Quirky

Ashley tagged me for the Quirks game.

Rules:
Link the person who tagged you.
Mention rules on your blog.
Tell about 6 quirks of yours.
Tag 6 fellow bloggers to do the same.
Leave a comment to let them know.

Now, a caveat. I have been known among my family and friends for the majority of my life as "The Quirkiest Person on Earth" ™. But as I sat here pondering my list of six, I couldn’t come up with a single quirk. Had I finally done it? Had I become one of... them? One of "The Normal Ones"? Didn't seem likely. So I called my mom and shared my little sitch with her. Then I waited until her giggles had subsided.

She rattled off about 10-15 quirks immediately, though I had a very good explanation for most of them.

Yes, I use two different dish cloths and have specific rules for which one is used where and how much water each one can handle... but that's because they've got different absorbencies! You can't water-log the one or it won't dry properly, then it'll breed bacteria and smell!

Given, I do have an opinion on every subject I've ever encountered, but that's not a quirk! That's just, you know, personality.

Agreed, I'm pretty neurotic about my closet organization system (by type, length, style, color, shade, then preference), but a lot of people are like that. It's what we like to call "detail oriented." Or "neat freak." Your choice. And plenty of people have a specific color order in place. (Mine's pink, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, brown, white, grey, black.) And I'm positive I'm not the only person who likes to make sure her hangers are equidistant and straight.

And true, I do have an incredibly strange sleep schedule, but , well, ok... she did have me there.

So, the following are what my mom, sister, grandma, and husband have deemed my quirks. (But I do have a really good reason for most of them...)

1) I pace obsessively when I'm on the phone, and I have a specific route that I tend to take around the house. If it's a short phone call, I'll usually walk around the kitchen. We have tiles that randomly run two different directions, and I have a path that lets me walk only on ones facing a certain way. I have two longer paths: one for nighttime that takes me through the kitchen/family room/entry, and one for daytime that takes me through the kitchen/entry/hall/playroom (I don’t go into the playroom at night). I don’t consciously walk these tracks, but I can't seem to stop myself. There have even been times when I've been so exhausted that I make an effort to sit through a call, but before I notice it happening, I'm up and walking again.

Once, when we were still living in the apartment, the baby was playing with an old cell phone and took it into the kitchen to pace around the table and babble into it. The older kids used to think it was hilarious to follow me around and around the house while I was on the phone.

2) I like most every food to be served at room-temperature, or straight from the fridge. I can't really think of any food I prefer hot. I'll usually wait 15-20 minutes for any meal to cool before partaking. For dinner (which I usually eat alone), I like to take it out of the oven/microwave/stove, then go take a shower and eat it once I get out.

I also have a really underdeveloped sense of taste. I can't stomach foods that are even slightly bland, because they taste like absolutely nothing to me. I add condiments to everything. We've got a good stock: Tabasco, soy sauce, Worcestershire, A1, teriyaki, Balsamic vinaigrette, barbecue (in many different flavours), mustards, dressings, marinades, spices, and herbs out the yin yang.

I eat curry and peppers and Wasabi without blinking. Made for a lot of fun middle-school dares.

3) I get kind of skittish when Fritz isn't home at night. I sing Primary and Disney songs in the shower, so I don’t get spooked. I close all of the blinds at dusk, because it creeps me out to think someone can see in my house while I can't see out. I've been known to say a prayer for courage when I have to go out to the kitchen past 3 am. Probably about once a month, I call my mom to sit on the phone with me while I investigate a mystery noise. I sometimes sleep with my bedside light on.

The stupid thing is, I'm not so much afraid of anything in particular, as I am afraid of becoming afraid.

You'd never know I happily lived alone for years, would you?

4) I'm petrified of having dirty feet. I don’t go outside, even to step two feet out the door to check the clothes on the line, without shoes. I wash the insides of my shoes frequently so that any dirt that might have found its way in them doesn’t make it back to my feet. Basically the only reason I mop or vacuum is to prevent dust from settling and being picked up when I walk. I wash my feet a lot throughout the day. This used to be difficult when I worked outside the home, as I'd have to frequently escape to the bathroom so I could attack them with baby wipes.

You'd think I would just wear socks to prevent contaminants from ever reach my blessed peds, yeah? However, my feet are also super claustrophobic. I can't stand to have anything touching the tops of them for extended periods of time. When I have to go someplace where flip flops aren't acceptable, I have to keep slipping my shoes on and off to calm myself down. I don’t know what I'd do if I ever broke a bone and required a cast on my foot.

5) I have a bit of an affinity for anything old. No, I don’t mean I hang out at the senior center trying to pick up hot dates; I just like things that remind me of times past. I see such a beauty in historical relics and stories.

It blows my mind to hold books or teacups or fountain pens or empty spice containers that have managed to survive decades of humans' "disposable" attitudes.

I bought an old sewing pattern a while back that had been in a trunk since at least the mid-sixties. When I opened the pattern, the pieces were still held together with some straight pins. I was ecstatic! I own these silly little straight pins that most likely have been sitting around since my mother was a small child. That's just so many colors of awesome.

I watch old movies and documentaries with an eye keen to pick out and understand every detail of those lives. Clothing, technology, phrasing, conventions, fads, ideals...

It sort of bugs me that we as a people tend to cast off any older conventions as outdated and obsolete. We live in a pretty great time thanks to innumerable ideological, medical, technological, and intellectual advancements. We've risen above some pretty horrible things. However, there are a lot of great elements from past times that have gotten thrown out with the bath water, I think.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we all could accept that, yes, every era has had its own unique set of issues, and that, as Thomas Carlyle said, "No age seemed the age of romance to itself," but that it just might be possible that we've forgotten some things that are worth reviving?

6) I have an unnatural fixation with things that are just a little offbeat and strange and unusual. I relish purple daisies and three-toed sloths and names like Elspeth and Caspian. I love unconventional beauty and Surrealist painters and the aurora borealis. Unintentional irony and macabre humour. I adore the idea that someone would dedicate their life's work to the largest ball of twine or collecting toothpaste bottles from different countries. Music or writings that make you go, "My gosh, how is it even possible that someone came up with that?" Real undiscovered genius. Sasquatch and tadpoles and 70 degree angles. Curiosities and Coppélia and kitsch. I want to live in a treehouse and visit Iceland.

I truly and honestly don’t understand the beige-walled, French-tipped, bourgeois mentality. I lived with it and worked in it and saw it up close for five years, and I still just don’t get it.


I tag Fritz and Jaymz. (Yes, I'm breaking the rules. Another quirk: I'm incapable of following rules.)



I finished the nursery monkeys, and we hung them up today. I'm so incredibly happy with them. I did have a few issues when making them, though. Tips for those ever attempting something similar:

1) Cut the fabric much larger than you think you'll need. I cut about 2" larger than the base on the first monkey, but it was still a bit too small, and I had horribly cramped fingers by the end of that one from trying to hold and stretch and attach such a little strip of fabric.

2) Cut the batting the same size as your base. I initially cut it larger, but it was too hard to wrap it around and attach it to the back. Just use Elmer's glue to attach it to the front.

3) I used regular staples, and they seem to be holding fine. Just make sure they're good quality. The first ones I tried were from the dollar store and kept bending when I tried to get them in. I switched to some I had from Target, and they slid in easy as pie and held tight.

4) If you want your monkeys to interlock, make them all facing the same direction. I stupidly did half facing the opposite direction, thinking they'd need to be that way to attach. No, dummy. They're made with one arm facing up and one facing down so that you don't have to do that. Luckily, I caught my mistake before I hit the fabric stage. I just had to cut the batting off the front.

Pictures:

More fun than a...

We've finally got the playroom completely finished! Yay. We put up the hanging hamper and did the touch-up painting today.

It's kinda slouchy from being folded up, but it'll straighten up over time.

We also painted the nursery and put up the Ikea gems we picked up this weekend. As it stands, the nursery is perfectly habitable. I'd just like to get the wall art made and recover the glider before I can call it truly "done." I should wait until it's finished, but I can't resist sharing a few pictures now.

Awesome tangerine walls.

The hanging unit for diaper storage.

The best view I could get of the leaf canopy. It's hanging off-center, because the glider will go next to the crib (the saucer's sitting there as a place-holder) when it's finished.

Bad lighting, but this shows the rest of the room. The blue hanging unit is for laundry. The baskets hold hats, socks, and bibs.

In a previous post, I mentioned making wall art from foam board wrapped in batting and fabric. I had been planning on doing two large animal shapes, but I've decided instead to do 8 Barrel of Monkeys figures. I thought it'd be cute to have them sort of linked up running atop the windows, around the corner, and over the closet. A picture of a Barrel of Monkeys shape, in case you had a sad monkeyless childhood:



So, that's that for now. Can't put off the ironing any longer, I guess. Bleh.

Oh, I did want to also show off the play mat we got at Ikea. I was waffling at the store, but Fritz talked me into it. I'm glad he did. It really was a good deal, and it's just too cute.




And it folds up so easily!



Ok, that's really it now.

A Halfway Trained Monkey

We had our first 4 foster classes this weekend, and they really gave us a lot to chew on. It was pretty heavy, to be honest.

I did my homework in advance. I talked to current and former foster parents and social workers. I read a lot of books and did hours of internet research. I heard about the stories and pictures and videos that would be shown in the classes. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I felt prepared.

I don’t think anything can really prepare you for that reality, though. Though the things covered weren't all that much more shocking than things we were taught in high school and college classes, I think the difference was that I was seeing them for the first time with the eyes of someone who would soon be entrusted with the care and healing of these little ones.

It was, I don’t know. Traumatic, I guess. Scary. Just a lot to process at once. The thing is, Fritz and I both walked out of there feeling like this is one of the toughest things we'll ever do, but it never entered either of our minds not to go ahead. If anything, I think we're more motivated.

Something that the social worker hadn't really mentioned when she visited us was the level of involvement we'd have with the birth parents. She told us about transporting to visits, but that doesn’t begin to cover our duties.

Every month the foster parents, birth parents, case worker, and "support team" (the family's neighbors, clergy, therapists, school teachers, etc) meet to discuss the progression of the case*, what sort of support the parents may need, and additional things they could do that might help them get to the place they need to be. We also discuss any issues that the child may be having. It's the foster parent's job to both advocate for the child and support the birth parents.

*When the children are first removed from the home, the birth parents are given a plan made out by the social worker of things they need to do in order to have the children returned. Most plans take about 15 months to complete.

Foster parents might also be asked to "peer parent," and even supervise visits with the birth parents.

It's definitely breaking me out of my comfort zone. In a strange way, it was a bit of a relief to hear. So far, everyone who's heard we're pursuing foster care has told me how good and selfless I am for doing it. And I felt really guilty about that, because I didn’t feel like I was doing it to be charitable, really. It just felt like something I wanted to do. I feel really lonely and purposeless without the kids, and foster care just felt right.

The involvement with the birth parents, though, that's going to be difficult for me. I typically avoid dealing with people I don’t know well. Phone calls send me into a cold sweat. I very seldom leave the house without Fritz. This is ensuring I will be doing all of these things on a very regular basis. But as much as these kids need help, some parents do as well.

Helping these parents better themselves for their children's sake is something I don’t have to do for my own fulfillment. There are a hundred different ways I could have children in my life without having to work with troubled adults in the process. So maybe this is the way that I can accept the kind comments on our doing this, and not feel so undeserving.

Am I making any sense? I don’t feel like I am.



Anyway, on a more superficial note, man were those classes long! Friday night was 6 hours with a half hour break for dinner. Saturday was another 6 hours with a one hour break for lunch. This after sitting for 3 ½ hours in the car to get there. Needless to say, the tush was sore.

Our hotel was an hour away from the class site, so we didn’t get a heck of a lot of sleep in between. (And of course, I stayed up longer than reasonable to fill out all of the paperwork we'd been given, because I'm a masochist.)

Our trainer is the most tiresome man on the planet. He seems to feel the need to speak at a pace of one word per millennia, and then repeats every sentence six different ways. Every time someone asks a question, he tells us either a) "That's going to be on a case-by-case basis, ask your case worker," or b) "I'll be getting to that in a minute." Which of course he never does.

I just took to writing down all of my questions to call someone who actually knows.

I also found a lot of conflicting information. For example, our social worker told us everything that says "keep out of reach of children" needs to be kept under lock and key. "Even soaps and shampoos?" I asked. "Even soaps and shampoos," she confirmed.

Then we were given a paper at training that repeated the "keep out of reach of children" rule, but said point blank "Soaps and shampoos don’t need to be locked."

So I'm going to try to call the licensing office, I guess.

If that is the case, does that mean I can keep my toothpaste out, too? What about dish soap? Is lotion similar enough to soap and shampoo to be left out?

Annoying.

I also find it a little silly that we're locking up white-out and hair gel, but it's totally ok to leave knives and scissors out. Seriously? A small child can do a lot more damage with a sharp instrument than they can drinking some Pantene. And it seems to me that an older child or teenager would be much more likely to go for a knife than a bottle of nail polish if wanting to be destructive to property or themselves.

Ah, well. We'll do what they’ve asked of us, and then just use our best judgement on any other matters.

So yeah, one more weekend's worth of classes, and we're done with the training. Yay!



So I joined the crowd and made a Face Your Manga me. What do you think?

Success!

I finished my dress today. I'm really happy with how it turned out. It still needs to be pressed, but here are a few sneak peeks: (ignore the big fat crease down the center that needs to be pressed out and the yuck end-of-the-day hair)

The pattern called for a bow to be sewn right in front, but I decided to make a belt instead. I like belts. They cut my abnormally long lines in half and add some horizontal interest. Also, I hate bows.

The dress was made from a 1960s Simplicity pattern I found on rustyzipper.com. I used some awesome Japanese import fabric I got at (of all places) JoAnn's. I had fallen in love with the fabric online some time ago, but couldn't stomach $12/yd. I was crazy excited to find it at JoAnn's. I used a 40% off coupon for the first 3 yards, and I got 3/4 of a yard for 75% off, because it was the end of the bolt. Now I have all of these yummy left-overs for bibs.

The pattern had optional sleeves, but they were ugly, so I went with the sleeveless version. A pretty crocheted shrug I had works just fine, I think.

Beware: thar be (clean) diaper pictures ahead

I first have to share a bit of my father's insanity before I begin this entry.

Backstory: My mom mailed me some fabric swatches as ideas to reupholster a rocker I bought on Craigslist ($20, baby, for the rocker and footstool). Apparently my dad got hold of the envelope before it hit the mailbox and decided to send a message along to my husband. Behold:

(It says, "What up [Fritz]... For Shizzal... Mo Dizzal...")

So, the past couple of days I've been working on diaper covers. I have a pattern for an AIO diaper* that I altered to be a cover** for prefolds***. I managed to make six with some scrap cotton facings before I squeezed the last bit of life out of my yard of PUL****. I ordered some more online so I can finish up.

I have to make them in three different sizes, because I have no clue what ages we'll be getting. For ease of sorting laundry, I faced each size with a different print. Hoping they'd be somewhat gender neutral, I scrounged from my stash a geometric purple/blue/green, a Harry Potter (playing Quidditch, no less!) print, and a sage green floral-ish print. Yeah, they're not completely gender-neutral, but I really doubt a small child is going to care what's on their diaper. And I think they're dang cute. What do you think?

As usual, I'll give my insecure "They're really not as slouchy as they photograph" spiel. It's just hard to stand them up straight. Once they're filled with baby bum, they'll look just right.

The second piece of Velcro on each wing is a fold-over tab for laundering. You fold the "hook" part over on to the "loop" part so it doesn't snag anything in the wash.

I also used the leftovers from the cloth wipes to make a few large face wipes to keep near the high chair. It gave me a chance to try out a few of the funkier stitches on my machine, which was lots of fun.

So that about wraps up project-land this week. No more furniture to refinish, no more beds to make up, and I can't finish making diaper covers until my PUL comes next week. I might have time to actually work on that dress!


* An all-in-one (AIO) diaper is the closest thing to a disposable there is. All layers - the absorber, the waterproof layer, and sometimes an absorbent doubler for heavy wetters - are contained within one piece.

** A diaper cover is a waterproof shell that goes outside a fitted or prefold diaper. Usually made of PUL, fleece, or wool. In older generations, they used the generic term "rubber pants."

*** A prefold diaper is basically a large rectangle of absorbent fabric (usually Birdseye pique or diaper flannel - sometimes made of fancier fabrics like organic cotton, hemp, bamboo, velour, suedecloth, etc), sewn in such a way as to have extra layers of fabric running down the center as a built-in doubler. It is folded, wrapped around the baby, and pinned. A waterproof diaper cover must be worn over it. This is the most basic and oldest type of cloth diaper. It's also the cheapest.

****PUL is short for polyurethane laminate. It is basically laminated cotton.