wednesday's ode

To beautiful surroundings.

well loved: quilts and kids

Not to make anyone jealous (although I realize it may be impossible to avoid on this one), but my mother-in-law makes quilts for all of her grandchildren -- sixteen and counting. And not just any quilts, but unbelievably well-crafted and perfectly chosen quilts. She has a way with colors and patterns, and the patience I have never developed to match corners and stitch in tight lines. These are what most people would call Heirloom Quilts.

Our kids call them "Bama blankies."

When our oldest was born, my mother-in-law chose a deep red color scheme for him, and filled it in with patterns and angles perfectly befitting his alpha-male intensity. My husband and I talked about the blanket and what we should do with it. Heirlooms and kids don't generally go well together (case in point: all of our desks). So we debated: Should we hang it on the wall or bring it within reach of dirty hands and drippy noses?

We chose to bring it down.

The blankets have been dragged around, snorted on, wrestled with, and tied into halters. They have been slept on, sat on, jumped on, and pulled. After a few years the cotton starts to wear. Holes develop, opening circles in the squares. Bindings go next, and then whole sections. That first blankie is down to one remaining square; the second so full of holes the twelve year-old often wears it like a cape, with his arms thrust through the holes. Once in a great while, as I watch them dwindle, I wonder if we made the right choice.

Then I come across pictures like this:

And this:

And I'm reminded about how obviously right it was to let them be loved.

These blankets have produced an heirloom something pristine on the wall never could. They have been surrogate hands and shoulders and open arms of a grandma far away -- fifty miles, and then fifteen hundred miles, and now four hundred and sixty-two miles -- our kids have been able to haul their grandmother around with them.

As I peeked in on the baby tonight, sleeping wrapped in his Bama Blankie like a dog in its bun (a banana in its peel? beans in their tortilla? Clearly I need to work on my metaphors -- all of these images are making me hungry), I thought about fourteen years of wrapped up babies and comforted toddlers and tweens looking for a little reassurance. So many moments in my mind and scattered through my photo library, images of these kids enveloped and warm and safe.

Thank you Mary. You are a wonder.

wooden

What is it about wood? The meandering grain, sometimes predictable, sometimes surprising. The soft feel of it after hours of sanding. It is substantial and sturdy. I make my children's toys out of it. I wish my entire kitchen could be outfitted with wooden dishes. I'm hoping to try my hand at turning bowls on a lathe next month when we visit my parents and their garage full of woodworking tools (thanks, Dad!).

I was thrilled when I came across these vintage beauties at a garage sale last week:

 

Perfect for the girls' play kitchen (which is still undergoing renovations).

more tiny: booties

When our first baby was born fourteen years ago (seriously, fourteen years?) a good friend made a pair of booties for him. I was new to so many things back then -- diapers, sleep deprivation, making dinner (or breakfast, or lunch) -- that I didn't fully appreciate the boon that a good pair of booties could be. They were just one of the many new things I could play with, dressing and redressing that boy half a dozen times a day. I offered my friend a round of heartfelt thanks, but I don't think I came anywhere near expressing what I have come to feel about that gift. A decade and a half later I am wishing I still had her phone number. I would like to call her today and let her know just how superb those particular booties have been, and how appreciated and well loved.

We didn't know the gender of Baby #1 pre-birth, and consequently these booties were offered in a lovely marbled yellow. Of all the many pairs of infant footwear we have had over the years, these were hands down the Grand Champion Extraordinaire. Exceptionally soft and fuzzy, in a color that went with everything, they even managed to stay on. Yes, that's right -- booties that stayed on. Stayed on, as in, never fell off. Ever.

Our five babies wore them, my nieces and nephews wore them, and still they soldiered on. After the now-five-year-old outgrew them, the booties were sent off to a baby elsewhere in need of warm feet (along with pretty much everything baby-related we owned). When Baby #6 surprised us with his appearance, I went looking for a pattern that might produce something similar. And to my very very very grateful surprise, I found one. Although they aren't made in a yellow merino, our boy's new booties are soft, and they stay on. More importantly, they remind me. Every time I look at them I see another little boy, long before his feet outgrew mine and his voice dropped, and I remember what he felt like and how hard he tried to kick off those booties. Then I see the next boy, and the three girls that followed, each one smiling and sleeping and kicking. The one baby becomes the many beautiful babies that have graced our life. What a gift, the simple things that remind.

And just like that, these booties are my new favorite New Baby Gift to give.

This black pair went westward last month.

They may not be soft yellow, but they certainly look good with soft yellow, don't you think? After all, even on a baby (and especially on such a manly little man) black is, well, the perennial black.

Congratulations Jennie!

wednesday's ode

To beautiful surroundings.

classy shirt dress (aka karate dress)

This is the kind of dress that I wish I could get away with wearing. It seems, though, to only look good on slender, not so curvy body shapes. I definitely don't qualify right now, but even after all the baby weight comes off I still won't be able to pull it off. My daughter, however, does so brilliantly with a style all her own.

 

 

 

 I made this dress from a man's dress shirt I found at the Bargain Barn.

 I loved the linen material. The finished dress brought to mind images of a safari. Or perhaps a zookeeper. But I resisted the urge to add a silhouette of a monkey coming out of the pocket.

My daughter, on the other hand, decided the dress looked like a karate outfit and claimed it enabled her to do karate moves like the pros. When not flying her kite this weekend at the beach, she intermittently practiced karate and greeted me with "Konichiwa", her hands pressed together. Where did she even get that from?

 

This kid cracks me up.

stash: slip version

When I was young we always wore dresses to church on sunday, and we always wore slips underneath. Maybe the fabric back then was more see-through, or maybe so many dresses these days come with double layers that slips are becoming obsolete. Either way, they have become a rare find. With three girls (and lots of homemade one-layer cotton dresses) I have been on the look out for good slips for quite some time. Last year I finally came across some real beauties -- for a mere $45. Each. Needless to say, they did not come home with us.

So at the top of the list for the Week of Repurposing was SLIPS.

I started with three soft old undershirts and a thrifted bedskirt (which has beautiful wide cotton lace around the bottom):

Turns out this was just about the easiest project I have ever made. I simply cut the drop-down edges from the bedskirt in their entirety, using the long edges for the two larger slips, and the short edge for the youngest girl. Stitch the ends together, gather the skirt, and sew it to the bottom edge of the undershirt. And voila, a slip with a nice fitted bodice and full cotton skirt:

Well, technically the voila will be a complete "there it is" once I've ironed the skirt (and made one more try at the little stain on the undershirt front). But overall, I'm thoroughly pleased with both the ease and end result.

And the girls? They couldn't be happier.

Stash Round One: success.