The Mama Body

Okay, so my body has decided it wants to be pregnant shaped. I don't mean, oh she's still a little pudgy from the baby weight, shaped. I mean, full on 3 months pregnant shaped. And I know that it's weird because I really am a stick shaped person with a heck of a pot belly, but isn't there some unwritten, possibly even written, rule about not asking someone if they're pregnant??? Especially when most of these people KNOW ME and KNOW that I have a 4.5 month old baby boy?! It's gotten to the point where I don't even care if they feel bad, they SHOULD feel bad, I just say, 'Nope, I'm just fat.' and walk away while they try to get their humility up off the floor. Go ahead people, go crawl into a box somewhere and hide. Thanks for reminding me (DAILY) that I am now fat. Do you THINK I don't know?! It's not like I go to put clothes on in the morning and think, 'hmm...that's odd, my pants shrunk.' I can't even wear big clothes to hide it; my belly sticks out past my boobs, and all you girls know that your boobs can make a shirt hang just right and cover up any bulges in the belly area. No luck here any more.

Let me preface (well I guess it's too late for that) that I was huge pregnant. I mean, 'are you having twins? (same lady that asked me if I'm pregnant again by the way)', big. I'll include a crappy pic for evidence. And I think that my internal organs are so freakin' happy that they aren't being kicked and squished any more that they are spreading out on lounge chairs in there. I mean moving around and staking claim to new territory like Oklahoma land grabbers. And my stomach muscles are so stretched and just totally worn out and disinterested in their job, that they are doing nothing to help me force things back where they used to be.

Yes, yes, I know...SIT UPS. Evil I tell you! Don't even think it! It's is pure evil wrong that a new mom who is getting up in the middle of the night and then again at 5am to get ready for work, would have to take 10 minutes out of her sleep to do something so horrible as situps. I protest!

*sigh* Damn it, I'm going to have to aren't I...

Measure Twice, Cut 3 Times

Okay, so as much as I love making things, I suck at measuring. I can do carpentry, sew, create graphics...but every thing I do has to be re-done a dozen times. I'm trying to make business cards. You know, cute little pictures of my work on the front, business info on the back. Well I had 2 problems... the info needed to be flipp-flopped and it was also too close to the top of the card. So what do I do? I bump the text down and then flip the text over. What have I essentially done?...I've made the text go off the top of the card completely! All I did was make it more off center. Argh. Me stupid with layout stuff, go stick head back in sand...pbwft!

Owls are a HOot

I dunno, the title is retarded, but they are a hoot. lol I just get urges to create artwork. It's not even like I sit down and go through 20 itterations of what I want to do. Usually I just sit down and out it comes. I don't even have much of a choice. If I don't sit down and get it out, it keeps me up at night. Who wants to be kept up by a flock of teeny tiny owls?!

Deep Thinking

I feel like I'm supposed to be making grand observations about the world and the meaning of life, or something like that. I mean, if people are supposed to read this, isn't it neccessary to be more interesting than the back of a cereal box? Unfortunately I'm just not the existential type. Maybe I was in college. Nah, I think I was past it then...might have to go all the way back to middle school. Before I realized that life is life and thinking about it too darn much didn't change anything. Probably just gave god a good laugh. Oooo...I just got existential! Okay, well now it's time for breakfast and I'm hungry, so unless you want to hear me get all existential about toaster strudels, I'm out.

If the World Could Stop Turning Please!

I'm soooooooooooo not ready to go back to work. I love watching a thousand little faces light up in my classroom every week, but I have one very important little face at home to think about. It's not even like I enjoy spending all week without a shower and not knowing what the outside world is...I just want to be here for my baby. Maybe etsy is the answer to my prayers. If I could sell $70 a day I wouldn't have to go back to work. My salary (woo teachers) less the cost of daycare is only worth $70 a day. What is wrong with this country? If I lived back home in Australia I'd have been PAID $5,000 to have a baby. If I lived in France, I'd have 2 years time off! Poop on this country. Yeah, yeah, I still live here. I know. Damn it.

Selling

There's something about selling a piece of artwork that helps to justify your entire existence. Don't get me wrong, I realize I exist outside of my work, but some one likes me, you really like me! The days that drag on, with noone buying, noone nibbling, eat away at your self confidence, your worth and your soul. I know that sounds grandiose, but it's the truth. So when someone lets you know that yes, you are worth 2 hours wages plus shipping, well that's just fun.

My life

Welcome to my whole world. And in a couple short weeks I'll be leaving him in someone else's hands. Someone else who is going to share all his firsts and spend his days with him and become so important in his life that I fear they will come to replace me in his heart. It's not fair that we have to work to make money to pay someone else to raise our children. It's not fair that at 3 months old, 6 weeks for most parents, my baby will not understand why his mommy isn't holding him when he cries. Work sucks.

My work

Did I mention I'm an etsy artist? Wow, artist...I don't usually claim that title. It's something I think has to be bestowed upon you, not claimed. I am an art teacher, that's easier to say, and true....but artist? I guess I have been paid for my work before, that makes it official right? *big breath*

http://www.ferntreestudio.etsy.com/

Here we go y'all!

Okay, so I don't blog. Make that didn't blog. Where on Earth am I supposed to find time to type down my thoughts when I have a 3 month old baby and a job and a studio and, and , and... oh wait, nevermind, the baby sucked all the thought producing ability out of my pretty little head anyway. Phew! Pressure off. Guess all y'all will get is the aimless ramblings between diaper changes and drawing. Should be fun. Or at least, um, interesting.