the family whose husband/father is without a job, or worse, whose husband/father has abandoned them or been taken by disease or hunger. I do not want to get so caught up in loving my own that I neglect loving others. Caring for my family is a wonderful gift and calling, but it is causing tension as I navigate this new season. My mom/wife heart and my justice/mercy heart are trying to figure out how to live under the same roof.


At the core of all this is the fact that I don't want my sons growing up thinking the world is only about them. I want them to truly love others more than themselves and deeply care about the poor around the world. And I have to teach them this by my own actions. Tension exists here because how do I deeply love others while also having enough left in me to deeply love this little family God has blessed me with? I don't know yet. My "doing" in regards to the mercy/justice side of things might be in a resting season for a little while during this tender time of caring for my little ones and if that is the case, I have to learn to be okay with that.


Still... if I start writing less and less about orphans and the poor and more and more about boogers and diapers, somebody please hack into my account and put this blog out of its misery. Thank you.

Goal #21 Complete: Art Walk

More progress on my Project 101 in 1001 list. Read about my journey here.
Goal #21: Attend an Art Walk in downtown Scottsdale and dress to the nine.
(insert here the sound of life throwing on the brakes and dropping a set of twins in our laps)


Now let's revamp that goal a little to fit the reality of our new life:

Goal #21: Attend an Art Walk in downtown Scottsdale Chandler and dress to the nine in a trendy fashion suitable for parents carrying around four-month-old twins. COMPLETE

Here's the thing, Scottsdale is a little hoity-toity. The quiet, indoor galleries featured during the monthly Art Walk often have wine and cheese served. Not exactly the most conducive attmoshere to be carting around (potential fussy) twinfants. Also, if one is carting around twinfants, "dressing to the nine" is kind of a waste as one will (very) likely end the night with one's fancy clothes covered in drool, spit-up, tears, pee, poop or some combination of the afore mentioned bodily expulsions. 

So, with those things in mind, I reworked this goal a bit and Devin and I (twins in tow) attended an Art Walk that was just around the corner, in very our own downtown Chandler. It was casual, outdoors and five minutes from home (in case of a twin melt down). We did not "dress to the nine" per-say, but we did rock some baby carriers. And nothing says "trendy fashion" like a modern baby wrap that matches your "artsy hipster" attire.

We invited Devin's parents to join us and had a really nice evening, concluded by enjoying some delicious handmade fruit bars at Paleta Betty's. Goal completed.