Huge Art Clearance Sale...

I have a couple of boxes of older pieces, mostly matted blocks under 8" square (sometimes the matting bumps them up closer to 15" or so) that I have been lugging about through various studio moves. This is all work that would be for display at art fairs, but I'm not doing shows right now, and I don't have the money to complete the framing in order to display them in a gallery show...so really they are taking up much needed space in my new smaller quarters.

I've uploaded (extremely crappy!) snap shots of everything I'm "clearancing" on my face book "Artist" page (I have FANS! how crazy is that?) so if you are interested in aquiring a Ragnar orignial, surf over and check it out. If you are long distance and seriously interested I can work on getting you a better picture.

Here's the link...

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessica-Henderson-Quilt-Art/218784426082?ref=ts

PS I've also reduced the prices on a couple of huge wall quilts...still expensive but just the thing to cozy up the sitting room in your spare mansion.

Sleep and other things that get taken for granted.

There's a Jewish folk tale about a man who has a whole bunch of children. He goes to the Rabbi and says, "Rabbi my house is so noisy and chaotic that I can't think, it's driving me crazy!" and the Rabbi says "Go home and bring your chickens into the house with you." So the man goes home and lets the chickens come in the house which of course only makes the situation worse. So he goes back to the Rabbi and says "I brought the chickens into the house like you asked but it only made it worse." "Well, now bring the donkey into the house." And so it goes. Finally the Rabbi tells him to take all of the animals out of the house and put them back in the barn. The next week he comes to the Rabbi and says "Rabbi! Thank you, my house is so peaceful and quiet!"

I wouldn't say that it's quiet around here just yet, but there have been several developments that are making my life seem much more peaceful. First of all Ragnarson has switched from telling me: "I pooped in my diaper," to "I want to poop in the potty." This is just about the most beautiful phrase I have ever heard. I'm also hearing more "I need to go pee." and less "I peed" which has cut down on laundry considerably (although I still feel like Mad Eye Moody when it comes to laundry: CONSTANT VIGILANCE!).

The other big development is that Ragnarson, who belongs to the Homo Noturinlus branch of the species, has been spending nights in his own bed. This is not so much a change in his nighttime habits, but in mine. Instead of just pulling him up into the "big bed" (never has a Queensized bed felt so small as when it has two adults, a toddler made entirely of elbows and a nursing baby in it) I have been getting up and taking him to the bathroom (I want to NOT pee in the POTTTEEEEEEEEE *sob sob*) and laying back down with him in his bed....until Ragnarbaby wakes up of course and then I have to move back to the big bed. Musical beds doesn't sound that restful, but it turns out that between me tossing and turning with insomnia, and Ragnarson elbowing him, Ragarbaby was waking up much more often...and when you're four months old, being awake means wanting to eat. The end result of this midnight hour bed swapping is that last night, for the first time in I have no idea HOW long, I got more than five hours of sleep. I literally feel a little bit drunk...

I'm hoping that the next big milestone will be the end (I would settle for diminishment really) of ridiculous temper tantrums (I want NOT that SPOON!) and ceaseless whining...a mother can hope, right?

Ragnar...you mean beds are for sleeping? huh.

New baby love...

Chubby fingers, soft body snuggles, first smiles...and an apparently endless supply of partially digested milk. A few weeks ago I threatened to post pictures of Ragnarbaby's continuous fountain of yuck, but I find that when I'm covered in sour cottage cheese, my first inclination is not, inexplicably, to reach for the camera...I know. Weird huh? I did finally move the photos from the camera to the computer this morning and I found one which I had forgotten about.

I should mention that while I was typing that paragraph Ragnarbaby, who is propped up on my shoulder watching his older brother destroy my livingroom has urped on me no less than three times. Even Ragnarson noticed and started chanting "Don't spit on my mommy! Don't spit on my Mommy!" If he weren't gaining so much weight I'd worry that he had some sort of reflux or something, but most of it (though I can't imagine how) is apparently staying in his stomach. We always joked that Ragnarson was a frat boy because of his tendency to drink until he puked and passed out, but based on pure projectile persistence Ragnarbaby is going to be the President of his house.

When Ragnarbaby was a few weeks old Manimal asked "When is he going to get fun?" This was a question we didn't have the leisure to pose when Ragnarson was a newborn because we were too busy keeping him in constant motion lest he notice that he was unattended and commence to caterwauling. We estimated the "fun" stage to begin somewhere between 8 and 12 weeks...which is when he started grinning at us, and does it ever get more fun than that? Now that the fun threshold has been reached the only question in our minds is: "When is he going to stop puking on everything."

And he's just so smug about it...

Ragnar...off to change her shirt for the third time in four hours.

Alternative reality....

My poor second born gets lost in the shuffle around here. He's just such a mellow, unflappable young human. If we could hear what he was thinking I think it would go something like this: "Oh? Food? Why thank you, I was a bit hungry...and now I'm tired. Thanks for the sna...zzzzzz. Hey I'm in my swing, how did I get here? I was just dreaming that I was drinking some delicious milk. Look, there's my family, going about their business, I'll just wave my arms around for awhile and coo. Hmmm...that's enough of that....Mother? Mother? Do you think you could stop for a bit so I could have some tasty food? Oh, and by the way, I've soiled myself."

So in an effort to give him some of his due, here's a post from an alternative reality where Ragnarbaby was my first, and therefore most gushed over, child.

(fade in)

Woke up feeling refreshed and rested this morning. Ragnarbaby only woke up twice last night, and I actually left him sleeping in bed while I went and took a leisurely shower. I couldn't decide what to make for breakfast, but since the baby decided to take his morning nap a little early today I decided to make crepes with creamed strawberry filling...from scratch of course. After I'd finished cooking and had a generous second helping (love breastfeeding!) he still wasn't awake so I cleaned the kitchen, including scrubbing the tile grout and defrosting the freezer.

Then he woke up for his mid-morning nosh, and while he was nursing I read an improving book while crocheting a baby blanket with my toes. When he was done eating we played on the floor for a little while, some tummy time followed by gazing lovingly into each others eyes...then he was hungry again. After he filled up I put him in his carrier and took a long walk. He was still asleep when we got home so I decided to make bread, and dinner for the next three days. Then I still had some time left before he woke up to nurse again, so I saved the world.

(fade out)

Okay...not really, but for the first three months of Ragnarson's life we lived on take-out, because the idea of cooking something was completely unapproachable...I would have had to do it while simultaneously nursing the baby, since if he was awake, he was eating and he only slept for twenty minutes at a time. I feel like the amount of things I'm able to "get done" in a day, considering that I have a three month old, is freaking amazing. Which is not to say that my house is clean or anything, but I am managing to do about two loads of laundry a day, feed my family at least two meals a day (one of which is sure to be leftovers...but still), and occasionally leave the house in search of groceries. CRAZY.

As a fellow mother of two told me the other day "the thing about having a crazy first born is that there's really no risk with the second. You'll either be pleasantly surprised or you'll know exactly what you're in for."

Ragnar...dealing with it.