SEWING FOR TWO

Sometimes I manage to surprise even myself with the amount of things I am able to get done at the same time. Or, in some (most) cases; the amount of things I manage to do when postponing something else that I actually should be doing.

So because organising my paperwork for my bookkeeper brings out the creative need in me instead, I sew a slipover for Dag -

A slipover pretty much the only thing I can come up with to sew him "just like that" as he is not a little girl I can sew dresses for  -he could have worn those kind of mini muumu-style baby/toddler dresses when he was smaller if I'd made him but I think he's beginning to be to old for such. So slipovers it shall be!

I made this for winter out of a warm stretchy soft fabric. Might try to give a pair of (simple) pants for him a go too!

As I was on it I also sew myself a skirt! I always had this cute-and-stupid idea of making matching mom-girl dresses if I had a girl but I can do it like this instead!


It is something of a 1/4-circle skirt -normally I always measure and do the circle-skirt maths, but because I was kind of in a hurry (=wanted to wear it straight away) and since the fabric is very stretchy and easy, I just measured it on me from one corner; how much I needed to get it to cover my behind. Then I sat down and cut the quarter of a circle straight on the fabric. I sew it together in the back and added a two small darts in the front and two in the back for a slimmer fit, and then attached a thick waistband afterwards.


I also added suspenders.


The suspenders can be attached or removed with small hooks for variation.


And now we are adorably silly and matching!

The fabric is from Eurokangas and my knit top is from KingLouie, shoes Frollein von Sofa. I've worn them all Christmas whenever we went somewhere.

BY HIMSELF

Dag has for some time been approaching, and now definitely reached the age that most parents recognise; when he needs to try and do absolutely everything himself.

It is heartbreakingly adorable but can also be highly annoying at the same time, in those moments when you are in a hurry or really need to get things done.

Having two bigger (half-)brothers that are a lot older than him of course also pushes it, because he wants to do everything the same way. Plus the huge need to HELP MOMMY.

Dag wants to use a knife while eating. He has been eating with a big fork a long the time since he does not want to be the only one with a spoon in the table and baby cuttleries is hard to hand to him when the whole family is dining. THE BIG ONE. (I can then have the tiny fork.) But he's quite skilful around the kitchen already so he can handle a lot. (He actually managed to peel some clementines rather well the other day. And once he had done one he wouldn’t stop. TO MOMMY he says and pushes a whole one , warm and rather well worked-on, inside my mouth so he can go on peeling a new one for himself.)

And then he's cleaning the table. When I was washing walls and doors the other day it wasn’t as successful as the floors were very wet after him “helping out”.

And when we go grocery shopping he has to, really has to, put everything in his little cart himself. The whole world will fall apart if I am the one to put it down or even. god forbid, put it in my cart.
Well as a parent you develop lots of ways to innocently trick your child, and so I have developed a system for secretly moving some items into my cart as we shop along. Altough sometimes he outsmartens me too, as surprising and random things might show up at the cashier.

But shopping - he has a lion-cap that he shopped himself! ("The Lion Cap" has to be said with a rrrroaring sound when you say LION.) Sort of. We were at the mall doing some errands when Dag showed me he wanted to visit this one accessory shop. Um, OK. Then and went right to one shelf an pointed at the lion cap and said THAT ONE. I was not raised as a child that got everything I pointed at, and so will Dag be,  but in this case I had to give him the hat that he surprisingly enough must have spotted earlier and remembered!

As it was father’s day yesterday (over here) I will end this post with a pic of me and my father thirty years ago. Like Dag (or, Gad as he says)  in a mini dirndl!

OCTOBER; 33, THE EIGHT YEAR AND THE SECOND ONE

Arrived home after a fabulous and work-filled weekend in Turku (of which you can see an ultra quick  fun time-lapse vide of on vimeo, by Tuomas) just in time to catch all the lovely colours of autumn - last year I missed it, as the leaves fell of quickly, and I was in Stockholm performing during those short days of excessive colour.

Dag and I had to go out on a mission immediately as some of the lams had decided the grass was greener on the other side of the fence rather literally, and for some reason also on the road. So we chased them back much to Dag's excitement. 

He is wearing a Mickey Mouse-coat that both me and my sisters have worn when we were kids, that we got from our cousins who were a few years older than us. There was one in about every size and this is the first one. Dag finds it very fancy.

Lambs trying to camouflage themselves.

Last weekend, on Saturday, it was also my 33th birthday. I rarely celebrate mine; last time was when K and I threw our very fabulous True Blood feast when we turned 30. Usually I have been at work on my birthdays as a grown up, first in the harbour (where one tended to spend the whole day as shifts are long), now on stage. This year was no different!

As those of you who have hanged around here for a longer time know, my blog also gets a year older along with me - so we are entering our eight year here now. That is a long time I tell you!
If someone ever wondered about the rather imbecile but catchy name of my blog it has been explained here on a few occasions back in the days but we can do it one more time; the idea of a blog was born way before it actuallystarted, when blogging looked a bit different that now. I had just found fashion blogs that consisted of outfits and outfits only, and I found them both inspiring and a bit silly at the same time. So The Freelancer's Fashion Blog was an ironic idea -  I have always had a big wardrobe, but from time to time (a lot like now) I haven't really been able to use it properly. Back then in 2006 and -07, when thinking about blogging, I had finished my studies and worked with freelance graphic design as well as in the harbour. So I was basically working most of the time (like now, but in a different matter) and felt that I mainly was wearing black tights or leggings (or underwear) and a black t-shirt or a top, when in front of my computer or under my workwear. What people who work from home often look like... And I thought about how that would make it in a fashion blog, different versions of something that looks just the same. Well, that blog never happened. When my blog then started it was all about drawithe outfits though and staying incognito -it took until March the next year until I posted a photo of myself - and as with most blogs this one slowly developed into something more personal.

This was that very first photo, from many years back.

Speaking of outfits, there is of course a reason why I have been walking around mainly in stretchy wear and sneaky yoga pants, other than the one that I am always running from workouts to rehearsals and classes nowadays- I got pregnant again! And unlike the pregnancy that ended in a miscarriage this summer, when I had felt strangely well when I thought back on it, I this time felt bad and swollen,  just like I had with Dag, feeling like I was hungover for two months. Until week seven was over I was a bit scared every time I went to the toilet that I would see blood, and was reliefed when I passed the weeks of the previous miscarriage. I had my first prenatal appointment and had all future ultras and appointments set now, as is the custom. But, even though I am lucky enough to get pregnant easily - so far always on the first try, I am apparently not as lucky after that. Last Friday, the day before my 33rd birthday, I had an ultra sound and found out I had had a so called missed abortion; the foetus had died a few weeks earlier. Well, I could almost see it right away - the baby in the monitor looked too small for it's weeks, although I kept thinking that perhaps they always grow miraculously just the week after this. But I moved my face from the screen to the doctor's face and saw he looked serious and then he told me he could not see a heart beat. As the first miscarriage came rather slowly I had time to let it sink in and it was an event that made me disappointed and frustrated, but this was totally different. I couldn't imagine it could go wrong a second time because everything had felt so normal!  Not now, not this one! I was rather shocked. Not just because of the loss of the  baby-to-be, but because of how much we already had planned with everything else around the fact we would have a baby in April; jobs, life, arrangements. It's because I was looking at maternity dresses onine already. I shouldn't have! Everything had been just right, damnit! But it wasn't.

I had a lot of things to take care of during that day, which was awful to go trough, and I skipped out on some because I was so tired and just wanted to lie in bed. My body still felt pregnant, swollen and nauseous, and I was distressed over the fact that it was not over totally yet, but I would still have to abort it during the week to come. The thought of the pain that might bring, and all the arrangements around that felt the worst for the moment. I would have to call lots of places and re-arrange meetings and cancel classes and tell them I had the flue or something because you don't tell people you lost a pregnancy. You could, but you don't, because they will get uncomfortable. Too much info, stick to the flue.

As Scandinavia is ruled by the Jante -law (the 'don't think you're any special'-one, which in cases like this translates to: don't think your pain is any worse than anyone else's), and as I've grown up in a society that looks down on self-pity (well, don't they all?) and go by the mentality that one should shut the fuck up and quit whining, I thought it was best to do so. And as everyone keeps telling you: it is very common and it happens a lot. So it is. I had a lot to do during the weekend too; had to perform and hold a workshop and first the thought of all that felt rather horrifying. But it actually helped to be busy and around people and kept my mind off the fact there was a little dead beginning of a human lying inside of me. On Monday I went to the hospital and got the pills to empty the womb and so today this second one was over with less physical pain than I had expected. (For the record, for those who might read this in a similar situation: they gave me Cytotec, which is what they use over here pretty much as the only option, a drug I have had once before -I presume- many years ago for a similar reason and that was a very painful experience. Well at least I was prepared for what the beginning of labour would feel like when the day that came. The almighty internet is also full of mainly horror stories on said drug, as you see I of course googled a lot waiting in horror for it to kick in, but let it be said here for those who have an interest in this: This time I was stocked up with strong painkillers and it was not all that bad, by evening the medicine had done it's job. So it worked for me.)

As I wrote about the first miscarriage I thought it would be strange not to mention this second one. And, as I said the last time, when you have some sort of situation going on, you google all you can find about it, and then you google some more. (I always search in three languages to get as much out of it as possible). You want to and need to read about it. There is always someone out there who feels better reading about things like this, because of how one can relate, even though this story here is not one of those miracle stories where there was still a living twin inside!  (which will only give you false hope, because you know, there seldom is).

But it is still a bit odd, how we are not really supposed to mention miscarriage, and are not supposed to feel bad about it either. It is something of a taboo. With a friend who was, and luckily still is, as many weeks pregnant as I was, we talked about how you usually feel your worst and weirdest in the beginning of pregnancy but you are not supposed to talk about it because things can go wrong , and then if they do go wrong and you feel terrible you can't talk about it either because no one knew about it and you know, it does happen all the time.

So, no use of dwelling on things one can not change! I have a lot of work and projects that I will concentrate on the rest of this year, and also on the wonderful little fella in the Mickey Mouse coat that I shall snuggle up!
And come the weekend, I will drink some wine, oh yes.

EXPECTATIONS, BABIES, PLANS AND THE WAY LIFE SOMETIMES GOES

Things don’t always go according to plan but then again that is the way life is!

We managed to get a picture of us sisters, all pregnant equal months apart!
It was a fun situation,  the three of us expecting at the same time and I was not sure if we’d manage to meet up before my sister gave birth. But some time ago we did! We took a photo of us, and I am happy we did and like it,  although we were not long in that state together. Our triple-pregnancy did not end by a delivery however, but by me miscarrying.

Miscarriage is not something that you talk that much about (over here); many don't want to talk about it, for personal reasons of course, ever say they have had one, some somehow take it as a failure. In general it is seldom mentioned when happened, like it's considered a) too painful and b) not to be seen as too big of a thing as it is rather common in the end. So I though I wouldn't post about this after all, but then again why not, shit happens, and sometimes you get to read about it. The internet however is full of forums discussing the matter (well, it is after all the internet...), and if you are going through, or have had one it's both comforting and terrifying to read those stories. Reading personal stories and not just clinical facts was supporting in some ways- my miscarriage came slowly and without pain at first so it took me a few hopeful days of what if’s before it became inevitably clear to me that it was over. I almost wished for the elevators of The Shining, so I could have known right away, instead of being in a state of not being sure (no one will take you in for a check up if you are not very ill) for days. I was still only in my first trimester and I know it is very common for things to go wrong and you are always taught to be prepared for the worst, which I was. But it is still sad and disappointing anyway. Then again I have had a friend lose her baby half way trough pregnancy and I know people who have had stillborn children. A good friend is battling cancer and children die by the hour in Gaza, for example. And I had an easy pregnancy that resulted in one healthy very happy child that I got to hold right away after he was born. So; I am still to be considered lucky! But while it is good to compare your worries with the rest of the world's in order to get some of that perspective it is also okay for you to put it all into context to your own life; it is okay to feel bad about your own sorrows even though others may have it worse. It is common to lose a pregnancy but it does not happen to everyone. Well, this time it happened to me; us. And I know many who will read this can relate, so that's why it made it here in the end.

In most cases I have always been very forward looking and trying not to dwell on things I can’t do anything about, and I had many days to process this as it went on. Life goes on, it went on already and there will be new chances. Now it almost feels like I was never pregnant again.

And, early last morning it was time for a new person to enter this world (and I got a new title at the same time)- I became an aunt as my sister gave birth to a little boy! It will be so exciting to get to meet him and for Dag to see his little cousin too!

AT THE MOOMIN WORLD

Last week we went to the Moomin valley with Dag!

There are certain things you need to do with your kids as a parent and earlier I thought of some with horror . We took Eddi's older boys to Legoland in 2011 and I was a bit stressed at the thought of thousands of over-enthusiastic and screaming and whinging kids all around., plus endless amounts of holes to pour your money in. But it wasn't all that bad though, rather fun actually, although the thought of one day having to go there again as I would want my own children to experience it too did come with a sigh. But now, as a parent myself I was very much looking forward to our first little summer trip with Dag to go see the Moomins! Dag is such a huge fan and I knew he would be thrilled to go!

And he was thrilled indeed! So much to the extent he was overwhelmed and got extremely shy, almost horrified, to meet his favourite characters in person.

The Moomin valley, or The Moomin World as it is called, is in the little town of Naantali in the southwest of Finland, which is a mere hour and a half away from our farm.


Dag was trying to bathe everywhere and get undressed; we've had a heat wave here for some time and the temperature was around +30C; I don't think I've sweated that much outdoors in ages!

Luckily the place is on an island and there is a beach to head out to. The water has become really warm too so even I went in for a swim!

 In the style of Moomin-mama I had packed a picnic with us, with  home-made cherry cake. There has been so much cherries this year! I had made ice tea the night before with dried apple and fresh mint that I'd put in the freezer over night. It served as a cooler in the basket until our picnic.

Dag was totally digging the character's show, getting to hear the moomin song live.

(I have a student from Naantali and she told me almost every one has worked at the Moomins at some point of their late teens. On days like this I felt sorry for all of them in their thick suits... )

Most of all Dag wanted to go see Mårran (The Groke) though. Or, to be said like this: *gasping for air* -Mårran! So we scared him for life by actually visiting her. The first time he ran out from the cave screaming, but after some time he wanted to go again. This time  safely in the lap of his father but it was apparently a very terrifying experience nonetheless, which he the following days proudly remembered.

 Afterwards we took a walk around the town of Naantali. I haven't been there before and had no idea it was such a pretty place.


We had dinner at a restaurant by the sea.

 Dag was happy with his new characters, as always organising them in very neat rows in different order, just before he fell asleep, exhausted and happy. He wanted to wear his entrance bracelet for the rest of the entire week.


(Nothing in this post has been sponsored or paid for.)

PARTY OUTFIT

We threw Dag's two-year party (this is apparently becoming my childrens-party-skirt) and then I was totally beat.

My skirt is selfmade and the yellow t-shirt is from the supermarket, surprisingly one of the best I have. Prisma for the win!

TWO YEARS!

 Having birthday pancakes!

Last night two years ago I had the strangest pizza of my life - eight days before Dag was due my water broke Niagra-falls style at a launch party I was at. After being monitored for some time at the hospital they sent me home in the evening to await the labour (pains) to begin, or to return in the morning to get it started for me. It was around ten p.m and we hadn't eaten during the day so we stopped at an Italian restaurant on the way home. I had a pizza and it felt rather absurd to sit there munching it, knowing that the next day our baby would be with us. Some memories are such that you can't really place them; they feel like they could be five years or five weeks ago, but this one feels like a lifetime ago already.

Dag about one hour old.

And today my little baby turned two already! Time goes so fast!

 Opening his big present.

A trrctr! Tactoo! Trr! 

And a paaanda!

Dag has developed into a charming little person, and also a very stubborn little one. It gets more fun to be around him day by day, as he interacts more all the time, naturally, developing from baby to toddler to child.  Which means he can also be very annoying.  Which he usually makes up to by giving you a truly genuine hug with all the love a two-year-old-with-half-of-his-sandwich-mashed-out-over-his-hands (that are now nestled in your hair) can, and a big gooey kiss on top of that. Saying MOM! and being very sorry for pulling the cat's tail for the n:th time.

And just like the love to any other person or living creature develops by time so does the love to a child. You grow to love your child more; it's a very different kind of love that I have towards my son now than I did when I he was a newborn.

Before you become a parent you always hear about how you will have your hands full and how absolute it is. And you get it, even though you can't really realise what it will be like, to have someone so dependent on you, before you have that little caterpillar in your lap and instantly learn that it is constant, there are no free seconds, it is ON all of the time. I did have something of a clue as we already lived with Dag's half brothers although they of course are much older. But I was a bit surprised (and, yes, annoyed) the first year over how everything always was about the kids' schedule, when they would need to eat and be; all arrangements had to be made according to them, they way it is when you have children - so I had some training. But thinking back now the 24/7 babyperiod was over rather soon, after a few months it was smooth sailing; eating, getting dressed, going out, taking a shower (or a piss for that matter too) and all that gets easy after a while. (Altough, leaving the house will not be the same for another ten years or so. It takes so, muh.more.time to exit trough the door...) By now I've almost forgot how it was like to have a tiny baby! Well, both my sisters and Eddi's brother will have babies during the following months (bye bye babysitting grandparents, damn!) so I will be reminded...

And if the constant on-duty of being a parent is something that is not possible to comprehend before you are there, so is the parental love. I thought it would be similar to the love of you pet, perhaps the closest you can get to imagine it if you don't have children, but stronger. And yes perhaps it is like that, but of course different too. (Well, sometimes I compare babies and small children to puppies too. They are always crazy happy to see you, for example. Hehe. ) And as with any love it comes with worries as well, and also with the worlds strongest urge to protect. The love for you child s filled with parents-only moments with stings of your heart melting over the smallest things, his small shoulders bending over a toy car,  over how much happiness a slice of apple can bring, or a truck driving by "THERE! LOOK!" and aaaaw how well and concentrated he eats with a fork and tries to pick up his macaroni one by one and there he's pouring out one and a half litre of -what, wait, uh-oh, NO DAG NO!