It really has been forever since I posted about my first venture into the world of distressing wood furniture. FINALLY, here is the finished product!
Tada!
It was such a fun project to work on while I was waiting for Adela's arrival. I put up a homemade mobile above it for her to look at while I change her and it has turned out to be one of her happiest places. She looks at the birds above her head and talks away to them as if they will sing back to her. My sister, who is also expecting a baby girl, recently bought an old dresser so it looks like I get to try my hand at another technique! I'm thinking of using a bolder color to suit Lindsey's personality more (because I'm so fragile and delicate like the creamy white and feminine antique gold of mine suggests...right).
Adela's birdie friends.
I made them from an Etsy design.
I am taking orders if you'd like one for a
special new baby coming your way!
I had so much fun working on these projects and it hasn't really stopped there. I never thought that I would take after my mother and become so crafty. My mother is just as surprised by this considering she used to have to pay my sisters and I off to help her with craft show items. I've listed some of the websites that I regularly go to for fun ideas; usually crafting them to my personal style and supplies that I have on hand. Check 'em out and happy crafting!
At 34 weeks pregnant and everything proceeding as normal, it would be only natural that I have started "nesting". This, mothers around me tell me, is typical at this stage. I'm not working anymore but I have to find something to fill the days otherwise I may lose my mind from boredom alone. So, I decided to start on a few projects. One was putting the crib together. I couldn't wait to get it set up and put the pretty bedding in there and picture a little one sleeping inside it. As usual, I thought I could do it myself until I about pinched off my finger trying to hold up one end while screwing on another. In the end, good old mom had to help out.
I thought I would share with you the process of my main project though - because I'm rather proud of it and because it may be helpful for any of you that might be interested in beginning a project like this of your own.
I decided I would distress an old dresser rather than re-stain it to the original look or buy a cheap, new piece of furniture from IKEA. It's a technique I had seen done a few times but never tried on my own so I was a little scared I'd ruin my dad's old dresser for good attempting it but, through the help of my very handy Aunt Kathy, I think I'm on the right track with this.
First, here is what I started out with. Solid maple. I had to use a palm sander to sand off the varnish which was really rather relaxing. A, hitting a punching bag kind of relaxing. When distressing wood, some people like to really make the piece appear old and well, stressed, but that wasn't really the look I was going for. So instead of using extra harsh sandpaper, chains or screw drivers to add extra character, I simply used 150 grade sandpaper on the palm sander and gave it a quick sanding.
Once that was done, it was time to prime. This was the only part of the process that I couldn't participate in since I was using an oil based primer and that can cause brain damage in unborn babies. So, I let my brother in law do it. You're going to want to use the oil based primer so that it properly covers up the varnish on the wood.
Next came the fun part! I had decided to do a vintage color combination that I am kind of obsessed with at the moment. I picked up a gold metallic paint by Martha Stewart. It required two coats and I loved the color so much as it was that I almost didn't want to finish the technique and just leave it gold. The paint man at Home Depot told me that it was a perfect choice for this type of furniture because it wears really well. Since I am going to be doubling this dresser as a changing table, this is good. It certainly will be getting a lot of use over the next couple of years! As a side note: you will need to purchase a special type of roller for the metallic paint. It cost me around 7 dollars on top of the 19 I paid for the quart of paint (of which I used about half - looks like I have enough for another project!!).
The final painting part of the process was to put the white overlay on top. This too, required two coats as the gold bled through more than I had expected. I tried to use a different type of roller that was recommended for this coat but it was going on streaky and I just didn't like the look so I opted for a nice brush instead. There is one more piece to the technique but I haven't gotten to that yet. That is my project for tonight! After the paint from the last coat has dried to the touch but hasn't fully cured (this can take several days), I will be sanding off some of that top coat so that the gold underneath will show through.
The project itself has taken me a few weeks. Once you wait a day or 2 for every layer to dry (and several for the primer itself to dry as that takes longer) it takes longer than you think (kind of like waiting 16-18 weeks to find out if you're having a boy or girl). But, since I have nothing but time and plenty to worry my mind about, having the distraction was nice. I remember growing up how my dad would always cut the lawn or chop wood when he was frustrated or stressed out about things and I can understand why. It really is therapeutic to work with your hands. I tried to picture putting all her cute little outfits into the drawers I had lovingly worked on for her and all the times I would dry her up from a bath and get her dressed for bed. This process for me was therapeutic in that it made me think less about all the stressful things like re-finding a doctor in the Buffalo area, getting in to a pediatrician, making sure my NYS healthcare was all in order, etc. It became more about thinking about all the lovely things about being a mom like, completing projects for her that will let her know someday that I was anticipating her coming and wanted pretty little things around my pretty little thing.
You'll have to wait a few more days for the final reveal as I will still have to wait another 6 weeks for her final reveal but....I think it will be worth it.
06 September 2011
I so wish there was a handbook on how to manage all of this on my own.
I promised to write often and alas, I have had trouble doing so. Not because there is little to write about because there is always something to say but, because what I need to write is hard and having other's read it is harder.
There is the practical side of expecting a baby that leaves me with constant questions and quandaries to my friends and family. Such as, how does one go about buying a Jogger that fits the car seat properly? Since I'm only 90% sure that I am having a girl, should I stick with neutrals so as not to grow attached to pretty things should that 10% overtake the odds? It's hot and I often feel immensely unattractive - how did you expecting mothers cope out there? (Feel free to answer these questions. They are not rhetorical.) I fill my days with finding answers to these questions. I spend countless hours searching online, reading the articles and thrift shopping for bargains. I eat the salad and the fiber to combat the "pregnancy side effects" and I wash my face multiple times a day to clear up the skin that dislikes the heat and the hormones. I occasionally wear the black maxi dress and heals with a splash of my favorite perfume and feel beautiful in my stretching skin. But, no amount of researching, pampering pedicures and soul centering yoga sessions/front of the mirror pep talks can reassure my deepest insecurities.
I always knew he would be leaving the area. Leaving for good. Not far enough away to limit access but far enough that all ties are figuratively severed by his move and consequently, my decision to let him leave. But he will never leave; the eyes or the hair or the skin tone or the quiet demeanor that will be my daughter will never leave. And the part of me that never wants to see him again will see him again and again in her. And the part of me that wishes he weren't gone will find him in her again and again. And there is no doubt that my heart will ache. Will there be any doubt my heart will ache? I won't really be alone.....? A part of him loves her.....?
I've never found words so hard to come by. I've never been at a loss for how to express my feelings. In the fact that this has taken me longer to write than anything since a 60 page Dr. B. IR paper in college tells me how deep the emotion is. Past what I can easily write and easily share. But, still not past the deeper instinct of motherhood that has already marked my soul.
I try to think back to my early 20's when I thought about what my life would by like once I reached my late 20's - where I am now. I remember being sure that I would be married young, because to have children too old and be an older parent just seemed abominable. I would have traveled to a few continents, met amazing people that shaped me and gave me knowledge from their own vast experiences. At least by 28 I would have 1 kid, a dog or 2, a picket fence (even if it was in my neighbor's yard and not my own) and a collection of books that filled the floor-to-ceiling bookcase my ever so handy husband had built for me in my dreamed-of library room. At 21, I was sure that 29 would look like the picture of every girl's dreams - full of love, home, stability and well...the inevitable.
I say inevitable and you'll probably start to think that I'm a fatalist and I didn't really believe any of those things would happen to me to begin with. In hindsight, I think my dreams at 20 were the dreams of a generation that believed that to be the path I should desire. To my own detriment at times, I am not one to follow a very well traveled path and at 29, I can tell you which part of that list has come to pass: I had a dog - I had to give him away to move home and finish school. I have traveled to a few continents - and each time I grow a little more and acquire a few more invaluable friends. I have not married "the man of my dreams". I haven't even figured out yet what that man really looks like. I'm definitely a little more jaded and a whole lot less optimistic; reality does that to one. And there is one more thing from the original list that I will be able to check off by the end of the year....
....and that is to welcome a little bit of joy to truly change my life forever, giving me something to love more than this single woman's quest to always love myself. On 15 November (or shortly before or after, you know how these things go) Grandchild Hill #2 is due.
I am excited, scared, worried, expectant, apprehensive (and the antithesis of yogi-esqu, hippy happy serene) and a million other emotions. It has always helped me to write and to read the thoughts of others who may be in similar situations as myself or have been there before so, I'll be writing throughout and I look forward to posting in a week or 2 the sex of the baby! It's the beginning of a lifetime's worth of journeys. And so it begins....no longer somewhere over the rainbow.
13 December 2009
A week ago, Lyndi, Meg and I celebrated our 6 month anniversary in India. We marked it by having breakfast at the Gateway Hotel in Surat. There was a lovely buffet of fresh fruit, filtered coffee, Belgian waffles and muesli; among other things. The hotel was lovely; soft music playing in the background, BBC News airing on the silenced TV, black and white clad servers coming to refill our coffee cups. I felt out of place. The wandering school teacher look that I am sporting doesn't quite fit in with the posh NRI's and wealthy businessmen and their Blackberries. Anyway, I didn't really care; there was fresh food in front of me that had not been made with tablespoon heaped upon bucket-full of oil. I was paying attention to that and the hushed quiet. Silence. Ah, welcomed silence. How I've missed you, peace and quiet.
Flight or Fight. I remember hearing and learning these words vividly in my intercultural classes at Houghton. Sometimes, you'll want to run the other way. The honeymoon, "This is all so new and different!" stage is long gone. The blinders are off. There are serious flaws in the system to make me want to take flight, and I'm aware of them, not ignoring them, and finding it hard not to be annoyed by them.
The Flaws: students that don't give a crap and teachers/principals that look like they are ignoring it because, "What can you do? You work within your limitations"...So, I'm supposed to just give them work to do in class that they have the answers to in their "GUIDE BOOKS" (it is not a guide book when it is giving you the exact answers to any and all questions, exam essay, etc) ?? These are students that are in the commerce stream. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I think that we are here teaching English to exactly that demographic: those that will run businesses and the like. India makes English compulsory for exactly the students and future businessmen that these students will become. Yet, they don't care. In a class of 40 or so (these classes are smaller because their classmates that made up classrooms of 70 or 80 in standards 9 and 10 have dropped out) 3 or 4 students will attempt to do what looks to me like, appeasing the teacher. They don't like to see me marching to the principals office armed with a list of complaints and urges. They answer the questions to the best of their knowledge (with the help of their trusty guide books!!). I called on some boys in the back that seemed to have a lot to say, only none of it was pertaining to the class or directed towards me. The kid stood there for a few minutes, unable to read. I put up on the board, "I'm not here to embarrass you, I'm here to help you."
I want to give up on the 11th Standard hooligans. Yes, I did say hooligans.
Fight. Well, I could fight for them. I could fight against my emotions and keep pressing on. I could look forward to April when I'm back in the States to a different type of insanity that seems fairly placid from where I stand right now. I could go into that classroom on Thursdays and Fridays and love those obnoxious kids enough to keep doing it...I could do that.
I feeling the ups and downs more now than at the beginning. Recurring events are more obvious to me. It's easier to focus on the downs; maybe because they remind me how much work I have to do, how long it takes to accomplish some things, and that sometimes there is just nothing that one person can do; which is hard to accept for the dreamers and optimists in the world. But I guess I should recount the ups, because they are what is making it hard for me to imagine leaving come April.
Our clerks office is great. They are always helpful and I don't know how many letters I have taken to them to deliver to the post office for me and had them pay for it for me. A week ago they asked me if I would teach them English and of course I said yes because I really like these guys and they are always trying so hard to communicate with me. We had our first lesson on Friday, to great success. We worked on the WH questions. Saturday I came in to say good morning and get the key for the library and Chindan asked me where his lesson was for today! I walked out smiling. At least someone is excited to learn. And any teacher will tell you, that's what keeps you going. It's keeping me going at the start of another hectic, full, demanding week.
They say it takes 7 weeks to make things a habit. While it hasn't yet been 7 weeks, we all seem to be getting in the habit of getting out on the road for our daily runs. It's becoming a routine and one that I don't dread but look forward to at the end of what has lately been, a very long day.
Now that I am into my second term teaching, I can see how last term I was really just getting into the routine of things. This term seems to be going much smoother for me. While I work with great co-teachers, these last couple of weeks I really feel like I am making headway in the classes and being an effective and creative teacher. Recently, I have been being much more diligent about making sure homework is turned in, spelling tests are administered and punishments are doled out (instead of making empty threats). While I know these points are making a difference in my student's performance, it means more work. On top of this, we have a lot going on with all the new books that have been donated to the Foundation for our libraries. Running in the evenings gets my mind off work for an hour; relieving my stress.
As Meg and I ran this week, we talked about discipline problems in our classes; discussing what has worked and what really hasn't been effective. Discipline in an Indian classroom with an American as the teacher is often a precarious routine. While it is illegal to hit students, most teachers still do to maintain authority in the classroom. With 70 students in a class, things obviously get out of hand. I don't, under any stretch of the imagination, feel comfortable with hitting students so I have to find more creative ways to illicit their cooperation. On Friday, I put my new disciplinary plan into action - if homework was not brought in in my 9A class, the students would be picking up garbage from the school yard. One girl brought in the assignment. We went over her homework and I gave her one on one help while the rest of the kids picked up their trash that they prefer to throw on the ground; both in the classroom and outside it. Let's see if they bring in Monday's homework...we might have a really clean school yard after next week if not!
More training news to come...it's time to lace up my shoes for a long run....
