Wildcard Quilts

I wore pillow shams to my high school reunion.

This weekend my husband and I attended our 20th high school reunion. We caught up with many friends from our pasts, unearthed answers to decades-old questions (both trivial and significant), and stumbled across memories we didn't even know we had forgotten. After the events came to a close (yes, events--there were three), I felt happy. Happy to know that old friends were doing well, happy to find that--in anticipating a major upheaval in our little family during the coming weeks, months, and even years--we are doing quite well, too. Nice to have that reminder reflected right back at you. We're solid.

But of course, the weeks leading up to the reunion weren't filled with deep thoughts about my past. No philosophical musings about how both of our lives had been shaped in part by these people we were about to re-meet. No. The weeks leading up to the reunion, at least for me, were spent sifting through my closet. What to wear, what to wear? I mean, THREE OUTFITS. That's asking a lot of a stay-at-home mom who hasn't been to a fancy restaurant, a dressy social gathering, or even a movie in over a year. Right now, "Steppin' Out with My Baby" means exactly that. Out with my baby. Capris, t-shirt, slip-on Mary Janes. And baby wipes for the impending mess on the t-shirt.

After a try-on marathon I felt confident about my fashion choices for two events:

Friday evening, alumni-only night at the high school: typical Stay-at-Home Mom attire. Capris, t-shirt, slip-on Mary Janes. With the addition of a beautiful beaded necklace my sister made. Fancy enough.

Saturday evening, dress-up banquet with real alcohol drinks and other indulgent stuff I had forgotten existed: chose the Stay-at-Home Rock Star look. I put the outfit together a few days before and walked into the front yard to show my husband. I immediately felt like I should hide. My neighbors didn't know this Jenny. Bretty said it was my style, though. And he had that look in his eye. (Yep, that one.) Done deal.

The third event was a Saturday afternoon picnic at a local park. Take the kids, bring your lunch, hang out and have fun kind of thing. A few weeks before I came across this post about making a skirt out of a sheet. I had been stuck for days trying to sew my first skirt from this Amy Butler pattern. I needed a break from it. A skirt from a sheet, huh? I figured I could at least finish it.

But instead of a sheet, I found two pillow shams I liked. Four bucks thrifted. See?

I unpicked the seams and decided I had enough fabric to do . . . something.

I added a raw-edge detail similar to the detail in the Amy Butler pattern I had been trying, trying, trying to complete.

Then I decided to add a big fat hem.

Ran out of fabric for a second hem, so I stole a bit of green from my stash.

And here's the finished skirt, all pressed and prettied up.

And here it is on me.

And finally, with less than ten minutes to decide what to wear before we departed to the picnic, I chose the pillow-sham skirt. With a t-shirt. And slip-on Mary Janes. And baby wipes for the mayonnaise and mustard and chocolate that 15-month-old Charlie ground into my skirt and shirt in an effort to keep mama within arms' reach among all the strangers. (I think there was some ground-in cheese, too.)

So. Stay-at-home mama. Stay-at-home rock star. Stay-at-home pillow-shams-into-skirt maker. Hmm. Perhaps I confused a few old friends who saw me at all three events. I mean, who was the real me? Who had Jenny become over these 20 years?

I remember reading a required book for one of my Women's Studies classes in college. It was called "Women's Ways of Knowing." It detailed exactly seven different ways that women could develop their self, voice, and mind. Seven ways of knowing.

When it came time to discuss the book in class, I was called on for my opinion. All I had to say was, "I am all of these women. I am all of them."

I am a stay-at-home mom. I am a rock star. (Okay, a wanna-be rock star. Still.) I am a thrifty pillow-sham-skirt-makin' fool.

I am all of these women. I am all of them.

The story about the quilt in the banner. Up there at the top of this page.

Yes, I'm talking about the sailboat quilt I'm featuring in my blog banner this month. What do you think of it? I really like a lot of things about it. Except for just one little thing. It's that fabric that makes up the background. Let's be nice and call it, um, challenging.

Well, why the hooey did you use it then, Jenny?

If you're asking, I'm telling. There's a story there.

I started attending a monthly humanitarian meeting here in town. We make things for people in far-away countries who need them. Mostly, items for children and for schools. When the leader of the group heard I was a quilter, she asked if I would like to add a little applique to a sailboat-themed panel of fabric she had to make a wall quilt. I said, "Sure!" I envisioned sailboats in calm waves that I could embellish with happy birds and clouds and suns. So I really wasn't expecting this kind of challenge...

This is the panel the very kind leader of the humanitarian group brought to me. Sailboat? Yes.

Upon closer inspection, I realized the image was of a military sailboat. With soldiers. Sailing in a sea of blood. (Is there really a such thing as a military sailboat?)

The group leader gave me a month to work with the panel. I tried to incorporate the sailboat image in a number of ways. Eventually, my solution was to stick with the sailboat theme, but cover up the original sailboat completely. Try and happy it up as best I could.

Sailboats, numbers, waves, stars, moon. Happier.

Happier quilted stars, seen from the back of the quilt.

Happier quilted waves.

Gratuitous close-up. Happier.

I was a little nervous taking the finished quilt to the group leader. When I shyly mentioned that I wasn't sure the military sailboat was quite right for a schoolroom setting, she breathed a sigh of relief. "I hadn't realized those were soldiers on the sailboat!" she said. "We aren't supposed to send anything that has to do with war, or the military, or anything like that. I'm glad you noticed!"

Then I breathed a sigh of relief. Because I (albeit unknowingly) chose the right path for the design, yes. But mostly because she has three more panels of the same fabric. I'm now nearing completion of sailboat wall quilt number two.

Quilters make do. The quilt I came up with may not be heirloom quality, or something anyone would want to replicate. But it might help a child in a far-away country learn to count to five. Learn their colors. I made do, like quilters do. And I'm happier for it.

Quilts and More (and me)

Just a quick mention . . . the winter issue of one of my favorite magazines, the fantastically hip Quilts and More, is out:

And that's my fuzzy scarf project, right there on the cover.

Modeled by an adorable young girl who, frankly, reminds me of me when I was her age. Really, I used to be irresistibly adorable like that. No, really.

The editors also created an alternate color option for the scarf, which you can find here. PLUS, complete instructions for making the scarf are online here--just click on the "Materials" link to get started.

My favorite part of all? This copy, featured on the pattern page at the allpeoplequilt.com website:

"A cuddly, warm scarf that keeps the chill out and cranks up the fashion factor!"

Hee-hee. Really? Cool.

Four years.

What a milestone, Jack turning four. No longer a babe, no longer a toddler, and just barely hanging on to preschooler-hood. Through diapers, through babbles. Through words and sentences. All the way through to back talk. Through walking and running and jumping and spinning and tumbling. Through owies, so many owies. And through quiet moments when mommy can still make the owies all better. Through big boy beds and big boy bedtimes and big boy behavior.

But he's still my little boy.

Jack woke up on his birthday and asked, "Am I four yet, mommy?" I said yes. He jumped up and down and clapped. "Now I have four year old feet, and four year old hair, and a four year old head, and four year old . . . everything! I can't believe it!"

The now four year old tour of becoming a mother made a stop in Superhero City for a little party with preschool friends. A chance for me to be creative in bits and pieces. We made a superhero training course in our backyard. When all training was completed, the first task of the new superheroes was to find Jack's missing birthday cake.

Each superhero received a handsewn cape at their graduation.

Star stickers were earned for each skill the children mastered (like throwing bean bags into hula hoops, balancing on 2 x 4s, and shooting balloons with a water hose).

They also passed a team skill--winding themselves round and round with black yarn until a spiderweb began to appear.

Each superhero decorated a one-of-a-kind mask.

And yes, they found the missing birthday cake. I know, I know, a birthday cake. The leftovers were mine. Mine, mine, mine.

We also hosted a small birthday party just for family.

Family feet.

Of course, the superhero theme remained a thread . . .

Daddy and Jack checking out Jack's loot after the festivities. Love those big four year old feet!

So, the tour continues--for Jack as the son, for me as the mom. Back on the tour bus, getting ready to begin the journey toward year five. Five. My heavens. Only 363 days left until five. Please, tour bus, don't take us there too soon.

Oh, wait, hold up, just one last stop before we really get on the road . . . to mark Charlie's three month "birthday," yesterday.

"What the hooey is a birthday?"

Oh, my sweet and still little one . . . I guarantee Jack will fill you in on birthdays, and the parties that go along with them, soon enough.

Sewing with sons

Well, sewing with one son. The other son is too busy to bother, with his daily lessons on sleeping and pooping and all.

I thought I'd have to wait quite a few more years before I could sew with Jack, but with a simple idea from a fantastic new book called The Creative Family by Amanda Soule, he's on his way. Check out his first stitches--and his astonishing concentration:

If the thread comes out the BACK, put the needle through the BACK.

If the thread comes out the FRONT, put the needle through the FRONT.

My boy--the next rock star with needle and thread.

Charlie, soaking up the sewing vibe.

The finished piece.

After borrowing a purse of mine to haul special belongings (like superhero figures, doctor's rubber gloves, and nail clippers), Jack decided he would like me to turn his stitchery into a purse for his loot. When Daddy heard the news, he had only one request:

"Don't call it a purse. Call it a man bag."

Jack, sew on. Purse, man bag, tote, whatever. My son is sewing. SEW ON!

Superheroic stitching

It took me just about a month (!) but, while waiting for our Tie-Dye to arrive, I finally found some see-it-through stamina to start and finish something by hand. The idea started here. In the end the project turned out like this:

The arms of Jack's hand-drawn superhero were too wide to fit anywhere on his feety jammies, so we came up with the jeans idea instead. Jack chose the colors of perle cotton to use. He now believes it's better to grant special powers to his DAYTIME clothes instead of his sleeping clothes, anyway. He no longer has to limit his save-the-world abilities to home or to nighttime anymore. He'll get to save the world at preschool and the grocery store, too.

Jackman with Batman and the Joker.

And just in time to save us from yet another attack of cold-weather cabin fever, our local library recently hosted a very special night: "A Night of Superheroes." That's where we picked up the downright creepy mask featured in the photo above. You might think Jack looks happy in the picture--but check out how ecstatic he was to be at the library on that special night:

Airplane jammies, my striped winter gloves, the handmade cape, and a new mask. For my boy, life just doesn't get better than this, folks.

The superhero sewing may be the last crafty project I tackle before the baby is born. I'm happy with it. It's like a little makeshift heirloom to smile about a few years from now, when Tie-Dye wears them for the first time. (I can hear myself in three years: "Yes, it's a hand-me-down, Tie-Dye, but it has special hand-me-down powers!")

I'm guessing Tie-Dye will love the power boost he'll get when he puts on these pants in the future. If only I could fit in them, too . . . I could use a power boost of any kind these days.

31 weeks . . . and tired of counting

Jack and Tie-Dye, from my point of view.

Nine weeks to go (or less? or more?) until we meet Tie-Dye. It's never been truer for me--the waiting is the hardest part.

On the creative front, I attempted to sew a new quilt block this week. Tried. But these days, making quilts feels like tackling the preparation of a seven-course meal. The fridge, the stove, the oven, the microwave, the cutting board--aaah, wait! The drinks, the dishes! Too many steps. The rotary cutter, the iron, the sewing machine, the broken thread, the empty bobbin, the color choices--aaah, wait! The getting up and moving from one workstation to another! Too much. Too many steps for my worn-out body and my molten-muddy mind.

Mostly, it's the moving. I no longer wish to move. After now-countless moments of embarrassing myself with unrestrained grunts and groans each time I rise from the couch, I told my husband to duct tape a beach ball to his front and seven yardsticks to his back, vertically from neck to butt. "Now," I dared (in my bizarre verbal fantasy), "Sit down and stand up. Ha! That would be hard, wouldn't it?"

Brett calmly came back with something like, "Yes, honey, that would be hard. I can't imagine." And what else--aside from rushing out to buy beach balls and yardsticks--could he come back with?

If I put all the crankiness and oh-poor-me venting aside, I am left with a feeling of general restlessness. I need something to DO. Usually, I would quilt. That's not working for me right now. So I borrowed a keeping-hands-busy idea from a woman who writes one of my favorite blogs, Soulemama. Check out the link and you'll see where I'm going:

Jack's latest art. Yes, you guessed it--they are superheroes.

The Soulemama link above leads to a simple embroidery-project idea that seems oh-so satisfying to me. Transfer Jack's drawings to fabric and start stitching. I told Jack about the idea. He's in. He wants me to sew pockets with his embroidered drawings onto his "feety jammies." Done. Jack gets a homegrown superhero on his teddy-bear laden pj's, and I get to sit. And sit some more. Fulfill my ache to create on a small scale. And sit some more.

Oh, sweet couch. How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.
I shall revel in you (well, on you) each and every day
Until little Tie-Dye's upcoming birthday.

Counting Christmas memories

The holiday hustle and bustle has subsided; Christmas is complete. One of my favorite parts of Christmas day is returning home in the afternoon after visiting nearby family, snuggling up on the couch with my husband, and silently recalling the days leading up to and including Christmas. The amusing moments, the fun moments, the surprising moments. The moments that quietly settle into my mind and become my own Christmas memories to keep, like these:

Jack waking up on Christmas morning to find Santa's gifts, unwrapped, in front of the fireplace. His response to his new loot? "Oh my CRAP!"

Grandma Sophie's visit (my mom) with her own Buzz Lightyear in tow. She "buzzed" around the living room with Jack for HOURS. She has the endurance of, well, a Grandma.

The three J's--a visit from my brother Jason, his wife Jen, and their daughter, Janessa. Jason brought his Karaoke Revolution X-Box game. I sang "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder and earned a perfect score. Jason said I was so good I gave him the shivers. (Only for a second, though.) That means I am the best mediocre singer he's ever heard. I'm feeling right proud about that.

Making Christmas cookies for our neighbors. The M & M bars have already had an encore baking at our house. Jack was essential to the baking process this year. I measured, he poured and taste-tested. Then taste-tested some more.

The solitary handmade gift this year. This is the ONE photo I took on Christmas morning--the unveiling of Jack's table tent. Velcro peepholes and painted suns, moons, and stars still to come . . .

Christmas morning--visiting with Brett's side of the family at his brother's house. His brother and wife made an incredible vegetarian breakfast for all of us. I ate for 45 minutes straight. My over-the-top eating was immediately followed by an impromptu nap on the couch. Heaven.

Replaying the days to solidify the memories. After gifts are wrapped and unwrapped, after meals are prepared and devoured, after guests are invited and enjoyed--after it's all said and done, aren't the memories we're left with what matters most to us?

Here's wishing your holiday memories were good and plenty. Wishing you many more where that came from in 2008.

Santa hats

Last week I searched and searched online for a Santa-hat pattern to make with fabric. Couldn't even find ONE. I found loads of patterns for knitted hats but with three weeks until Christmas and three hats to make, knitting wasn't an option. I've been a beginning knitter since I learned how about six years ago. I'm not sure I'll ever graduate to the next level.

Through a bit of trial and error, I came up with a simple design of my own that seemed to work. A doubled band of white; two triangles of red; and two white circles, sewn, turned inside out, and stuffed. Not bad for knowing next to nothing about sewing stuff to wear!

The first hat I made was for Jack. OOPS. It turned out waaay too small. So guess what? His adorable, squeezable, lovable cousin Willa got a Santa hat, too:

That's Willa's mom--my sister--snuggling up with the little ones.

My sister and her husband came over to our house with Willa so we could take turns snapping holiday photos. Our time in front of the camera was spent saying, "Hands down please, hands down!" to Jack. He just wanted to whack at that little snowball on the tip of his hat:

Whack away, Jack--the official holiday photo has been chosen.

To me, Jack looks gorgeous. And OLD. Brett looks like his mellow self, with annual winter beard in full bloom. Me? I look like I'm trying to hide the double chin that has emerged from eating too much "baby food."

Ah, well. The last two years we had pictures taken at the mall. So I'm proud of this picture--no paper backdrop featuring flat trees and fake snow. (Just a fake tree, inherited from Brett's parents.) This is us, right now. At home, excited for all the fun the season is bringing our way. (No, really, Brett IS excited.) I think it'll make for a nice memory.

Name that quilt!

After starting with this, and then going on to this and that, I finally ended up with this:

What a relief to finally have this quilt completed! I showed it to one of the editors of this lovely magazine at Quilt Market, before it was bound. I had thought to bind it in the stripe but asked for her advice. She said, "You could go with any of these colors; why don't you just use what you have left?" I had a lot of cheery blue polka-dot fabric left. I really like how it turned out.

I believe every quilt deserves a name. Hmmm. Well, this one is "fuzzy wuzzy" for sure. But I named a quilt "Fuzzy Wuzzy Hearts" in The Little Box of Baby Quilts. And I named this project "Fuzzy Wuzzy Scarf." And I think I even named this quilt "Fuzzy Wuzzy" something or other.

ENOUGH WITH THE FUZZY WUZZY, JENNY WENNY. PLEASEY WHEEZY.

I just looked up "fuzzy" on my favorite thesaurus site and found these words: downy, flossy, frizzy, furry, hairy, linty, and wooly. Okay. Perhaps we'll name it "The Frizzy, Furry, Hairy, Linty Quilt." Perhaps not.

I do believe this quilt will be published in the next issue of Quilt It for Kids, an annual publication put out by Quilter's Newsletter Magazine. Just peachy! But that means I really do need a decent name.

Any suggestions? Anyone?