Mothers and Daughters

Instead of sewing or stitching anything this week, I am organizing my family pictures. It seems like a good thing to do before the start of a new year. Besides all the cute snapshots of my kids, I also have a good collection of family pictures that I would eventually like to scan and store on my computer. Here are a few that got me thinking:

This is my great-great-grandmother Julia Catherine Bellew. I don't know much about her except that she was the youngest child of a large Irish Catholic family, she had red hair, and a wicked sense of humor. And, for some unknown reason, she did not raise her only child--a daughter named Margaret Elizabeth Byrne.

According to the family lore, Margaret was raised by her grandmother, Julia's mother Ann, in Ft. Dodge, Iowa. But we can't find her living with Ann in any census. An old rumor has it that when she was a child, other children were told not to play with her. It could have been that she was an illegitimate child or that she belonged to a family made notorious by an uncle's murderous rage in a bar brawl. We don't know.

She died a year before I was born and I know her only through my own mother's memories. She was very concerned with keeping up appearances, she often modeled for local newspapers, and she had auburn hair which she cropped during the twenties. She married a nice young man named Ross Phipps, but for whatever reason, she never seemed like an entirely happy person. She had a lot of secrets.

And an only child, my grandmother Margaret Ann Phipps.

This is my favorite photograph of them.

In a treasured box of my great-grandmother's belongings, we found this and many other pictures of my grandma as a little girl. She seemed to have been an adored child, although later in life my grandma and her mother didn't get along. I don't really know why.

My Grandma Margie is an immensely talented person. She used to be a gifted artist.

My favorite story about her as a girl was the time she was taking an advanced art class at her Catholic school. She got in trouble with the nuns who were teaching her because they caught her sketching nudes instead of an assigned still life. That says a lot about my grandma--she did what she wanted, and often got in trouble for it.

She could draw anything. She could cook anything. My mom also says that she could sew anything. She used to pick the most challenging and intricate Vogue patterns and sew them in her bedroom where her sewing machine was. And often when she calls and there isn't much common ground to discuss, she and I talk about sewing and fabric and dresses or the lamentable latest fashions, and when I get off the phone, I feel at least there is some small connection to a woman whom I love, but have never understood.

My mom is her only daughter.
My mom inherited a matriarchal line of mothers who struggled with both being mothers and being happy. But she turned that around. And while I may have inherited some minute artistic ability from my grandma, it's my mom who showed me what a love of creating can do for a family and home. I started sewing on her machine. I watched her make things for the house and decorate for the holidays. She and I share cross-stitch patterns and a love of shopping for fabric. She always jokes that she never finishes any of her projects--but she doesn't always have the time because she has too many daughters. And they all need her.

Here's my only daughter. She is a very happy little person. And she loves to draw. She fills notebook after notebook with drawings of her friends, her toys, her cat, and her little brother. For Christmas, she gave me an illustrated book called "Ashley and Abby's Holiday Book"--and because she has Irish grandmothers, she can draw a really good leprechaun.

Hopefully I've followed my mom's example, and have instilled in Abby a love to create and a willingness to be happy. If she is ever interested in learning about some of her great-grandmothers in my mom's family tree, I won't have much besides a couple of photographs to share with her. But who knows, maybe that invisible thread that binds us with our ancestors will manifest itself in Abby's own talents. It has a little bit in mine.

Christmas Kitty

Cats and Christmas don't mix.

Cats climb Christmas trees.

They chew on Christmas lights.

They bat at ornaments, chase bows across the room, and sit in empty boxes while you're trying to wrap presents.

They also lie down in the yarn you are using to finish up last minute Christmas gifts.

When your little girl reminds you not to forget to hang the cat's stocking on Christmas Eve, your husband snaps at her, "Cats don't get anything for Christmas!" and causes her to run away crying.

But sometimes husbands are wrong. Good little kitties do get special treats from Santa Claus--even if it means you have to be sneaky and throw in a $1.99 bag of Salmon Tasties on the grocery conveyor belt while you distract your daughter so she doesn't see it.

On Christmas morning, when your daughter sees that the kitty has been good and did get something from Santa, she will be so excited that she will sneak the treats to the cat all day long while you cross your fingers hoping the cat won't throw it all up by night time.

So Merry Christmas Graciella. Maybe next year you'll just get a ball of yarn.

The American (Girl) Dream

I've always liked American Girl dolls. I've always wanted to give one to Abby. But Abby is a little hard on the dolls she loves most and since each American Girl doll is way too much money (with dozens of over-priced accessories), I couldn't justify buying a doll whose hair will most likely fizz and whose pricey shoes will be worn by some stuffed animal within a day. Besides, the American Girl company states that these dolls are for 8-years-old and up. So there you go.

Then one year when Abby was four, Santa brought Katie. She is a "My Generation" doll from Target--which means she is an American Girl doll knock-off. She came with cute accessories that were affordable--she's an equestrienne, so she has a riding helmet, boots, and anything she might need to take care of a horse. And Santa brought a horse too---Coco. Katie and Coco have spent countless hours playing with Abby and Katie always lets the other dolls ride Coco. Even Barbie gets to ride Coco (which bothers me, but try telling a little girl that Coco is too big for Barbie). Katie even used to let Abby ride Coco, until Coco started developing a stress fracture and I had to put an end to Abby's riding days.

So in honor of Katie being such a nice friend, she too gets a seagreen holiday dress. Which she will wear with riding boots. And since Abby loves Katie (notice she has blonde hair), I may just let the American (Girl) Dream go . . . Except that the American Girl Company did an awful, awful thing. It announced that it was retiring forever the Swedish pioneer doll Kirsten. What?! Ever since I was ten and first saw the American Girl dolls, Kirsten was my favorite. So in a panic, I may or may not have ordered her. And some of her terribly expensive little accessories. And maybe her St. Lucia holiday gown. With the matching wreath for her head . . .

Will Kirsten be allowed to ride Coco if she comes to live with us? NO. It sounds mean and selfish, but Kirsten will just have to watch the other dolls play. Besides, she's really for me. And she will know that she is too expensive to play with. And you know what? Katie will be just fine with that. She will rest assured that no way-too-expensive eighteen-inch-doll will ever replace her.

P.S. Please excuse my poor photography. We have an old camera which I hate. One of these days when I'm not spending our hard earned money on silly extravagances like dolls, we just might get a new one . . .

So Much For The Red Lipstick

So, I really was going to wear red lipstick and pearls for my apron's photographic debut, but . . . I didn't do my hair today, my kitchen is a mess, Cameron wants to be held (as you can see), and Abby was in a hurry to get back to cartoons after taking this picture. And I'll be honest--I feel stupid posing for a picture in a Christmas apron. But the apron turned out really cute and it gives me Christmas baking confidence. I just finished baking really good chocolate cookies that I will frost with peppermint frosting for tomorrow's cookie exchange, and I know that the reason they turned out so well is because I was wearing a cute Christmas apron . . .

Also, this next photo has nothing to do with sewing or stitching, but it made me laugh today . It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "tiny tots, with their eyes all aglow . . ."

Merry Christmas Abby, Max, Cory, and Cameron :)

In My Retro Christmas Dreams

This is me in my retro Christmas dreams. I think I would just love to wear this dress while trimming my vintage Christmas tree. It looks like so much fun. I tried to tell Abby that this was really me, and she said, "Oh it's not you--you're skin isn't that white." Thanks, but I think it may just be a shade whiter . . .

There are some in my family who believe that cool retro is all about the seventies. And when you have long, straight blonde hair and a recent preference for all things crocheted, then yeah, the 1970s is your decade. But I think the coolest retro look comes from the fifties with all of its big skirted, cinch waisted, frilly aproned, kitchsy kitchen glory. I love the prints and the colors from this decade, but most of all the dresses.

What's not to love?

I've been thinking retro lately because I have been making some cool Christmas presents with some retro flair. And I'm hooked (no pun intended) on crocheting again. Crocheting is easy, relaxing, and granny-esque in a cute way. I'm dreaming up all sorts of crocheted projects for the long winter evenings ahead . . . I've always been a sucker for a good granny square.

And I've also made some cute aprons in very vintage-y fabrics. When Abby gets home from school, I'll have her take another dumb picture of me in my new Christmas apron. It's a holly print and it's very 1950s. Maybe I'll don a coiffed hairdo, put on some red lipstick and pearls and pose by the Christmas tree . . . just kidding. But I will post a picture of it soon and then I am off to bake some Christmas goodies. Does anyone have a good idea for what kind of cookie to bring to a Christmas cookie exchange? Last year I made the most atrocious gingerbread yuckies that I have to redeem myself!

Barbara

This lovely lady is my mother-in-law. Her name is Barbara Heiner Curtis. Abby calls her "Grandma Barbara" or sometimes just Barbara. Her favorite color is royal purple, she loves dark chocolate, she will always win any game you play with her, and she is a master knitter.

She has knitted blessing blankets for all of my babies. She has made countless sweaters in every color of the rainbow for Abby. She is famous for her knitted dishcloths that she gives away any chance she gets. She patiently taught me how to crochet and knit the first year I was married to Cody. She uses her talents to uplift and cheer those around her.

We love her a lot.

I'm thinking of her today because our family will celebrate "German Christmas" tonight. In honor of all the Heiners, Neubergers, Fankhausers, and Von Auckermans in Cody and Barbara's family tree, we will bake stollen and gingerbread and then trim our tree--or as Charles Dickens called it, "that pretty German toy, a Christmas tree." While we won't hold hands and sing O Tannenbaum, we will take a loaf of stollen, all dusty with sugar, to Barbara. It's a small token of love we can give to a woman who gives us so much.

Fröhliche Weihnachten-- Merry Christmas.

Molly Dolly

When Abby was two, she found this cloth doll at The Quilted Bear. Since my mom was shopping with us and since she is a grandma, she bought the doll for Abby. We named her Molly Dolly. Ever since Molly Dolly has come home to live with us, she has snuggled with Abby, shared Abby's bed, and spent many hours playing with Abby. Really, she's not much to look at, in fact she's a little wackadoo (and so is her speaking voice--Molly has quite a distinctive tone.)



But Abby loves this doll and even though she is now six years old, Molly is still a beloved friend. However, for years now Molly has worn the same dress--a pioneer dress and matching pinafore. She's never had anything fancy to wear . . . until now. When I decided to sew doll clothes with the seagreen taffeta, I knew that Molly must have the first dress. She deserves it.

I used an old out-of-print McCalls pattern that is my favorite pattern for eighteen-inch doll clothes. The dress turned out really pretty, and when Molly saw it, she got pretty excited.

"For me?" she asked.

"Yes, Molly," I said. "All these years you've worn nothing but that shabby old calico dress. You need something beautiful to wear for the holiday season."

"Oh I do! I do!" she exclaimed, "I'll wear it to all of my fancy Christmas parties!"

Now if we could just do something about that hair . . .

Seagreen . . . Taffeta

Sitting on top of my fabric remnant stash is two yards of seagreen taffeta that my mother-in-law gave me. Taffeta is such a lovely fabric--it's crispy, easy to sew, and makes a nice swish-swish sound when it's worn. It's also a great word: Taff-e-ta. It may be one of my favorite fabrics and favorite words. I should be excited to make something with this stuff. Only there is one problem. It's seagreen. What kind of color is seagreen? The only people who can really pull off wearing seagreen are mermaids. I even tried to convince myself that instead of being seagreen, it was really a pretty light blue. But when I went to the store for matching thread, the only thread that matched was called "Spray Green." Which means seagreen.

It's a lamentable situation. Two yards of taffeta could make a great holiday skirt if it was red or black. Or if it was only a half yard, I'd whip up a Barbie dress (or a dress for Barbie's friend Ariel) and check it off my stash list without thinking twice. But two yards of seagreen taffeta requires some thought . . .

And look . . . matching lace. The quandary deepens. Just what will I make?

Check back soon.

Pumpkin Love

What do you need to bake a pumpkin pie besides a can of pumpkin? A pumpkin apron of course! Last week, my reward for finishing all of my laundry and ironing was cutting out and then sewing this very easy, but very cute pumpkin apron. And every time I folded a load of clothes or ironed another white shirt, I looked at this pumpkin fabric and smiled--(yes, I know, I'm a dork.) There is just something about a good pumpkin print with all its orange cheerfulness that makes me happy. And I can't think of a better way to wear a pumpkin print than in an apron (it may be the only way one can wear a pumpkin print . . . )

And there is something very fun about wearing an apron. I picture myself wearing this apron as I cook Thanksgiving dinner. Except I'm not cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year. But I will wear this apron as I hover around my mom in the kitchen trying to be useful. I'll even wear this apron as I make dinner for my own family. I'll wear it as I whip up a pumpkin pie or two this month. I might even just wear it around the house. I'll be honest, I am wearing it right now as I type this post. It's just so much fun to wear!

The pattern for this apron is the "Lily Apron" by Busy Bee Quilt Designs. It really is super easy to sew--I'm already planning to make it in a Christmas print. And please excuse the funny picture of me. Someday I'll have a dressform to model all of my creations instead of having to awkwardly pose in the kitchen as Abby takes my picture.

Cat Ballou

Every year for Halloween my daughter dresses up as someone whom everyone recognizes--like Dorothy or Tinkerbell. This year however, she chose to dress up as Cat Ballou. You can see the problem this has posed when people ask her what she is being for Halloween because no one knows who Cat Ballou is. And how do I as her mother quickly explain that my daughter wants to dress up as an old Jane Fonda character from a 1965 western comedy? Because then that explanation would also have to include the why and how a six-year-old girl has come across an old 1965 Jane Fonda western comedy.

It happened like this: My dad tends to bring to his cabin odd and obscure western movies and then makes everyone watch them. The cabin is small, and we are a somewhat captive audience. The problem is that we are never allowed to watch the whole show--my dad just fast forwards to his favorite parts and plays them over . . . and over . . . and over again. Like "The Ballad of Cat Ballou"--everyone in my family has heard this opening song a thousand times, and when we are at the cabin and someone sneaks it into the DVD player, it immediately elicits all sorts of boos and moans and "oh my gosh not agains" from everyone in the room. Everyone that is, except Abby. She happens to absolutely love Cat Ballou. And this year she couldn't wait to plan her Cat Ballou costume.

It was pretty fun (and easy) to sew. I used blue gingham left over from her Dorothy dress and suede-like fabric for her pants. It didn't seem very fancy and I kept trying to jazz it up, but Abby wanted it just like Cat Ballou. All she needed to complete the look was a cowgirl hat, an ammo belt, a holster, and she was set not only for robbing a train, but for trick or treating as well. So in honor of Abby and one of the dorkiest movies ever, please watch "The Ballad of Cat Ballou." And then sympathize with my family for having to watch it so many times.

Family Fright Night

Last night we hosted the annual Family Fright Night. It was the perfect opportunity to wear our costumes and scare each other (I'm looking at you Mom--er, Hilary Clinton). We had a cowboy, a gamekeeper with a crazy little monkey, Cat Ballou, a pumpkin, Danny Zuko, an angel, an angel in the outfield, a car dealer, Madame Secretary Hilary Clinton, and the one arm saloon girl just to name a few (okay, just to name those in costume and yeah, the car dealer wasn't a real costume per se).

Here's an angel

Here's an angel in the outfield taking this photo op a little too seriously. But Halloween is all about fantasy (and no, he did not let me make his costume this year).

And here is the one arm saloon girl looking fabulous.

And look, she won Best Costume! But who is that rude person flipping her off?

That's the problem with Family Fright Night . . . some really scary people can show up.

Really, I have no idea who this woman is.

But I do know who this cute little Jack O'Lantern is.

Happy Halloween!

One Arm Saloon Girl

My sister wanted to be a saloon girl for Halloween. So we went to a local thrift store and found this lovely but outrageously outdated prom dress. We went through my sewing stash and added a ruffle, some sequins, a little tulle, and some roses. She also found some feathers for her hair, some fishnet tights, and really cool lace up boots that look very 1880 (at the store, not in my stash. My stash isn't that cool). These pictures don't do the dress transformation justice--my sister looks great in the costume and she's really excited to wear it.

But you may wonder, why does the costume only have one arm? Because my sister recently broke her wrist in a horseback riding accident and will be wearing a wrist brace for Halloween as well. It happened all the time back in the Wild West. Cowgirls who were thrown by wild mustangs and broke their arms often found themselves in a quandary--they couldn't saddle their own horses or thread lariats. So out of boredom, they got dressed up and can-canned at the local honky-tonks.

Happy Halloween One Arm Saloon Girl! You're going to look great, wrist brace and all.

A Is For Angel

There are two kinds of people in this world when it comes to dressing up for Halloween: those who utterly despise wearing anything resembling a costume and those (like myself) who plan their costume in the summer and hope to wear it to at least several Halloween events including dressing up with the kids on Halloween night.

This year I decided to be an angel because it would be a relatively simple costume to put together. I already had the white blouse from a previous Juliet dress, and some really pretty, and quite celestial, silver trim to sew onto the bodice.

It turned out okay--but I must admit that since the dress is very, um, billowy and the wings and halo none too little, I feel slightly silly wearing it. But oh well. All I need is some glitter on my face and the effect will be perfect--I may even scare some people. But hey, it's Halloween. Boo.

The First Stitch Is the Hardest

Last June, two of my lovely aunts and my grandma flew up from Arizona to attend the 2009 Wasatch Quilt Shop Hop with my mom and me. While none of us are really quilters, we thought it would be fun to visit the shops to buy fabric and patterns. We also took the opportunity to stop by the most magical cross-stitch store ever--Shepherd's Bush in Ogden. When we stepped out of the car and were greeted by the warm smell of baking cinnamon rolls from the next door bakery, I think we started skipping to the shop's front entrance. A chime tinkled when we opened the door and the fairies who live there flitted away and giggled at us as they hid among the hundreds of cross-stitch samplers that line the walls from floor to ceiling. And to top it off, behind the cashier was a handsome photo of Mr. Darcy in a puffy white shirt inviting us to buy all we wanted and causing my grandma to giggle throughout the day about that Mr. Darby.

The point is, one cannot enter such a store and not buy patterns. And come to find out, it's really hard to attend the shop hop and not buy more patterns. And fabric. And more patterns. I think we all accumulated a lot of potential projects and we kept laughing about how we knew, deep down, that we'd never stitch them all up.

So as I recently cleaned out and organized my craft room, I thought how fun it would be to actually stitch through my stash of patterns and fabric. And although I've never been a big fan of blogs, I changed my mind and thought blogging could be a fun way to chronicle said creative journey. So despite my very young baby who cannot tolerate being put down, I pulled out an old cross-stitch project: Celtic Christmas by Lavender and Lace, and have used stuff from my stash to finish our Halloween costumes. It's amazing (and kind of crazy) how quickly a seam can be sewn before a sleeping baby starts to toss his head from side to side as he realizes that Somebody. Is. Not. Holding. Him. It will be slow going at first, but here's to you Mr. Darby, and here's to having some stitching fun.