On Crafting Reborn:

Now that there is a little one in the family again I can’t wait to start working with fabric again.

I loved making cloth toys for my kids. From patchwork quilts with roads and parks, soft blocks and toys, to dolls and dress up costumes. My sewing machine was rarely put away in those years.

I have been hatching some lovely Goth ideas for toys. (Still in the working stages.) Time to raid the fabric stores after Halloween I think for fabric with bats, skulls and black cats on them.

I’m not sure how the parents said grandchild will feel about them. But I think that the kiddle will have fun.

I can’t wait to unearth the sewing machine and get working on a few things. I’ll have to wait until Mountain Man can get my large plastic boxes of fabric out of storage.

As of yesterday, the kitchen sink is back together complete with a new fixture, for those who were waiting with as much anticipation as I was.

Now I can move on to crafting up a lot of fun.

On Routine:

I’m trying to get back to my old routine. Trying being the operative word.

I keep being distracted. Mostly by things being out of place. Man logic strikes again.

Seven pairs of shoes in the kitchen so he didn’t have to walk to get them from the bedroom eight paces away.

Nine hats on the backs of chairs. My stair stepper has been changed into a coat rack. And the kitchen sink has been taken apart. These being only a few of the changes.

Was I gone that long? Didn’t he know I was coming back? Wasn’t he on the phone nightly, begging me to come home early?

I’ve decided to move these things back into place as I march around the house at my exercises. Killing two birds with one stone as it were.

You can’t sweat the small stuff, but sometimes it can gang up on you and break your routine.

On No Place Like Home:

Well I’m home and missing the grandchild as well as his parents.

It does feel good to be home though. My own bed and no late night screams for food. (Not that I had to wake for that part of it.)

I’m not good at leaving my comfort zone. I can and do leave it. But I don’t like it. And when I have to go on a trip, I bring way too much stuff. (Although I did pack lighter and used all but two things this time around.)

For me ‘home’ is more then a place to hang my hat. It is an escape from the big bad world. It’s not the things in it, it is the things that are not here.

No ridicule of the way I dress. No one dictating the way things are done. No following others schedule. No missing my TV shows. No putting up with food not to my liking.

Not that going to my daughter house is like that. Because it is not. In fact they try hard to make thing nice for me. From fresh flowers in my room to special food in the house just for me.

But no matter how many nice things that surround me else where. There is no place like home for me. I can be totally myself at home. Even if the self I am, is the one that is missing my grandson.

No real worries though, I passed the torch to his other grandma. Not that they couldn’t handle it, but no one does as well on too little sleep.

And I’m now sleeping through the night in my own bed. There is no place like home.

On Abuse:

I have been peed on, pooped on, thrown up on and had my ears pierced with blood curdling screams and I’ve been loving very minute of it.

How do those little bundles of wrinkled flesh wrap us around their very little fingers so tightly?

I’m tired and achy and happy as a lark.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ready to be a mom again by and stretch of the imagination. But I have to admit, I’m loving this Grandma thing.

Even with all the unintentional abuse.

On Remarkable Babies:

Well, for now, I only have eyes for the Heir Apparent.

I am smitten. Blood curdling screams, red angry face and all.

Despite the poking and prodding by doctors, nurses, and technicians, he is a good baby.

He has conjunctivitis and his eye is goopy, but he is not very fussy and only cries when he is in need of help or food.

He has a cute crooked smile and is rarely not in motion in one way or another even in his sleep.

He doesn’t mind my being a sub for his mom and dad as they get some much needed sleep.

He could hold his head up from the first moment of birth and does so at every opportunity.

Yes I am biased. But still, to me, all babies are remarkable.

(I am still committed to not making this into a Grandma blog so just bare with me as I gush over him at this time. I‘ll be back home in a week or so and have my mostly boring old life back again soon.)

On New Grandma:

It is official, I’m a grandma!

But enough about me.

It is a Boy! The Heir Apparent.

In the wee hours of the morning.

Mom was in labor for almost 40 hours. Hard labor for most of it and she almost had to have a C-section. (She wanted to deliver naturally.)

He was turned to the front causing much back labor and his umbilical cord was short, making him unable to turn freely.

Dad is a trouper and a big help.

The little man is lovely and has all ten toes and fingers. 7 pound 12 ounces. 21 inches long.

I’m in love with every inch on him.

On A Quick Update:

I’m in Boston. I’m waiting to see my new grandkid, any time now. I’ll let you know more later.