photo found from HERE

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My new sewing aspirations involve dresses, courtesy of THIS tutorial. I am hoping to make C an Alice dress for the party using this concept. I might add more white buttons down the front and lace around the collar and...and...I better not get overly excited just yet. I'm still on snack sacks.

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But my blogging aspirations involve sharing a response to the following sweet question in my GIVEAWAY Comments: "What can't you do!?!"

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Here's a few things among so many:

- I can't keep to a budget, no way no how.

- I can't survive a morning without a frappucino.

- I can't knit or crochet because I'm so uptight.

- I can't put together a decent looking outfit.

- I can't figure out what to do with my hair.

- I can't draw, its scary, C says so.

- I can't sit up straight.

- I can't make small talk, I'm aw-kwar-d.

- I can't button 80% of the pants in my closet.

- I can't do Shibori (Japanese fabric dying)... but I want to learn!

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photo from HERE

pictures courtesy of my talented friend Kristin

A feeling of dread overtakes me about 8 AM on Saturday. Its not a fact I am proud of, this is one of those dirty confessions of the "ugly" inside of me. I am selfish and grumpy and slow to relinquish my time on the weekend. But I have committed, signed-up, said I would be there.

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Our church hosts a Respite Care night once a month. 60+ children with special needs pour through our doors for 4 hours of respite. Respite for them with fresh faces and fresh toys and fun. Respite for their parents for a date night without children. These sweet kiddos and amazing parents don't get much respite and it is much deserved.

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I complain inside and out loud much of Saturday. "Remind me not to sign-up again, I'm so tired on the weekends, I need to clean the house..." there's more, much more. True confessions, I'm sorry to say.

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We pile in the car as the time draws close. As we drive Carolyn chimes in from the back seat "I just love Respite Care!" That's good, good for her, good for me to hear.

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The parents begin to arrive as we wait in the lobby with a sea of volunteers, each anticipating a little friend for the evening. Our little friend arrives. Cerebral palsy has left this sweet blond boy in a wheelchair unable to speak, and yet he claps and signs excitedly as he points toward the toy room. Clearly he "just loves Respite Care" too.

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My two little girls are quick to help and push his wheelchair in unison. And we're off.

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After toys and music has been had for some time, we head for some dinner of fish crackers and pizza. Carolyn fetches more crackers as he quickly gobbles them up, clearly a favorite of our little friend. The girls happily eat alongside and try to think of other fun things to fill the night.

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As the evening wears on and we've played in all of the spaces we can think to take our little friend, Julia stops the chair. He is signing "I want" over and over. She leans in close "What do you want?" she gently asks several times. And suddenly he throws his arms around her in a big bear hug. She seems happy to oblige and hugs him back. Love, apparently, needs neither legs that run nor mouths that speak.

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And I begin to wonder about love, and this night, and why I get so darned grumpy (its really bad sometimes... seriously).

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We finish the night in front of the oscillating fan, an absolute favorite of our little friend. Because it is raised rather high, he reaches for me to hold him so he can be directly in front of the breeze. I realize how easy it could be to beg-off the request of someone without a voice, with nothing but a few rough hand signals. But instead this night I am grateful for the five-years of training my arms have had with two babies (sometimes simultaneously), and we cuddle close in front of the cooling breeze, this little precious soul and my grumpy one.

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All at once, as though he can hear the hesitation in my heart - my sadness for my own selfish attitudes, my wonder at his sweet and simple thrill over a fan while I require nothing short of a miracle to thrill me lately. He looks into my face, leans in and gives me a big wet kiss... then squeals with laughter at my surprise. Over and over he gives kisses and squeals and I decide to relax a bit, to "just love Respite Care", too.

After receiving the above email in my inbox at Cubeville this morning, I decided to compose the following...

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I only shower every-other-other day. I wear ponytails everyday. I take approximately 60 seconds to apply makeup that is at least three years old. I don't floss. My face is perpetually broken out like a thirteen year old (see previous three confessions for an explanation to that one). I get a hair cut approximately once a year, maybe. I don't water my plants at regular intervals. I don't shave my legs in the winter... or spring, or much of summer except once a week, or fall (its blonde hair, you know?). I never exercise, ever. I hate doing laundry, therefore I will wear the same outfit all weekend long (haven't gotten up the courage to try this at Cubeville...yet). I never vacuum, ever. I am counting down the days until the girls can do the laundry, which I cannot teach them because I do not know how to properly do it myself. And I need the "I'm Sorry" box far more than my kids do... shall I go on?

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I have more confessions, lots more, but this has probably already sent my mother, sisters, aunts and grandmother into a tizzy. I might be receiving new beauty products for my birthday now.

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All of that to say, I'm just as lazy as the next guy, believe me.