I’ve been trying to expand my sewing skills slowly but surely, one project at a time. The project I’ve been chipping away at for the past few weeks is this throw pillow, made from a t-shirt I bought on vacation back in 2010.
According to his pediatrician’s office, my son Connor has grown two inches in the past year. It’s no wonder, then, that all of last year’s pajama pants are highwaters now.
What a good excuse for me to try some beginner-level pajama pants patterns!
I have three unfinished drafts in my WordPress. I didn’t used to do that (side note: is that phraseology a Midwestern thing, or just a weird grammar thing?), but I find myself writing drafts more often now that I don’t have access to either my Google Docs or my blog at work, so now anything I write during the day lives on a thumb drive that may or may not make it out of my purse at home when I’m in a writing mood.
It’s over lunch breaks only, I swear. Anyway.
I also have several drafts in my stuff.txt file on that thumb drive, one of which is my semi-annual Dear Connor post, as my son turned seven on Labor Day. That’s one of those posts that feels kind of important — like, I shouldn’t be writing anything else on my blog if I’m not working on getting that one thing posted before the end of the month. (I haven’t posted one of those on his actual birthday since he was in diapers, I think.)
Writing — journaling in particular — is important to me on several levels, and I think that feeling of running up the down escalator that I get sometimes is related to a lack of writing time. Not that one is causal to the other, but they’re kind of indicative of one another, is how I think I mean to say it. Not only that, but I’ve been journaling for so long (some 35 years, off and on) that having a gap in my life’s record is a huge bummer to me later in life when I go back to reference some epic major life event and all I find is, “Mom and Tom separated a few months ago. I go to Buckeye High School now.”
Always pack your journal in your go bag. Now I know.
At any rate, I want to make a habit of sitting down at the end of the day and decompressing behind the keyboard. (In front of the keyboard?) Whether I hit Publish at the end of the night or not, I know that Future Me will be grateful for the time spent.
[Taken August 20, 2018 at 6:53AM]
He was the first to arrive at Extended Time before school this morning, and complained to me this evening that all he could do was play dollhouse with the few girls who showed up until they opened the gym. I’m planning to let him bring a toy and a book tomorrow, just for before school.
Apart from that, and us not knowing he’d need an afternoon snack from home, the first day of First Grade sounds like it was a good one.