Dropping in on the dollies

"Good heavens! You've caught us without our hair! Give us a minute will you?"




Uh, Girls? There seems to have been a bit of a mix up.



"Drat, Pick that up quick while I get my face on!"



There now, that's better.



"Hmpf, got carried away with the scissors did you? My face looks so fat with my hair this short."

Fickle Flame

I haven't been much in the mood for crafting of any type the past few weeks. I have projects that interest me and the supplies to complete said projects but the desire has been lacking.
I finally made myself craft without the desire because a few of the projects were gifts and really needed to get done. So, I made these little girls.

They are for Baby Girl's bestest friend whose birthday I already missed by over a week. The white one is a mini Baby Girl and the brown one is a mini Bestest.
Baby Girl is apt to say when she sees me working, "Oh, my hair looks so cute!" or "Bestest is so pretty!" and then theres "can I hold me?"
The lack of interest in my work stayed with me until today as I was working on their wigs. I'm using a different method than I've done in the past where I crochet a little cap to weave the hair into rather than sewing the hair directly to the head. You can see one doll's wig is complete and the other is still wearing a bare cap. I'm loving the way this is working out. The only problem is, I failed to order mohair yarn for the hair and don't know where to by it in person, so I'm using what ever I could find at Joann and Michael's.
I love the look of the yarns I found, Baby Girl's has a gold thread through it and Bestest's a multicolored metalic which gives them a little extra kick, but they are both rather apt to unraveling which is a definite problem for use as doll hair. The upside of working with polyester is it's meltability. I melted the tip of each strand of Baby Girl Doll's hair. It worked fairly well but a good number of them caught fire as they were melting which left a black clump at the end of the strand. I'm not too fond of that, I may go back trim, and re-melt each of those.
The yarn for Bastest Doll's hair is pickier than the other, it unravels fast so I'm going to have to melt the ends before I thread them into the cap. I think it's going to turn out super cute, better than Baby Girl Doll's for sure.
I just have to give these girls some faces, sew on the wigs (once they are finished) and make them some clothes (oy) and they'll be ready for a late birthday gift, despite the fact that Baby Girl and I both really want to keep them.

I'm Here!

Yesterday was my fourth Mother's day as a mother. Fifth if you count the year Baby Girl was in the belly. This, the fourth or fifth for me was the year I arrived as far a Mother's Day is concerned.
This was the year my child made me a card at (joy)school for the first time. According to said card, Baby Girl loves me because "25" not sure what that means, but I'll take it.
This was the year my own child walked up to the stand with all of the other children to sing Mother's Day songs in church. I cried as soon as she left the pew. The upside of that was I got it out of my system before the number actually started so I could watch my girl wiggle and peek at me without the blur of tears in my eyes.
I was afraid she'd be nervous about going up so I prepped her for it during the week prior. "Baby Girl," I'd say, "What are you going to do on Sunday?" and after a couple of days she knew the answer "I'm going to go up in front with the other children and sing you a song for Mother's Day" I was so excited by the time Sunday finally arrived I asked her three or four times before we left for church. I think she got a bit tired of it but she humored me with the answer anyway and it worked! She was one of the first two children up there. She was out of the pew and on her way up the isle even before the announcement for the children to come forward was complete.
She only sang the first few words, as a first timer the songs were not thoroughly ingrained in her memory, but she assured me when she came back that she had hummed the whole time. That was just fine by me.
Mother's just may be my favorite of days.

Home alone

while my family buys me presents.
What's a girl to do?

Butt Wheat

While waiting for the oatmeal to cook this morning (it took sooooo long today but it was extra good to make up for it) Baby Girl climbed onto the table to reach her hand way down to the bottom of the Honey Bunches box searching for crumbs.
Shooing her off triggered a memory, so here it is.
In the house where we lived through my preschool years the table was in the room with the TV and the TV was on a high self sort of in front of the table. That's a bit of a hazy description but it's a bit of a hazy memory so it will have to do.
We all took turns sitting on the table, getting scolded for it by the mother, and scolding each other for it. I was the youngest at that point so I imagine I really didn't play that big a role in the sibling scold-a-thon that was TV time, but I remember at least once, blissfully laying on the table watching "Little House on the Prairie". My second oldest sister at that point came into the room and told me I was getting butt wheat all over the table and I'd better get off quickety-fast.
The older Sibs were always complaining about the butt wheat on the table. "3-2-1 Contact!" and "The Bloodhound Gang" were on TV and in the back ground I heard "Get off the Table! I don't want your Butt Wheat all over my place at Dinner!"
I don't ever remember hearing the term "butt wheat" in any other context, though I just googled it and apparently there's a comedian named Butt Wheat. I don't think I've heard it since we moved from that house when I was five. I can't imagine how they got away with using it so much. My mother was firm in her discouragement of crude language. To say the word "butt" in her presence was to garner a very severe look.
We were taught to use the word "bottom" and only when necessary. Also, the word "poo" in all it's forms was not to be used. "messy" was the appropriate term in our house.
These words, "poo" and "bum," were the ones I was made to say by my sister and her friend when they took me to hide under a bush and taught me to "swear" but that's a story for another day.

Baby my boy

My Tiny Boy is getting bigger and bigger.
For the past 2 days he's swaggered around the house like he owned the place, all the while carrying a well loved copy of "Goodnight Moon" in his little man hands.
He happened upon me in the laundry room and relieved me of the task of unloading the dryer. Laughing with delight over each warm article of clothing he deposited in the laundry basket, he then saw to it that the dryer door was closed before running off to find Goodnight Moon and get some toys out. He loves to get toys out. He's not so much into playing with them but he loves getting them out.
We took his binki away last night. Part of his new found big-boyhood is reaching into his crib to retrieve a bink whenever he takes a fancy. We've always limited binki use to bed time, and public situations where quiet needs be maintained. Also, at 14 months it's time for his binki use to diminish rather than increase so we cut him off.
He did fine last night. He was a bit louder as he drifted off but he slept just fine. Nap time was about the same today.
As I went about my nap-time tasks I mused over whether there's actually anything wrong with saving the 4 precious "starlight" nuks we have left for the next baby. Then I heard him crying. He'd only been sleeping for 45 minutes so this was odd.
I picked him up and tried to snuggle but he was having none of it. I got him a drink of water, still he cried. I asked him if he'd like to help me with the laundry, there was another batch ready to come out of the dryer, he perked up a bit and stopped crying but when I put him down so he could reach the toasty clothes he cried again.
It went on for quite a while. He didn't want to snuggle but when I put him down he would flop on the floor and sob. Not like he was hurt or angry, just like he was sad and nothing I did made it any better. It's been so long since he's cried without me knowing the reason, it nearly broke my heart and I gave in.
I fetched a binki from my jewelry drawer where I'd stashed them (yes, I love those $18.00 paci's that much) and gave it to my boy. He relaxed immediately and snuggled right in. He even let me rock him to sleep.
Did it all start because he wanted a binki, or was the binki just the thing that soothed what ever else was bothering him?
Maybe he was mourning with me the loss of his babyhood.

High School

First the happy, then the sad.
My good friend Teresa is working on High School Musical 3. I am so thrilled for her, she's been working on this a long time. She's the kind of girl who's happiest when she's crazy busy and as such devotes herself completely to whatever job she's doing. I'm beside myself that she'll now be crazy busy with a job she actually loves. After an hour on the job I'm sure she knew the names, measurements, favorite colors, and pets of the entire cast and crew. Maybe not measurements for the crew but she could probably guess pretty accurately on that if she needed to fit one of them in an emergency tux.
Anyway, congrats T you're the best and soon everyone will know it.

I just learned from my mother that my High School is going to be demolished and re-built. I'm really sad about it. I loved that place.
I loved going there for my little brothers' concert at Christmas and still knowing that the bathroom next to the choir room is always locked after hours, and which bathroom in the main building would be unlocked at 9:00 pm and the quickest way to get there.
I love knowing that the door that doesn't lead to anything actually leads to a stair way that is no longer used and being one of the few students who's been in that stairway.
I loved the way you had to find a chair or something and climb into the costume closet that is 4 feet off the ground back stage. I loved finding bits of costumes that my sister made for past shows in there, like the spray painted gold character shoes from Into The Woods and that little sequined number from Anything Goes.
I love that one time when I was back there a year or two after I graduated for some event or another I tried the locker I had my senior year and the ridiculously easy to remember combination (35-25-5) still worked.
I loved the suit of armor in the glass case in the main hallway, I gaped at it open mouthed as a small child going to see my older siblings in plays and concerts and later, ate dinner in it's shadow during late night musical rehearsals.
"Why are they tearing it down?" I asked my mother. "Because it's old, but not old enough to be a cool building" was her reply.
If all of the old buildings that just aren't quite old enough to save are torn down how will our communities ever have any character?
By the way, I always though it was a cool old building.