The Sewing Dilettante

Last week felt about a million years long, and not in a good or fun way. With a couple of big work deadlines looming, I plied myself with way too much coffee, set out an ambitious but totally achievable list of goals, and watched in silent horror as I simultaneously went a bit mad with caffeine and failed to meet any of my targets! Progress felt infinitessimally slow. At least I had some fun sewing to take my mind off it. Or so I thought. I was about half way through making two Churn Dash blocks for Sarah's Siblings Together quilt when my trusty Pfaff went haywire. I did everything I could think of to get things working again, but I quickly came to the conclusion that the problem was beyond my (very limited) capabilities. So, off it went to the shop. Which, in itself, wouldn't have been such a bad thing. I had been meaning to get it serviced for a while, just for general maintenance purposes, but I had also already signed up for Judith's Slouch Bag workshop today. *Sigh...

Yesterday was a perfect day. Little G was more alert than she's ever been, and, more than that, was just about a model baby in terms of a three hour routine. We not only managed to get out of the house in the morning and visit a friend for an hour or two, we also popped into Tesco's, sorted through all the newborn clothes G's already outgrown (unbelievable!), did sixteen million loads of laundry, and watched an episode or two of Suits . Last night, I lulled myself to sleep with visions of all the fun we'd be having - and all the sewing I might return to - now that my sweet baby has settled into a routine. I should've known better, right?! This morning, the poor mite was definitely out of sorts, wanting to feed almost constantly and certainly not happy to go down for a nap. All plans for getting out of the house were quickly abandoned, the laundry was left up on the line, dust accumulated unchecked, and breakfast went uneaten. We spent the better part of the day glue...

For the past couple of months, Baby H has positioned herself like a little Buddha across my stomach, with her head cradled by (read: jammed into) my lower left ribs and her backside down in my right hip. Until fairly recently, it hasn't really been an issue, and the consultant has seemed pretty willing just to let nature take its course and hope baby flips of her own accord. I've tried to help things along, of course, following a few suggestions from the midwife - I've crawled around on the floor on all fours for longer than I care to remember, bounced like a madwoman on my exercise ball at all times of the day and night, and lain with my hips elevated above my heart whilst watching tv (no mean feat, that). But, baby seems well and truly comfortable exactly where she is. As hubby cleverly quipped, 'The lady's not for turning' .  Since baby is so stubbornly refusing to turn, and since we're already halfway through week 36, we've been scheduled for the E...