Sewing Monster

 Every time I sit down to sew, my daughter wanders into the room and asks ever so sweetly, "Mommy? Whatcha doin'?" Being the novice that I am, I require complete and utter silence when my foot is on the pedal. I can pin, cut, press and measure while she jabbers away but once I'm sitting in front of my machine I cannot be disturbed. I get tense. I hunch my shoulders. I think my eye starts twitching. Inevitably, the seam is crooked and I have to fetch Ruby the Seam Ripper while I lecture K about how Mommy needs her to go find something to do. Sometimes she protests, insists she can watch "very quietly" from a designated spot on the floor but usually, she puts her thumb in her mouth, balls up her filthy pink blanket called Lovey, and slowly, sadly, shuffles out of the room. I turn back to my machine but am feeling like such a crappy mother for sending my inquisitive child out of the room that my seams continue to stray and I usually end up calling it a day not long after I start. 

Sewing has quickly become an "after the kids are asleep" activity. I hate that. And I hate that I dismiss her when K just wants to help. She wants to be like me. What's wrong with that?  I've tried keeping her busy with sorting scraps or holding a measuring tape but I think she suspects that the tasks are just that....busy work. She often declares that she has completed her job and is now ready to sew. I want to sew like you Mommy, she says. But I shake my head and try to think of some other thing to engage her with. Her four year old fingers are NOT ready for a sewing machine and I am not nearly competent enough to teach her even if they were.

On a recent trip to the fabric store (that she loves as much as I do) I came across a little learn-to-sew craft kit. It contained two projects; a heart pillow and a bear pillow. The kit consisted of felt pieces that were pre-punched with guide holes, a blunt plastic needle, yarn, stuffing and all the glittery, sparkly embellishments you would need to jazz up the creations once they had been pieced together. After seeing the actual contents of the kit, the $6 I paid seemed a bit steep but the confidence she gained by finishing completely negated the price.

She started with the heart. I showed her how to thread her needle and we practiced knot tying. We'll be needing lots more practice on that one. I started her with a running stitch that by her own hand, morphed into a wobbly whipstitch. Slowly but surely she managed to get the felt pieces sewn together and stuffed.

And then of course she had to add a little glamour....

And in about half an hour, my baby girl had finished her very first sewing project. All by her sweet self!

I've turned my little girl into sewing monster. She wants more. We still have the bear to complete but now she's asking if she can make herself a new shirt and  is raiding the linen closet for pillowcases to make new dresses! Whoa little one. One stitch at time. I don't think I'll buy anymore kits but I may try to make something similar on my own. Felt and yarn are easy enough to come by. My biggest obstacle would be the holes....what would you use to punch tiny round holes? I also found a cute tutorial for printable sewing cards here but I'm not sure how long they would keep her occupied. She wants to create something, not just practice stitching. That is certainly one trait we share....impatience!

Two Years

Little boys come in all shapes and sizes,
Shy and adventurous, full of surprises,
With misshapen halos and mischievous grins,
Small, dirty faces, and sweet, sticky chins.


They'll keep you so busy, and yet all the while
Nothing can brighten the world like their smile.
And no greater treasure has brought homes more joy
Than a curious, active, and lovable boy!

Only two short years ago, I was blessed to become the Momma of a sweet baby boy. You bring such joy to my life. You are kind and loving, rowdy and rambunctious. I can't believe how fast you are growing. You are more precious to me than you'll ever know....covered in mud, hands sticky with jelly, cheeks streaked with crayons. My cherished boy. I love you more and more each day....to the moon and back. Happy 2nd Birthday little J...

This Moment

{this moment} 

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words- capturing a moment you want to remember. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

 

Because of This Blog

Because of this blog...

-I have international pen pals

-I have a new wool hat that I adore, courtesy of reader and now friend, Homestead Girl.

-I have backyard chickens and more requests than I can count for eggs.

-I have friends who have never set foot on a farm considering livestock.

-My most citified of friends is learning to can. And make her own cleaning products. And grind wheat. She's awesome.

-I have a dehydrator and a 24 quart pressure canner that barely fits on my stove. But I can't live without them.

-I feel happy, with purpose, and connected to like minded people in a way I've never been before. My ideas and values may not be what the mainstream dubs "cool" but because of this blog, I know now that it's okay. It's okay to want less and have more, to make do, or make my own. 

-I know that this way of life isn't a passing fad. It's a quietly building revolution.

-I have you dear readers. Your thoughts and comments warm my heart. I draw more inspiration from you than you'll ever know. Here's to our shared journey...

Live Simply, Be Humble,

Stephanie

Night Night.....Sleep Tight!

My husband is an insomniac. He never sleeps. I don't know how he does it. He goes weeks at a time surviving on little more than three hours a night. He slogs away like a zombie, surviving on coffee and a prayer. Although he always managed to be sawing logs when there was a crying baby or a poopy diaper to be changed in the dark, sleep often eludes him and the poor man seems to do nothing but toss and turn. 

I, on the other hand, have NO problem with sleep. Quite often, he sneaks into bed and I don't even know he's lying next to me. I sleep long. I sleep hard. And when I wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed only to see my husband about to drown in his coffee cup, I can't help but feel a wee bit guilty. Why is it that I can sleep like there's no tomorrow when my man couldn't buy a good night's sleep? He's tried everything. He's tried prescription pills, he's tried homeopathic remedies. He's tried knocking himself out with Tylenol PM. He did a sleep study where they hook you up to a million wires and machines and demand you sleep under the watchful eye of several cameras and one bored lab technician. Of course they wanted us to invest in several thousand dollars worth of medical interventions, to which my husband replied thanks, but no. He has simply resigned himself to the fact that he never was a good sleeper and he never will be.

That's why I was so shocked when he asked if I could perhaps invest in a new pillow for him. A pillow? After all the tests and drugs and sleep charting and you think a pillow is going to fix it? Let me be clear. My husband has NO trouble falling asleep. He's usually snoring two to three minutes after his head hits the pillow. It's the staying asleep that is difficult. If he can't get comfortable in the first place because of a flat/lumpy/hot/smelly pillow, how is he going to add up all those minutes and get his requisite three hours? 

And the search began. And much like every other product we come into contact with, most pillow are laden with chemical residues and are produced in some of the most environmentally damaging facilities you can imagine. Next time you lay down, think of  all the pesticides and insecticides your cotton cover was grown with.  Think about the bleach that was used to whiten it. Think about the dyes, which often contain heavy metals and chemicals. And that's just the cover. I could go on about the synthetic fillings but I won't. I don't want you to lose any sleep! I would love to replace all my pillows and bedding with organic, eco-conscious products but unless you kind folks would like to donate to my "Get Rid of the Chemicals" fund, I'll have to replace things one at a time as they wear out. My hubby's request for a new pillow is the perfect opportunity.

So what are the options?

• Organic Cotton- offers firm support. Prone to compression over time.
• Down-flufftastic! Prone to dust mites, and mold. Also traps moisture leading to stank on the pillow. No one likes stank.
• Wool-Springy and resilient. Available in soft, medium and firm. Will compress but breathes.
• Latex-comes in shredded and block form. Shredded latex is soft and supportive but can be punched and bunched into whatever shape you like. Block latex pillows are very supportive but can be a little hard to get used to. You're sleeping on a block of foam for crying out loud.
• Buckwheat or Kapok- Kapok is a natural fiber made from flower seeds and feels a lot like silk. It's lush, durable and supportive. Buckwheat pillows are very firm and are filled with the hulls of buckwheat. Kind of like sleeping on a big beanbag.

After much research and deliberation, my hubby chose a shredded latex pillow. I was leaning toward wool but he said wool+desert heat=neck sweat. I protested and showed him my carefully researched pillow descriptions. Breathable or no, wool is best known for keeping you warm. Warm is something we could do with a little less of.  I get it. It's his pillow. Shredded latex it is.

Chickens!

And so it begins. The coop was built, the waterers purchased, the organic feed paid for. And now, the chickens are home!

It's been quite a journey. I've had more chicken drama in the past two days than I care to have in a lifetime. For one thing, I seem to be having trouble keeping my numbers up.As you know, Minnie and Olivia have been living down the road with a dear friend. Unfortunately, poor Minnie met her end when a dog burst through the coop and though he didn't eat her, he pawed her to death. Rest in peace dear Minnie. That left me with one chicken, Olivia, and far from my desired flock of four.

Enter my sweet friend Courtnie who offered me two of her chickens free of charge. They have more than enough eggs for themselves and their neighbors and were looking to downsize. I loaded up the kids and drove over. What a sight to see. If someone would have had a video camera, I think I could have won some money. I wouldn't say they were feral chickens but they were quite wild. Picture this:  Two full grown women with their youngest babies on their hips, trying to corner and chase chickens with their free hand while the older children cheered from outside the coop. We finally managed to catch two of them but we were muddy, feathered and sweaty for our efforts.

The trip from Courtnie's house to mine is a mere ten minutes. I carefully carried the box to the backyard and placed the hens in their new home. My daughter (who has unofficially become the namer-of-things for our family) dubbed the black one Glitter and the white one Daisy. We made sure they knew where their feed and water were and left them alone to acclimate.

My new coop is within view from my living room window. An hour or so after we brought Glitter and Daisy home, I peeked out the window to see if I could see them. What I saw was an egg! An egg! Only had them an hour and I got an egg. It had slipped between the nesting box and the wire. I pulled on my shoes to rescue my first backyard egg and hurried out into the heat. And there she was. Glitter. Dead as a doornail. Crap. I called Courtnie and she explained that chickens are easily stressed. The chasing, grabbing and transport in the 110 degree heat proved too much for poor Glitter and after drinking the entire contents of our two gallon waterer, she croaked right beside it.

Daisy, on the other hand, is fine and dandy. There was an egg waiting for me this morning so I figure if she's relaxed enough to lay, she's going to be okay. I went and picked up Olivia and my two survivor chickens seem to be doing just fine. I still want four chickens. But after this weekend's drama, I think I'll just stick with two, at least until Olivia starts laying her much anticipated blue-green eggs.  I don't know if I can handle another dead chicken quite yet. I forgot that life on the farm (or a track house in the middle of Phoenix) can be. My daughter was devastated at Glitter's passing which I certainly didn't expect. We literally had her in our possession less than two hours so I didn't think she would be bonded to the hens quite yet.  I was wrong. Explaining death to a four year old certainly wasn't on the agenda...

So... they are home. And I am happy. I like peeking out the window and seeing them strut around. I liked scrambling the egg Daisy gave me and eating it for breakfast. And with the massive egg recall and salmonella scare going on right now, I  feel so lucky that I know exactly where my food is coming from: my backyard. You can't get more local than that!

Bend and Snap

I broke my sewing machine. I didn't mean to, I swear. I was making a potholder, the one out of SouleMama's book Handmade Home in fact. Instead of batting, which I would have to buy, she used a thrifted towel for the filling. Brilliant! I snatched an old towel we had been using as a dust rag (I washed it first!) and went to sewing.

What the multi-talented SouleMama didn't take into account was my novice abilities and my minimal sewing machine knowledge.I managed to get everything cut to the proper lengths and my seams were straight. But the layers were very thick. Two layers of towel, two layers of fabric. I got two sides sewn when there was a loud snap followed by a piercing, grating grinding noise. My machine beeped at me several times and flashed E6. Do you know what an E6 is? Motor seizure. It's the equivalent of getting a blue screen on your laptop. It's over. It's done. Better call in the troops. Finito.

I tried to remove my project from the machine but the bent and broken needle (and the only needle I have) had it pretty well pinned down. I had to remove the foot and manually wriggle the needle up and out, ripping the fabric on the top of the potholder with the needle's jagged edge. I guess that potholder is going to the scrap bin. I un-threaded the machine, took out the bobbin and tried to figure out what was wrong. Nothing. Grinding, beeping and more E6.

Tears ensued. Phone calls were made. Bearly Stitchin', the local sewing center said they were sure they could fix her up. They're running about a week out on repairs so I'm looking at seven long day without a sewing machine and that my friends, makes me very grumpy indeed. Not that I'm sewing everyday or anything but I'm still learning. I can't learn if there is no machine with which to do it. And I was just about to start Christmas present #3!! Boo!

The old consumer driven me resurfaced, urging me to just buy a new one. Images of Singers and Brothers danced in my head. I started lusting over the Husqvarna Vikings in the current circular ad from my local craft store. But I won't. My machine may be down but it's not out. Who actually takes things to get repaired nowadays? We throw it away and get a new one. But not this time.What's that saying? Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without. The machine is too young to be used up. And with a little love, hopefully, I'll still have many years before I wear it out.

I dropped her off this morning. It turns out that the cost of fixing her is almost as much as purchasing a new one but I'm sticking to my guns. I like the machine I have. I don't really want another one. It's like we "grew up" together, ya know? Sigh. I miss my machine. Only 6 more days to go!