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?
The scientific differences between boy clothing and girl clothing
Science was my second-worst subject in school, second only to math — ugh, fractions — but I’m finally seeing a few theories pan out in real life.
No, I still don’t know how to determine eye colour or how to fully explain the baking soda and vinegar volcanoes I make with the kids.
But in the nearly-five years that I’ve been parenting, I’ve discovered five scientific differences between the life cycles of boy-clothes and girl-clothes …
(And there’s a little promo video … and yes, I’m wearing black. #always)
http://c.brightcove.com/services/viewer/federated_f9?isVid=1&isUI=1
1. Magnetism
When I was a the mom of a baby boy, I was magnetically drawn to the girls’ section of every children’s clothing store. Not only was there at least three times as much stuff, but it was all 500 times more appealing. Sparkles! Lace trim! Bright colours! Ruffles! Did I mention the sparkles?
When I found out I was pregnant with a baby girl, my eyes lit up as visions of lacy rompers danced in my head.
Continue reading over in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene.
Upgrading a plain kitchen peninsula with beadboard
You know how something boring seems to fade from your view, especially when you’ve been looking at it for years? Well, for more than three years we’ve sat at our kitchen table and looked over at a plain, flat finish on the backs of our kitchen peninsula.
It’s not an island, or even a functional breakfast bar — it’s just a plain piece of countertop that juts out from the wall, housing our dishwasher, a drawer, and a single cabinet. From the front, it was OK. But from the back, there was just … nothing. Not a single fleck of interest.
We may have bought a builder-basic house, but we’re always looking for ways to customize and upgrade it. So I decided it was time for Operation: Posh Peninsula.
Continue reading over in my weekly DIY column, My Handmade Home …
Six weeks post-surgery || Six things learned
Wednesday marked the six-weeks post-surgery point in my (surprise) hysterectomy recovery, so I thought it deserved a little post.
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| I took this (makeup-free) picture looking out my kitchen window on a particularly down day when I was feeling all of the feelings. |
I have apparently learned a lot about myself in these recent weeks. Six things, conveniently enough, in six weeks (oh, aren’t bloggers crafty?) …
- I need to be better about letting things go, and giving up control. Not everything has to be my way. Not every mess needs to be cleaned up immediately. I had to let go of a lot of OCD tendencies because I simply couldn’t get up and DO something, and that’s a good thing. (More about this here.) I learned that I’m not the only person who can handle things, and that I have wonderful friends and family members who are happy to help out.
- I need to prioritize sleep. My lights-off time used to be 11 p.m. (sometimessss 11:30 p.m.) but I have learned it needs to be closer to 10 p.m. Last night, I watched one show with Darling Husband and he suggested a second (it was 8:45 p.m.) and I decided to go to bed instead. He thought I was crazy, but I spent over an hour reading on my phone (social media, catching up on blogs) and had the lights out by 10 p.m. I woke up long before my alarm and felt good. I’m a morning person, and I need to accept that.
- I need to stop putting pressure on myself about stupid things. The first week our kids went to their once-a-week sitter, I sent baked goods so they had something to share with their friends. Mini-muffins, something like that. They were a huge hit, and so I made something else for the second week. Then? Somehow? It became something I felt I *had* to do every week, even on nights when I was exhausted and busy. Well, I couldn’t bake in my early recovery days, so I got away from the feeling that I *had* to send them with baked goods. Now I feel fine about the fact that I’ll send cookies or muffins sometimes, but only when I can.
- I don’t have to feel guilty about taking time for my hobbies. Right before my surgery, I finished The Fringe Hours and LOVED it. Seriously, it was life-changing. I always feel guilty about spending time sewing or crafting because there are more important things I could be doing — house projects, chores, work, writing one of my many unfinished books. But Jessica says it’s critical to pursue your passions and do things that make you happy. She’s so right.
- These everyday, basic, regular days are so awesome. It’s funny how it takes losing your regular life to really appreciate the monotony of your regular life. I missed things like driving D to preschool, and wandering aimlessly around the mall with C. I missed watching TV alone in the basement with Darling Husband after the kids were in bed. I missed washing the dishes at some points! I still dearly miss my Zumba classes, but hopefully I’ll be back within the next week or two.
- I need to stop rushing … well, sometimes. There’s nothing like being unable to get out of bed unassisted to make you stop your go-go-go mentality. I’m making more of a point now to stop — sip my tea at the kitchen table without being glued to my phone, turn off the TV and just sit in silence for a minute (uh, again, without being glued to my phone), take a second to really breathe. I don’t need to be going a million miles a minute all of the time — and it’s not good for me, either.
How to transfer photos to wood (without a million failed attempts)
Usually, I write about projects that I’d encourage anyone to try. Well, this one is different.
I started off with such confidence. There were numerous tutorials on Pinterest, promising the ease of transferring a colour photo to a piece of wood. It looked so rustic and cute! I had to try it. (Surely, my walls had room somewhere.)
I breezed into the craft store and asked a sales associate to point me in the direction of the gel medium.* I figured she would be curious why I wanted such an obscure item, and maybe ask about what I was planning.
“Oh, you’re transferring a photo to wood?” was the dull reply.
Apparently this project wasn’t quite as groundbreaking as I’d thought.
The project started off smoothly enough. I picked out a few different photos that were printed by an inkjet printer — onto regular paper, not photo paper. (Remember that the picture will appear on the wood as a mirror image, so flip it before printing it if you want to preserve the original look — or make any text legible.)
I brushed a thick layer of gel medium onto a piece of smooth MDF, and pressed the printed photos — facedown — onto the surface. I rubbed each photo to make sure there weren’t any air bubbles, and left them to dry for 12 hours. No problems.
The next day, I dipped a rag in water and squeezed it over the paper, soaking the entire surface.
Then I started the tedious process of rubbing off the wet paper, without actually rubbing the ink off the wood. This is when things started to fall apart … literally.
I would rub too hard or not use enough water, and chunks of the photo would disappear completely, ruining the entire piece. I would rub the paper off lightly until it looked good, and return an hour later to a foggy, paper-covered picture. I tried painting over the filmy pictures with Mod Podge, and then it just preserved the cloudiness.
I repeated the process again and again, with different photos, trying to find a method that worked. I kept putting off writing this column, because I wanted to wait until I’d figured it out. It couldn’t beat me!
I read different tutorials to try to figure out what was going wrong, and then I came across one that was different: “Keep wetting the paper and rubbing and allowing it to dry. For me, it took about eight times of this cycle before I was able to remove all the paper residue, so be patient!”
Eight times! No wonder I was struggling — I’d been trying to rub off all of the paper residue in a single attempt.
I started fresh again — I think it was my sixth or seventh attempt by this point —with a fresh photo. I soaked it with water and started rubbing away the residue very, very gently, swirling the pads of my fingers in a circle, and brushing the little white bits of paper off to the side.
I let it dry, and repeated the wetting/swirling/brushing exercise four more times — with the picture looking clearer each time, but still cloudy.
After the photo had dried for the fifth time, I brushed two coats of gel medium over the surface, and it removed the remaining cloudiness. It dried clear, and I could actually see the picture on the wood. There may have been a little happy dancing.
Since this attempt had been half-heartedly stuck to the corner of a large piece of MDF — I’d ruined a lot of wood by that point — I had Michael cut it out with his saw. And yes, I was super nervous that he would chop through it, after all of my hard work!
The finished product is nice, but was it worth the effort? No, not really. Not at all, actually. I’m glad I finally figured out how to do it properly, for my own crafty pride, but I still don’t understand why it’s such a popular project. Maybe it’s trendy for the same reasons everyone went crazy turning wooden crates into coffee tables?
I recommend this project if you are partial to rubbing off the pads of your fingertips. I recommend this project if you are very bored and also a bit sadistic. I recommend this project if you are looking for a crafty challenge that will leave you yelling at a piece of wood and cursing the manufacturers of gel medium.
If none of those things apply to you, skip the fancy gel medium transfer and just glue your photos directly to wood with a bit of Mod Podge instead. It’s much easier, and your fingertips will remain intact. Promise.
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