Homemaking Crack

Something has taken hold of me. I am hooked on some kind of homemaking high(somewhat unnatural).
When I was called to be the YW president, I was asked to teach homemaking skills. Initially, I thought,"What is this, the 19th century?". Not really. Kind of. But then I prayed, and thought about it, and the Bishop was right. My greatest treasure(these days) is found in being a homemaker. There is great joy and satisfaction in serving in this capacity, and of course, the girls have loved it-almost as much as the karaoke.

But in the midst of teaching these skills, I've become an addict. I can't cool down. If I'm not involved in something 'productive' I begin to flounder.

Here, I'll show you.



So, I'm almost done with Norah's quilt. I just have a strip to sew down the back and then it's off to the machine quilter's. Then I start with Lulu's.





While I was at the quilting shop, I noticed giant ric rac. I conspired to produce pillows decorated with the ric rac for the kids play area. But it wasn't enough.

*this is Abram's rebellious do, meaning he rebels and I don't do it.



I saw some pretty little a-line skirts made from vintage polyester. They were $70. I decided to check ebay for vintage polyester. Yup, vintage polyester for $1.50. I now own it, and I will show you the results in a few days.

I started thinking about Easter dresses. I love this one at Jcrew. But 3 of those, at $118? Probably not. So this weekend I found a very similar pattern, decided to mix these two fabrics





and we will see how it goes. I have until April 12th, right? Maybe I can pass this off in my personal progress.





I also(finally)uploaded photos to Shutterfly(first time ever, because I am that awesome), got a number of enlargements, bought a million clearance frames at Target(a bit boring in color, but workable) and unfinished frames at Roberts. For family home evening we are going to have a painting party and by the end hopefully we have colorful frames and not broken fragments of discount store trash. I will let you know how this works out because I know you can't wait.

You are probably thinking that I need to lay off the hooch. You are probably right. But I need to seize the hooch while it flows, because soon enough it may dry up.

You know what I'm sayin?

Organic

A thousand miles away lie the ashes of my youth.

Finite rain drops and honey squandered.

Ribbons of dandelions, green beans, butcher paper and sunbeams spent.



Housed in this grown frame stirs the child that fancied
pussy willows
thunder
mossy forest floors
and monarch cocoons delicately fastened to garden vegetables.



Molded in the iron ore.
Humbled by heterogeneity.
Impassioned by need and rural serenity.



Four children blossom in their father's place of origin. Familiar is his home and the soil he tread upon. The view from which he grew is within their sight.



My heart aches to transcend the miles and years-to show how and where, they also come from.

So as not to be lost in the shuffle of everyday...

because this is of very little interest to those who are not the parents of the following.



An account of the first vision, as understood by Norah and Lulu.

"What did you learn about in primary today?", asks the parent of Norah and Lulu.



Lulu says, "we learned about Joseph Sniff". "No, Joseph Smiff; the doctor cut off his leg", Norah says.




"Why is Joseph Smith important?", says the parent to the girls.



"Because he saw two Jesuses", says Lu. "No, he saw Jesus and Heavenly Father", says Norah. "Yeah, he saw Jesus and Heavenly Fader", repeats Lu.



"What did Jesus say to Joseph Smith?", asks the parent.

"That he needs to learn to play an instrument", replies Norah.

A Love Story

Michelle, made me realize that I've written very little when it comes to Rosemary(except to complain of the short term goal she undertook, to drive me insane).

So here you go.



Previous to Rosemary, I had been blessed with 3 beautiful children. Difficult, yes. But beautiful.



Norah is passionate and loving. But the girl never slept, still has sleeping issues. She also, has never been still, ever. As a baby she never allowed me to snuggle her close or rock her to sleep(slightly heartbreaking for a first time mother).



Lulu is a blessing in my life. She makes me a better mother. But she was colicky. She would start to fuss at 4pm. By 9pm there seemed to be nothing I could do to console her. Most nights her crying lasted until midnight, others until 3am.



With his enormous eyes, Abram has been charming right from the start. But, he woke repeatedly every night-until he was 2! When I decided I could no longer spend hours rocking, comforting, or breastfeeding him, he spent hours crying and screaming. You know how they say that if you let them cry it out, within a short while they learn how to put themselves to sleep? Yeah, right, unless you consider 18 months a short while.

Are you starting to see a pattern here? I used to tell people that I loved my babies, but I had a hard time liking them until they reached the year mark.

Enter Rosemary.



Besides those trying 2 weeks, Rosemary is a dream come true. I don't love her more than I do my other children, but I enjoy her. It's such a blessing to have a baby that is easy to enjoy. I'm so grateful that I get to experience her patient, gentle companionship. She reminds me to slow down, to hold her(and the others)close.



Her eyes always seek my company and lock upon my glance intensely without being demanding.



She is a hungry girl. Her appetite is voracious. She loves and seeks the enjoyment of her siblings. And they love her(mostly).



With each child, the feeling of familiarity has grown stronger. As I grow and develop as a mother, the sense of recognition deepens. When our eyes meet, somewhere, there is a glimmer of remembrance. I know Rosemary. She is familiar to me.



I have very few 'concrete' beliefs. But this I do know, salvation comes in the power of a babe.

Sabbath Snow Storm

Outside, snow flakes fell free and heavy Sunday afternoon.

Inside, children clamored for a bench seat to sit upon while stuffing stockinged feet into pink cowboy boots and Velcro sneakers.

Outside, a hush blanketed our street and gully.

Inside, a force, 3 children wide, pushed through a door jam breaking free into the escapable garage.

As the garage door welcomed the expanse beyond it, inside met out. Two girls and one boy fell silent under mother nature's offering.



After a moment, I prompted Norah to climb in the car. She said she was busy thinking about Jesus(I suppose that wins her a few extra seconds).

Upon a second prompt, she climbs in.

I turn to Abram and ask him to climb into the car.



He responds, "I tinking bout Jesus".

Hmmm.

The 80's Never Did Look Good On Me

I was a number of things in high school: thin, athletic, creative, imaginative, and fashion forward(this was easy to be in a small town). But living north-east of central Minnesota, amongst a sea of Lutheran Scandinavians, I could never quite capture cool.

One self-conscious 8th grade day, as I made my way into the cafeteria girl's lavatory, I passed a crowd of star-struck female adolescents under the tutelage of the 9th grade hopelessly 'cool' girl. Her name was Ann. She was blond(with frosted tips), she wore city slicker pink lipstick, her jeans were shredded beyond repair, she was 'developed', and she was ratting her hair. I surveyed the scene and realized very quickly, that I was very unlike Ann. I was skinny and underdeveloped. My hair was devastatingly dark, extremely unfrostable. My lips were too red to hide under the hip paleness of City Slicker Pink lipstick,my dad would have kicked my trash had I worn jeans with holes in them that close to my derriere, and my hair was too heavy to rat.

Ann moved to Alaska that summer leaving a vacancy for a new cool girl. This vacancy was soon filled by someone named Carrie, or Amy, or even Delray; never by a Mormon named Martha.

Somehow I navigated my way through high school without being able to catch coolness. Ironically, my so-called glory days came after I had returned from a mission.I had more dates and admirers than I wanted and it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Luckily though, I had one last shot at achieving 80's stardom.
Last night as I frayed my paint splattered t-shirt, turned my collar up, placed my feet in lace pumps(jealous?), and teased the heck out of my hair, I thought(as Wendy would say), "I look freakin' awesome".


After the hair 'fell' and with my extremely tall(seriously 6'2"?!)counselors.

I partied like a 16 year old and sang and danced my heart out. And at the end of the night, with my baby on my 36 year old hip, I made my way up the stairs and heard the 'cool' young woman say to me, "You're a really good dancer Sister Griffiths and I really like your hair".

Maybe I'm closing in on cool after all.

Preface

So tonight, Brad's music room finally becomes relevant. We are holding the YW/YM combined activity in said room for the purpose of 60's/70's/80's/90's superstar karaoke.I am dressing to the tune of an 80's superstar(because I am best acquainted with the bodacious fashions), and am thinking of something along the lines of this,



for my hair. And this,



(or something like it, perhaps a little less titillating, although that would be a good way to get fired) for clothing.
I'll post pictures tomorrow, I just wanted to make you aware so there could be a bit of anticipation, or at least forewarn you.

While I was shopping at Deseret Industries for some awesome attire, I came upon these,




white milk glass vases for $.50!



I've been collecting milk glass vases(for a much more expensive price)and am thrilled.

Hot dog! Not only is it a beautiful inaugural day, christened with joy and hope, but I got lucky in American Fork, Utah!