Thursday, September 22, 2011

Online Shopping is Not My Friend

I've spent over an hour searching on Etsy for a baby sling and an orange (or robot-themed) diaper bag.  I think my brain is officially mush.

I don't even know how to use a baby sling--some of those pictures look like it took an acrobatic team to get the thousands of fabric folds wrapped around the lady and baby.  Now this may come as a surprise, but I'm not an overly coordinated sort of person.  I just want a pea pod that I stick the pea into. 

Woven Wrap Baby Sling Carrier - Smooth Charcoal Stripe Cotton - DVD included
(This one comes with a DVD instructional video.)
I have possibly unrealistic visions of this being easier than lugging that dang carseat around everywhere.  In fact, I sincerely believe it's going to solve all my life problems. Never mind that I've already had 3 kids and never used a sling before.  Perhaps its absence has been the root of all my parenting woes.  You never know.  I suppose, that is, until you buy a sling.

As for the diaper bag, I gave my various versions away last summer when I decided I was done having children.  (Note to Self:  Making a mental decision does NOT keep pregnancy from occuring.)  I want some sort of "non-traditional" diaper bag with lots of organizational pockets that I could possibly use again as a regular bag and that, of course, doesn't scream anything cutsie or girly.

This would not be the bag I'd want.

Triple Ruffle Orange Suede and Coffee Burlap Bag

But Etsy's full of 'em.

I have roughly 8 weeks left to find Baby Sling and Diaper Bag Perfection (although I'm hoping for more like 6 weeks instead).  Can it be done?  (Insert dramatic music here.)

[And this is just one more way I spend my time not being productive.  I have three necklaces halfway finished right over there on the coffee table.  Maybe they'll finish themselves.  And maybe the baby sling will solve my life problems.  Hey, it's a theory.]


Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Maybe He'll Be a Drummer

I would like to report that the Foo Fighters concert was AWESOME.  I'm not sure my baby enjoyed it quite as much as I did, though.  For about 5 hours, I endured endless pressure on my belly.  My thought is either he was panicked, like a cat falling and trying to get his bearings, or he wanted to get out and meet the band himself.

Now, back in reality, I'm looking at my jewelry supplies and trying to come up with fantastic new ideas.  I need to restock some stores and also create a massive stockpile of holiday inventory for them. 

I have occasional bursts of productivity, but for the most part, I continue to struggle with follow-through.  I hope procrastination skips a generation . . . or my four boys are going to have very irritated wives one day.

Friday, September 16, 2011

The Foo

It's here. 

Foo day with a Foo concert tonight.  My baby's gonna be in the presence of greatness.

Click the link and bask in the glory.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

I'll Never Be A Dancer

An acquaintance of mine writes a very funny blog, but--being the rhythmless klutz I inherently am--her dancing videos are my favorite part.  Today I heard this song on the radio and wished I had that dancing abandon she so easily embraces.

(Yes, my procrastinating spirit is currently operating at its maximum level.)

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Survival of Latex and Grout

I survived my mosaic flashback, although the grouting process nearly killed me.  I actually had to pause and worship the porcelin god while holding up my latex-gloved, grout-covered hands.  It didn't feel like a very spiritual experience--although nothing about being 7 1/2 months pregnant does.

These frames are made specifically to match the bride's wedding colors, and she chose the ivory grout for more contrast and a slightly "beachy" feel.  Finally closing in on the finished product . . .

I'm hoping to avoid repeating this process for another 2-3 years.  Or at least until I can bend at the waist/see my toes, get back up off the floor without excessive effort, and own a robot maid that will take care of the aftermath.