My Mini-Me

Marty has somehow learned how to crochet. I know it wasn't from me, because I gave that up a long time ago. But when I checked on them last night, Marty had a hook and some yarn and was working up a line of chains. She said she was making a doll blanket, but I didn't figure she could, since she'd never before been able to turn and work into the beginning chain. But I shouldn't have doubted her, I suppose, because she came down this morning with four rows of fairly neat single crochets done. The stitches aren't perfect, but they're a darn bit better than my first attempt to teach myself crochet--when I was 18 years old.

So today, we're camped out on the couch (well, except while I'm breaking to write this), and crocheting together while we watch the travel channel and explore exotic locales. So much fun to have a little mini-me. One of these days, she'll probably discover that I'm really boring and she doesn't actually want to be exactly like me. But for now, it's pleasant to have someone that wants to do everything I do, shows interest in all my interests, and will just come along for the ride while I do what I like.

I'm also enjoying that at least one of my children wants for little more than to snuggle and read classic literature (whether to herself, or have me read to her). And that she is now old enough to understand the humor and subtler irony in the stories we read. It's so fun to hear her giggle at a funny passage, while Linda's still looking at me for her reaction cues, and Chrissy is off doing whatever she does while she pretends not to listen (though I know she absorbs way more than she lets on).

Well, it's time for me to join my mini-me and get some handwork done. :o)

Mother's Day earrings to Mother's pendant

Happy Birthday to Me!

My birthday present this year came in a day early, instead of two days late, as anticipated. But I finally did something I've wanted to do for years now--I turned my pretty opal earrings into something I could actually wear.

This piece is particularly meaningful, and I'm wanting to be wordy about it, so I'm pulling out the blog, even though my last entry was only yesterday.

Just a few months after we were married, Terry and I were on one of our mall-walking/window shopping dates. Gazing through the window of a jewelry store, I saw the most perfect opal earrings. They were the same shape, color, and setting as the opal on my engagement ring. I fell completely in love with them, but we were students and they were $90. But, come Mother's Day, my sweetheart presented me with the earrings I coveted. I laughed at the thought of him giving me a Mother's Day gift, since we had no children and were not even expecting any at that point. But he insisted that I was the mother in our family, and would eventually become the mother to our children. So I wore the earrings for the promise of motherhood.

I wore those earrings almost every day for the next few years--through two failed pregnancies and one more successful. My ears had always had a tendency to become infected, but I ignored that, and tried to overlook the fact that no matter how many times I cleaned my ears and the earrings, I would have to clean crusted blood and gunk from the earrings each night. Thinking back on it now, I suspect that it may have to do with the blood clotting problem I have. But that's just a suspicion. At any rate, after I had Marty, earrings were pretty much not an option for a while (she would put herself to sleep by rubbing my ears). So the earrings took a prized place in my jewelry box for a while.

My years of no earrings because of babies let my ears finally heal, but they also closed over. But I loved my earrings and wanted to wear them again, so once Linda was old enough to trust, I had my ears re-pierced--just so I could wear my Mother's Day earrings again. But that didn't work, either, as my ears simply kept getting infected. So at last, I determined that I'd simply have to turn the stones into a custom piece of jewelry. But I really had no idea how to go about doing that, so the earrings remained in my jewelry box.

Finally, just a few weeks ago, in keeping with this trend of facing my fears and doing things I've always wanted to do but was either too afraid or too cheap to do (i.e. get a car, frame my painting, even consider going back to school), I started going into jewelry stores and making inquiries about how to go about designing a new piece to set my opals into--actually not too easy since not all jewelers will do custom work, and even fewer will consider working with opals. But I found a place that would do it, found a basic design that was actually quite perfect to fit the 2 opals into, and even added the girls' birthstones (emerald for Marty, citrine for Chrissy, alexandrite for Linda--all synthetic, because I'm still cheap, after all).

So now, my Mother's Day earrings that were given to me two full years before I even became a mother, but represented the hope for motherhood, are now part of a beautiful pendant that I can wear proudly to display that hope achieved.

thoughts on being artsy in a science geek family

I thought I'd gotten used to it--the engineers' patronizing attitude toward all my humanities-based interests. Terry loves to remind me of the study published in BYU's newspaper years ago that showed average incomes based on college majors, which showed the average English major's income as lower than the average high school dropout's. I put up with all those jokes and comments because, honestly, I haven't done much with my education.

I can even put up with my sister's horrified exclamations when I complain about the troubles I'm having with the basic review of middle school math as I'm preparing to take the GRE. What else could I expect from my math teacher big sis?

But when my sis-in-law mentioned to her dentist husband my current plans to apply to a library science program, I had to listen to an amazingly long rant about "why would you need a masters just to be a librarian?" Why on earth would it make any difference? I want to further my education. This is a field that interests me. It just so happens that a master's degree is required in the field. So where would there be any problem for me to further my education by getting the required degree in a field that interests me?

Why do I have to listen to these comments that belittle my dreams? I have no interest at all in their chosen professions. I think the thought of looking into people's mouths all day is horrifyingly disgusting, and I see no purpose to it being such a popular field to enter, except that dentists tend to be very wealthy and drive fancy cars. Engineering just sounds boring to me--I tried once to let my BIL talk me into a more practical major, like engineering (an electrical engineer, he says "civil engineering is easy--anyone could do it"), and could find no enthusiasm for any of the course descriptions, though looking at any humanities major, I would drool over the course catalog--only having difficulty choosing between appealing options. The strange hierarchy among engineers leaves my EE BIL turning up his nose at my CE husband, but yet CE hubby mocks architects as being less competant--paying more attention to the aesthetics than the physics.

I suppose it doesn't matter what field I wanted to enter. Perhaps I just need thicker skin. I know if I had gone into architecture (which was on my list of possibilities back in the days before I became too mathphobic), I would feel put down on, because I've listened to comments about architects. I could even have gone into geology or archaeology (some of my more science-based interests), and I would have had somebody telling me it wasn't "real" science. I wish I could go back to the days when I felt smart, and would not pay a bit of attention to anyone who tried to make me feel less, because I knew I was one of the smartest, most capable people around. I need a shot of my old 16 year old hubris so I can push forward, following my dreams, no matter what others may say.