Dream Weaver, I believe you can get me through the night

I’m a firm believer that artsy projects you see on Etsy, Pinterest, fancy blogs, wherever: you can make those. In fact, half the fun of the project is figuring out how they made it. There is no shortage of tutorials online for anything you want to tackle, the weirder the better.

I’ve been inspired lately by these:


I’m picturing my entire house transformed into a giant 70’s yarn womb with tapestries everywhere. I’m lounging in a gold jumpsuit that I look totally not pregnant in. Peter Gabriel just walked in with a plate zucchini muffins and a secret never-released Genesis EP. The fog machine is roaring and it’s not giving me asthma.

I started by weaving some stuff on a cardboard cutout loom I made using this tutorial. I thought I’d make a huge crazy rug, but who has the patience for that? Instead I wove a couple of things, mostly too tight, that accidentally turned into their cool own invention: crazy fabric bowls.




Pretty cute! We have them thrown around the house for decoration. My husband likes to toss his keys and glasses in one when he gets home from work. They’d also be cute for little accessories or maybe a place to fold up and stow your gold bikini when Peter Gabriel leaves your house to go buy you white lilies.

“Making a loom” means cutting a biggish circle out of cardboard, then cutting slits into it, laying down some yarn as a base, and then doing the over-under thing for a while. (The tutorial I linked to above does a pretty thorough job, so I won’t repeat it here.)






A tighter weave will make it curl up into a basket, a looser weave will give you a flat piece to hang on the wall or use as a hot plate for casseroles, if that’s what you’re into.


Go weave something! The whole project from start to finish takes one viewing of Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous. Or the viewing of one very intellectual documentary about Enron/ Monsanto/ Apocalyptic anti-vaccine kale smoothies that’s in French and stars Gwyneth Paltrow teaching us all how to eat more healthy fats. (But remember, you’re already being productive by making a thing, so you get a free pass for the shittiest possible tv offerings).


Mini Nursery Update: The Tiniest Clothes

Oh man, baby clothes are really very cute. We’ve barely had to buy any of them, because everyone will give them to you. Who doesn’t love shopping for tiny outfits? And know someone with a baby who grew out of their 0-3 month duds in 0-3 weeks?

I’m not going to lie and say that everything is in good taste; sometimes people give you really weird stuff or stuff that isn’t your style. Whatever it is, I’m trying to remember that there will be many days we don’t actually leave the house, and also the majority of these outfits will probably just get covered in poop and vomit, so I should stop daydreaming about my lil lady always being decked out in the finest fancy sweatpants and knit hats.

But I mean, loooook:


Can she just wear this every day?


(My full Pinterest board of tiny outfit inspiration can be found here.)

We are still working on completing the nursery, but the closet has really started to take shape. My husband is amazingly handy, and built this thing from scratch. We’ve got two hanging racks for hangy clothes, and a bunch of empty cubes we’ll eventually fill with storage bins for toys and other stuff.


This little Goose already has the best closet in the house. Also, nicer shoes than me. I have no idea how big she’ll be for what season, so I’m keeping the tiny summer dresses even though she’s due in February. The way I’ve been eating potatoes au gratin for 5 every night, she’ll probably be born around 45 lbs. I guess I’ll have to go shopping.

3 Minute Meal: Smashed Chickpea and Avocado Toast

After eating nothing but grilled cheese on white bread and French fries for my entire first trimester (and gaining 15 pounds), my second trimester was lovely and reasonable. I liked salad again, my appetite leveled off, and I began to make healthier choices that I felt good about.

Here I am a month into my third trimester, and all of that is totally out of the window. I am ravenous. The kitchen at my office is four steps from my desk and is constantly filled with cake, cookies, and chocolates. I pack a lunch but it’s never enough food; the baby demands an additional 14 cookies a day. She likes sandwiches with a side of bread. She thinks salads are fine but could we serve them in a bread bowl with a cheese lid? She wants to know why we’re not eating that carrot cake in the fridge right out of the box with a fork this very moment. SEND HELP.

I got home from (another) doctors appointment tonight and needed food, fast. It had to involve bread, preferably a vegetable, definitely some fat, and be ready in less than 3 minutes.


Avocado toast is a big thing right now, rightfully so (if you live in Soho it costs $9 at a restaurant, which is completely insane). I mashed half an avocado with a 1/4 cup of chickpeas (protein!), the juice of half a lemon, a glug of olive oil, thinly sliced red onion, salt, and pepper. I spread it on sourdough toast. While I mixed all this up, I microwaved a bowl of Trader Joe’s tomato soup. Et voila.


So, note to self: good job on not picking up gross Chinese food on the way home, this was at least sort of healthy and was free. Also, you should really cut down to 12 cookies a day, not including chocolate truffles.

You’re Doing Great

Pregnancy is difficult and transformative (not to get all Dbag Chopra on you) for so many reasons. 7 months in, I’ve turned into an occasionally normal, occasionally raving lunatic who can perhaps be found hiding out from her own dinner party sobbing and folding laundry in the bedroom closet (true story). Everything just kinda gets… harder. It’s harder to think, walk, breathe, work. Everything takes a little longer (figuratively and digestively).

It becomes increasingly difficult to trust your own instincts when your instincts change and are not the same ones you’re used to having. I’ve always been the type who gets depressed if I spend too long laying around, and now I’m the happiest when I can prop myself up gently on some pillows and luxuriate and weave like a renaissance child. Where did this person come from? Is the alien parasite I’m harboring exercising mind control?

I saw my chiropractor again today, and by the end of the appointment (right after the part where they violently crack your spine into a pillow with a round, belly-shaped hole), I found myself just lying there under an ice pack, crying again, just completely overwhelmed. The doctor went to see another patient and left me to relax and listen to the Led Zeppelin softly pumping into the interoffice stereo system. I got the whole paper face sheet sopping wet with lady tears before deciding to get up and move on.

Anyway, what I want to say about this whole thing (aka the magic of pregnancy), is what helps. The fairy unicorn thing that somehow makes it all better (temporarily): it’s that handful of women in your life who support you no matter fucking what. The friends who respond (no matter what you tell them you just did) with, “that’s totally normal,” or, “great idea,” or, “you should absolutely quit your job and buy a lute and become a full-time weaver right now.” Because that’s what you need to hear. At a time when you feel like the rug is being pulled out from under you completely, when all of your instincts are new, backwards ones, you just want someone to tell you that you’re not crazy, that you’re doing great, that everything is temporary, and everything is okay.

I’m extra lucky because my best friend happens to be a pregnancy wizard, but any kind friend will do. Now is not the time for constructive criticism. It’s the time to tell the hugely pregnant woman in your life that she is doing a fantastic, wonderful, amazing job crying into that sandwich.