Where'd it go?

May, that is. I'm sitting here staring at my calendar wondering what on earth I did with May, because it's almost gone. Time to revisit my goals and scramble around a bit trying to finish it all.

The pile of baby clothes has been sorted and organized and placed in to one purple bin with newborn size on top, all the way down to 9 months size on the bottom. I feel like I should have had more emotional stress over putting those baby clothes away, like I should have cried a little or something. But no dice, not one single tear. It's done and that's that.

Karlina's room is finally looking less chaotic. I moved her bookshelves out a little bit so they're not right in the corner, and I also moved the big bed all the way over to the far wall so she can get at her books and toys more easily. Which is a blessing and a curse, really, since she doesn't quite have the motor skills to put the books back on the shelf yet. She tries, though, and that's what counts. I also moved the tree decal to the other side of the room and the framed scrapbook paper to the window wall.

My closet is finally done! (Pictures to come tomorrow) Angel choirs are singing, let me tell you. I am so thrilled to have gotten rid of so many clothes and shoes and purses (I now have two. At one point I had like 20. Big improvement), and I love going into my room now. I haven't rearranged the furniture in there yet, but hopefully my Hubby will be back at work tomorrow after a mild respiratory infection he's been battling since Sunday, so I'll be able to rearrange a bit then.

The kitchen shelves have been painted thanks to my Mother-in-law. Sadly, though, they don't fit in the cabinet anymore, so they're going to need a good sand before I can put them back in, and Heaven knows when that's going to happen. The cabinets are still in desperate need of another coat or two of paint as well, and I'm definitely going to need some help with Karlina before I can even think about that. So, the kitchen will have to wait for June, I suppose. 

The bathroom still needs a good wipe-down and a quick sort-through to put things back where they're supposed to go. That I can do this week for sure.

So, barring any major disasters (please, Lord, don't let Karlina or me get sick), I should be able to check off a while bunch of May to-do's by Friday. And .... Go!

Closet progress report 1

See that stack of hangers? Before yesterday, every single one of those had a piece of sad, lonely, unwanted clothing on it. Now, the hangers are free. There are 27 in that stack, which means almost a month's worth of clothes are now being donated to a thrift shop. The picture of the clothes hanging is literally my entire professional wardrobe. A few shirts, five pairs of slacks, seven skirts, two suits, one dress. Oh, and those sweaters, which are looking much nicer in my new sweater rack. (I still have a ridiculous amount of sweaters considering I live in Los Angeles, but my husband has this thing about being cold and thinks I need to bundle up when it's sixty degrees out. So he buys me sweaters. And I love each and every one of them because he really is a very good stylist. The man can walk in to a store and buy a pair of jeans for me and when he brings them home they fit perfectly. He once brought home a size six because he said they looked like they would fit. I was, naturally, skeptical since I am a solid 8-10. And I love those size six jeans. Very proud that I have a pair of size six jeans in my drawer and that I can wear them.)

(^Longest parenthesis ever?)

I still don't love the look of that sweater rack there, and I'd love to be all Martha Stewart and put in some fancy shelf dividers to stack my sweaters, but I'm not that good at drilling and getting my husband to do it will be challenging since he's working overtime for two more weeks. So, the rack will have to do.

I'm also down to two weeks worth of undies, which is a drastic improvement. Most of the ones I threw out were uncomfortable anyway, and I just no longer have the will to wear uncomfortable underwear. I also threw out all those evil VS bras and am now down to two nursing bras and four sports bras. I'll be ordering some that actually fit soon. I'll spare you those details, though.

Shoes ... You know, I've never considered myself a shoe person, but I had about three times as many shoes as I need creating traffic jams in my closet. So now I'm down to two pairs of dress sandals, two pairs of dress flats, one pair of Five Fingers, two pairs of hikers (one is Goretex which will only be used in the winter, so it's way back in the corner there), one pair of tennis shoes, one pair of Vans which I can't bear to part with, and my beloved Toms. From 30 pairs down to 10.

So now I've cleared space for my trumpet and music stand (they're hiding there behind the sweater rack) and my file box, which really doesn't belong there in the front but will have a new convenient location soon.

Oh my word, it feels so good to purge all of this from my life. It feels like letting go of a huge burden. I feel like I'm no longer a slave to my possessions. And it feels like I'm finally back in control of my house.

I should be finished in the next couple of days after I clean up that top shelf. I still have no earthly idea where that stuff is going to go. Most of it I'm keeping, so it must find a place to be.

So here are today's photos. A vast improvement from yesterday, I think.

Closet: Before

Welcome to The Great Closet Purge of 2013. Good gracious, these photos are embarrassing. I forgot to take a photo before I took all my clothes out, but that big stack on the bed are things I'm getting rid of. Either they don't fit (all my church dresses but one are in varying stages of too small or too big ... Thank you, yo-yo weight), are frayed or have holes (most of my work pants which I was too cheap and lazy to have tailored), are out of style (Hello, skirt collection from 2005), or I just don't feel good in them. I did keep a lot of things I don't really wear because they are pretty and maybe when I'm a hip preschool mom (aka when I'm not relegated to crappy nursing bras) I can wear them again. Optimism is power.

All that other junk in there? Most of it was in the guest room before the guest room became a nursery. So lots of books, office supplies, and junk. I'll keep you updated on progress if I can remember to take pictures as I go. I do know that my lovely collection of Victoria's Secret bras are going bye-bye since I discovered yesterday, via this blog post, that NONE of them are the correct size. Here I've been wearing 36C for years, but I'm really supposed to be a 32DDDDDD according to American sizing, 32G for UK sizing. Yeah, no, my boobs are not ginormous as the Man at VS had me thinking for years, they are just too cheap to make bras that actually fit normal women, so they add four inches to the band size. Really ridiculous. Read the link, but please excuse the completely unnecessary profanity, and you'll see what I mean.

Anywho, enough about my bra size. (Side note: I completely bored my husband talking about this last night. You'd think he'd be all ears listening to me talk about my boobs, but no dice. Men are weird.)

Alright, here are the photos, in typical Wish I Could Write style, ie completely out of order, of my closet. Progress reports to come.

Long week

<p>Okay, so I know a lot of people have it worse than me, but allow me to vent my first-world problem: My hubby works ten-hour days four days each week. We love this schedule as it allows us to enjoy the outdoors without dealing with the 17 million other Angelenos who also want to be outside on the weekends. Fridays are fantastic days to go to the beach, enjoy waterfalls in the mountains, and drive those curvy roads without anyone else around. Well, at least, not 17 million of them. But last Friday and the next two Fridays and probably Memorial Day, Robert and his team are writing a grant. It's due in two weeks, so it's crunch time. And I'm learning to deal with being home five days a week. I know, wah, wah, boo hoo, join the rest of the world ... But this throws off my whole schedule, and the Crazy does not like schedule changes. Plus my honey is tired at the end of a 50-hour work week, and then we have to start Sabbath still all fired up from the week with no time to mentally prepare for that lovely day of rest. We go to church tired and maybe still a little irritable because we haven't had our extra day to wind down. And then Sunday we have to rush around to finish taking care of things for the week to come, and then our lovely outdoor time is ruined by 17 million others who are also enjoying their outdoor time. </p>
<p>Case in point: Yesterday we planned a lovely, long drive to one of our favorite hiking spots in the Angeles National Forest. We rarely see people up that high, but the trail is gorgeous, all strewn with tall cedars and cool rock formations, and lots of squirrels for Pippin to chase. Yesterday, though, Highway 2 was closed for some as yet unknown reason, so we had to turn around and drive to the beach. It took us nearly two hours to get there, which was great for our sleeping beauty, but rather tiring for Robert. When we got to the beach, it was just full of surfers, tailgaters, sunbathers, dog walkers, stoners, tunnel-to-China diggers, sand castle builders, and of course lots of sand and water. We did have a beautiful time, though, and really, the beach at Leo Carillo seldom attracts the huge crowds you see at other beaches in Los Angeles County. Karlina loves playing chicken with the waves, Pippin loves searching for sticks in the soft sand, and we really just enjoyed hanging out. </p>
<p>However, today we still feel a little frantic since we didn't have Friday to deal with bills and mail. Poor Robert came home for lunch and had to eat in ten minutes because he spent the rest of the time on the phone trying to sort out some business. I don't quite feel rested, and I'm sure Robert is feeling a little unprepared for the week as well. </p>
<p>But here's the silver lining: I can take it a little easier this week and next knowing that I have five days instead of four to get all my work done. Which might mean a trip to the park, perhaps a library run, and some much-needed crochet time. </p>
<p>So, life looks a little different this week, but it's going to be just fine. We will survive and appreciate our three-day weekends even more from now on.

My beef with blogging

I started this blog not too long ago as a result of feeling depressed and alone and needing a place to just throw all my frustrations out there. I honestly didn't expect anyone to read it, and I'm still surprised that there are a few left who still read it even though I really suck at blogging. Half the time I forget, then my posts are rather random and scatterbrained and quite poorly written, and boring as all get out. I mean, who cares what I'm cleaning and organizing this week? Besides me? Anyone? Bueller? Yeah, I didn't think so. My photos never post in the right order because we refuse to pay for WiFi at our house and we refuse to buy a computer, so until the blogger app for android improves, the photos will continue to be out of order and always at the end of the post, unlike those awesome blogs where it's picture, words, picture of same thing at a different angle, rephrase the same words, etc. Those blogs are fun and exciting, this one ... Meh.

I've come to realize that this whole blogging thing is really a big fat popularity contest that each person fights with themselves. I know how it is, to log on to that blogger dashboard and see the line graph shooting up in to the sky. Quite exhilarating, I must admit. Then your blog gets around, somehow, and all of a sudden you have followers! Yay! Although these followers are completely random people who of course want you to return the favor even though reading their blog is like slow torture in a pot of boiling water for your eternal soul. You just aren't that interested in people's theological discourse on why it's HORRIBLE, WRONG, UN-CHRISTIAN, UN-AMERICAN!! to keep the Sabbath on Saturday. (Seriously, how do these people find my blog? This blog has almost nothing to do with my chosen religion.) So they unfollow you because you don't want to follow them. "Teacher, I'm not Jonny's friend anymore because he doesn't want to play marbles with me!"

For some bloggers, it's obvious that they really just write from their heart. Then there are those who are obviously making money from it (I'm not saying there's anything wrong with making a living from your blog ...) but who seem to have issues with sincerity and honesty. Their pages are filled with ads and sponsored posts and some of those are just really hard for me to read.

Anyway, I'm sure I offended someone or a lot of someone's with my bugaboos about blogging. But just so you know: If your blog content is boring, I'm not following you. If your blog content is full of sponsored posts and little else, I'm not following you. And no, I don't really care if you are following me or not, I'm still sticking to my convictions on this one. (By the way, as of now I have zero followers, and I'm totally okay with that.) I just am a little annoyed with the disingenuousness of the blog world right now. And now that I've gotten that off my chest, onward. As you were.

Oh, there you are, Sleep! I've been looking all over for you!

So Tuesday afternoon's "nap," if you can even call it that, lasted all of fifteen minutes. So, I made an executive decision, which I of course discussed with hubby and MIL first, that we would start the intentional transition from two naps to one. So yesterday I let Karlina play until 10:50 or so before we started her pre-nap routine. Then, after Bible story, lullabies, crib time, and a little Ergo cuddle time, she went to sleep at 11:15. She stayed asleep until 12:55. Good, solid nap. She stayed awake pretty much the whole afternoon, with a brief fifteen-minute nap while nursing. Then, last night she went down in her crib at about 8:15 and didn't wake AT ALL until 5:45! And I now have a new project looming: Black-out curtains.

This 5:30-ish wake-up time is new, but it's been three days in a row (of course, now that I typed that she'll go back to waking at 4:00 ... {sure enough, I started writing this yesterday, and today she woke at 4:50. Oh well}). One nap per day is a goal we're striving towards, but so far it hasn't happened yet. She always wants to take a little cat nap during the afternoon nursing session. I'm letting her sleep for a few minutes, but then I'll play a video on my phone or walk around, just so she doesn't mess up the night time sleep.

Anyway, I feel much more human after a few days' worth of sleeping through the night. However, now that we're working towards one nap, I am in desperate need of time to clean. I really just want to play and read with my daughter all day, but I really can't let cleaning go, especially the floors since she's still crawling. I'm managing to vacuum every day, but weekly dusting, mopping, and bathroom cleaning have not been consistent at all. I just don't get how such a small house can require this much work! I'm not complaining, really, just wondering. And so, this parenthood thing is really just an evolving animal, I'm coming to find out. I think I have everything figured out, I get into a groove, and then everything changes. Bring on those curveballs, Life. I'm ready for whatever you got. house

Sleep ... Oh, how I miss you

I haven't slept since about 2 this morning, when my daughter briefly woke up and didn't want to go right back to sleep like she usually does. I held and rocked her for about 10 minutes before I was able to put her down without her popping right back up again. After that, though, I didn't sleep well. I'd drop off, then feel uncomfortable, then start thinking about something else, then drop off again and then K would wake up squirming and crying a bit before going back to sleep again, then I'd have to pee, and on and on. At about 5:30, she woke again to eat, but I didn't want her to be up for the day yet (ha!) and there was already light filtering in the front windows, so I brought her to bed with me. Which is really stupid of me, because I know she can't eat laying down without getting all filled up with burps. So she squirmed and we switched sides, and she squirmed some more and stood up and asked to get down to play. Ugh. Okay, kid, you play, I'll sleep. This lasted for maybe twenty minutes before she was ready to go back to sleep. So I nursed her in bed again (Really? Brain, you are not doing your best work today ...) This time she napped while sucking, but I was sore from typical early-morning-nursing-baby-yoga, so I couldn't get back to sleep. Yay. And here we are, 2:20 in the afternoon, she's been trying to go down for a nap for 50 minutes now and I just can't put her down on the bed without her crying. This does not bode well for my to-do list for today. Okay, here we go, gonna try again to put her down. Wish me luck.

The Plan

99 degrees. Spring? Really? This is August weather, LA, come on, now. May needs fog and cool mornings and long-sleeved shirts for pajamas.

However, I have been waiting for some hot, dry weather to finish painting the pantry shelves, so here we go. I can certainly finish that today and perhaps finish (ahem ... Start) sorting baby clothes once it's too hot to be outside. Here's hoping for some stellar naps from baby girl today.

The rest of the week I'll be moving artwork, putting finishing touches on baby closet organization, perhaps starting in on my own closet disaster, and, once it's cool enough to open the windows during the day, put a couple more coats of paint on kitchen cabinets and drawers. Oh, wouldn't it be loverly to finish putting my kitchen back together this week?

Speaking of musicals, yesterday I was inspires to sing "The Sound of Music" as a celebration of my daughter's first "bagged" peak! I have no idea what mountain it even was, and have no photo evidence since we left the camera in the car, but it was very exciting. The top of this particular mountain was pretty magical in the sparkly fairy dust sense. The rocks up at the top were full of mica which glinted and sparkled every time we moved. And we found the top of this mountain not because we intended to bag a peak, but because we couldn't for the life of us find the Pacific Crest Trail. No one else found it either, apparently, as we spotted numerous parties of hikers and backpackers wandering aimlessly among the picnic tables and along the highway in search of the elusive trail. I'm thinking maybe they could use some better signage.

Anyway, here's to another week closer to my goal of having my whole house organized. I'm already hatching plans for reorganizing the living room again, though, so this may be an ongoing and never-ending project. Blame it on the Crazy.

For Mom

Yesterday I opened the door to see a funny little lady, long, black, curly hair escaping rebelliously from under her too-small baseball cap, sheet of paper with no clipboard in one hand and a pitcher full of flowers in the other. "Are you Patritha?" she lisped. I barely avoided lisping back a "Yeth," and instead opted for "I am." "Well, thethe are for you!" she exclaimed, and handed me the flowers and the clipboard-less paper, which was full of names and addresses. My name was there but the address line was blank. I asked her if she needed my address, she told me "Jutht thign right there." Now I don't know if you've mastered the Jedi-like skill of doing anything and everything while holding a baby, but signing a clipboard-less paper with one hand seems an impossible task. I somehow managed to use my baby-holding hand as a hard surface and scribbled something totally illegible.

The flowers are gorgeous. The card was, as I expected, from my Mom. My first Mother's Day flowers! My first thought was "Oh crap. I haven't ordered anything for my mom yet," which was followed quickly by "Man, my mom is so awesome!"

And she really is.

My mom has made so many sacrifices for us. When we were itty bitty, she stayed home with us and cloth-diapered, cooked everything from scratch (including spaghetti noodles!), learned from the neighbors how to make tortillas and sopapillas, only let us watch Sesame Street, and taught us to love and respect everyone and everything, especially our books. After she and Dad divorced, she started attending night school to become a nurse. She worked the 7p to 7a shift at hospitals for years so we could have clothes and food and a home. 

Growing up, I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. When I was in middle school, she came to school once to drop off a book or something, and all my friends thought she was my sister. I have very few memories of her ever losing her patience with us, and the one time I remember her spanking me, she was so gentle that it didn't even hurt. Despite the divorce and the circumstances surrounding it, she never spoke one negative word about my Dad in front of us. It wasn't until I was 21 and rather angry with her about getting divorced that she told me why. That had to be so hard for her, especially because we kind of idolized our absent parent. She defended us whenever we suffered any genuine injustice, but somehow she knew when we were (or rather when I was ... I don't think my sister ever told a fib in her life) exaggerating and wouldn't put up with my storytelling.

My mom has been through so much emotional turmoil in her life, and has made a lot of mistakes (who hasn't?). But she is my hero, my best friend, my advocate, and my mentor.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

May Flowers

Well, it's May 9 already and I never even posted my goals for April! April was very busy around here, and included a couple of weeks of painting the kitchen, which is still ongoing since my mom came to visit before we were really finished, and it's been raining and humid since she left. I will dedicate a post to the kitchen when it's all finished.

So my goals for May are not really new or exciting, just finishing a bunch of projects that I've already started.

Painting needs to be done as soon as it gets warm and dry again, which, according to NOAA should be Sunday. Yay, painting on Mother's Day! But, as my husband so generously states, "Every day is Mother's Day." Aww, how sweet, right? Or it's a lame excuse to not buy me cake and chocolate and flowers. Yeah, I'm on to you, buddy. And just to be passive aggressive, I'm going to go ALL OUT for Father's Day this year. ALL.OUT.

Tangent over. As you were.

Next, my daughter's closet, which was so meticulously organized before she was born, is now full of unsorted piles of too-small baby clothes, which I of course am saving for friends who are expecting since we're pretty sure we're done having kids. And by We, I of course mean He. I'm not sure I'll ever be done, but I'm working on being okay with one. For now. Anyway, those clothes have two empty giant purple bins in the garage waiting for them and that's my next task. I may even get to that today ... We shall see.

I also need to move around some artwork in Karlina's room since I sort of rearranged a few things yesterday. That shouldn't take long.

Moving on to our bedroom, MY side of the closet has been in an embarrassing state since we re-wired a year ... and a half ago. Yes, my closet has been a disaster for eighteen months. There, I said it. There are books, clothes, shoes, musical instruments, toys, gifts for my nephews which I forgot to give them and are now too small, cards and letters from my old job, office supplies, and, oh yes, more clothes. So many clothes I could dress a high school marching band. An all-female high school marching band, but a high school marching band nevertheless. My husband undertook to clean his side of the closet one morning a few weeks ago. He finished in an hour. He saw me later that day looking for recipe ideas and thought I was looking for something to DO. He told me to clean my side of the closet. During Karlina's nap time. Which is an hour and a half, max. Oh, you poor, silly man. You really expect me and my Crazy to finish cleaning, purging, and organizing eighteen months worth of STUFF in an hour and a half? Oh no, darling, this will be at least a three-day job. If not a week. Maybe two. It's really bad in there ...

Then of course I'd like to rearrange our room a bit to make it flow more nicely. For instance, having our dressers next to the bed instead of facing off in opposite corners. Maybe some nice, soft curtains, or a homemade headboard. Artwork? Sure, why not! It sure is nice to dream, isn't it?

Then the bathroom. I'm not too worried about it except the walls and ceiling could use a good wipe-down. We also have a brand new (almost two years old?) lovely skylight which is giving us an amazing view of ... the attic. That needs to be connected to the lovely skylight in the roof, but that's a Honeydo for my Honey Bear and, as we ladies know but tend to ignore at times, nagging doesn't get us anywhere. All I can do is calmly ask him if he plans to do anything about it this weekend. As I have been calmly asking every weekend for nearly two years now. So yeah, I've been nagging him. I've only myself to blame for it not being done yet, I suppose.

After that, the last thing on my "Get this house in sellable condition whether we sell or not!" list is to paint the hallway cabinet. I'm thinking white, just to keep it simple. The baseboards could use a touch-up of paint too.

I honestly don't think May has enough days to get all this under my belt, but I may surprise myself and be REALLY motivated.

Maybe.

K-13

Thirteen months. Everyone asks if she's walking and talking. No, and yes. I mean, she walks great holding on to one or both of our hands, or if she knows Daddy is holding on to her jacket. But no steps on her own yet. And yesterday I read two blog posts about kids who didn't do the "milestones" until they were good and ready, so I'm cool with just letting it happen when it happens. We've never forced anything with her, and this waking thing is no different.

But talking? Oh, yes, she talks! Most of it I don't understand, but I love to just listen to the sweet, incessant babble that takes up most of her day. The words she uses consistently are daddy (which sometimes comes out Dadu), puppy (which at the moment applies to any animal), afuera (outside), agua (water), amen (after songs, mealtime and naptime prayers, and good stories), Mami (but only when prompted ... She still calls me Gaaaah when she's looking for me), and papa (which could mean one of many things depending on the circumstances: looking at pictures, it's Grandpa, looking at a bird, it's Pajaro, eating a French fry, it's Potato (What? I don't give my kid French fries, what are you talking about?), playing with rocks, it's Piedra). She says Mmm when she smells a flower and when she eats, and it's just so cute with her little high-pitch soft voice (as opposed to the decidedly alto tones she uses when she's angry or wants something NOW).

Parentheses schmarentheses.

She loves books all of a sudden. She has developed an attachment to her kangaroo and just NEEDS to hold it when she's feeling insecure. Outside is still her favorite place to be, and her Abuelita is already employing her to pull weeds. If I hand her a rag, she will wipe down the nearest surface. If I hand her a brush, she will diligently scrub the floor. We shall see how long this lovely Cinderella phase lasts.

At her 12 month checkup, she weighed 20 lbs 12 oz, was 28" long, and her head is measuring in the 90th percentile. Her doctor remarks, "Big brain," at every visit. She is finally catching up to her peers in the weight and height categories at the 50th and 30th percentiles respectively. She eats solids like a champ, and she's still nursing five or six times a day. I am in no way ready to give up nursing, and neither is she, so my new goal is to make it to 2 years or whenever she decides she's done. It has been challenging of late, because she's pretty much been teething for three months straight now and when she teethes, she bites. The good ol' clamp and drag is her favorite trick, and she also enjoys a bit of nursing yoga when I feed her in bed for our first daylight feed. Coconut oil is amazing for sore body parts, by the way.

Speaking of teeth, she now has five and is working on a sixth. Despite cutting so many teeth in so little time, she has been surprisingly good natured. She does have her moments of frustration and clingy whininess, but for the most part she is happy all the time.

Her favorite part of the day is when Daddy comes home. I've been looking forward to this part of parenthood since I got pregnant. Or maybe since we got married. Actually, I've been looking forward to this since I was a little girl who missed that whole "Daddy's home!" experience. She squeals when she hears the garage door open or sees the car pull up, and she just wants to RUN out the door (except she needs to hold on to Mommy's hand to do it).

This is such a fun time for me, watching her explore and learn and grow way too fast. Thank Heaven for little girls.