You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Ellis’ category.
I was 8 when my mom was pregnant with my brother and bought him this antique dresser. I promptly informed her that a baby would not be able to appreciate this fine dresser and claimed it as my own.
My love affair with antiques actually began long before age 8, when I would wander through my grandparent’s house, trying to commit its entire contents to my memory.
However, this did mark the start of my claiming my mother’s things as my own, and she was helpless to stop it. She’s even more helpless to stop Ellis from “shopping” in her fridge, laughing as Ellis pulls out leftovers and dropping it into a bag and saying in her sing-song voice, We need this. Aaaand we need this. Aaaand we need this.
I love this dresser as much today as I did at age 8. It held my first pair of white Guess jeans with the little zippers up the back. My bff Jerusalem and I used it to mix a batch of chocolate chip cookies late one night because we didn’t want to wake up my family by using the kitchen.
The marks of a penny, a hairclip, and a scissors are burned into the surface from carelessly leaving them underneath whatever decorative cloth I had draped over its top.
And now the dresser is in Ellis’ room, and even though I tell myself it’s still my dresser, I am totally prepared for the day when she claims it as her own. I will outwardly protest and tell her that just because it’s in her room, that does not make it hers. And on the inside, I’ll be thinking, this is just how it should be.
I wonder what sort of memories Ellis will have of her dresser 25 years from now, what fashions it will hold, what marks will be left behind.
She may not remember how she used to “lock” her dresser pulls by flipping them up (to keep the cat out, of course), but I will.
Is this not the finest piece of brocolli you’ve ever seen? I MADE that brocolli. And let me tell you, it was also the BEST piece of brocolli I have ever eaten. Adam doesn’t believe that the brocolli I picked from our garden, the brocolli that we grew ourselves, the brocolli that I watered by strategically positioning the sprinkler just-so for maximum garden coverage.
He thinks that this glorious piece of brocolli, tastes the same as grocery store brocolli.
He thinks that this brocolli tastes the same as grocery store brocolli that was grown who knows where, sprayed with who knows what, was picked who knows when, was packed into a wax coated carton, was tossed into a truck, and onto a conveyor belt, sat in the belly of a cargo plane, was tossed into another truck, sat in a warehouse, tossed into another truck, was manhandled by the produce department, manhandled by consumers, and sat in my fridge until I decided to use it?
In all fairness, Adam finally conceded that our brocolli did, he guess, taste better than grocery store brocolli. So there you have it. Our household has voted, and home grown brocolli does, in fact, taste better than mystery brocolli.
No real mystery there.
And if I may add, the salad was the only part of her that dinner Ellis ate.
Ellis just. stopped. crying. After far too long. She normally goes to bed without too much fuss. I’ve been weaning her from her before-bed feeding, and she still hasn’t screamed & cried to this extent. She called for me….mama, mama, mama…over and over again. I couldn’t take it. It was breaking my heart. The anxiety continued to swell until the tears blurred my eyes. I wanted to sit & have a good long cry but for some reason, my body wouldn’t comply.
Right now I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to listen. I don’t want to think. Can’t I just sit and watch Flight Plan? Except that A., now my husband is pissed because I just told him I didn’t have it in me to conversate right now (doesn’t stop him from trying), and B. watching movies where children are missing/harmed/killed causes me anxiety in ways that I never experienced before motherhood.
My former boss and I once shared a hotel room in Vegas while there for training, and after spending the first few nights at the casinos, we opted on the last night to stay in with pay-per-view. Get your minds out of the gutter, we watched Minority Report. A few minutes into the movie, my boss says, Oh, I just remembered I didn’t like this movie because of what happens to his son. At the time I thought it was so strange that a movie could affect her so deeply. Little did I know, right?
My mom sent me a link to a video of some company in Arizona that teaches babies how to roll themselves over and float on their backs if they should fall into a swimming pool. I watched the video clip of a toddler, probably just about Ellis’ age, walk to a swimming pool, fall in, roll himself onto his back and float there, waiting for someone to rescue him. I was having a hard enough time watching the clip until I was insane enough to turn the volume on. I listened to this poor child babbling away (not even crying, really), and my anxiety reached such levels that I had to stop the video halfway through. I knew the baby was going to be fine and I couldn’t take it. Not only could I not take it, but I promptly e-mailed my mother & asked her to please, never, ever, not ever, send me anything like that again. I worry puh-lenty about something horrific happening to Ellis that I don’t need to worry about babies I don’t even know.
So, just in case it wasn’t clear before, I have emotions. Lots of emotions. They live really close to the surface all the time and can come out of nowhere, often causing me to do or say things that I later regret. Lately it seems that my capacity for handling these emotions, good or bad, is diminishing. (One of) my mechanisms to deal with that, is to simply shut down. Retreat. Withdraw from the world in general, except that which is absolutely necessary to function.
When Ellis was first born and in the months after, I was fueled by a need to be a better person; to be the best person I could be for my daughter. I wanted her to be proud of her mother. I had dreams. Dreams that in true Tracy fashion, never made it past the early excitement phase. Now I feel like I have lost that drive. I feel…..blah. I have found myself squarely in the middle of a depression-cycle that, if I were to be completely honest with myself, has been going on for months. I know it is partially due to external factors that are out of my control to change, making me feel like I’m in a rather hopeless situation.
It’s difficult to verbalize this, but lately, I have found myself thinking…how did I get here? Is this really my life? Please don’t take this to mean that I don’t love my daughter or husband. I know that in my heart I am not disatisfied with my life but when one is in the midst of depression, it’s hard to see things objectively.
Instead of being able to see all the wonderful things, I see (on the days that I’m home with Ellis): wake up, change a diaper, put Ellis back in her crib with toys to keep her occupied, take a shower, take Adam to work, stop for a non-fat mocha on the way home (my Monday & Friday treat), come home, put on PBS Kids, keep Ellis from pushing all the buttons on the tv, watch as she trashes the living room in under two minutes, make breakfast, watch helplessly as she throws half of her food on the floor, listen to Porter whine outside because I won’t let him inside while Ellis is eating because she tries to feed him, wipe Ellis’ hands & face, let Porter in, let him eat Ellis’ leftovers, chase Ellis around the house to send her into fits of giggles, change a diaper, Swiffer the dog hair, playtime, naptime, pick up Ellis’ toys (why do I bother with this?), crafttime for mama, kiss Ellis after her nap, change another diaper, lunchtime, change a diaper, pick up toys, errands if my mood allows me to leave the house (don’t forget to pack snacks & sippy cup of water!), (don’t forget to take off slippers and put on shoes!), come home, change a diaper, chase Ellis through the house to encite giggles, keep Porter from “protecting” Ellis from my tickling, will Ellis have an afternoon nap today?, pick up toys, pick up Adam from work, come home, hope that Adam is understanding that I don’t have anything left in me to give to him, fix Ellis dinner, change a diaper, playtime, change a diaper & put on jammies (jammies on Ellis; I am most likely already in jammy-bottoms by this point), brush her teeth, look at books, wonder if I’ll have the energy to do all the things I had planned to do after Ellis was in bed, have Ellis kiss dada night-night, put her to bed, hope that she goes down easily, wonder if I’ll have the energy to do it all over again tomorrow.
Again, PLEASE don’t take this to mean that I don’t love my daughter. I LOVE MY DAUGHTER WITH MY ENTIRE BEING & WOULD BE LOST WITHOUT HER. I love taking care of her, I love being with her, I miss her like mad when I’m at work. That’s the sucky thing about depression: feeling such intense & contradictory feelings simultaneously. How can I love Ellis so freaking much & still feel so disatisfied with my life?
Sure, I have hobbies & they help keep me occupied. I clean. I organize. I try to create order to calm the chaos in my head.
But I think the bigger picture is that Ellis is my constant reminder that time is passing. Every day that goes by is one day closer to her leaving me & that’s just too sad to think about. One week ago today, I started Ellis’ final weaning . We were down to 2 feedings a day; before bed & when she woke up oh so early in the morning, so mama could get another hour of sleep. Once I’ve eliminated that early-morning feeding, that will officially mark the end of my pregnant body and that has hit me hard.
Ladies, how did you cope with weaning your little ones and moving onto the next chapter?
I don’t want to admit that she’s nearly 16 months old, which means she’s nearly 18 months old, and that just means she’s on her way to being a teenager. And I’m not ready for that. I want her to stay innocent and pure, imaginative, silly, my sweet little girl.
While on vacation in Spokane a couple weeks ago, I was laying in my mother in law’s bed (they were gracious enough to give up their bedroom for us) nursing Ellis before bedtime. My niece Katelyn (age 3) decided she wanted to go to bed as well so I let her snuggle in beside us thinking, how cute is this? But because it was quite early compared to Katelyn’s normal bedtime, I figured she would change her mind about all this going to bed nonsense in about 28 seconds.
I was nursing Ellis, and Katelyn was asking questions, and I was saying shhhhh, we need to be quiet. I’m trying to put Belles to bed.
I continued to nurse, and Katelyn continued to ask questions, and I said, shhhhh, we need to be quiet. I’m trying to feed Belles so she can go night-night.
Katelyn asks me, she’s eating? And I say, uh-huh, shhhhhh.
And this is the point where she sat upright, peered over my side, and said IS SHE EATING YOU?
But because we didn’t have a scorching hot week like the week before, it was a good excuse to spend lots of time indoors playing…and when it wasn’t raining, a little time outdoors, too. Honey took this picture of Belles and I at the Mendenhall Glacier this past Sunday.
This bib was crazy-cheap to make (gotta love the little projects!) and something I could actually start & finish in one sitting provided Ellis is napping. The pattern is modified from Amy Carol’s Bend the Rules Sewing, and if you’re familiar with Manda at Tree Fall, it should be pretty obvious where I get much of my inspiration from. And where does one draw the line for inspiration versus just plain stealing? My sincere apologies to Manda if I have overstepped.
I was so pumped for having FINISHED a project ~ two even! ~ and from having just finished sorting & organizing my fabrics that I couldn’t stop there. My mind started formulating color & fabric combinations & as soon as Ellis woke up from her morning nap, we were off to Joann’s. I picked up a set of square quilting templates, a rotary cutter, and hello? Why have I never purchased one before? That little baby made my life INFINITELY easier. At least in terms of sewing That evening I managed to get all my squares cut (seriously loving the rotary cutter) and put together my pattern. This actually came easier than I thought it would. It only took a couple tweaks to get the pattern the way I wanted it, and then a bit longer to fix my mis-placements. Around 11:30pm, I called it quits. Then all day yesterday, I could not. stop. thinking. about getting home to work on Ellis’ quilt! I was determined not to let this much needed burst of inspiration and motivation slip by.
Last night, I pieced together my squares & after laying out my rows, discovered only one mistake. After a short deliberation & virtually no anxiety (yay me!), I decided to leave it as is. I figured that after I added my alternating rows of off-white fabric, the mis-placement would be hardly noticeable, and more importantly, it’s good for me to be okay with producing something less than perfect. Ellis will love it and is she really going to care that there’s a green square where a red square should be?
I’m a little over half-way done with the front of the quilt, and barring any complications of either the sewing machine or of the toddler variety, I should be able to finish tonight. Am I being too optimistic? Maybe, but I really, really want to have this finished for our trip. Don’t ask me why, I’m just compelled to do so. I wanted Ellis to have a little lap quilt while we’re away, something from mama, something from home.
I foresee another quick trip to Joann’s this evening for batting & possibly the backing fabric as I’m not sure if I want to use something I already have or not. Maybe a nice chenille backing? Maybe something lighter?
Be sure to check back for the finished product!