KCWC Day Three

Wednesday

Remember how I told you that Bela hates everything I make her? It turns out she also hates it when I stop making things for her. It's as though we are paired together in this strange, unending dance. I make, she hates, I stop, she complains. And again.


She loved Mae's green and white striped dress (Mae calls it her "lying in the grass looking at the clouds" dress). She oooohed over Mae's gingham smocked sun dress. So, what's a mama to do?

I made one of each for her too.

Above (and below) a modified version of the smocked sun dress from Weekend Sewing (Heather Ross). The book only has up to size 4. I just added a couple extra rows of smocking and made it longer. Voilà. It's funny, but the difference between an almost 4 year old and a 6 1/2 year old is really just a matter of height.

Pattern: Smocked Sun Dress (size 6ish)
Fabric: Cotton Plaid Shirting, purchased as a remnant from Fishman's Fabric
Made for Bela

And below, something I promised myself I would never do. When Mae was delivered and the midwife announced she was a girl, I mentally agreed I would never dress my girls alike. As in matchy-matchy. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Bela liked the dress so much, though Mae did not. However, when I subtly implied it may be cuter than crap if they went to school as twins, well, the rest is history.

And now, it's off to JoAnn's to buy some needles for sewing jersey. Today is T-shirt day. Wish me luck.

KCWC Day Two

Tuesday

Double post today to catch up with my Kids Clothes Week Challenge stuff. Here is Mae again, in a gingham sundress. I've had this fabric for a long time, and thought I would make myself a blouse out of it. It looks much cuter on her. I smocked the bodice by threading the bobbin with elastic thread. Fun and easy.

Pattern: Smocked Sundress, Weekend Sewing (Heather Ross)
Fabric: Black and White Gingham (probably from JoAnn's)
Size: 4

Kids Clothes Week Challenge

Monday

It's time for the annual Spring edition of the kids' clothes week challenge, sponsored and led by Meg Spaeth over on her blog, Elsie Marley.  I did an awful job during her fall challenge, and ended up dumping almost all my plans. So I've kicked up the pace a bit over here and have my Day 1 posting to share. Enjoy!


Pattern: Dress N, from Girl's Everyday Dress 
Fabric: Linen blend, purchased at JoAnn's
Size: 100 (For Mae)

If I were a better photographer/stylist, I would have ironed it, snipped all the hanging threads, and put it on a pretty hanger. The best I could do was include some lilac picked from our back yard. I have a little embellishment left I'd like to do on it, but first I must learn to sew a fabric "yo-yo." If I figure out what that is and can decipher the japanese instructions, I'll let you know.

Summer

As an academic professional, I spend Labor Day through Easter dreaming of Summer. 15 glorious weeks they give me to do as I fancy. 15 weeks of knitting and sewing, swimming and running, picking cherries and making jam, hanging with friends. Hanging with my girls.

But, as a woman who is clinically incapable of sitting still, of shirking responsibility, or of turning down chances to make extra money, I have accepted an offer to teach summer school this year. My enticing 15 weeks have been whittled down to 5. My camping trip to Northeast Georgia? Up in smoke. The remote possibility of passing through the Bonnaroo Music Festival on our way? A fantasy.

And so, I've been busy this last week. I guess I have a lot to cram into 5 weeks. And as a special follow up to my mother's day post yesterday, you can read the fine print below. My kids definitely don't appreciate me nearly as much as they should.

An oldie but goodie. This is the first sweater I ever made for Bela, about 3 years ago. I ran out of green yarn, did a horrendous job of seaming it, and never sewed a button on. So I blocked it, cleaned it up, and put a nice big green button on it for Mae. 

She hates it.

 This sweater was from a pattern called Sweet Peasy. It is knit in a rayon/silk blend, in a bright, coral color that Bela usually loves. I added sweet green glass buttons.

She hates it. It's too big on her shoulders. 

Another set of cute little buttons. And look! I can finally make button holes, thanks to my pink Janome. 
I started this spring coat a year and a half ago. For Bela. But I couldn't put the buttons in, so it sat and sat. Now it's Mae's.

She politely rejected it. She likes her raincoat better. 

Rejects

I'm dying over how cute these are. I made them from a japanese pattern. In japanese. It took me way longer than it should take anyone to sew a pair of shorts, but now I get it. So cute, I wish I had some for me.

Bela won't wear these. She says they look like 'boy shorts'. I assured her boys do not wear cute pink striped seersucker shorts. She looked at me like I was stupid. 

My lovely friend Karen gave me this fabric, from Japan. A cute linen print. She made a twirly sun dress for her daughter Una out of this. Mae loved it. So, I made her this skirt, note the cute gingham bias tape trim. I found it at JoAnn's and had to have it. 

I must admit that Mae loves this and wore it today.

While Karen was sewing Una's sundress over here last week, I got inspired. Mae demanded a twirly dress with multiple tiers, just like Una's. For Bela I made this one with a simple bodice and full skirt.

She hates it. It's "too big". 

 I also finished this beauty I'd set aside awhile ago. Just needed to find the right contrast fabric for the neck binding and tie. Cute, right?

She hates the sleeves. 

 Here is the twirly, multi-tiered dress that Mae demanded.

She hates it. It's not the same fabric as Una's. 

 And finally, an old skirt of mine I wore in those few awkward post-partum weeks after Mae was born. I cut it up and put a cotton/hemp jersey waistband on it for Bela. It was originally too big for her so I made it smaller the other day. And guess what?

She loves it. 

Mother's Day

Black River Falls, October 2007

Last summer, I was sitting with a friend and we began to talk about our kids. He said to me in a very honest but lighthearted way that, if you do all the math, kids are almost always a bad decision. They cost you a ton of money, they take up all your free time, they spend most of their lives under-appreciating you, they cost you sleep, they test your patience, and they make it all but impossible for you to enjoy those activities that make you feel more like you, like running. Banjo lessons. Jam sessions. Beer.

Today is mother's day, and as I sit here in my living room I find myself thinking back to that conversation last summer. What did we do today to celebrate the joys of motherhood? Well, honestly, Chris took the girls to Lake Shabbona to spend this beautiful day fishing, throwing rocks in the water, stomping in the mud, and walking through the woods. Important to note here is that I did not go with them. No. To celebrate the myriad maternal joys in life, Chris let me pretend for one afternoon that I am, in fact, not a mother.

So why do we do this? Why do we have kids? Exactly what is it that makes up for the laundry list of complaints my friend only semi-jokingly shared with me one year ago?

Oh, but isn't that a hard one to answer? Is it always concrete? I've been sewing this afternoon, pacing the apartment, cleaning up, sewing some more. And I have tried to come up with a list that counters his.

For one, my kids love me more than anyone else does in this world. And I can see that in their eyes (almost) every day.  They don't really care if my breath smells. They don't notice if I gain weight. They brush it off when I'm grumpy and nasty. They take me completely as I am and they love me.

Second, I love them in a weirdly instinctual, animalistic sense. When Bela was first born I had strange visions of myself licking her clean, like a mama cat. But there is little else in life that compares to that biologically intense love I have for those girls.

Third, they ground me. They might fight all day, complain about everything, whine till I lock myself in my bedroom, but they are my family. And like fellow combatants in war, my family and I have a deep, unbreakable bond. Our common tragedies and triumphs join us together in ways I never understood as a kid. Everything we experience together becomes part of our story, part of our family culture. Feeling that deeply connected to a group of people is utterly satisfying and spiritually enriching.

So maybe my list isn't as funny as my friend's. I completely agree with everything he said, and some days that really weighs on me. But today, I can also remember why kids are a good reason. If anything, they help you remember that this world is so much bigger than you alone. And when you can reach out and feel closely connected to a group of people who love and depend on you, being so small doesn't feel so huge.

So happy mother's day to all those moms (and dads) who went ahead and had kids anyway. I feel very thankful for the women, and the children, in my life.

And you know what? I wish I had gone to Shabbona today, too.

This Moment

Hey there, it's Friday. I'd like to share a moment from our week and wish you all a happy happy weekend.

Girlfriends

I've had many close friends throughout my life, and now as a thirty-something I appreciate deeply the moments I have shared with each and every one. As the only girl in a family of three children, my girlfriends played the role of sister, sparing me from the torture of my older and younger brothers. My girlfriends did not knuckle punch me in the arms; they did not noose up  my cabbage patch dolls and hang them from the door frames; they did not crack raw eggs on my head; they did not call me thunder thighs.

Instead, they indulged my deepest "barbie time" fantasies, let me borrow their barbie convertibles, taught me how to ride horses, wrote and recorded bad country music with me, took me on their family vacations.  And the older I have become, the more cherished my friendships are - the more we share in each other's lives.

Let me introduce you to Karen, friend extraordinaire.  Karen is the kind of friend who will come over to your house and help you clean. She is the kind of gal who won't look at you funny when you decide, at 8 1/2 months pregnant, to repaint an entire apartment. In fact, she (at 4 1/2 months pregnant) will climb up on that ladder and help you do the parts you can't reach. (Because you're, you know, much shorter than her.) She'll walk 35 New York City blocks with you with her small toddler strapped to her back.  She'll show up with a drill and a level and help you hang those really heavy framed prints in your kids' room. She'll sit next to you when you give birth to your second baby, and she'll ask that you be present when she does the same. And she'll get on a plane, fly part way across the country, and run a Spring marathon with you that--who are we kidding?--neither of you trained especially hard for.

My hope is that my daughters develop that same friendship with each other - the kind that can carry you through ugly times and revel with you when things are looking pretty sunny.  Because what in the world would we do without girlfriends?

The girls wait patiently for us at Memorial Stadium

Finished!

good friends. 

Thank you, Karen.