My apologies {or excuses}

I'm bored with my own thoughts recently.

Does anyone else get that way?

Re-reading Anne of Green Gables, and all I want to do is shut myself up in an old attic with a writing desk in front of a bright window and write about girlhood and sisters and so many romantic notions that I hold dear.

Seeing as I have no character of my own, just a conglomeration of all my favorites {Jo March, Jane Eyre, Anne Elliot}, I'm losing myself in Anne Shirley's provincial life.

That and my sewing machine.

News bulletin: I got a new sewing machine!
I can't remember if I bemoaned my broken sewing machine when it first started to go {while I was quilting a gift for a baby being delivered the next morning}. DH slaved over it for hours and restored it for one more use. Only to have it break again mid-project {due that evening - must stop procrastinating tomorrow}. I was done fighting with that machine. Hubby could see it in my eyes.

My old machine for its temperamental nature, had sentimental value. It was DH's gift to me when big one was born, a 'push present.' At that time, I only sewed at Christmas when I felt compelled to make homemade gifts using my grandmother's original 1930's Singer. A beautiful, tiny powerhouse with a perfect straight stitch. Perfect because it could do nothing else. I made a tragically home-ec Christmas skirt that my dear sister still wraps around her tree every year - I love her for that.

Maybe it was the 40 stitches or my new identity as a SAHM, but I sewed the stuffing out of that welcome-to-maternity machine. Sewed through tension nightmares. Sewed through layer after layer of thick fleece and flannel. Sewed my first dress and my first free motion quilt. Until the machine cried, 'uncle,' seized up, and died.

{Did I mention I got a new sewing machine??}

I spent days hours reading reviews, consulting more experienced seamstresses {everyone has a different, equally valid opinion} trying to spend my very respectable budget wisely. Between sewing machines and baby names, I cringed at the computer screen. Until I made my decision {in case you are curious - the Brother PC-420 PRW}.

Then I couldn't be bothered with the computer screen because I have a brand new LED screen on my brand new sewing machine with 200 stitches {!!}. Which is of course why I'm working on my most monotonous project since diapers - fabric banners for the nursery.

Despite the excitement over the new machine and the escape into a good book, this week has been a trial. My girls are whirling through the house leaving the damage path of a tornado.

A glimpse into the tumultuous routine at the renaissance house: Just this morning, the girl wonders took apart their princess tent and used the poles to knock all the 'no touches' off of their dresser. Momma's not up for much these days, certainly not cleaning up raging messes. I've resorted to competition and prizes {a third 'third trimester' is ruining my parenting ideals} - the best cleaner gets to choose the before lunch movie. The first day, Gwennan thought she would strong arm influence her sister into the movie of her choice. Afton raced from toy to bin and proudly announced that we would be watching The Lion King, again. Since then Gwennan has cleaned with a desperate frenzy to ensure that we get to watch a princess movie.

After reading this, you may be bored with my thoughts this week, too. I don't blame you {and I did warn you}. Some weeks are just unliterary. I guess that's my excuse and apology. My brain is fogged by screaming kids, hormones, and nursery decor. While my brain clears, might I suggest re-reading a childhood favorite? I hear Anne of Green Gables is pretty good.