Getting Inventive vs. Facing Roadblocks

I feel like I have a million things swirling in my head and circulating on list after list of all the things I "need". I feel like it's actually stifling me, holding me back from doing a lot of things. We just finished putting wood laminate flooring in our main floor - and it looks sooo good btw. We finished the moulding last night, and now everything is moved back into place. Now, I have to clean/dust and put all my things (read: pictures, candles, knick-knacks) back into place. But, I felt like I couldn't finish all that until I had a Swiffer Dry Vac to clean up the floors when I'm done. Seriously, like I couldn't have gotten started even? That seems very obsessive to me. Or maybe really lazy.
It is so the same deal that I have with scrapbooking. "I need this and this and this before I can even think about starting this project". That seems absurd to me now in this lucid moment, my thoughts unclouded by the dizzying product drunkeness of my basement studio (the word "studio" is used very, very loosely here). I have SO much paper, SO much cardstock, and SO many stamps, stickers, embellies, alphabets, and on and on and on. How could I possibly NOT make something. Case and point: the album pictured - although poorly pictured. It was made as a "birthday album" for a friend/co-worker. I made it entirely (except the album itself) with things I already have. She, of course, does not know or care that it's all super old DCWV stack stuff, that I almost cringe at. Why? It really is pretty paper - simple stripes and dots and florals. What could be wrong with that?
I know it's been discussed ad naseaum on Two Peas, and Ali E. has addressed it. I just really need to start to use what I have. Some of my favorite pages are the ones where I've had to be inventive. To use the stuff in my stash and tell the story. To tell the story better, not necissarily prettier. Although, pretty is nice.
I have lots of pending projects, including a baby album for the friend mentioned above. I am pushing myself to dig a little deeper in that studio/dungeon and get inventive.

Ahhh Mr. Lightbody....you stir me up

I don't think I'm that easily starstruck, but when it comes to this man, I could turn into a screaming teenager in a kitty-wink (in reality, if I really ever saw him in "real-life" I would probably just freeze, as the sight of him would cause my nervous system to cease). Sure, he's just a dude who can sing and is musically/lyrically talented, you say. Maybe it is the lyrical thing that really draws me the most. So yeah, I've had all the training with voice lessons since forever ago, radical community musical theatre, and the whole music degree thing. But really, talk to me about chord progressions, The Golden Mean, and every tiny tid-bit of the history of this and that, and it will never hold a candle to the words for me. Granted, I do realize that all the rest is just as vital. But, give me the right words and I'm rapt. The gloriously painful clarity that loving someone brings - especially when you've screwed things up irreparably. Those are the feelings that Gary's eloquence brings to life. And damn, that's what I love. It brings back the days of my youth when I just couldn't end one relationship and then begin another, if you know what I mean...

I'm most compelled by the honesty, I suppose...it's the kind of "put it out there" attitude that seems like it would make for awkward family dinners with the girlfriend. "So, Gary, dear, sounds like you and the Mrs. are havin' some trouble....anything you wanna talk about?" I've always loved people who don't have any reticense about saying what's really going on sans the socially comforting sugar-coating. That's something I have trouble with, so I've always admired that quality.

So, the moral of my tirade is: Listen to Snow Patrol, you'll like it. And listen to more than "Chasing Cars" for goodness sake.

Rough day

I absolutely hate days like this...days when I lose my cool and feel totally out of control when it comes to my son. He's certainly changing. Gone are the days of my sweet, tiny guy who was happy to be held or sleep alone in his Pack 'n Play, soothed by just a little music. Now, with teething and just general attitude, he cries, he hollers, he does a lot of whining. Lots. So, I get angry when I can't figure out what he needs, and when he's so obviously tired and yet refuses to take even one little nap. He is, of course, still incredibly sweet, and I should take most of this as great stuff. To remember this time last year, when he was so incredibly sick, always the first baby the doctors would round on in the morning. I was just praying that I would be able to bring him home and deal with the whining/crying/no napping.
Jason, as usual knows exactly how to make me feel better. When I'm convinced Owen hates me, he says "You and I are the only people he wants to come to when he is scared or hurt. He doesn't hate you, he loves his Momma". Okay. So he's got me there.
So, there it is. Some days are bad, and I yell and scream (which does not help one iota, in case you were wondering), and then I feel awful. Some days I could definitely try harder to be a better mom, but some days I just have to accept that I am not going to be perfect, and that I am going to make mistakes (lots of them). But, it will be okay. We will all be okay.