Category: Handmade

Two Wiksten Tanks

About a month ago, as I was preparing for our annual homeschooler camping trip, I realized that I didn’t have a single linen dress to wear by the campfire — so naturally I stayed up late into the night to sew one. Instead of doing practical things, like packing. Or sleeping.

Personally, I feel like this is progress for me. Last year I spent the day before our camping trip baking all of our hot dog buns from scratch, but this year I just bought them at the store like the rest of humanity. And I even left my feta cheese at home after a quick lecture from my dad over Twitter:

Sorry there’s no way a real camper would bring feta. Cheddar sure. Mozza maybe, feta no. Turn in your tent.

Whoa, he’s tough. Good thing I didn’t consult him on my wardrobe.

Practicality (or lack thereof) aside, I am delighted with the dress. It turned out so well, by far my favourite thing I’ve ever sewed. I used a navy blue linen that I bought at 50% off at Fabricland (still $20/m – gulp!) and I chose the very simple Wiksten tank pattern in the “dress” length after seeing some gorgeous pictures of it on Pinterest (you can find some of them on this board).

My fellow mediocre sewers, listen up: this pattern was so, so easy to do. It also taught me how to sew french seams which are both easy and elegant and now I feel like I might never use my serger again.

I only needed to cut out five pieces — six if you choose to include the small pocket — and then stitch the dress together. The pattern was so simple that I was able to raise the neckline and take in the sides for a better fit — no small feat for a beginner. Everything came together so beautifully and I was determined to finish it in time for our trip. As I worked the neckline at about 1:00am, I marvelled at the simple beauty of a plain linen dress, and then I realized that I’ve officially turned into my mother.

Huh.

Even so, I loved that tank. Not too tight but not too baggy. Just the right length for leggings and jeans. The dress made me feel pretty. I wore it over and over and over for the next two weeks.

And then I threw it away.

Not on purpose, mind you. Actually, I have no proof that I threw the dress away, beyond the fact that it’s not anywhere in my house. It’s also possible that I donated the dress to charity during one of my crazy purges — I’ve had a lot of those this month. There’s also a good chance that my one-year-old “helped” me by sticking the dress in the trash, just like he keeps “cleaning” my phone right into in the recycling bin. All I know for sure is that my dress is gone.

Once I passed through all seven stages of grief, I decided to make another one — except this one is bright pink instead of navy blue. It’s not a colour I usually buy but it was on sale for about $6 or $7 per metre — and when linen is 80% off, you buy it all and maybe a bottle of fabric dye. Turned out nice, didn’t it?

This time I made the dress in a smaller size, though I still found the neckline too low and ended up resewing the straps to bring it up a bit. And then, because I needed to find away to camouflage the blinding pink colour, I added some epic pockets to the sides. I don’t know about you, but I don’t even see pink anymore. I just see awesome pockets.

I saw this meme on both Twitter and Facebook a month or two ago:

Me: *wears a dress that has pockets*
Person: “I like your dress”
Me: “thanks, it has pockets!!!”

It’s funny because it’s true.

I’m so excited to make a few more and literally double my summer wardrobe. My next Wiksten will be in black linen and I’ll probably do it a size bigger again so that I can layer it over shirts in the fall and winter. I’d also like to do one with more of a racer back — I have a beautiful robin’s egg blue linen that will look hideous on me, but the colour is oh-so-pretty that I’m going to use it anyway. Oh, and I’ve got the most gorgeous lightweight cotton that’s been stashed away in my dresser for a year that would work perfectly – maybe with a bit of an elastic waistline added?

Hopefully I can knock off a few this week. Maybe I need to book another camping trip for motivation.

This post has been shared on the following link-ups:
The Art of Home-Making Mondays • Monday’s Musings • Making Your Home Sing Monday

July 24, 2016
How to Turn Old Amber into a Stunning Wrap Bracelet

This post is for all the moms out there with a stash of old amber necklaces just begging to be made into something new and pretty. Because if you’re anything like me, those necklaces have been gathering dust for half a decade now. Go on and dig the necklaces out of storage – I’m going to show you how easy it is to make a wrap bracelet using the amber beads.

I posted about the bracelets yesterday and I went over all the things I did wrong. I’m not sure if it was helpful information or if I just scared people away. Perhaps it helps to know that I often mess up my craft projects. There is definitely precedent for my agony:

• Making Amber Wrap Bracelets (What NOT To Do)
• My Misadventures with Chalk Paint
• My Favourite New Thing (Work in Progress Wednesday) Okay, nothing bad happened in this post. I just really like the photo of my forlorn daughter hugging the mannequin.

Wow, I can’t believe I never wrote about stabbing a barbed needle clear through my finger while felting a crown on the eve of my daughter’s birthday. I’m talking in one end and out the other. That’s why you should never needle felt a gift at the last minute.

But back to the bracelets. You won’t mess up your bracelets; you’ll be smarter than me. It won’t take you a whole episode (season) of Downton Abby to finish the first one – I’ll bet you can knock off a bracelet in an episode of The Office or less. Although that might really be more of a knitting show. Maybe rug hooking? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

To make a bracelet, you need to do is gather your supplies — a list is on the next page.

January 18, 2016
Making Amber Wrap Bracelets (What NOT To Do)

Want to make your own? Click here to see the step-by-step tutorial.

I made these pretty beaded amber wrap bracelets for my friends for Christmas. Each one took less than an hour to make, so naturally making five of them took me … four weeks.

It started back in December when I decided that I would make matching bracelets for an upcoming gift exchange with a few of my friends. This was after those two evenings of reattaching doll heads, and I was excited to come up with another handicraft project to work on.

Given that I’m both green and cheap, I was happy that I’d be able to reuse something that I already had lying around in the house. As a family with three kids, we’ve gone through a lot of amber necklaces, and I always throw the outgrown or broken necklaces in a box so that I can reuse the beads to make jewellery for myself. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for eight years now.

Finding Amber Necklaces

Once I came up with the bracelet idea, I was eager to get started. I ran to my room to retrieve the beads. The necklaces, of course, were nowhere.

I looked everywhere I could think of. I looked in my craft supply cupboard and my jewellery box and my stash of shiny choking hazards that I keep hidden from both my one-year-old and my-four-year old. I looked through my knitting supplies. I looked under my bedroom dresser – the one that holds my clothes. I looked under my other bedroom dresser – the one that holds my yarn. You have one of those too, right?

I have no idea where all the amber went.

You know, some people believe that amber has magical properties. I can assure you that it does, based solely on it’s ability to completely disappear and then reappear months and months later – usually in the middle of your living room floor.

After a frantic night of searching, I put out a call on Facebook: does anyone have old necklaces that I could have? Several of my friends said yes — but they didn’t know where the necklaces were. See? More proof of amber’s magical ability to disappear. Thankfully I one friend was able to locate her stash of broken-necklaces-that-will-someday-be-made-into-something-else; she generously sent the bag to me and I was all set. (Thank you Tanja!) I had five whole days to make the bracelets. No sweat.

I knew right away that I wouldn’t have enough beads to do all six bracelets (five for my friends, one for me), but that wasn’t a big deal. I really love the look of bracelets that mix up amber with other beads. I headed over to the craft store and picked a bunch of beads at random. And I bought a bead design board for organizing the beads. And I wasn’t sure what kind of cording I’d need, so I picked out a roll of soft suede. My project ended up costing a touch more than I expected, but I figured that the kids would enjoy having any leftover supplies for their own handicraft projects. Why, that meant I could count it as a homeschooling expense. How could I not spend the money if it would enrich my children’s education?

Five Days until Gift Exchange

I was ready to start. I watched a quick video on how to do the ladder stitch and then I got out my supplies: suede cord, assortment of beads, all-purpose thread, sewing needle, and Season One of Downton Abbey on the computer.

First, I put my beads on the bead board and rearranged them a few times until they looked just the right amount of “randomly sorted”. I cut my suede cord and threaded it through a button, tying a knot to secure it. Then I measured out the 16 feet of thread that I’d need for sewing the beads.

16 feet.

Have you ever measured out 16 feet of thread? I pulled and I pulled and I pulled from the spool, counting out foot by foot. As I pulled, the thread pooled on the floor and tangled itself into a giant polyester tumbleweed. I picked it up and tried to find an end so I could start unravelling, but clearly it was a lost cause. I threw the whole mess in the garbage.

Again, I measured out 16 feet. This time I was more careful to stop it from tangling. Once the full amount was measured out, I threaded it onto the needle and slid the needle to the middle so that my thread was held double. This effectively meant that my working length was just 8 feet – much more doable than 16. I carefully poked the needle through the suede knot and then pulled all 8 feet of thread through. It immediately tangled together at the end, creating a riculously stubborn knot.

I put the project down and retreated to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

Five minutes later, I sat back down with my mug and decided to tackle the knot rather than measure out another 16 feet of thread. It took a full episode of Downton Abbey to get the knot out. Finally I was able to put my first bead on. I pulled the needle through the bead’s hole, then looped it over the cord and pulled it back through the bead again. It snagged, but I was quick enough to untangle the thread before the knot got too tight.

From there on, I was able to put the rest of the beads on without much trouble. The further along I went, the more thread I used up and the easier it became. By the time I got to the end, I was feeling good.

I knotted off the cord and carefully examined the bracelet. The beads were beautiful. The workmanship was … well … uneven. Oh well, it was the first one. The next bracelet would be better.

At this point it was well after midnight, but I was so pleased with myself for finishing the first bracelet that I started a second one. I measured out 16 feet of thread and then put on the first bead. The thread immediately tangled together. Honestly, it was like working with leftover spaghetti noodles. Covered in super glue. In a bowl of molasses.

I packed up and went to bed.

Four Days until Gift Exchange

The next day I went back to the craft store and bought more beads. I figured that I had a better idea now of what size and colour would work, and I could always come back later on and return the beads that I didn’t use, right? I was confident that, in the end, I’d come in under budget. Or reasonably close.

That night, I pulled out my supplies again. I was more careful this time. I knew what I was doing. I gave myself more workspace. I was sure that everything would go more smoothly.

It did. I made it right to the end of the second bracelet before I realized that I had cut the leather cording too short and that the bracelet wouldn’t be long enough. I put it to the side to deal with later.

I started the next bracelet. The thread knotted up right away and when I tried to untangle it, I snapped it in half. I couldn’t figure out how to elegantly add more thread in the middle of the bracelet so I took the whole thing apart and started again. This time, I didn’t measure out enough thread though, so again, I couldn’t make the bracelet long enough. Why was this happening to me? I took it apart. Again.

I decided to call it quits for the night, given that it was well past midnight and all my bracelets had been failures. With a yawn, I slowly started to pack up my supplies and then proceeded to drop half my beads on the floor. It turns out that my hardwood floors are almost the exact same colour as amber beads. I spent the next 30 minutes as a broom zombie, sweeping them all up so that my baby wouldn’t eat them in the morning. Can you imagine if he had? “Here’s a bracelet, dear friend. The beads have actually passed through my son’s entire digestive system, so now they’re extra valuable. Just like kopi luwak, that really expensive coffee bean that is collected from cat poop.” It’s a thing. Believe me, I used to work at Starbucks.

I didn’t work on the bracelets for the next two days. I just … no.

One Night until Gift Exchange

On the night before my gift exchange, I pulled out my supplies. In a sudden epiphany (I’ve been full of them lately), I realized that the thread didn’t need to be a continuous 16 feet long – I really only needed two strands that were each 8 feet. If I cut two 8 foot strands and then held them each double with the needle in the middle, I would effectively have 4 strands of thread that were each 4 feet long. So. Much. Better. I was able to get one more bracelet almost all the way done before another knot appeared out of nowhere. It took another entire episode of Downton Abbey to untangle. At this point, I was practically in Season Three.

I left the last two bracelets and went to bed. Surely if I had this much trouble working on them at night in a quiet living room, it would go much better during the day with three children running around. Right?

As I climbed into bed, I noticed that I wasn’t feeling so hot. I lay down and immediately fell into a deep, satisfying sleep that lasted a good 20 minutes. Then I spent the rest of the night up with my one year old; he apparently came down with a cold at that exact hour and suddenly had a barking cough that reminded me of that famous seal that took up smoking. What? That’s not a thing? I was too tired to know what was real any more. By the morning it was obvious that all three kids were sick. I was too, but not as bad as them. I was just healthy enough to get up and take care of everyone else. Sob.

Halfway through the day, I told my friends that I couldn’t join them for the Christmas gift exchange due to my plague-monkey status. Then I tucked the bracelets away until after Christmas, knowing that I now had three more weeks before I’d see my friends again.

Starting Again

I waited a long time before I pulled the bracelets out again. When I finally laid them on the kitchen table, I gave them a careful once-over. The beads looked pretty but the sewing didn’t. The thread didn’t lay evenly from bead to bead. Sometimes it wasn’t pulled tight. It seemed to keep catching on the suede, which was square shaped. I looked at pictures of other bracelets online and I realized that everyone else used a smooth, round cord on the outsides instead a square-shaped suede.

I decided I had to start over. The next day, I went to the craft store and bought more cording. And more beads.

At home, I started my first bracelet with the round cord. I carefully measured out the thread and started sewing the beads. My instincts were right – the round shape of the cord made a huge difference and the thread was able to lie more nicely against it. I kept adding beads. Then the thread tangled. I found where I had left off on Downton Abbey and picked out the knot. After an episode or two, I finished the bracelet. It looked much nicer than the original ones.

Again, I started to feel the pressure of the deadline. I wanted to finish at least one more bracelet before going to bed, but it was 11:00 at night and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to tackle another length of thread. Then I remembered – totally out of the blue – that I had a kind of waxed polycord in the basement that I had purchased last year for a different project. But it would probably be too thick to thread through the beads, no? I quickly found it and gave it a try. It worked, and given how much thicker it was than all-purpose sewing thread, I wouldn’t even need to double it up. I measured out a scant 8 feet.

Working with the waxed polycord kind of felt like using dental floss. For a brief second, I thought about using actual dental floss because it would give the bracelet a festive pepperminty smell. Or not.

The bracelet finished in record time. There were no tangles of any kind. No snags. I was so pleased with how well it went and I couldn’t wait to start the next one … except that I couldn’t stop thinking of dental floss when I looked at it. I decided that I needed to find a brown version in the morning. Then I promptly knocked over my bead board and spent the next 30 minutes sweeping up beads before heading for bed.

I hate beads.

The next afternoon, just one day before I’d see my friends, I drove out in a snowstorm to the store that sells the waxed polycord. I picked a nice shade of chestnut brown and then drove home. I waited until the kids were in bed and pulled out my beads again. This time, the bracelet practically made itself. I quickly made a second bracelet, then left the final two the next day.

The following afternoon, with my girls gone out and my son down for a nap, I pulled out the beads for what I hoped was the last time ever. I made two bracelets in no time at all, and then, because I couldn’t stop thinking of dental floss, I remade the white-threaded bracelet as well. Five bracelets. Done. And they were pretty, and I loved them.

I love them almost enough to make one for myself too. Almost, but not quite.

Tomorrow I’ll post a tutorial on how to make the bracelets in case you have your own necklaces to upcycle. I recommend you find waxed polycord and round leather cording before starting. And at least a couple seasons of Downton Abbey.

Find my on Pinterest at www.pinterest.com/tea4tamara

January 17, 2016
My Epiphany

Thank you for visiting Unhurried Home! This is my post from last year (2016), when I first discovered the whole idea of Epiphany and our very simple, very last-minute celebration. Today I’m busy getting ready for our very first Epiphany party — we’ve never done this, so feel free to send me tips here or over on Facebook.

Yesterday was Epiphany, the day that we celebrate the three wise men visiting Jesus. We don’t know many of the details of that day – we don’t even know how many men there actually were. We do know, however, that they arrived much later after the birth than our Christmas cards depict – likely a whole year or two.

I reflected on their visit at our church service on Christmas Eve as my own 15 month old boy made a dash down the aisle for the third time in four minutes. Well, not so much reflected as commiserated with Mary because I can only imagine that the entire magi visit was exhausting.

I picture Mary getting Jesus’ lunch ready when the men arrived. She was carefully slicing the grapes in half lengthwise to reduce the chance of choking. Jesus was sitting on the floor near her, banging on some dishes with a spoon – the noise was annoying but at least it kept him occupied for a minute.

Then, out of the blue, a group of royal-looking men showed up at the door. Mary, pushing worries of a missed nap time out of her head, welcomed them in and frantically looked for a place to sit. Did they have chairs, lovingly hand-crafted by Joseph the carpenter? If they did, I’m certain that they all were laying on their side under a table to stop Jesus from constantly standing on the top of them.

You know how later on Satan tells Jesus to jump off a cliff because the angels will catch him? Toddlers don’t need the devil’s prompting; they will jump off of anything and everything, firmly convinced that if the angels are busy, a mother will be there to break the fall.

So poor Mary was busy putting all the chairs upright, muttering apologies as she dusted them them off. Jesus was not making matters easier because, overcome with shyness due to the strangers in the house, he was now clinging desperately to her legs. Mary didn’t get frustrated though – she seems like a very patient woman, based on the statues I’ve seen.

Once everyone had a seat, Jesus warmed up to the visitors and started playing peekaboo with them from behind Mary’s robe. At one point, they held out their gifts for him to inspect. Jesus immediately tried to eat the frankincense and then put the bowl of myrrh on his head like a hat, spilling the contents all over the ground. He immediately uttered an adorable little “uh oh” in Aramaic, which Mary and the wise men instinctively echoed back.

As Mary quickly cleaned up the myrrh, the wise men looked around for somewhere high up that they could stash the gold, safely out of Jesus’ reach. In the commotion, I can only imagine that Jesus snuck out the side door and started finger-painting on one of the camels with mud.

I guess we’re lucky that Matthew didn’t include any of the details in his gospel. It would have made the nativity pageant far too complicated to pull off, given how notoriously bad toddlers are at following stage direction.

Most nativity pageants I’ve been to have everyone visit on the night Jesus was born. I didn’t know that many Christians around the world celebrate the magi’s visit on a completely separate day from Christmas. Until last year, I never knew that December 25 was the first of 12 days of Christmas. For me, once Boxing Day hit, Christmas was over. And honestly, that was usually a relief.

Every year, I find myself more disappointed with Christmas. It just doesn’t seem Holy anymore. I want it to be a special time where we remember the birth of Jesus, but every year, the birth is overshadowed by presents and Santas and stockings and parties. I confess that I’ve become resentful that I have to share a meaningful holiday with people who couldn’t care less about the birth of Jesus.

And don’t get me wrong – I’m not the kind of Christian that gets angry when someone says Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas. I don’t care how my Starbucks cup is decorated. In fact, I’d prefer that fewer people celebrate Christmas. Celebrate something else. Have your sleigh rides and winter songs and turkey dinners on the Solstice instead and leave Christmas for Christians. Don’t co-opt our day as an excuse to party. (I can get kind of grinchy.)

Last year I was ready to give up on it all. I thought Christians should get together and have a secret Christmas where we celebrate without the extra fuss. Maybe in February, so we could get great deals on the leftover decorations.

Then, this year, I read this on the Christianity Today site:

“We love to find—or even invent—spiritual reasons for various cultural practices related to Christmas. For example, we give gifts to one other to remind ourselves of God’s great gift of Jesus to the world or of the gifts of the wise men to Jesus. That may sound nice, but is it biblical? Or do we really give gifts because that’s what our parents did and what everyone else we know does (except the Jehovah’s Witnesses, diehard secularists, and some religious purists)? What kind of parent would you be if you didn’t give your child a Christmas present (or, in many cases, a whole roomful of them)? Or, just imagine, if you didn’t celebrate Christmas at all (like the Puritans)? Very little is intrinsically spiritual or biblical about these kinds of expectations. They’re almost entirely cultural. That doesn’t make them necessarily wrong, but we shouldn’t invent biblical rationales to justify them.”

When I first read that, I honestly thought it was totally backwards. And dumb. Everyone knows that we exchange presents at Christmas because Jesus was God’s gift to us. I think. Or it might be because of the Magi. Whatever, I was more confused as to why everyone else exchanges gifts.

But for some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about that passage all day. Then sometime in the evening, my thinking suddenly shifted ever so slightly and I understood what the author was saying. Society hasn’t co-opted our holiday – we’ve co-opted theirs. We take the cultural traditions of the season – the Christmas tree, the yule log, the misletoe, the candy cane – and we try to give them Biblical significance. And we’ve been doing it ever since a Pope picked December 25 to be Christmas Day, replacing the pagan winter festival of the time. It all worked beautifully for a long, long time as much of the Western world identified as Christian, but now that society is becoming more secular, we’re stamping our feet and pouting that “our” holiday is being taken away from us. Was it ever ours to begin with?

Somehow, the thought that Christmas doesn’t belong to Christians was very liberating for me. I’m not obligated to participate, just like I’m not obligated to set off fireworks on Victoria Day or barbecues on Labour Day. I’m also invited to enjoy it for what it is – a cultural celebration. And I think I can embrace that.

I do wish that we had a different name for the two distinct celebrations – the cultural Christmas and the birth of Jesus. A different day would be even better. As I thought about that, I remembered hearing about Epiphany and decided to look it up on Google. I learned that Epiphany is the day when Christians celebrate the wise men coming. I learned that some people consider it a second Christmas and hold it in high regard as the day that God officially introduced himself to the Gentile world. I read about how people celebrate – taking down the tree, throwing Epiphany parties, eating cake with three beans hidden inside to decide who will represent the royal wisemen at the royal feast.

I knew that I wanted to mark the day but I wasn’t sure how. I asked my wise friend Jenny if she celebrates it and she replied:

My home school mentor celebrated by marking the holy nights (12 days of Christmas), when they were very introspective as a family, and kept things spiritually based. Basically, she said it’s a time to shed off the materialism of Christmas, and to really delve into focusing on Christ. … They also keep the tone of their home reverent by clearing out the old, and making quiet plans for the new year. … It’s been really lovely to just sink into it, and I feel this real relief of the “holidays’ and now it’s time to spend contemplating Christ. It’s like all the bustle and chaos is over, and it’s a simple, reflective time. Since she introduced the concept to me, I’ve really cherished it quietly.

And that right there is what I’ve been looking for. I love it.

Because it works, doesn’t it? For the rest of our society, Christmas is over on December 26. On Boxing Day, we shop. On New Years Eve, we party. On Jan 2, we see Valentine decorations on the shelves.

But as Christians, we can keep the Christmas party going. We can keep singing carols. We can feast some more. We can focus on Jesus. It’s like a secret Christmas that’s all ours.

Yesterday was our first time celebrating Epiphany. We tried our best to incorporate some traditions in a rushed, last-minute sort of way. We had a feast with the nice table cloth and wine glasses of grape juice and apple cider. We had a roasted chicken – well, rotisserie takeout – and we had cupcakes with (coffee) beans shoved inside two of them to determine who would represent the royalty at our feast. We read the bible story and we took down the tree. We had ice cream. Then we cobbled together some pretty star decorations to put on the walls, which helped make the room seem a little less dull now that the Christmas decorations are gone.

In all, it was a lovely evening. I can’t tell you how relaxed I felt as I ate dinner with my family. It was such a nice way to formally mark the end of the Christmas season, rather than our usual mom-couldn’t-stand-the-christmas-tree-taking-up-half-the-living-room-one-moment-longer-and-took-it-down-while-everyone-slept tradition that we usually follow.

What a blessing this second Christmas turned out to be. I love the days that I’m discovering in the liturgical calendar year – celebrations that I knew nothing about, that have been left untouched by the world. I feel like I’m discovering a whole secret side of my faith, rich with symbolism and beauty and even a touch of whimsy. And the Holiness that I’ve been craving.

Look for my post in the following link ups:

Think Tank Thursday / Mama Moments Mondays / From House to Home / WholeHearted Wednesday / Shine Blog Hop

Find me on Pinterest at www.pinterest.com/tea4tamara

January 7, 2016
Making Christmas

When it comes to Christmas shopping for my kids, I’m a believer in the “something to wear, something to read, something they want, something they need” guide. This gives each child four gifts and a stocking, plus a couple extra joint gifts from Santa to share as a family. It works for us.

This year was a different year for Christmas shopping. Instead of carefully writing out lists and choosing presents that would stretch our budget the furthest, James and I embraced extravagance. No one would be deprived this year! With no plan whatsoever, we went to a toy store and randomly bought things that we thought our kids would enjoy. Then on the way home, we bought them each a bike.

It was so much fun. Just this one year only, it wasn’t about finding something to fit the budget; it was about what would bring a smile on Christmas morning. Funny enough, not including the bikes (which we would have had to buy in the summer anyway), the kids still ended up with four gifts and a stocking, and a couple board games from Santa to share as a family. Not so extravagant after all, I guess.

Making Gifts

In addition to our lack of careful planning, this year was a bit different in that we ended up buying most of the other gifts, unlike most years when I try to make a good chunk of them myself.

I enjoy making gifts. Last year I made hand lotion bars for my friends and family, plus a couple cowls and a pair of Star Wars mittens. I knit at least one gift every year, I think. We’re also big fans of giving out food – usually cookies or nuts. When River was just three, we made gourmet hot chocolate mix for everyone. We even printed off photographs of her making the mix and the stuck them on the lids of the jars – who wouldn’t love something with this cutie on top?

How was this five years ago?!?!

My favourite handmade gifts to date are the dolls I made two years ago. I decided that each of our girls should have a beautiful, handmade Waldorf-style doll. They start at $100 each though, so I figured that I would save some money and make them myself. And, of course, this brainstorm didn’t hit me in October or even November – no, I ordered the fabric from Sewfunky on Etsy a mere two weeks before Christmas. Thankfully, Tanja helped me out by expertly sewing the body outline, meaning that I didn’t have to waste precious time learning how to sew knit fabrics on my old sewing machine.

The dolls themselves were fairly simple to make – more time consuming than anything. And because I apparently thrive on staying up for 12 days straight, I also knit each of the dolls a mermaid’s tail using this pattern on Ravelry. I don’t think that I slept for the entire two weeks, but it was worth it. The dolls were beautiful and my girls were thrilled.

Well, River was more thrilled than Harbour, though in Harbour’s defence, she wasn’t even three yet. But River was in love. She immediately knew that these dolls were special, and as the years have gone by, she’s grown even more attached to her “Madeline.” She sleeps with Madeline at night, often using the doll as a pillow. She talks to her, reads to her, plays with her. Madeline is everything to her that I hoped she would be.

Given how much she loves her doll, I wasn’t surprised that River included a small wish list for Madeline when she wrote out her letter to Santa this year. Aside from the knitted mermaid’s tail, I never made any doll clothes like I promised and River thought she might enjoy a few outfits. It was a reasonable request and I figured that I should get some in case Santa picked something else off her long (loooooong) list. And honestly, I’ve been meaning to make clothes for years – I’ve just never got around to it.

So with just two weeks left until Christmas, I put the girls to bed and then pulled up Ravelry.com to browse through knitting patterns. Nothing motivated me to cast on. I snuck into River’s room and stole her doll for inspiration.

I set up the doll beside my computer screen and took a good look at her. Geez, she was looking a bit rough. Her embroidery-thread mouth fell off well over a year ago, replaced with a mystery pen smudge. Madeline’s nose had completely disappeared too. And she was pretty flat from so many nights of doubling as a pillow.

Huh.

Maybe instead of making clothes, I should be fixing the dolls. Would taking them apart be foolish? Would I be able to put them back together?

But how hard could it be? I’d just need to take the head off of the body, add some stuffing and then stitch it back on. And this would be a chance to fix the stitching around the neck, which I’ve never been satisfied with. When I first made the dolls, I tried to hide it with a fabric band, but it almost makes the flaw stand out more.

I put the doll down and searched Google for a tutorial on how to attach doll heads. I picked a video at random and quickly learned how simple it is. Seriously, where were all these videos two years ago?

Well, my mind was made up. With about two weeks until Christmas, I decided to rip the heads off my children’s beloved dolls. I felt like this had the potential to ruin the whole holiday.

First, I took Harbour’s doll. I figured that if I screwed it up horribly, Harbour wouldn’t be as upset as River. In fact, she probably wouldn’t even notice at all. I put on some Christmas music, grabbed the small scissors from my sewing kit and starting snipping at the stitches. The neck band came off easily, followed by the head. There was no turning back now. I let out the breath that I didn’t know I was holding in.

There is something disturbing about a disembodied doll’s head lying on the floor. Of course, that’s the moment that River chose to get out of bed and join me in the living room.

“What are you doing?” she demanded to know. “Are you fixing the doll?”

“Uh huh”, I replied, in what I hoped was a confident, not-panicking voice.

“Are you going to do that to Madeline?” she asked next.

“Depends on how this one goes,” I answered. “We’ll decided together.”

River was fascinated by the process. She quickly returned Madeline to the bedroom to spare her any emotional trauma and then came back to watch. I let her stay up for an extra half hour and she sat beside me on the floor, silently passing me wool to stuff inside the doll’s head. More and more wool went in, filling it out. It was unreal how much we stuffed in there. When I didn’t think any more would fit, I just pushed harder. Once the head was perfectly round, I started on the body. Soon the legs were thicker, the belly was rounder and the shoulders were stiffer. I must have added a good 50% more wool in total. Finally, long after I sent River to bed for the second time that night, I stitched the head back on the body.

It turned out beautifully. The doll looked so good. The final touch was a bit of red on the cheeks using a red wax crayon. Good as new.

Can you see the difference? I’m sorry, I know the features are hard to see in this photograph. Harbour’s doll is the one on the left with pale grey eyes. Her body is plumper, her neck is much cleaner, and her head is rounder.

The next morning, I showed the doll to River and she decided that her beloved Madeline could use some restoration as well. This, of course, was far more nerve-racking. I waited until River was out for the evening at a Christmas party, took a deep breath, and started snipping away.

River’s doll turned out to be trickier to fix than Harbour’s had been. I had to reshape the head almost from scratch. I decided to add a nose – a needle-felted ball of wool sewn into place. I added a mouth and rosy cheeks. Again, I added a good 50% more wool to the doll, then started restitching her just as River returned home. River was a bit taken aback at how different her doll looked, but she was pleased at how beautiful it turned out. I’m not sure she’s sold on the nose yet, although I’ve pointed out that the doll had a nose when she first got it.

I’m so glad that I took those two nights to work on the dolls because they taught me a lesson.

As I sat on the floor and stitched away, I was very aware of how content I felt.

You see, lately I’ve been overwhelmed. The girls are at each other’s throats 24/7 and every time I turn around, Forest is into mischief. He also just cut four teeth, which means he hasn’t slept well in weeks. Given how frazzled I’ve been feeling, I very consciously tried to avoid making gifts for everyone this year. I didn’t want to put that extra stress on myself. I thought I was sparing myself.

Yet, with that being said, those two evenings when I sat beside River working on the dolls, when I had Christmas music playing softly and the lights were lit on the tree – those two evenings were my favourite time of the whole month. They were magical. Sure, the shopping for the gifts was fun, and watching the girls open the gifts was fun. But they didn’t bring me that deep sense of happiness that I had as I worked with my hands to make something beautiful.

I didn’t realize until that evening that I had deprived myself of something I love this year. Handmade gifts, even simple ones, are special. Next year, I’ll try to remember that the act of making gifts, no matter how small, is part of what makes Christmas special to me.

And with any luck, I’ll remember that in October, rather than two weeks before Christmas Day.

This post has been linked up with:

• Keep Calm Craft On
• The Art of Home-Making Mondays
• Think Tank Thursday
• Homestead Blog Hop

December 31, 2015
The Sweater Reveal

This past month has been stupidly hot. And I don’t like hot. I lie around on the couch moaning to anyone that will listen, which is pretty much only the baby – he likes it when I lie down because then he can stab his sharp little fingernails up my nose.

At one point as I lay on the couch I was certain that I was melting – literally melting – and then I realized it was just my own tears of misery. Because I am a wuss when it comes to summer.

But this week? This week there has been a hint of fall in the air. And last night, when I suddenly remembered that we left ALL THE TOYS in the backyard, I realized that it was a touch too chilly and a lot too mosquito-infested for me to risk going out in bare arms.

Cue the sweater. And not just any sweater – the sweater.

Remember sweater that I started a year or so ago? The sweater that people cruelly implied that I’d never finish, simply because I rarely finish anything? Pfffft. Precedent.

Well, I wore that sweater last night and it was delightful. The soft, warm wool protected my delicate arms from both the cold and the mosquitoes, directing them towards my exposed ankles instead. Bliss.

In case you’re new to my blog, let me introduce you to this sweater. I bought the wool in the fall of 2013 to celebrate gettig my dream job with a organization that promotes Waldorf education. The wool embodied the hope I had with this potential new work, and it also provided some comfort when I left the job a month later. Booo.

Oh well, I’m not one to stop knitting just because of a little emotional set back. I slowly started to knit a pullover and I was fairly happy with my progress – until I discovered a few months later that I was pregnant with Forest.

I realized that a cardigan would be more practical for nursing, so I ripped out the pullover and I began my sweater again in cardigan form in the early months of 2014 (taking a long break in the summer to knit a bunch of adorable longies for the baby). And when our sweet baby was finally born, I kept on knitting my sweater as he slept in my lap, waking every so often to swat away the yarn that draped across his face.

Remember these photos?

WIP #1: A New Project on the Needles (September 4, 2014) – I remember this photo. I thought that there was a chance I could have the sweater done by the baby’s arrival. Ha ha ha. Pregnant women think the silliest things.

WIP #2: A Nine-Month Project is Complete (September 24, 2014) I took this photo after taking a bunch of pictures of our new little baby. It’s crazy how different the yarn colour is from photo to photo. It must have been a late afternoon sun or something.

WIP #3: Han Solo Mittens (October 16, 2014) – Starting the arms! Progress stalled after this as I worked on some epic mittens and a few gorgeous cowls for Christmas.

And now it’s done! With buttons and blocking and everything! Yeah, baby!

Sigh. I can’t even believe that when I downloaded this pattern, our baby boy was just a teeny tiny little being, still months and months away from being born.

Oh, the cuteness. This guy kills me.

With fall around the corner, he’s going to need a vest or two. I’ve already picked them out – Griffin by Georgie Hallam and Snowy Penguin Vest by ChemKnits. I’ve already started a couple projects for myself too – Gale by Alicia Plummer and Reyna by Noora Laivola. I promised a Little House Shawl or two for the girls as well. Mmmmmm… so much wool.

I’m so glad that summer is almost over.

This post has been linked to Ginny’s Yarn Along and Frontier Dream’s Keep Calm Craft On.

August 26, 2015
My Misadventures with Chalk Paint

My husband and I took the girls to a frog exhibit a few weeks ago. When we passed by the gift shop, the girls noticed the small aquariums with the African Dwarf Frogs for sale. They of course asked if we could buy one and I of course said no and my husband of course said yes and so, of course, I vowed that he will not be coming out with us anywhere ever again.

Luckily we didn’t buy a frog right then – my husband figured they’d be cheaper at a fish store and that we could use one of the five aquariums that we have stashed in the basement. Perfect, I thought. Everyone will forget about buying a frog by the time we get home.

Never underestimate the determination of a man with five empty aquariums.

The next day, my husband wandered from room to room, trying to find an acceptable place to set up. We finally agreed that it would go on top of the credenza that’s behind the couch (and by credenza I mean the old dresser that was passed down to us).

Picking a Paint Colour

You might remember this dresser from my kitchen, pre-reno. White. Kind of boring. I’ve been meaning to paint it for the last year or two or seven but I never had the time or motivation. Suddenly I knew it had to be painted immediately or I wouldn’t get the chance again until we upgrade to a larger tank. And goodness knows I’m going to fight that with every fibre of my being.

When I saw my husband hauling aquariums up from the basement, I knew I didn’t have long. I pulled out my collection of chalk paint sample jars and started holding them up to the couch, squinting at them through one eye and then the other. My husband looked at me with disbelief, certain that I was just looking for ways to stall his aquarium set up.

I promised that if he would just let me paint, everything would be done by the next day. And that it wouldn’t even cost anything since I already had everything I needed. I even had clear wax for finishing.

But first I had to decide on a colour. I knew I had to pick fast – no time to paint sample swatches. I turned to Facebook instead.

I got some good advice and lots of encouragement and one perfectly-timed quip:

The general consensus was that my favourite, the light aqua colour, wouldn’t look terrible. Good enough. That I needed so that evening I grabbed a brush and started painting.

The paint went on beautifully and the colour was gorgeous. But when I stepped back to admire my work, I realized that the aqua was somehow different than I expected and I was pretty sure I hated it. It looked terrible with my couch.

Uh oh.

Also? I was running out of paint, which was going to put me over my budget of “spending nothing.”

The next morning, I sat on a chair and stared at the dresser. The morning light was more flattering but I still wasn’t certain that I liked it. Then I threw a chartreuse-coloured table runner over top and suddenly, like magic, it was perfect. The table runner colour matched both my couch AND my new turquoise dresser and I was much happier.

Sealing the Paint with Wax

As soon as my husband woke up, I left him with the kids and drove across town to buy more paint so I could finish up. I also decided to switch my clear wax for dark wax after an hour or two of looking at chalk-painted projects on Pinterest.

The dark wax adds more depth and an aged look and seemed easy enough to use. Thankfully, the store was kind enough to exchange my clear wax for dark wax. I asked if I’d need supplies, since most people used fancy wax brushes in the YouTube tutorials that I watched.

“Nope, just a cloth, like an old t-shirt.”

Perfect. I went home with my paint and new dark wax.

We finished up the painting that afternoon. The drawers were painted a slightly different colour, a green/turquoise blend, on the suggestion of my seven year old and over all, the dresser looked fabulous. I love chalk paint.

My husband wasn’t convince though. “This stuff scratches right off?! It’s useless!”

“Well that’s what the wax is for,” I assured him. “It seals the paint.”

That evening, I was set to wax the dresser. My husband was raring to get the fish tank set up so I had to finish my project ASAP.

“Are you going to do it in the living room?” he asked. I thought I would. I mean, the wax has virtually no odour; I specifically asked about that when I bought my can of clear wax a couple months back. The sweet girl working at the store assuring me that it hardly smells at all – she even let me smell an open can and I could barely detect an odour. After all, it’s wax, right? That word makes me think of happy bees.

My husband looked at the can. “It says you need a layer of clear wax first.”

“What? No it doesn’t.”

“Yes, right here.”

“Nobody told me that!” It was 5:30. The store was closed for the day.

The next morning, as soon as my husband woke up, I left him with the kids and I drove across town to buy more wax.

When I got home, my husband asked once again if I wouldn’t prefer to wax it in the garage. Sigh. Oh, fine. We (okay, he) hauled the dresser downstairs and into the garage and finally I got to work.

As the World Turns

The wax actually did have an odor once you start to work with it, but it was tolerable. I happily worked on the six drawers, and then I stood up straight the garage suddenly tilted a bit to the left.

Whoa. I attributed my shakiness to the sudden change in temperature – the garage is way colder than our living room.

Just to be safe, I closed the door from the garage to the house so that they wouldn’t smell it upstairs.

I began to work on the dresser body. My head started to feel terrible. I opened the garage door, despite the fact that it was 15° below zero. I worked as fast as I could so that I could get away from the wax. What kind of sadistic bees made this stuff? Probably the petroleum-based, man-made kind of bees.

Finally I went upstairs and casually mentioned to my husband that I didn’t feel so good.

“Because you’re as high as a kite?” he asked.

Um … what? I was confused. I definitely wasn’t as high as a kite – maybe a telephone pole, but certainly not a kite. And the thought of a kite spinning through the air was making my head feel worse. Do kites spin? I don’t know. I leaned against the refrigerator.

My husband walked to the back of the house to open the bedroom windows.

“We can smell it back here,” he called. “I was just coming to open the garage door.”

I sank to the floor, still leaning against the fridge. “I opened the door 15 minutes ago, but I didn’t know it it was that bad.” I responded weakly.

This was actually comical – I’m always complaining that his model paints stink and opening the windows dramatically while my husband swears he doesn’t smell a thing.

I closed my eyes. “Some of the YouTube tutorial videos were inside. Nobody mentioned the smell in them.”

My husband came back to the kitchen and opened both windows wide.

“One video even had a kid making faces behind her mother. And another one had a baby laughing adorably somewhere off camera.” I continued feebly.

“Maybe they used a different wax.” he suggested.

I lay across the floor. “No, it’s the same name brand and there are only two options, clear and dark.”

“Well then maybe the laughing baby was high too.” he responded.

“That’s a terrible thing to say!” then suddenly I realized my three children were all exposed to this horrid stuff too and immediately began to cry. Because, you know, I was pretty loopy.

“I’ve damaged our baby!” I blubbered. “Can he breathe? Is he okay?” And then I whispered “Am I going to die?”

I should probably mention at this point that I have the same reaction to fabric softener and perfume and scented room plug-ins. Walking down the detergent aisle at the grocery store is akin to torture. I might be a teeny bit sensitive to chemicals. And a touch hypocondriac.

My husband looked at me and gave me an encouraging hug. Because sometimes the only thing you can do when your overly-sensitive wife is sprawled across the kitchen floor crying that the baby has just caught cancer is to just humour her as best you can. And hide your laughter.

“No, Tamara, people huff turpentine and paint thinner and stuff like that to get high. On purpose.”

I don’t know if that’s true, but it was encouraging.

We left the garage door open for the rest of the day.

The next day, I woke up with a sore throat but a clear head. My husband asked me if I was planning to do coat of dark wax. Are you kidding me? I told him that I wanted that stuff out of my house as soon as possible.

For some reason, my husband decided that he would do it himself. He assured me that he would wear a mask and gloves and have the garage door open and even seal the door between the house and the garage with duct tape before he started. I told him that I wasn’t certain that I wanted to sacrifice my husband in the pursuit of pretty furniture but he didn’t listen and off he went to the garage.

An hour later, he came back inside and had a coffee. He wasn’t bothered in the least. That’s annoying.

We left the garage door open all day again. The next day, we brought the drawers up to the living room, but even though I tried to pretend they weren’t bothering me, my husband brought them right back down with barely a word and opened the garage door again to air them out.

The next day, we brought everything up and admired our work. It was over zero outside and I figured this might be out only chance to throw open all the windows if we needed to (clearly I had no idea today was going to be so nice).

Anyway, it’s done. Isn’t it gorgeous? I love the colours so, so much.

I don’t know if I’m ready to paint anything else though. I might try something small and using a different brand of wax. I’ve heard of a Canadian brand that uses actual beeswax and is supposed to smell amazing. I might even try my own concoction. Or I might just wait until a windy summer when I can be sure the breeze will carry any offending odor quickly away. From my husband. I’m not touching that stuff again.

I’ve had a sore throat for a couple days now but I’m not sure if it’s related to this adventure. I’m not seeing double anymore, although I suppose that wouldn’t be the worst thing. This dresser turned out so well that I wouldn’t even mind seeing two of them, spinning around above me with a kite or two as I lay on the kitchen floor.

March 10, 2015
Our Nursery is Done!

This post contains affiliate links.

Last night we finished decorating the baby’s room. Yeah, yeah, I know he’ll be five months old on Saturday, but what can I say? He’s kept us busy.

When we first decided to give him a room of his own, we weren’t even planning to decorate it. I mean, sure, I figured eventually we’d paint over the pink walls someday, but I certainly wasn’t in any rush. Why would a baby care what colour his walls are?

Then, a week before my due date, the nesting instinct kicked into overdrive and I went to the store to buy a gallon of paint, some curtains and a throw pillow. I’m not sure my husband totally believed me when I told him that we would be redoing the room that day, but when he saw me and my 39-week belly pulling furniture away from the wall, he knew he had no choice but to help out. So that day he edged and I rollered and Harbour tasted and we freaked out because eating paint can NOT be good for you — and then before we knew it, the room was a gorgeous shade of aqua. A fresh new colour for our little bundle of boy.

Didn’t it turn out great? I love the colours. And half of the stuff we used to decorate with was already stashed in our basement so the makeover was pretty cheap.

Like these adorably retro alphabet cards – I bought them years ago when we first decided to try homeschooling River. I downloaded the files for free from Handmade Home and then had them printed on cardstock at Staples – the whole set cost me maybe $10-$15 in total? The cards match the room so perfectly that you’d think that the whole colour scheme off of them.

This print came from Etsy too. I bought it on a whim because it’s fun and it matches the room perfectly and I like the idea of using a fair or carnival as a decorating theme someday.

The fabric bunting cost me next to nothing. I raided the discount section of Fabricland for orange printed fabric, and then I cut it into strips and tied the pieces to some twine along with the alphabet cards. Quick and colourful and easy.

These lanterns were packed away in the basement. They’re a hit — the baby loves staring at them. Or maybe he’s afraid that they’re going to fall down on his head and crush him — it’s hard to say. I originally made little paper baskets to hang under them so they’d look like whimsical hot air balloons – that’s why there are little flags around the middle. But the baskets looked awful. A total Pinterest fail. Oh well, you can’t win all the time.

And, well… these are just some wraps. Sorry, I know they don’t have anything to do with the room decor, but what can I say? I’m easily distracted by pretty wraps.

And by babies too.

Munch, munch, munch.

Back to the nursery. We just moved this chaise up from the basement last week. I’m far to lazy for rocking chairs — I like to put my feet up when I nurse. This is the Kivik chaise from Ikea and it’s ridiculously comfortable. I love having it in the nursery — it was going to waste in the basement. Now I can put up my feet, quietly watch Downton Abbey on the iPad and knit while the baby sleeps. That is, if the girls haven’t already grabbed a book and claimed it for themselves. I don’t blame them though. It’s a delightful room to be in.

Curious about the teaforthree.ca copyright? That’s the name of my old blog. Not stolen, just never rebranded! 🙂

February 18, 2015
Simple Birthdays

It snowed on Sunday, just like it did four years ago when Harbour was born.

I remember going to pick up the birthing tub at the midwives four years ago. It was the day before her birthday – I was 40 weeks + 2 days. The midwives told me that a wicked winter storm was coming and that if I wanted a home birth, I’d have to deliver my baby before the snow arrived. Harbour, ever so compliant, was born early the next afternoon, right before 25 cm of snow was dumped on us by the “2011 Groundhog Day Blizzard.”

Four years ago, it felt like her birth day would never come. I was tired of being pregnant. I was just tired of waiting. This year, however, her birthday came all too quickly and I felt completely unprepared.

We didn’t do anything fancy – at four years old, just having family over for supper is exciting enough. So we invited her oma, poppa, grandma and pops, plus my cousins and my aunt and uncle. There was pizza and cake and gifts and I’m pretty sure she thought it was all fantastic.

Even so, part of me feels bad that we didn’t do something more, though I’m not sure exactly what that would even be.

My mom was always so good at birthdays when I was growing up. I’d wake up to an apartment full of balloons and streamers strung from corner to corner to corner. My mom would even twist two colours together to make the streamers extra fancy. Try as I might, I can barely get a single colour streamer to stay up on the wall. We tried in November for River’s birthday – I’m pretty sure my husband ended up using duct tape to keep them up. Clearly the skill of streamer manipulation was not passed down to my generation.

Harbour didn’t seem to mind the lack of decorations. Having a clean house was probably special enough. And I use the term “house” loosely – a “half of the main floor” would be more accurate.

We didn’t go all out on gifts either. This year we each made her something. My husband made a cake – a beautiful double-layer chocolate cake with pink buttercream icing. It was, of course, amazing. You’d never know it was gluten-free.

River made a book. She drew the pictures and then dictated the story to my mother, who typed out the text. Then I scanned the pictures and added the text and shipped the file off to Staples to be printed on glossy paper and spiral-bound.

I knit a stuffed toy – it’s Totoro from the movie My Neighbour Totoro. I’m more or less satisfied with how it turned out. The pattern I chose ended up being very unclear – I wish I had picked a different one because I had to just wing it while knitting as fast as I could. In general, the crochet patterns I found were much nicer but I’m not as comfortable crocheting – trying to crochet an entire project in less than 48 hours seemed doomed to fail.

Originally, I was going to make a felt birthday crown too, like the ones I’ve made for my older daughter’s last two birthdays. However, on Saturday I couldn’t find my felt and didn’t want to spend valuable knitting time driving to the store and back so I decided not to make one after all. I was already second-guessing the crown at that point – Harbour doesn’t like things tight around her head. I could barely get her to try on another crown so that I could judge the sizing. I’ll start making her crowns next year instead.

So that was it from us. A cake, a book and a stuffed toy. Does that seem like too little? I’m not sure.

Part of me is thrilled that we had such a simple celebration. It’s the kind of birthday that I always wished that we could do. Simple. Small. So why do I feel like I let her down?

Maybe it’s because the day didn’t feel intentionally simple – it just sort of turned out that way. I was too tired to do anything else. I’m too tired to plan. We were all sick this week, but beyond that, I’ve been exhausted for weeks. My thoughts are disjointed. My ambition comes and goes. I don’t feel rested when I wake up in the mornings.

I don’t know. I wish I had made the day more special for her because she really is a special girl.

The funny thing is, I think she had a great time at her party. I’m the only one that I disappointed.

I know there’s a take away lesson here – simple celebrations are fine? Presents don’t make the party? I think the lesson might be that I should some pretty birthday bunting that doesn’t require scotch tape or twisting, but I’m not sure yet. Thankfully, our baby’s birthday is still 8 months away, so I’ve got time to figure it out.

February 3, 2015