Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Give Me Your Money

So, I've decided that I should probably try and sell crochet projects.  

Doing so gives me an excuse to make them, and they won't pile up around our house, waiting to be used.  I've made this decision multiple times, mostly because I felt like I was just being lazy if I didn't try to sell them.  I sold one blanket years ago.  And I've got 2 friends who have ordered a hat and a scarf recently.  So I've sold some stuff.  But now I'm wanting to sell because I want to contribute SOMETHING to our household funds.  Both The Man and I know, that, while getting a job would help immensely with paying our bills, it's not what Heavenly Father wants me to do right now.  I need to stay home and take care of our baby.  With all the financial stress that's been put on our plate recently, it's a hard decision to stick to.  Especially since The Mother-in-law is moving in with us soon.  Built in baby sitter!  But nope, it's not for us.  So, the only option I have is to sell things I make.  

Biggest problem?  If I make a blanket, I have a hard time asking for even the cost of the yarn back.  (Scarves and hats are cheap and easy.)  The blanket I sold a few years ago?  I sold it for 25 dollars.  The yarn to make it cost me 75.  If I charged 25 dollars for labor, that's 100 bucks I would have had to charge.  Would someone really pay that much for a blanket?  And it wasn't even that fancy yarn you can only get at specialty yarn shops that cost 80 bucks a skein.  It wasn't plain old Red Heart, either, but still.  I was pretty disappointed in the sale.  

I'm very picky about my projects too.  At least for blankets.  With how many millions of patterns there are out there, I never like to make a blanket twice.  One reason is so that if someone does have a blanket made by me, they won't run into someone else with the same blanket made by me.  Keeps it unique.  Another reason is because by the time you finish a blanket, you generally don't want to ever look at that pattern again.  I get thrilled when it's done, I don't want to start another one.  I want to start a different one.  

I'm also not good at selling myself.  I feel guilty saying "Hey!  Look at how amazing I am!  I am the Amazing Crocheter!  You want to spend money you probably don't have on what I can do!  You totally do!  Because I'm AMAZING!!!!!"  I don't feel amazing.  The Mother-in-law, she's amazing at crocheting.  Me, not so much.  And yes, plenty of people have told me multiple times that I really am good at it, but shut-up, all of you, because I don't believe you.  I know I'm good, but only because I keep doing it.  I'm not so sure I'm good enough to sell it.

But I want to.

Another problem is what my options are for selling.  Ebay takes a percentage of the money you get.  While I understand that, I don't like it.  Plus, it goes to a PayPal account, not my bank account.  Doesn't really help me there.  I'm not sure how Etsy works, but I feel like I would have to be much more prolific in my project making to justify having an Etsty shop.  Since I watch TV while I crochet, I feel pretty lazy when I do it.  It doesn't feel like work to me.  So, if I'm not making something that someone specifically asked for, or that I'm planning on giving to someone as a gift, I don't work on it very hard.  I'm not sure I would build much of an inventory.  And I would much rather keep it as close to home as possible.  I'm not good at getting things shipped out.  

At any rate, I guess I'll pimp myself now.  If anyone wants me to make them something (don't ask for clothes, like sweaters.  I've only made one.  I'm not good at them yet), I'm selling it.  Little things, like hats, probably about 10 dollars, depending on yarn type and complication.  Blankets have to be negotiable, because of size (baby blankets would be cheaper than regular blankets), cost of the yarn, complication of the pattern, etc.  It would help if you already know what pattern you want, and in what colors.  If you want something, but don't have a pattern picked out, I have tons.  Let me know if you want something.  

Random Thoughts While Scooping Poop

Can I count mucking out 5 months of dog turds as a service project?  I'm sure my neighbors appreciate it.  It did take the fact that the family is descending on our house this weekend to get me to do it.

I'm not looking forward to cleaning up after 5 dogs.  Maybe I'll make The Dad do it.  Retirement has made him far too lazy.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to breathe again.  Whoever thought just sitting in a chair would make you feel like you just ran a mile?  Or a block, since we are talking about me.

While part of me knows we will be okay, I really wish just enough money to pay for our medical bills would magically show up in our bank account.  Or better yet, that the next set would come to us as paid in full.

I've been told many times to study the Atonement.  Where do I even start with that?  I know the basics, but what next?  I can hardly get through the interesting non-fiction books, let alone religious ones.

Why must my sandals make my feet stink so very, very much?

I greatly appreciate that both of The Dogs poop in one spot in the yard.  Too bad they each have their own spot.  But at least you can still walk through the yard without stepping in a turd bomb, as long as you know where the spot is.

I hope I get my brain back after The Daughter is born.  I'm tired of forgetting what I'm talking about in the middle of saying it.

2 weeks!  Gah!  I want it over with and I want it to never happen.  I don't like uncertainty.

I hope I have the energy to at least vacuum before every one gets here.  The dog hair has taken over again.

Looking at dog poop for an hour makes you think about dogs.  Huh.

Maybe I'll weed the front yard tomorrow.  Probably not, though.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Adventures with Rocks

Oh the joys of being pregnant.  And everything was going so well.

Yesterday, I was told that I have gall stones.  What joy!  What fun!  Getting to this diagnosis was also a joy (warning, novel ahead.  Seriously, I'm not kidding).

Starting at, say, midnight I guess, I started to feel pain in my upper abdomen, right below my sternum (when you're pregnant, there really isn't anywhere else to feel pain in your abdomen).  I figured I had an impacted fart, because that's what it felt like.  I also felt sore in my back, right across from the pain, but with my history of back pain, I blew it off.  It sucked, and it hurt a lot, but what with all the other crap going on in our life, this couldn't be that bad.  So I kept ignoring it, even though I could barely sit still it hurt so much.

I was super tired (this should have been tip off for me, I'm never that tired until 3 or 4 am), so I decided to just go to bed.  But laying down just made the pain worse.  So I think to myself, "A shower will help my back not hurt at least."  Nope.  Didn't do a blasted thing, and my stomach hurt worse than before.  So I fill up the bathtub, hoping that the warm water and the floating would take some gravity off my stomach and that would help.  Also nope.

I tried every possible position to get comfortable, at least comfortable enough to make the pain bearable. Nothing.  By this point, I was making noise and talking to myself.  I did consider contractions, but, while the pain did come in waves, it was also constant.  Everything I had heard about labor, even active labor, said that contractions aren't constant until you are in transition.  So I was certain it wasn't labor.  So I paced the bathroom floor and begged God to take the pain away so I could sleep.

Finally, at 3 or 4 in the morning, I woke The Man up (scaring him to death in the process), and asked for a blessing.  He gave me one, and then stayed up with me while I continued to pace and moan and say things that probably didn't make a lot of sense.  We looked stuff up online about abdominal pain and pregnancy, but so much can happen that doesn't mean anything.  And it felt so much like gas pain, that that's what I concentrated on in my search.  Nothing serious.  I did see something about gall bladders, but I ignored it.  I mean, it couldn't possibly be that, I'm only 29.  That's an old person problem.

Finally, the pain subsided a little bit, and I thought maybe I could sleep, if I slept sitting up.  The Man went back to bed, and I tried sleeping in our recliner, with a heating pad on my back.  But it was a no go.  Not long after that, the pain came back.  I tried eating something, to see if that would help, and pretty much immediately threw it up.

At about 8 am, The Man convinced me to call The Parents and see if they knew anything about what it could be.  The Dad told me to go to the doctor.  Since I was pregnant, it didn't matter if it was minor, I needed to see someone.  So off we went to Insta-Care, since it was the only place open.

The pain at this point, while still extremely bad, wasn't super unbearable.  They took a quick look at me and sent me to Labor & Delivery at the Orem Hospital, where I throw up, again, in the parking lot.  We get inside, they have me pee in a cup, hook me up to monitors, and check me.  Oh, I hated that part.  And the whole time the pain is getting worse.  The nurse told me that, even though I wasn't really effaced, and barely dilated to a 1, she was pretty certain I was in early labor, because I was having contractions.  Oh man, did I EVER freak out.  I start crying, while The Man is trying to help me remember my breathing, because it hurt so much.  I just wanted it to stop hurting, I didn't want it to get worse,  I didn't want to go through labor anymore if that's what early labor felt like.  I really just wanted to go to sleep, and kept saying so.  And still, the pain is constant, with peaks lasting, it seemed to me, for 5 minutes at a time.  I start making more noise, hoping it will help distract me.  They check my pee, to make sure it's not a UTI, tell me it's not, therefore, it's most definitely labor.  So we call our midwife and head over to the birth center.

I go through all the checking again, and she says it's NOT labor.  The pain is too constant, and too concentrated in one spot, plus the pain and tenderness in my back, and where it's located, indicate either kidney stones or gall stones.  So she sends us BACK to Labor and Delivery at Orem Hospital, where they take me to the ER.  I'm barely able to walk anymore, and can't even talk much.  The Man is taking care of everything, filling out paperwork and answering questions, while I'm trying not to scream (the pain is growing progressively worse).  Thankfully there wasn't anyone before us, so I got into a room right away.

I get my vitals checked AGAIN, and the nurse says he will get me some pain meds.  While waiting for the doctor to show up, I throw up yet AGAIN.  I haven't thrown up with this kind of frequency since I was a kid.  Even at the beginning of my pregnancy, I only threw up once a day (usually around 1 in the afternoon.  My body has a thing for timing).  I don't even know what I'm throwing up, because my stomach is completely empty.  But there was a lot of empty in there.  And the pain is absolutely unbearable.  I can't stop moaning and making noise, even if I wanted to.  They get me on the table, flat on my back and start getting me hooked up to an IV.  I'm shaking uncontrollably, all over.  The Man is rubbing any part of me he can touch; my legs, my arms, my head.  I'm squeezing any part of him I can reach, which I'm sure didn't feel great.  He keeps telling me to breath slow and deep, but I can barely take a breath at all.

They finally get me hooked up, and give me a dose of morphine.  I'm laying there, shaking and moaning, praying it will work, and wondering why it wasn't.  The Man tells me over and over that it takes some time, but I was feeling nothing.  So they come back, eventually, and give me more.  In just a few minutes, I had a nice woozy feeling, like my arms and legs were just going to float away.  And the pain, the pain was almost gone!  Oh, happiness!  It was still there, but I could finally sleep.  Which I did.  Oh, bliss!  I think I only slept for about an hour, but still.  It was a drugged sleep, where you can still hear everything going on, so I didn't feel very rested when I woke up.  But still, I slept!  I woke up just in time for them to send me to have an ultrasound to make sure that it was my gall bladder, and to make sure the baby was okay.  That went well, and we went back to the room to wait for the results.  Oh, and I got to ride in a wheelchair!  The morphine made it so that there was no possible way I could even stand for more than a few seconds.

Results:  Gall stones.  They said they showed up on the ultrasound, so there's no doubt I have them.  One got stuck up at the top of the gall bladder, which is what caused the pain.  They gave me a prescription for loratabs (or however you spell that) and an anti-nausea pill, since gall stones cause nausea (hence, me throwing up 3 times).

Now, I'm can't eat fat, pretty much at all.  No fried foods, no fast food, no butter, sauces, gravy, cheese, or milk.  Dairy all together is pretty much out.  I can try skim milk, and non-fat yogurt, but dairy alone can cause the pain again.  And while I have pain, no solids at all.  Just clear liquids.  Good thing they have prenatal vitamins out there.  But I do get to eat a lot of carbs!  Woot!  The paper they gave me specifically says to eat a high-carb diet!  How I love carbs.  Just no fat.  Boo!

So, I'm pretty much pain free at the moment.  Loratabs are heaven-sent, let me tell you.  I haven't had to take any today, and I'm hoping it will stay that way, because clear liquids do nothing to fill you up.  I actually went to bed at 10 last night, after sleeping for 3 hours yesterday afternoon.  And slept through the night (I only had to get up once to pee!).  I got up when The Man did for work, but I think I'm going to go back to bed now.  Just writing about this has made me sleepy again.

Here's hoping that going through labor is the last time in a long time that someone in our family will have to go to a doctor of any sort, and that we will all be healthy.  Oh, and after yesterday, I'm thinking labor will be cake.  Maybe not a good cake, but cake nonetheless.