Birth Ball Cover tutorial

I won't go into a lengthy introduction here.  This tutorial has a very specific audience.  I get that.  But, I know there's a need for this out there.  When I was looking to make one for the birth ball I carry to births, I could only find pictures of covers or very simplistic instructions (ex, "1 yard of fabric to make a birth ball cover", with no details beyond that.)  I bought myself some super cheap, and highly discounted, fabric to play around with and here's what I came up with.

Supplies:

Scissors

Sewing Machine or needle and thread

Coordinating thread

1 yard of stretchy fabric (I used jersey knit)

elastic cut to a little less than the circumference of your ball (the width of the elastic itself is determined to your preference.  I did one cover with 1/4" and one with 1/8" elastic)

1. Wash and dry your fabric

2. Fold your fabric horizontally, like a hamburger (versus a hot dog  Not sure where I got those analogies) with the right sides of the fabric facing each other.

3. Sew each of the sides shut with a straight stitch.

4. If you desire, go back over each seam and do a quick zig zag stitch. 

5. You now have a large "pillow case".  It should look like the picture below. 

6. Take your elastic and use it to measure around the widest part of your ball.  Really stretch it here. It just barely has to fit over this part of the ball for the cover. 

7. Create a casing for your elastic. Fold the fabric 3/4", so the wrong sides are facing each other (the cover is still inside out at this point) and sew all the way around, making sure to leave a small section open to insert your safety pin and elastic. (If you're using anything but a jersey knit fabric, you may have to fold over a 1/4" first, then fold over 1/2" to create a clean edge then sew your casing.  Jersey knit doesn't fray.)

8. Insert your elastic (not pictured).  I take a safety pin, attach it to my elastic, and thread it through the tube I created.  When its all the way in, sew the elastic together, snip any left over threads,  and stitch the opening closed.

9. Turn your cover right side out and shimmy it over the ball.  It should look like this: 

See why we wanted the elastic tight?

10. With the elastic part of the cover on the floor, find your side seams.  Pick them up at the "corners". (Sorry about the blurry.  Its hard to get a birth ball to hang perfectly still.)

11. Overlap the corners, pin, and sew on both sides of the pin.

12. You're done!  Hurrah!

Tattle Tailing

 Tattling.  Dude.  My kids.  They've got it bad.

You know that song "basketball jones" (the Space Jam version.  I am a child of the early 90s after all. ;) ) When I first heard that song, I didn't really know what a basketball jones was.  I asked my dad and he told me a jones was, essentially, a strong craving for something. An obsession.

That.  That's what my kids are like with tattling.  Like they are obsessed with it.

Everything I've read says to ignore.  Ignore.  IGNORE.

Check. Check. Check.

To the point where I don't even respond.  I don't even look at them.

Usually its a back and forth.

"Mommy!  O said my hair looks funny!"
"But, he said I'm stinky!"
"But, then she was going to punch me!"

"Mommy!  A said I'm a booger face!"
"Isaac was messing up my stuff!"

I can't even remember the last time some one worked it out on their own.  Of course, when it comes to the important stuff, like Eliza standing on the dining room table or Eliza eating markers, or Isaac painting the bathroom with toothpaste, that gets ignored.  No one tattles on that.

All of the stuff I've read is really geared towards young kids.  Obviously, I still want them to tell me somethings (like above mentioned activities, or if some stranger was trying to touch them, etc.)

So.  What do you do with this?  What do you do in your house?  Hurry.  Because Mommy is starting to jones for some wine.  (The grape kind, not the kid kind.)

right now

I'm in my pajamas.
Its 9:16.  Its a little late for jammies, but I'm calling it a "jammy day", at least for now.
Making small piles for our trip to Michigan.
I'm writing a to-do list on a piece of paper that has a rhino on it holding a balloon.  It adds character.
I'm freaking a little anxious about the timing of my next client's birth. E is going to be going out of town a lot the next few weeks.  You know, during her 38-40 weeks, of course.
Adding "find back up child care" to my rhino list.
Scouring pinterest for ideas for road trips.
Drinking coffee that's a touch too cold.
Wondering if its too late for breakfast.
Maybe I'll just have a brunch.
Listening to Eliza play in her room and talk to her babies via the monitor.
Almost dying from the cute.
Have a heating pad wrapped around my middle.
Certain that sometimes I hate being a woman.
Contemplating an ablation or hysterectomy when we're *sure we're finished having babies (*which is how, by the way?!?)

Things I've been meaning to blog about, but haven't

Eliza got her 15 month pictures taken.  Unfortunately, I took so dang long choosing which pictures I wanted, I am still waiting to get them.  She's 16 months now. But, the sweetness.  Her complexion is just gold.  Well, ivory, really.  But, its so sweet and pale and perfect.

Our big kids were in the chorus in a musical at school- Alice in Wonderland.  I had to whip up some lobster claws for A.  The kids did great, and I enjoyed what I could while chasing a 15 month old around.  (Although, it reaffirmed by dislike of the Alice in Wonderland story/movie.  Not a fan.  I find it creepy.)

I made pirate patches for the boys' valentines.  (O didn't want to do them.  Something about pirates being for boys.  oiy!)  

I've been training for my first 10k.  My race is on Sunday.  I'm super duper nervous, especially since this week has been super light on training because of life circumstances.  But, I got my new shoes a few weeks ago, broke them in, and I'm ready to go!

We went to this super cool place called "Supper Heroes .  They have comics as art, a room with an arcade game that the kids can play while you wait for your food, even supplies to make comics of your own at the table.  The kids loved it, the food was great, and the owner came out several times to check on us.  Plus, Isaac got to wear his batman costume.  

O's injections have been going well.  As of last week (so two weeks on the medicine) she's grown as much as she had an entire 18 months.  Only 1/4 of an inch, but its huge for her!  Unfortunately, we've run into some issues with our insurance.  I have to make, likely several, phone calls today to figure things out in order for her next shipment to arrive on time.  Have I ever mentioned how much I hate dealing with that sort of thing? 

Speaking of O, this girl turns eight a week from today.  Eight.  It seems so old!

providential good fortune

I went to a small Christian school for my high school years.  We had this really neat guy for our bible teacher.  He was very thought provoking, to the point where it was sometimes frustrating. (at the time, though, I always thought he was argumentative.  Now, I see he was trying to get us to explore our own belief system and not the belief system of our parents.)

Anyway, one of his big beefs was with the word "luck" and how often we use it.  He preferred  instead, to use the term "providential good fortune!"  Meaning the care of God in your life, resulting in something good. 

At the time, I sort of thought it was silly.   All caught up in semantics.  If what I intend doesn't change with the words I use, what difference does it make? 

This past week, I some how stumbled upon a website called doula match.  Its a website that matches up local doulas with clients.  Its free, though they ask for donations.  I usually am pretty skeptical of things like that.  But this time I thought "meh.  why not?  I doubt I'll get any calls from this, but I'll put it out there."

I had my information on for all of two days before I got my first response.  An email from some one looking for a doula for her hopeful VBAC in June (um, score!  This is totally one of my passions!) With in a few days, I also received a phone call from another woman interested in my services, who was referred to me by Glenni, who runs A Nurturing Moment (a baby/maternity boutique here in town.) and the blog where I posted on MSPI.   The same day, I was contacted by another woman who found me on Doula Match.

This weekend I met with two of the three women, and I felt like we really hit it off.  I'm hoping they thought so, too, and I can get this doula train a going. ;)

 I can see the hand of God guiding me where he wants me to be.  I don't know if I'll be a doula for years and years, but, right now, I am certain this is what I'm supposed to do now.  Its a pretty freeing feeling.  I'd say I was feeling lucky, but I am really feeling providential good fortune. 

She only likes her hot dogs with bits of plastic

Thursdays are school days for Isaac, which happens to coordinate well with my trip to Aldi every week. (Isaac's not a huge fan of Aldi.  Something about not having cookies.)  Today is one of my bi-weekly trips to get produce, etc.

I have family coming into town this weekend.  There's four of them.   I have to feed them, obviously, and us.  It'll probably be close to double what our family eats considering O and Eliza probably add up to one regular kid.

I'm concentrating hard on how much food I need to buy, etc.  Eliza is in the back of the cart because 1.she climbs out of the buckle and out of the cart if she's in the front and 2. I didn't carry her because I was going for a run after our shopping trip where she needed to be strapped down.  I felt bad having her "confined" for too long.  I'm putting most of my groceries in the back with little Miss.

 I stop and get two different kinds of hot dogs.  One package of turkey dogs for Eliza and I because I prefer them and they're cheaper.  One package of the, more expensive, all beef bun-length hot dogs.   That way everyone else can have the more expensive ones, yadda yadda yadda.

I round the aisle, focusing on the veggie produce area, turn down the fruit aisle (so, half and aisle total) and I glance at Eliza.   There she is, an entire hot dog in hand, chomping down like its a banana or something.

First reaction:  gross.  Cold hot dog.

Second reaction: ugh.  She got hot dog juice all over her outfit.

Third reaction: how did she get that?!?

I finally glanced down in the cart and she had gnawed her way through the plastic packaging, bitten off most of the tips in the process, until she made enough of a hole to slip a hot dog out.

Can you guess which ones she opened?

Yeah.  The beef ones.

The lady at the check out: "Do you know these are open and... eaten??"

Me: "yes."

After my run, I thought I'd go ahead and actually make Eliza that hot dog she desired in the grocery store.  I heated it up and gave it to her.  What did she do?  She turned her nose up at it, said "uh-uh" in her caveman voice, and threw it on the ground.

Clearly, cold hot dogs, wrapped in plastic, are much more appealing to her pallet.

(Also, I'm thinking the "bun length" all beef hot dogs may be a little shorter than bun length.shhhhh)

Please and "daint do"

O's growth hormone medicine came on Thursday night.  In two gigantic boxes.  It freaked O (and, to be honest, myself) out a little to see such big boxes. 

Luckily, this is the actual medicine.  Four tiny boxes, to last us a month.  The rest was refrigerant and supplies (needles, sharps box, alcohol wipes, etc.)  

These four tiny boxes?  They cost $1,500. No. Joke.

The home health nurse is coming after school today to teach O, E, and I how to give the injections.  O will have to learn for things like sleep overs eventually, so we're going to have the nurse teach her how to do it tonight.  

O is nervous.  She keeps saying "I like the size I am.  I don't want to grow. "