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sewing break

Hey everyone, sorry I won't have time for my usual too wordy, too many photographs of the same thing post today. I've got a lot of sewing/making to do these days. I've had a lot of contacts lately, where people have randomly been e-mailing me, or phoning me, or convo-ing me to ask me to make things. Which is awesome, really, as making things is, you know, kind of my thing.
Anyhow, I'm working towards a big shop update on etsy, and have been sewing my butt off in between bouts of dealing with my not-very-happy but only slightly sick baby, and his not-very-forgiving-of-baby-interference older brother. Suffice it to say that my normally emotionally resiliant baby is disolving into tears every time his big brother shouts, "no! NO! DON'T let him TOUCH my TRAINS!". Normally it doesn't phase him in the least, but he's probably got a bit of a headache and is not so into being shouted at. Suffice it to say, its all taking longer than usual. But it'll get done. Tomorrow the Baby will probably be feeling better than today, and possibly the Little Dude will be feeling full of the milk of human kindness, or at the very least, willing to share his less favourite train.

Oh, and in random news, there was a coyote in the valley awhile ago.     I took this not very good photo of him, and wanted to share it with you even though I forgot about it on the day that it happened. But I was reminded of it today because we've been seeing a lot of red-tailed hawks in the valley too. Its predator season I guess. We saw the hawk swoop down and catch something, and then he sat in a tree on the other side of the valley and ate it for, like, the whole morning. 

erm, on that note, Happy Valentines Day! 

the sweetest thing

Our Baby has a new move. A new skill. A new heart melting little maneuver that never fails to make me glow with happiness. 

The Baby has learned how to give hugs.  Neither of my boys are big cuddlers. They don't dislike contact, but it is usually, brief. They have stuff to do. Toys to gnaw on. Dead flies to poke at. Trains and cars and tractors to 'brmmm' around at a feverish pace. Book to de-shelve. Laundry to throw out of hampers. Drawers to empty. Castles to build. And then knock down. The list goes on. And nowhere on that list seems to be 'linger around on Mommy's lap for cuddles.' More like 'scale Mommy like a small mountain'. Not until they have the attention span for story time, and then they'll sit on my lap all day, as long as I keep the books coming. Also, now that the Little Dude is old enough to stall at bedtime, he is not above requesting "one more hug!" and specifying that it be "a sittin' up hug". Very sneaky. 

But the Baby is not so cuddly. He enjoys nursing of course, but is often an active and quick eater, who likes to get a good fist pump going on with his free hand when he's enjoying his milk. So the fact that he has learned how to cuddle/hug is so, so lovely. Here's how it works. He'll be in your arms, all freshly sleepered after a bath at the end of a long and busy day, and if you say "Where's my hug" in the right sort of sing-song-y voice, he lays he sweet little head down on your shoulder and lets himself be hugged by you.  Now that I think about it, this was also the way that the Little Dude learned to hug when he was a baby. That sort of lean in, allowing himself to be hugged thing. And I remember that when he got older, we'd have to specify that we wanted 'a hug with arms', if we wanted to be hugged back. That's not necessary any more of course. Now that he's a big three-and-three-quarters year old, he barrels up to you with a full on, boa constrictor around the neck both arms squeezer hug that I love so much. 

But this sweet soft little gesture from Our Baby... it is so, so lovely. There is not a single time that he does it that I don't just treasure the feeling.

Hubs took these pictures for me before the weekend. Today the image would be somewhat different as our sweet Baby is a little under the weather. He's working a virus through I think, and there has been some unfortunate raspberry puke, and lots of crying and general unhappiness. The poor little guy. And there have been less hugs. But just before I put him to bed tonight, he sighed and laid his weary little slightly feverish head on my shoulder and just let himself be hugged and hugged, till his breathing became the measured sound of sleeping, wherein hopefully his body will find the healing it needs to be back to his happy rambunctious self soon. 

highs and lows

Today's parenting low point: Grimly persisting with brushing my three-and-a-half year old's teeth while he cried at the top of his lungs. (he wasn't crying about the toothbrushing, he was crying because I wanted him to sit inside on the steps while I did it, as opposed to standing in the cold garage/boot room) Surprisingly, it was actually easier to brush said teeth whilst he cried, than brushing his teeth normally is. His mouth was open the whole time, (he was wailing, after all) and his focus on the crying/injustice being done to him, made it seem as though he hardly noticed my dental ministrations. 

Today's parenting high point: Watching from around the corner while the Little Dude played a spirited game of peek-a-boo over the edge of the play pen with The Baby, as they mirrored each other crouching down and popping up over opposite sides of the play pen, one in, one out, L.D. happily shouting "peek-a-boo!" while The Baby squealed with laughter each and every time. It is so lovely to see them playing together, and not just along side each other. I'm telling you, this Baby loves to laugh, and especially loves to laugh with another person. Sometimes he'll crawl over to you, pull himself up your leg, and start to chortle, just to hear you laugh back to him it seems. And it always works, who can resist a laughing baby. 

And so it is. 

ps: the above photo is of a scene that L.D. created with some play dough and the little tiny contraband animals he's not allowed to play with when the Baby is around. Total choking hazard, so I put them away. But of course, L.D. found them. I swear, he has radar sometimes. 

*also note, that I eventually stopped brushing L.D's teeth, we talked about the bad situation, and had hugs and wiped away all the tears. So its all good. Someday he can talk about it with his therapist. For $75 bucks and hour I don't want him sitting there with nothing to say when they ask him "tell me about your muzza."

list

I was cleaning up my desk today, and found this list of things that the Little Dude told me he was thankful for, and then I'd written down verbatim because it was so awesome. I can't remember the context, whether it was Thanksgiving or just a bedtime prayers list of what. Either way, it makes me smile.

The Little Dude's List of Things For Which he is Thankful:

Yep. That should about cover it. 

fabric love

I bought some fabric the other day. Wait, that's not all that groundbreaking. I buy quite a bit of fabric. But the difference here is that I actually bought new fabric. Fabric that came off a bolt, ie: not a set of vintage sheets. You see, I belong to the Toronto Modern Quilt Guild, and we meet once a month at The Workroom in Toronto (if you live in TO, and have not yet checked out this sewing mecca, you must). Anyhow, it is one of the few places where I am exposed to really, really awesome new (non second-hand) fabric. And invariably, I am tempted into buying some. I usually try to be sensible, and just get a few fat quarters, but I still had some birthday money burning a hole in my pocket, so I got a bit more than I usually would. Take a look: This one had me from 'hello' as they say. Isn't that awesome? It makes me want to dig up all my lovely vintage mugs and teapots and sugar bowls just to have one mind blowing photo shoot with all of them. I just might have to try that. (fabric by Michael Miller, pattern name: put a lid on it)

This one was also to cute to resist. I love the colours. Though I think I photographed this upside down. (got a fat quarter with no selvedge edge, so sorry, can't tell you who made it) 

And I love this kind of sweet, simple, vaguely Japanmation-y kind of little floral. So sweet. (also fat quarter, so no info)

Then there's the simple, graphic, optical illusion type of fabric that I just have to have. Like this. Ah, zig-zags. I never get tired of zig-zags. (Free Spirit for Westminster, Boho House, pattern chevron)

And there's something so great and 60's Op Art about this one. (Hyperreal Garden by Pat Bravo for Art Gallery Fabrics) It just makes your eyes swim, doesn't it? I have no idea what I'll use it for. I so seldom use my 'new'/store bought fabric. One of these days I'm just going to have to bust out a quilt made entirely from these delicious little treats. It just seems so decadent though, I don't know when I'll ever get around to it. I'll probably just wash it all, fold it up and put it in the box labeled "new fabric". Silly me. 

Oh, and speaking of washing, I'm totally going to have to now, because this afternoon, as I was in the office uploading these photos I heard a clunk and a sploosh from the living room, and the Baby had managed to get his hands on my mug of cold tea, pulling it off the edge of the credenza and onto the chair next to it where - you guessed it - the pile of new fabric was sitting. Thank goodness the tea was cold (for obvious reasons). Thank goodness it was herbal (didn't stain the fabric). But now I've got some more laundry to do. 

Oh, and I also got some scrap. The work room has a scrap box, where people can discard the little bits they don't want to take home after finishing a project. I had a dig through it to look for tiny pieces for that ticker tape quilt I plan to make some day. You know, with all that extra free time I have. Even though I was told it was really 'picked over' I still found some awesome bits. Though there was this one tiny, tiny wisp of a floral in grey and orange and yellow that I'm going to have to go back there and see if they have a whole bolt of it, because it was awesome. 

Right, I'm off to do a little late night sewing. 

look ma, no hands

Oh, what a busy weekend we had. Lots of fun things were done, and there was a big family get together with lots of food and presents and fun times; plenty of lovely things to blog about. I'd written a whole other post in my head on Friday that I planned to post today for Monday morning, but in the interim we've had another milestone development that warrents its own post, if for no other reason than my someday-I'm-going-to-have-to-look-up-all-the-dates-here-for-the-baby-book-memory-keeping purposes.

I don't know why, but I love taking photos of the boys in the morning. There is something so sweet about their slightly groggy just out of bed, touselhaired-ness that just melts my heart.  Specifically, I love the Baby's morning profile. The way that his top lip sticks out more than is bottom lip. So sweet. 
I was basically stalking him around the dinning room, trying to get the perfect picture of it. I want to do a nice paper cut silhouette of both of the boys faces, but man! is it ever hard to get a profile picture of them. They just never stop moving. I feel like a wildlife photographer sometimes. I pretty much need to set up a duck-blind and get myself a crazy powerful telephoto lens, because every time I get too close to the Baby he does this:

He'd just LOVE to get his hands (and more specifically mouth) on that camera.

But then I do my best to back off to that he can ignore me and I can take pictures like this: Because, really, with babies its the mundane every day moments that are so sweet. They don't really need to be dressed up like angels or potted plants to be cute. The cute just oozes out of their every pore, and you've just got to be on hand to soak it in.
Also, there's this. Sweet, glorious this. There is nothing so heart melting to me as the nape of a baby's neck. That soft wispy little hair line, those perfect little ears and the vulnerability of that neck. It makes me think of a friend of mine from my university days (hi Mar!) who said once, of such a photograph "that gives me womb pangs!" Indeed.

Oh, and a note on this sleeper. I feel like you guys have seen this sleeper a lot, and I somehow feel compelled to tell you that no, this is not the ONLY sleeper the Baby owns. I just happen to really like it, so I bought two and by coincidence this is often the one he's wearing in pictures. But he does have plenty of others. Not that it matters. Just wanted to clear that up. "Hmmmm, where's that book I was looking for....gotta be in here somewhere...."

"...ah ha! There it is."

"Yeah, this story is even more compelling upside down than it is right side up."

And would you look at that, he's standing all on his own! I know its hard to tell from the picture, but he's not actually leaning his leg against the box at all! I know I've mentioned this before, but the real news is that not only is he standing, he's also trying to walk. And I'd have to say he took his first step this weekend. The first time it was to try to get to Daddy and the second (and third and fourth) was to get to GranGran. He's not been entirely successful, per se. By which I mean, I wouldn't go so far as to say he's walking, but his is definitely trying to. I'd say he's stepping. In the singular. He pretty much takes a step and falls. But still, a step in the right direction. (sorry, could not resist that pun) It looks a little something like this:Standing confidently. Then... Attempting a step and falling. You've got to give him cred for the effort, especially since this particular attempt involved a pivot. Extra marks from the Russian Judge.

So not exactly walking yet. Further bulletins as events warrented.

 

 

poop, poop!

No, I don't mean that. If you are the parent, or grandparent of friend of any small boys, aged 2 to-who-knows-how-long-this-will-last, you know that "poop, poop!" is the sound that a train makes when it whistles its greeting to another train. At least, you'll know this if you are familiar with the Thomas the Tank Engine stories.

You all probably know by now that my tastes in kids toys runs along the lines of timeless vintage classics, wooden waldorf-ish granola fare, with plenty of little cars on the side. I generally am not a big fan of most of the current toy franchises. My kids don't watch tv (yet), partially because I hate the fact that almost all children's shows are just one giant merchandising tie in/commercial for toys that kids will beg their parents for. Also, they are often a bit on the sexist side. And where are the black/aisian/eurasian/hispanic people? Yeah, I know, there's Dora, but don't even get me started on how they had to add Diego and also, have now made Dora thinner and her clothes pinker. That's another post. All this is to say that I'd prefer, when I have a choice, to encourage my kids to play with open ended toys that don't have a pre-existing narrative to close off their creative choices.

But as the Little Dude gets older, and casts his eyes about him, my chances to steer his toy choices are starting to wane. 

He's always loved cars and tractors and diggers and trains. And at the local library book sale last fall, we found a large hard cover anthology of Thomas the Tank Engine stories. The original ones, with the art work that looks like somebody drew it, instead of having been spit out by a computer. He loved the trains, and I loved the old-fashioned-y-ness of it, and it got read. A lot. And I don't quite know when he got his first train. Probably he saw them at the book store (where they have a large play table with trains set up). Birthday money from Great Grandma arrived, and when I asked him what he wanted to buy with it, he said "Thomas the Tank Engine!" Since then, any gift giving occasion has seemed to produce one engine or another. And he LOVES them. And I wouldn't say I hate them. He plays pretty creatively with them, and they are not obnoxious. But there aren't many girl engines, that's for sure. Some, but not a lot. 

But I'll tell you, he loves, loves, LOVES building the tracks for them. When the Baby is awake we put all the pieces up on the dining room table where large, circular-ish tracks are built. But when the Baby sleeps, everything can be put on the floor, and long, lovely meandering tracks weave their way under tables and around chairs. I'll admit that I'm pretty impressed with the configurations he comes up with (like this swirly loop at the end, with a roundhouse in the middle that he made the other day. And there are many cries of "poop, poop!" and "peep, peep!" as Thomas and Gordon and Toby etc. greet each other.  But less pleasant are the many cries of "I need a new engine!" One of the larger sets that came in a big box with all the tracks, also came with a little book, somewhat misleadingly called "The Yearbook". What it is, is a catalouge of all the possible Thomas the Tank Engine toys that are available for purchase. And boy, does he look at that book a lot.

"Mom, mom, what is THIS guy's name?" he says, pointing to the book.

"That's Murdoch."

"Can we buy him, mom?"

"Not right now love."

"After lunch them mom, can we buy him then?"

sigh.

Just today he called me to his room during quiet time to say, with all the emphasis and intonation of a parent promising a toddler a treat:

"Mom, I'm thinking of a good idea. After quiet time, we can go, me and mom, to a train store! Is that a good idea?"

And everytime I have to break it to him that, no, we are not going to a train store, and no, we will not be getting a new train any time soon. Probably not until his birthday. In the summer. He does not like the sound of that.  And the other day, during the pre-dinner witching hour he was moaning and whining around the kitchen and I said to him, "you seem a little bit cranky." "You know why I'm cranky?" he replied "I'm cranky because I need a new traaaaaaaiiiiiinnnn." Uh-huh. I can honestly say its was making me pretty cranky in that moment too. 

But we've hit on a plan. We have a little jar marked "Train Money" (see above) that is full of the coins he is saving for a new engine. So the other day, after lunch he excitedly jumped down from the table and said "I know mom! You know what we should do? Lets go and find some more money!" Yeah, I wish it was that easy. Oh my boy, everyday is full of learning, and these days, he's learning that money cannot just be 'found'. So our plan is this: we're going to have a garage sale in the spring. I've promised him that when all the snow is gone we will take our grown-out-of clothes and old books and toys, and we'll have a garage sale, and all the money from his stuff can be taken to buy a new engine. He's quite keen on the idea. He's started a little box of books he can bear to part with, which is great. Of course, spring is a long ways away.
But I think he'll survive until then. 

amish teens

I had an unexpectedly busy night tonight, so I don't really have time for a big, long, gushy post about my kids (as is my wont) but instead will just take a moment to share a link with you. I was looking around on youtube for something the other day, and I'm telling you, I have no idea what strange order of click following click led me to this, but I was quite captivated by a reality TV show that I'd never heard anything about. And the reason I've probably never heard of it, is that its called "Amish World's Squarest Teenagers" Worst reality show title ever. Unless it was a contest to ascertain which Amish Teen was the actually the World's Squarest. Which it is not. What it is, is a surprisingly sensitive documentary style television show, in which five Amish teens go to the UK and live with four different families during the period of time which they refer to as "rumspringa", aka, a time to "sow their wild oats" before they settle down and accept the life and traditions of their church. It was surprisingly respectful and educational (another reason why I've probably never heard of it). There are no fights, or major conflicts, or swearing or backstabbing, (it is about the Amish after all) so in a sense its not really a reality TV show. But it was quite compelling. I'm almost done watching it. (in the 11 minute increments in which it was posted on youtube, 16 parts in total) And I've been quite captivated. But who knows, I haven't seen the end yet. I could be all down hill from part 15, with tattoos and drunkenness and pregnancies and wet bonnet contests and the like. Though I kind of doubt it.