thrifty sunday: boring

I'm still alive. Sometimes barely, as this baby keeps me awake all night with punching, kicking, somersaulting and various other acrobatic moves we can only guess about. George was never so active. I mean, he kicked and wiggled and everything, but as memory serves, it was pretty tame in comparison. Added to the sleepiness is the fact that it gets dark before 5pm, and every day seems a little shorter...because it is. By the time the solstice rolls around, it'll be dusk at 3:30 and I'll never change out of pajamas. 

During the Halloween season, George was really into "spoosy" -- or spooky -- stuff. When it was rainy but we felt cabin-feverish, an easy outing was strolling the local, newly-moved-into-a-huge-building Value Village. They had aisles of masks, wigs, hats, sparkly wings, and clothes being sold as costumes that I would usually buy to wear as normal parts of my wardrobe. I am somewhat shameless in my appreciation of thrift stores' ramp-up to Halloween policy of gathering everything I like into one section -- 70s prairie dresses, fur vests, 60s minis and sequined formalwear -- and I try to ignore the stigma. This year our budget didn't allow for much and I don't fit into anything without at least 10% spandex, so George and I roamed the store with mostly empty pockets as he begged to see more "spoosy stuff." Here are the things I decided we couldn't live without:

A sweater-romper-thing with oranges on it! $2.99 - The thought of leaving this on the rack was unbearable. The cinched waist is a little hilarious given six to nine month-old babies' chubbiness. 

A teeny little velveteen and eyelet dress, $1.99 - For a baby born circa Valentine's Day.

A fancy-ish wintertime dress for a little lady who's moving to a colder clime. San Diego doesn't have much use for long sleeves or high necks or things that go nicely with wooly tights, but no Pacific Northwestern six year-old should be without a few calico statement pieces. A belated birthday present still waiting to be sent. 

Awesome coloring book, untouched by crayons, $.069! Another present, as George is still too little to appreciate creative prompts like the ones found here. No outlines of cartoon characters or funny-looking animals, just open-ended ideas bound in a book. I think its intended recipient will love it, as she has a newly-found interest in art. One holiday gift down.

A new shirt for George, $1.99 - Poor George is kind of low on clothes. He has t-shirts and leggings but not many long sleeved tops or regular pants, and with his opinions on daily outfits growing stronger I want to give him realistic options that don't leave him looking like a clown when put together. Not that there's anything wrong with a toddler dressing like a clown. 

You've undoubtedly noticed the weird, shady quality of these photos. There's no daylight indoors and I hope you'll excuse me for not standing outside in the wind and hail(!) to snap some pictures of my meager thrift store finds. Have you gotten anything good lately?

it's a...

There are some people who can patiently wait until their baby is born to find out whether it's a boy or a girl. They enjoy the surprise, even. I've heard that it gives them motivation to get through labor, as though you need a motivator besides the small person who is, regardless, tunneling out of your womb. This, to me, is like finding a reason to keep peeing once you start. 

I am not one of those people. I want to be, sort of, and I even entertained the idea of forcing myself to be one of those people for the four or five months of pregnancy during which knowing the baby's sex is even possible. It seemed fun to announce to everyone that a little boy or a little girl had arrived -- a small bonus to the anticipated name and stats, as neither are we people who name a child prior to meeting him or her. There's also the matter of pre-defining someone's gender, which is a little bit fucked up, and the very real potential for having a baby of the opposite sex than is predicted through ultrasound, or an intersexed baby (of which the prevalence is somewhere between 1.7% and .018% depending on the conditions included). 

But. I am incapable of being that patient, enlightened person. Instead, I was itching to find out and get started sewing a few things (for a boy; for a girl, let's be frank: an entire wardrobe). What was I going to do? Make all this stuff and not show you? Please.

So, we found out a couple of weeks ago. I sent text messages to the most fervently enquiring minds while (I kid you not) using the restroom at the ultrasound place, midway through the procedure. That's how hilarious a proposition it was to keep the sex a secret. I couldn't even get out the door. 

So, here are a few things I've made in the past couple of days, using these tutorials, scaled down slightly so as to be worn sooner (have I mentioned that patience is not one of my virtues?). 

The fabrics are, top to bottom, Alexander Henry Farmdale Orchard and a kind of robin's egg blue cotton lawn; two prints from Lizzy House Castle Peeps (reeling in my psychosis about making matching outfits, I saved the scraps to put at the hem of some otherwise solid-colored pants for George); and two patterns from Anna Maria Horner's Little Folks voile, which I could swathe myself in 24/7. These tutorials were so easy to follow that I whipped the three dresses up in just one night, plus an hour for finishing. I asked George if he liked them, and he said, "Piddy!" Which either means they're pretty or he pities the next in line to wear the clothes I've made. Based on his jacket review, I'm guessing it's the latter.