The dress in action

As promised, a few photos of the dutchkid in the finished product, she looks happy about it don’t you think?

Yawn

The Army is conspiring against me.  Since we live in the thick of things here on post, I am awakened at an unearthly hour at least once a week by something Army related. 

Last week it was people calling cadence.  Loudly, out on the street in front of my house which is where my bedroom window faces.  That I always find mildly amusing, as long as they’re good at it. There’s just something about hearing someone who can really call cadence, that call out and then the answer.  I do believe there are regulations about not calling cadence near housing.  When we lived here before you could always hear them yell to stop as they approached housing… and then you heard the shuffle of all those feet in unison.  

This morning, I was blasted from my bed by the resident Army band.  I knew a change of command was going on because I saw the tents go up a few days ago, but I didn’t know they were going to do it at 0745. 

The joys of living on post.  I’m going to find myself some coffee.

The dress

I’m working on finishing up that bubble dress. I still have to finish up the buttons but isn’t it cute? If I do say so myself. I spent most of my weekend doing that and worrying about my mom, who has been really sick. So the dress was a good diversion, I hate being far away from family when stuff like that is going on. It doesn’t help matters that my mom is as stubborn as a mule about going to the doctor and I can’t use my considerable powers of coercion as well via phone. Thankfully I have a new step-dad who is just as Dutch and just as stubborn (ha!)

About the sewing, the pattern was great. This is the first dress I have ever made, so it was challenging for me, no doubt. The pattern was marked as for an advanced beginner. I thought the button placket was going to make me tear my hair out. It isn’t perfect, but not too bad for a first attempt. I’ll get some more shots with my willing model once I have it completely finished. (I tried it on her yesterday and she didn’t want to take it off). I’m so excited for the fall patterns at Oliver + S because I really really want to make the kimono pajamas next.

Commissary dress code

Last week I was in the commissary, minding my own business at the deli (as usual).  The deli here has some new staff and they move at approximately the speed of molasses in January.  Suddenly I realize that the older ladies in front of me are all atwitter about something, whispering and stealing glances at a girl standing over by the cakes.  I was confused.  I had seen her standing there and thought to myself that I liked the color of her long, flowing skirt. 

As the girl sort of sashayed away pushing her cart one of the ladies says to me, “Don’t ever do that, that is so inappropriate!” My confusion must have shown on my face because one of the other ladies said,”Didn’t you see that girl?  You could see right through her skirt and she was wearing a thong!” They then commenced to talk about how back in the day you would be asked to leave the commissary if your shorts were too short.  As my number was called to place my order they were trying to decide if someone should go tell her.  I was reminded of Erin’s awkward experience with that swim suit lady.

I thought it was kind of funny, until I got to the checkout and happened to witness the girl unloading her cart.  Um, that skirt must have been made of gauze.  I could seriously see her butt cheeks and nevermind when she bent over.  Eww.  And I suspect that it was intentional, so I did not enlighten her. 

When I got home my dh was home for lunch and so I told him the saga.  And all he said to me was, “Your cell phone has a camera in it, right?”  It’s a good thing he’s not in charge of the commissary dress code.

The budding thespian

Yesterday, the dutchkid had her first theatre experience.  I belong to this massive playgroup in town and they’re always organizing fun activities to do with your kids.  It’s big enough that I feel like I can blend in a bit.  I don’t do well with the kind of playgroups where you all take turns having everyone over to your house and it’s like mom-dating. 

So we went to go see the play “If You Give A Pig A Party” which is based on the children’s book.  I wasn’t sure how the dutchkid would do with it, but I have fond memories of those books.  My baby sis always loved, “If You Give A Moose A Muffin” and I remember reading it to her.  This was geared towards the younger set.  So we went. 

What made the experience even more interesting was the loads of kindergarten age kids who were there, I love watching kids see the magic of a story come to life.  One child did have some sort of pathological fear of the dark, though, and began screaming at the top of his lungs when the house lights went down.  Which made the dutchkid nervous.  But she did surprisingly well, except it was about 20 minutes too long.  For me AND her.  If you’ve ever read those books, they can get a little trying after the thousand times of getting sidetracked.  And after about 30 minutes, all the cuteness of watching over the top, theatre major college kids pretend to be whiny, obnoxious kindergarteners begins to wear thin. 

She was little too young for it, but we had a good time.  So much so that she threw a gigantic fit when we left because she didn’t want to go.  I think she thought that we were going to get to play on the set.  They’re doing “Winnie-The-Pooh” next, I think I might just have to go myself next time.

Making progress

This weekend I managed to finish the dining room curtains, and I sent a few more boxers to SMC late last week. Now at least I’m not feeling guilty about what I don’t have done. I haven’t started the dress yet for the dutchkid, but that’s not a source of guilt, but rather the thought of enjoyment ahead (or at least I hope it will be). You would think that I would feel great about how productive my weekend was, but no, I just felt blah and grumpy and not much better today.

Maybe it was all the rain. Or perhaps the fact that my wonderfully smart and talkative child is still not completely potty trained and I’m really tired of wet panties all the time (hers, not mine. Mine are the ones in a bunch). Hence, I don’t have much to say today other than maybe the week will improve. It is Monday after all.

The alternate universe

Sometimes I feel like I am living in another country right here on U.S. soil.

There have been times in my life where I have wished I spoke another language, and I’ve often felt like it would be a benefit. This is the first time that I have felt at a disadvantage because I only speak English. I was in a meeting for wives the other day that was entirely conducted in Spanish.

It is immensely frustrating to be well spoken in one language but like a 2 year old in the other. I am quite shy in new social situations under normal circumstances… so this just makes it worse. It is hard to be left out of conversations and constantly relying on others to translate for me. I have a whole new respect for people who have come to this country and had to flounder around without speaking English well. I don’t think I’ll ever be so intolerant again.

I found out today that I am eligible to take Spanish classes while we are here. I’m not sure how I’m going to work that out with childcare for the dutchkid, but I’m going to have to find a way. I can’t think of another time when I’ll be quite so motivated to learn. And if we do move to another country in the future (which is a possibility) I absolutely do not want to be in this situation again.

Scaredy cat

Yesterday the dutchkid decided to test the theory of gravity.  As dh and I were cooking dinner in the kitchen she climbed up on a kitchen chair, and facing the back rungs she leaned forward.

Time seemed to stand still and as I could hear myself screaming some variation on “No!” and “Stop!” my mind went on fast forward.  I was envisioning the exact same scene about 24 years ago in which the youngest of my two brothers, the one who was a holy terror, did the exact same stunt and broke his foot.  Immediately following that was images of blood, protruding bone, the hospital, the dutchkid in a cast and people asking questions about my parenting.

My body was moving about as fast as my mind, and as she fell I managed to get close enough so that the chair fell on my big toe.  My dh scooped her up to check her out as I was hopping around the kitchen on one foot. 

I subscribe to some sort of Zen parenting strategy, in which I attempt to go through life as a mom pretending nothing phases me.  A crucial tenet is one I learned from my mother: “Never let them see you sweat” (them being your children).  Here is where my strategy fails because seeing my child in any kind of physical danger freaks me out.  You would think that as a former nurse that I could handle it.  But I cry.  My knees get weak and my mind runs on some sort of “worst case scenario” loop.  She was just fine, but her mother was a wreck. 

My toe still hurts this morning and I’m afraid to take the toenail polish off to see what it looks like.  I’d rather live in ignorance if I’m going to lose the nail.  I’m still trying to regain my Zen.

Endorphins? What endorphins?

07.03.08

Originally uploaded by dutchican

I used to think that runner’s high was a myth. I became a runner in college and it was more for the fitness benefits (I’m a big fan of eating whatever I want, usually in large quantities) than for the feeling. Honestly, most days running HURTS.

However, after the birth of the dutchkid I began the long journey to get back into shape. Let’s just say I gained more than the recommended amount during pregnancy, um, a lot more. When my dh deployed about 6 months after the dutchkid arrived, running was for losing the weight but more for getting out of the house . She didn’t cry in the jog stroller. It surprised me that after pregnancy my endurance got better. I guess labor puts all other pain in perspective.

I still wouldn’t consider myself a distance runner but I did manage to run the Army Ten Miler last year. An achievement I will never duplicate out of choice. It sucked. Still no runner’s high.

So imagine my surprise when over the past few months I began experiencing this odd feeling, often at the end of the run. It’s not earth shattering, but reminds me of the feeling I get when I am moved by an amazing piece of music (seriously, that’s all I can compare it to. Like when something gives you the chills). Maybe it’s because now that my dh is home it’s an unexpected pleasure to be running alone without pushing the jog stroller. Maybe it’s because I’m finally well rested enough because the dutchkid is sleeping through the night consistently. Who knows. All I can say is that I”m going to enjoy it. Its only taken 12 years.

Well hello to the Stand-To readers

Goodness gracious, I have no idea how that link came to be, but hi there and welcome. Although hits from the Pentagon make me nervous, I promise I practice good OPSEC. And would somebody be kind enough to tell me what exactly Stand-To is?