When your Mother’s Day isn’t the greatest …
I knew, going in, that this Mother’s Day wasn’t going to be particularly great.
I had scheduled a sleepover at my mom’s for the night before, but it wasn’t the jammies-and-popcorn watching Clueless and Mean Girls, kind of sleepover that I like. It was “Let’s stay over so we can get as much work done as possible” sleepover.
Mom is preparing to put her house on the market, so Little Sis and I have been traveling to her place a lot to prime, paint, declutter, install curtain rods, move furniture, declutter, clean, declutter you name it. Manual labour, ahoy. Did I mention declutter?
We worked from 3 p.m. on Saturday until 10:30 at night, and then again on Sunday morning until almost 5 p.m. We froze our buns off on Saturday as we painted the front door on a particularly frigid May day/night, and then sweated to death on Sunday — merely 12 hours later — because it was 25C. Seriously, Nova Scotia? What are you on?
We made Mom breakfast in bed, of course, as is tradition. She opened her presents after eating, and then we hustled to work as much as we could before Darling Husband dropped off the kids on his way to work.
 |
| The yard work crew |
By the time I piled the kids into the van, and began the long drive back home, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Preparing to go to market with a house your single parent has lived in for 23 years is not for the faint of heart.
I tossed bags of mini-Oreos at the kids, gave them each a beepy-boopy tablet for the drive, and numbly drove us all home.
When we arrived, I spent 10 minutes dragging all of the bags out of the van, and the (very, very grimy) kids ran around in the backyard. It was after 6 p.m., and we had zero options for supper. I buttered three rolls, stirred two cups of chocolate milk, grabbed my water bottle, and we ate a very pathetic “picnic” in the sandbox.
After a bit of outside play, I hauled them upstairs, put them in the tub, ran around the upstairs level wrangling (very, very dirty) clothes and tidying up. I washed two heads of hair. Brushed two sets of teeth. Clipped four sets of nails. Slathered a different moisurizer on each kid. Struggled two sets of pyjamas over two half-wet little bodies.
It wasn’t over yet. Stories. Prayers. Shutting down squabbles. No, really, it’s bedtime. No, REALLY, guys. Guys! GUYS!
When they were each tucked into their own beds (for the second time, because, you know … why should they stay in their beds after just one tuck-in?), I put on a load of laundry. I typed up the Board of Directors AGM minutes that I need to have ready by the next morning.
That left about an hour, hour and a half maybe, to actually not be “working” on Mother’s Day. I dried and curled my neglected hair, watched a show, and crawled wearily into my bed. End scene.
I could try to sound really noble here, and pretend like I’m just so grateful to be a mother (that part is true) and to be able to help my own mother (also true) that I don’t care that my Mother’s Day kind of sucked. I know, truly, that today is a really hard day for a lot of families.
But I’m going to be honest: part of me is disappointed and feels like I “wasted” one of the two days a year (Mother’s Day and my birthday) when I’m supposed to be spoiled and adored. There. I said it.
Darling Husband did make me breakfast in bed on Saturday, which was really sweet.
 |
| HFXHEATHER on Instagram |
I just missed out on the REST of the ideal Mother’s Day, a.k.a. not having to prepare a single meal, not having to wash dishes or clean anything, getting time to spend all alone doing exactly what you want (in my case, that would have been sewing), maybe getting taken out for a meal, etc.
Although my Facebook feed is currently fill of gorgeous brunch pictures (“Brunch! I could have been having brunch instead of priming a set of closet doors?!”) and home-cooked dinner pictures (“My dinner was A ROLL AND NOTHING ELSE OMG!”) and adorable family pictures (“Crap! We didn’t take one of those because I was in sloppy painting clothes all day!”) that are making me twitchy, I have to remind myself of what’s important.
I have wonderful, amazing, special, sweet, kind-hearted kids.
I have a mom, a step-mom, and a mother-in-law who all love me (and my kids).
I have a fantastic husband who made me breakfast during the couple of hours this weekend when I actually saw him (and got me an Atlantic Fabrics gift certificate for fabriccccccc a.k.a. my love language).
Yeah, Mother’s Day itself kind of blew, this year. But in the end, it’s just a day on the calendar.
Besides, Little Sis and I told Mom she’d better have the house sold by next Mother’s Day, so we can celebrate at the spa instead.
xoxo
No-sew curtains // Tutorial
Last week, we repainted the walls of our (dark green) master bedroom and (light green) bathroom, choosing to lighten things up with Benjamin Moore’s “Revere Pewter.” If you’ve been living under an interior decorating rock, that’s a light grey/beige (“greige”) that is thought to be the perfect neutral — at the moment, at least.
We love the new colour, but it was suddenly BRIGHT in our room without the old brown curtains and deep, dark green walls.
Light was pouring in through the cracks in the blinds, and we needed new curtains if we ever wanted to get a decent night’s sleep again.
Our old curtain rods were short, and were installed directly above the edges of the window trim. We donated them immediately, since I wanted to buy longer rods so we could trick our eyes into making the windows appear larger.
I figured new curtain rods might be expensive, since I don’t think I’ve ever bought one before. So I was pleased to get three of them for less than $30 at a big-box store. They’re basic, slender, café-style rods, and not too impressive. But they’re going to be hidden under something special (psssst — read next week’s column!) so I don’t mind.
We installed them each nine inches out from the edges of the window trim, and about two inches above the window trim. I wanted to be able to push the curtains all the way off the windows, so we wouldn’t block any light during the day.
Making curtains is something that I’ve done for years, and I get a bit more “grown-up” about it each time. In our first apartment on Olivet Street in Halifax, overlooking the Walmart parking lot, I sewed simple pocket curtains and hung them on a string of metal wire between two pushpins. I’m not sure if I did it to be thrifty, or because I didn’t think we were allowed to install curtain rods, but it’s hilarious to think about now.
I eventually graduated to sewing pocket curtains for real curtain rods, and this latest attempt has been my best yet.
Let’s pretend you are a person who doesn’t sew, at all, OK? You don’t need to sew to make your own curtains. Isn’t that exciting? (Well, I’m excited for you, anyway.)
Essentially, a curtain panel is just a rectangle of fabric that’s wider than half of your window (so you get some nice bunchiness) and slightly longer. That’s it! You get two rectangles of fabric, and you’ve got two curtain panels.
So measure the height and width of your window, walk into any fabric store, pick out any fabric you like, tell the person at the cutting table your dimensions, and they’ll tell you exactly how many metres to buy in order to make curtains.
I chose a thick canvas material with a red and taupe pattern for the bedroom …
… and a colourful floral (“Wildflower” by Bryant Industries) for the bathroom.
They were both from the home decor fabric section, which is pricier because you’re getting weightier fabric, but you can easily make curtains from the regular, thinner fabrics.
Then — and this is the exciting part — you can buy a package of iron-on hem tape, lay a strip of it along the edge of the fabric, fold the edge of the fabric over the tape, iron, and — poof! You’ve got a hemmed edge.
Repeat around the other three sides, and then if a dinner guest accidentally wipes their hands on your curtains, you can toss them in the washer and not worry about the edges fraying.
Now, with a pocket curtain, you have to sew a little pocket for the curtain rod. It can still be done with hem tape, but it’s not as quick.
But the trouble with pocket curtains is that they don’t always “bunch together” nicely, they just slide along the rod any way they please. So I bought packages of curtain clips (less than $5 per package of 14) and they are pretty much life-changing.
Once your curtain-shape rectangles are hemmed around the edges — either with iron-on hem tape or a sewing machine — you just clip these little gadgets along the top of your fabric, and slid them onto the rod. They make a really satisfying clacking sound as you open and close them.
Our windows finally have curtains, and it feels wonderful, but we aren’t finished yet. Next week, we’re building and upholstering pelmet boxes for the bedroom, and frosting the glass of the bathroom window.
If you need me, I’ll be sliding my new curtains open and closed to hear the clacking sound.
The Nap Factor
For four and a half years, I built and maintained my freelance career without any childcare (other than Darling Husband, when he’s off, and those three random days I roped in a 12-year-old mother’s helper).
It was a HUGE decision for me when I hired regular, once-a-week childcare. I did it because I was exhausted and desperate and worried about how I could keep going, professionally, without it.
The kids now go to a nearby babysitter’s house one day every week (not always the same day) so I can have between 8:45 a.m. and 4:45 p.m. to work uninterrupted. And it’s wonderful.
Of course, I work more than that one day a week. I also work the other four weekdays, every afternoon while the kids are napping or having “quiet” (not-always-so-quiet) time. I sometimes work one morning a week, too, if Darling Husband is off.
I’m not good at math, but that seems to make one full day, one partial morning (sometimes), and four partial afternoons. Roughly 25 hours a week, I would guess.
It’s not ideal — except for the babysitting day — because the kids are often loud and destructive during their nap/quiet time. Darling Husband is usually working or sleeping off the night shift at that point, so I have to listen to the baby monitor as I work.
I work … I try to work … All the while, getting twitchy-eyed at the noise and chaos going on two floors above me, until I unplug my headset, race up the stairs like a crazy person, and start hissing to BE QUIET ALREADY MOMMY HAS TO GET HER WORK DONE SO WE CAN PLAY OH MY GOD SHHHHHHH!
It’s not great, yeah, but it’s what I know. Having most mornings to do things with the kids — take D and his buddy to preschool and back, run errands with C, have playdates with her little friends, etc. — and then working in the afternoon, without fail.
The problem is, nothing stays the same.
C, who turned three at the end of April, is not napping much anymore. She is wide-awake and full of pep, even when she’s actually tired. The girl has Little Sister Complex, so she never wants to miss anything and therefore chooses not to sleep. Ever.
D is still napping sometimes, at almost-five. I know, I know. Lucky, right? Well, no. He gets up really early in the morning, and then sometimes he’s really cranky by 1:30 and will crash in his bed, all tucked in. He’ll have a good nap, and then wake up and play with his trains in his bedroom, or slip downstairs to the basement to play (sometimes quietly) with his Playmobil while I work. On the days he doesn’t nap at all, he’s still pretty quiet.
The trouble is that D starts primary in the fall (kindergarten, for my dear American readers) and, uh, he won’t be able to nap there. He’ll still be expected to be, like, learning at 1:30 p.m. I’m not sure when he gets off school yet, but I think he’ll be home by 2:30? Something like that? Not likely to nap at that point, but who knows? I know Best Friend tooks naps after school for years when we were kids.
So I have a three-year-old (THREE! *sob*) who won’t nap, and a four-year-old (no, sorry, he’s NOT FIVE YET) who is willing to nap sometimes but shouldn’t.
I’m completely torn about what to do this summer, when I shouldn’t really count on *either* of them napping. How am I supposed to work in the afternoons, like I always have, if nobody is napping or being forced to at least TRY to nap?
Do I completely re-think my work schedule? Or do I invest in a lot of Children’s Tylenol? (JK, JK, JK)
Our master bedroom makeover: Week 1 (Paint)
Those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad (work) days
Normally, I love my career and feel confident about my abilities. I schedule myself prettttttty well (usually taking on slightly more than I can handle comfortably), and feel good about the general direction of my “company.”
But these terrible, horrible, no good, very bad workdays happen once in a while, and they bite the big one.
I had one of these days recently (I won’t say exactly when, for the same reasons I try not to tweet angry thoughts the second I’m thinking them … people read that stuff, yo) and now I’m writing about it.
There were moments when I wanted to scream at the person I was emailing.
Moments when I wanted to cry at my desk (and I suppose I could have, since I work from home, but I was still too angry).
Moments when I felt utterly bad at what I do.
Moments when I considered sending a client the big eff-off email that I was writing in my mind.
The worst part was the sinking feeling that I was doing a terrible job of juggling my children, my marriage, and my career. I yelled at Darling Husband because I was so stressed out. I barely saw the kids for an entire day, and then continued to work after they were in bed.
To top it all off, I tripped on a book C had left out, and felt like I broke three of my toes. I collapsed onto the carpet and sobbed. Yeah, my toes hurt, but it just felt good to cry.
I was mad at myself, mad at my work, mad at the world …
… and I couldn’t truly talk about it with anyone.
Most of my friends are employed at “real” jobs (i.e. they wear pants with zippers and actually leave their house). I don’t like complaining about my job, because I wear leggings and sweatshirts and don’t have to go outside when it’s snowing (mostly). I know I’m lucky, and so I keep my mouth shut.
I also know that they won’t really understand if I cry about the crippling pressure that comes with owning your own business. Being your own boss. Being solely responsible for your entire income. Never knowing when the next invoice will be paid, and the next assignment will come in.
And so, I wait a few days. I blog about the anger as it’s started to melt away. I keep my client emails pleasant even when I’m grinding my teeth (except not, because, ugh #phobia). I resist the urge to angry-tweet even when I really, really want to tell the world how I’m feeling (all of the feelings).
Isn’t self-employment fun?
As featured on …
Heather's Handmade Life 