"You are such a stinker."
"This family is crazy."
"Our house is going to be spic and span."
"Mom, you are Eugene-ious." (I think she meant a genius but has been listening to too much Eugene on Adventures in Odyssey lately)
These are the accolades my children were singing to me as they helped me with my latest invention: The Consequences Jars
First, we hav the "Uh-Oh, We were fighting so now we will work together to..." jar. Second we have the "Oops, I failed to put something away so now I have to sing "I Will Leave My Place" while I*..., and finally we have the "Oh Dear, I really blew it this time. To help me remember not to do this again, I will..."
Each jar is filled with possible punishments for each crime. Some of my favorites include:
(For the duo found fighting)
-Make a list of 10 things you love about Mom
-Act out the story of Little Bunny Foo Foo to everyone in the house
-Write a letter to someone out of state and make sure it gets mailed
-Think of 5 perfect ingredients for Party Mix, write them on the grocery list (no more than 2 sugary treats, please). When Mom purchases your items, make the Party Mix together
-Play a King's Strings or Suzuki song together
-Write a song about getting along and sing it to Mom
-Wash each other's feet and clean up the foot washing supplies
-Take the sheets off of both your beds, take the dirty sheets to the laundry room, and help each other put clean sheets on your beds
-Choose one of each of your scrapbooks and look at them together
(For the forgetful one who didn't put something away, remember the child must also sing while completing this task)
-Tell Mom the story of The Little Red Hen
-Research cleaning uses for baking soda or vinegar and choose one to try (no need to sing with this one)
-Rub Dad's feet for 10 minutes
-Make up a new cleaning song and sing it to Mom
-Draw a picture of yourself picking items off the floor with Mom and Dad in the background smiling really BIG
-No singing but you need to say, "I am a cleaning machine" 10 times, in 10 different voices
Of course there are also typical tasks such as vacuuming an area of the house, scrubbing a bathtub, or sorting socks. There are even a few cards that say, "You are FREE!"
Now I just need to wait for my next victim. I mean, test subject.
Oh, here they come now. Let's listen in:
"I'm never fighting with anyone in this house again."
"Oh, yeah? You can't do that!"
"Why not?"
Oh yeah, this should be good.
*The "I Will Leave My Place" song is sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells", Lyrics as follows:
I will leave
I will leave
I will leave my place
Better than
Better than
Better than I found it
I will leave
I will leave
I will leave my place
Better than
Better than
Better than I found it.
Hey!
Monday, February 13, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Dorothy at church
This is proof that I have matured and mellowed in my 16 1/2 years of parenting.
Previously, I would never have allowed my child to wear Dorothy's red slippers to church on a Sunday morning. I also would not have allowed my child to wear clothes that are too big.
This morning I did both. I told her that she was lucky she was Child #7, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten away with it.
I don't think she understood the significance of that statement. Child #1, on the other hand, understood completely.
Previously, I would never have allowed my child to wear Dorothy's red slippers to church on a Sunday morning. I also would not have allowed my child to wear clothes that are too big.
This morning I did both. I told her that she was lucky she was Child #7, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten away with it.
I don't think she understood the significance of that statement. Child #1, on the other hand, understood completely.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
31 days dare
We moved to this area when Isaac was 2 1/2. Since the older three children had already started to excel on the violin, it was important to us that we find a teacher who would continue the excellent instruction they had begun. We were given a list of the Pennsylvania certified Suzuki teachers and told "good luck." Not knowing a whole lot about the area, and how far various places were, I just started calling. Our former teacher had given us some questions to ask potential teachers including, "Do you continue to take classes in Suzuki instruction?" As I asked one potential teacher this question, she started to laugh, and said, "I teach those classes!" Okay, then.
She asked that the kids audition for her, so we packed up the crew of four (oh, those were the days, we had it so easy then) and drove to her beautiful home situated on the banks of the Susquehanna River. After listening to each of the older children, she agreed that she would take them on as her students. Then she pointed to Isaac and said, "But I'm really interested in that one. I start a new 3-year old class every other year and will be starting one this fall. I like to have at least three children in the group and need one more." Well, we had never started any of the children that young before and I wasn't really interested in doing so at this time. We discussed it a little more and she finally spoke the clincher: "I'll only charge you half price." Deal! Even better was that she taught with her partner so rather than sitting at her house for 2+ hours while she taught 4 children, we only had to be there for an hour.
Suzuki students usually start on a box violin; a pseudo instrument made from a macaroni and cheese box with a paint stirrer neck. The bow is made from a dowel rod and block of wood. It makes sense to practice on something not as breakable as a real instrument. When Isaac was finally ready for his first real instrument, being younger than the other children when they began, we needed to get a smaller instrument. So we searched ebay (like always) and won the bid for a 1/10 size violin. When it arrived in the mail Isaac proudly took it out of its case, moved the bow across the strings, looked down at the instrument and said, "It not workin'."
It not workin'. That phrase has become a common one in our house, used by one and all. Just last night I was talking to John about a frustrating situation with a particular child and said, "It not workin'."
So I've been thinkin', a dangerous pastime, I know (as they say in Beauty and the Beast). And if it not workin', then that means something probably needs to change. And the one to change probably needs to be me.
As I was thinking, I came across a list of 31 Days to Loving Your Husband Better, or something like that. It sounded like a good idea, and one that I promise I'll come back to. But in the meantime, I realized that maybe I could try the 31 Days to Loving This Child Better. Sort of a purposeful 31 days of prayer meets the Love Dare, but for a child, not my husband. Make sense? I think so. I'm working on my list and will post as I figure it out and try it out.
Maybe I'm the only one who sometimes struggles to love a child like I should. If so, then I'm writing this so you can hold me accountable. Or maybe everyone else has already thought of this and I'm just a little slow. But if I'm not the only one, then maybe my 31 Days challenge can help someone else, too.
Stay tuned.
She asked that the kids audition for her, so we packed up the crew of four (oh, those were the days, we had it so easy then) and drove to her beautiful home situated on the banks of the Susquehanna River. After listening to each of the older children, she agreed that she would take them on as her students. Then she pointed to Isaac and said, "But I'm really interested in that one. I start a new 3-year old class every other year and will be starting one this fall. I like to have at least three children in the group and need one more." Well, we had never started any of the children that young before and I wasn't really interested in doing so at this time. We discussed it a little more and she finally spoke the clincher: "I'll only charge you half price." Deal! Even better was that she taught with her partner so rather than sitting at her house for 2+ hours while she taught 4 children, we only had to be there for an hour.
Suzuki students usually start on a box violin; a pseudo instrument made from a macaroni and cheese box with a paint stirrer neck. The bow is made from a dowel rod and block of wood. It makes sense to practice on something not as breakable as a real instrument. When Isaac was finally ready for his first real instrument, being younger than the other children when they began, we needed to get a smaller instrument. So we searched ebay (like always) and won the bid for a 1/10 size violin. When it arrived in the mail Isaac proudly took it out of its case, moved the bow across the strings, looked down at the instrument and said, "It not workin'."
It not workin'. That phrase has become a common one in our house, used by one and all. Just last night I was talking to John about a frustrating situation with a particular child and said, "It not workin'."
So I've been thinkin', a dangerous pastime, I know (as they say in Beauty and the Beast). And if it not workin', then that means something probably needs to change. And the one to change probably needs to be me.
As I was thinking, I came across a list of 31 Days to Loving Your Husband Better, or something like that. It sounded like a good idea, and one that I promise I'll come back to. But in the meantime, I realized that maybe I could try the 31 Days to Loving This Child Better. Sort of a purposeful 31 days of prayer meets the Love Dare, but for a child, not my husband. Make sense? I think so. I'm working on my list and will post as I figure it out and try it out.
Maybe I'm the only one who sometimes struggles to love a child like I should. If so, then I'm writing this so you can hold me accountable. Or maybe everyone else has already thought of this and I'm just a little slow. But if I'm not the only one, then maybe my 31 Days challenge can help someone else, too.
Stay tuned.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Pinning vs. filing
I finally did it. I held off as long as I could but I gave in. The pressure was great, people kept asking me if I'd caved, but I held out. Until about 2 weeks ago and I just had to see what it was all about. I gave in, conceded, caved. I yielded, buckled, succumbed. I joined Pinterest.
And yes, it is addicting. I saw one woman who had 14,281 pins. How or why does one get 14, 281 pins? Has the new American motto suddenly become, "The one has the most pins, wins?" And boards titled "Dream Home" and "Someday"? If we don't watch it, Pinterest might just become the wholesaler for seeds of discontent.
Apparently I and these other folk have different motives behind our pinning. For me, Pinterest has become my new filing cabinet. You know those drawers and drawers of teaching and parenting files that my husband has had to move from one house to the other through the years? And sometimes even one room to the other as we remodeled and reorganized to fit yet another child. Yeah, well, I have been trying to weed through them for years and I have thrown away many of them. Now I am down to only five drawers. Hey, I thought that was pretty good.
The problem with files and filing cabinets is that when the drawers are closed, they are out of sight and out of mind. The nice thing about using Pinterest as my new online filing cabinet is that the ideas are right there when I open my computer. We've already made several nice meals and enjoyed delectable desserts. And my sewing closet is getting emptier although to the untrained eye it's still pretty cluttered.
So this is my latest Pinterest project. I found it online for sale but decided I could make it just as easily. Eden had just given me these tutus, saying she didn't use them for dress-up clothes anymore. A project that includes upcycling, recycling, and de-cluttering is a definite win.
And Eden's bag was the center of attention at dance class tonight. John's already afraid to take HopeAnne to her class on Monday because he says he knows what the ladies will be clucking about this week.
Anyone else have a tutu in the back of a closet somewhere? I could take that off your hands...
And yes, it is addicting. I saw one woman who had 14,281 pins. How or why does one get 14, 281 pins? Has the new American motto suddenly become, "The one has the most pins, wins?" And boards titled "Dream Home" and "Someday"? If we don't watch it, Pinterest might just become the wholesaler for seeds of discontent.
Apparently I and these other folk have different motives behind our pinning. For me, Pinterest has become my new filing cabinet. You know those drawers and drawers of teaching and parenting files that my husband has had to move from one house to the other through the years? And sometimes even one room to the other as we remodeled and reorganized to fit yet another child. Yeah, well, I have been trying to weed through them for years and I have thrown away many of them. Now I am down to only five drawers. Hey, I thought that was pretty good.
The problem with files and filing cabinets is that when the drawers are closed, they are out of sight and out of mind. The nice thing about using Pinterest as my new online filing cabinet is that the ideas are right there when I open my computer. We've already made several nice meals and enjoyed delectable desserts. And my sewing closet is getting emptier although to the untrained eye it's still pretty cluttered.
So this is my latest Pinterest project. I found it online for sale but decided I could make it just as easily. Eden had just given me these tutus, saying she didn't use them for dress-up clothes anymore. A project that includes upcycling, recycling, and de-cluttering is a definite win.
And Eden's bag was the center of attention at dance class tonight. John's already afraid to take HopeAnne to her class on Monday because he says he knows what the ladies will be clucking about this week.
Anyone else have a tutu in the back of a closet somewhere? I could take that off your hands...
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Doughnuts for school
Every child in this house has been homeschooled at one time or other. I'll admit it; I was never going to homeschool. I was a teacher, right? And children belong in the classroom with a teacher who has spent a lot of money learning how to be a teacher.
Then two formerly homeschooled students came to my classroom. This just solidified it for me. Neither one of them was ready for the great big world of "other children". They were socially unable to play well with others. On top of that, before the first day of school, each set of parents made certain to tell me over-and-over again that their child was homeschooled, gifted above all of the other students, would certainly be heads and tails above all the other students, and I would need to make sure their child was not bored in my class. Well, I guess if you compare Johnny to Johnny, he will always be gifted, the best in his class, the shining star. Maybe I didn't have the best examples of homeschooling in front of me, but it did solidify my decision never to homeschool.
Then there were all those homeschooling families that told me that because I was a Christian I had to homeschool. They had quite persuasive arguments, including the fact that they never have bad days, but always lost me when I asked, "In exactly which verse of the Bible do you see, "Thou shalt only homeschool"? I call these folks militant homeschoolers and I stay far away. I know I'm not the only one who's been hurt by these parents who seem to take great pride in their homeschooling and fail to see that God does not exist in a one-size-fits all plan of parenting. He needs all kids, with all kinds of gifts and talents, to be trained "in the way they should go" so that they are ready to do His will. Homeschooling may be part of the plan for some kids, but most definitely not for all.
But my mom always told me, never say never and when life circumstances brought us to a place of considering homeschooling, my life flashed before my eyes. I asked my eldest what he thought of the idea. Prior to this, at any suggestion of not being able to go to school, my second grader would have a conniption. I was certain that this was a good sign that we were not to homeschool. But this time? He quietly answered, "Sure." So I told God one year, absolutely no more, just until we all heal. Well, you can see how that all turned out for me. God knew what we needed. He also, of course, knows when and if it's time for each child to go to real school. But that's another story for another day.
In the meantime we plod along day-by-day. Some days we are one, big, happy, homeschooling family, just like the militants would like you to believe is the norm. More often, I'm a stressed out mom and teacher, lesson planner for four, mother to seven, meal planner for nine. So what do we do when life gets tough? We laugh. Even as I leave for another stay at the Funny Farm, I'm sure to hear the laughter as the door bangs behind me. What do we find so funny? Well, homeschooling, of course!
Here's a little glimpse into the (stereo) typical day of the homeschooling family:
Mariana: Mom, since I'm making donuts, can I count this for school?
Me: Hmmm, where exactly do you see school in this project?
Mariana: Well, I wrote the ingredients on your grocery list so that's writing. Then I read the recipe so that's reading. I learned that donut can be spelled doughnut for an excellent spelling lesson. I had to measure the ingredients which gives me math and there's definitely science in the process. I should get health credit because I know these are not healthy. And I listened to my ipod so that's music.
Me: Don't forget the fact that you found the recipe online so that's computer ed. You told me what you were doing and that's kind of like a speech. And you almost burnt the house down with the hot oil, thereby getting a freebie lesson in fire safety. Maybe some art credit for the abstract powdered sugar designs on the tops of your donuts? You walked between the fridge, sink, and stove so your steps could count for gym class. Just add a timeline of the history of the donut and you've got social studies. Wow! I'm on a roll here. Wait, that's a pun. Get it? Now you've got an English lesson, too.
Mariana: So, do I get a day of school out of this?
Me: Call it Family and Consumer Sciences and we have a deal. Now go get all of your other subjects done. Oh, and change your clothes. You look like a homeschooler.
Then two formerly homeschooled students came to my classroom. This just solidified it for me. Neither one of them was ready for the great big world of "other children". They were socially unable to play well with others. On top of that, before the first day of school, each set of parents made certain to tell me over-and-over again that their child was homeschooled, gifted above all of the other students, would certainly be heads and tails above all the other students, and I would need to make sure their child was not bored in my class. Well, I guess if you compare Johnny to Johnny, he will always be gifted, the best in his class, the shining star. Maybe I didn't have the best examples of homeschooling in front of me, but it did solidify my decision never to homeschool.
Then there were all those homeschooling families that told me that because I was a Christian I had to homeschool. They had quite persuasive arguments, including the fact that they never have bad days, but always lost me when I asked, "In exactly which verse of the Bible do you see, "Thou shalt only homeschool"? I call these folks militant homeschoolers and I stay far away. I know I'm not the only one who's been hurt by these parents who seem to take great pride in their homeschooling and fail to see that God does not exist in a one-size-fits all plan of parenting. He needs all kids, with all kinds of gifts and talents, to be trained "in the way they should go" so that they are ready to do His will. Homeschooling may be part of the plan for some kids, but most definitely not for all.
But my mom always told me, never say never and when life circumstances brought us to a place of considering homeschooling, my life flashed before my eyes. I asked my eldest what he thought of the idea. Prior to this, at any suggestion of not being able to go to school, my second grader would have a conniption. I was certain that this was a good sign that we were not to homeschool. But this time? He quietly answered, "Sure." So I told God one year, absolutely no more, just until we all heal. Well, you can see how that all turned out for me. God knew what we needed. He also, of course, knows when and if it's time for each child to go to real school. But that's another story for another day.
In the meantime we plod along day-by-day. Some days we are one, big, happy, homeschooling family, just like the militants would like you to believe is the norm. More often, I'm a stressed out mom and teacher, lesson planner for four, mother to seven, meal planner for nine. So what do we do when life gets tough? We laugh. Even as I leave for another stay at the Funny Farm, I'm sure to hear the laughter as the door bangs behind me. What do we find so funny? Well, homeschooling, of course!
Here's a little glimpse into the (stereo) typical day of the homeschooling family:
Mariana: Mom, since I'm making donuts, can I count this for school?
Me: Hmmm, where exactly do you see school in this project?
Mariana: Well, I wrote the ingredients on your grocery list so that's writing. Then I read the recipe so that's reading. I learned that donut can be spelled doughnut for an excellent spelling lesson. I had to measure the ingredients which gives me math and there's definitely science in the process. I should get health credit because I know these are not healthy. And I listened to my ipod so that's music.
Me: Don't forget the fact that you found the recipe online so that's computer ed. You told me what you were doing and that's kind of like a speech. And you almost burnt the house down with the hot oil, thereby getting a freebie lesson in fire safety. Maybe some art credit for the abstract powdered sugar designs on the tops of your donuts? You walked between the fridge, sink, and stove so your steps could count for gym class. Just add a timeline of the history of the donut and you've got social studies. Wow! I'm on a roll here. Wait, that's a pun. Get it? Now you've got an English lesson, too.
Mariana: So, do I get a day of school out of this?
Me: Call it Family and Consumer Sciences and we have a deal. Now go get all of your other subjects done. Oh, and change your clothes. You look like a homeschooler.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Super Bowl Butterflies
Gotta love Super Bowl Sunday! We used to have a party at our house to celebrate the day. But then John had Sunday evening church services to facilitate so Super Bowl Sunday became just another Sunday night at the church. When the Sunday evening services were no more, we found that an interesting phenomenon had occurred; everyone else (insert teen reasoning here) had bought a big screen TV, leaving only the King household with dinosaur TV relics. Now no one wanted to come to our house to view the big game because on our TVs it just wouldn't be as big as at their own houses. So now we spend the evening home alone.
Which is nice in its own way. Actually the older boys had youth at church so they celebrated the big night by watching the game and playing too many rounds of dodgeball. Mariana played piano and sang beautiful worship songs. Isaac alternated between the game and homework. Eden played nicely by herself. The Good Doctor and Shoun were left to speak to the TV alone. Believe it or not but pastors don't always sound like pastors when the Super Bowl is on. Apparently there was a certain "stupid, idiot ref" who should have made a call but didn't. I don't know; I wasn't in the room.
HopeAnne and I were holed up in the sewing room. I was making good on that promise to both empty more fabric from my sewing closet and make her a pillow to match her quilt. And the game was just the right length to allow me to not only begin, but to also finish that project. Of course I had to surprise her with the end result in the morning since the littlest ones did not stay up for the entire broadcast.
While HopeAnne was a foster child we decided to make her a quilt for her first birthday. At that point in time, her goal was still reunification with her birth mother. When I thought of her life, I often thought of butterflies. Not only bringing hope and freedom to those caught in the cycle of addiction and single parenthood, but new life in Christ which I prayed over her life, not knowing in whose house she might be raised.
So we created a quilt with flowers, caterpillars, cocoons, and butterflies. Each family member participated. Then I sewed them together. I knew that there was the possibility she would be leaving our home, and I had resigned myself to allowing the quilt to go with her.
But that didn't happen and the quilt is here, on her bed, where both she and the quilt belong. But that's not where the tale of Hope and the Butterflies ends. Because for her adoption day, we left the courtroom, crossed the street, and stood along the river to release butterflies together. The weather didn't quite cooperate and it was a bit too chilly for the butterflies. That means we probably don't want to dwell too long on what happened to those creatures once they left our hands. But it also means that they weren't really into flying so we got to enjoy them for a little while.
Definitely a beautiful day with a beautiful little girl, celebrating the beautiful act of adoption.
Which is nice in its own way. Actually the older boys had youth at church so they celebrated the big night by watching the game and playing too many rounds of dodgeball. Mariana played piano and sang beautiful worship songs. Isaac alternated between the game and homework. Eden played nicely by herself. The Good Doctor and Shoun were left to speak to the TV alone. Believe it or not but pastors don't always sound like pastors when the Super Bowl is on. Apparently there was a certain "stupid, idiot ref" who should have made a call but didn't. I don't know; I wasn't in the room.
HopeAnne and I were holed up in the sewing room. I was making good on that promise to both empty more fabric from my sewing closet and make her a pillow to match her quilt. And the game was just the right length to allow me to not only begin, but to also finish that project. Of course I had to surprise her with the end result in the morning since the littlest ones did not stay up for the entire broadcast.
While HopeAnne was a foster child we decided to make her a quilt for her first birthday. At that point in time, her goal was still reunification with her birth mother. When I thought of her life, I often thought of butterflies. Not only bringing hope and freedom to those caught in the cycle of addiction and single parenthood, but new life in Christ which I prayed over her life, not knowing in whose house she might be raised.
So we created a quilt with flowers, caterpillars, cocoons, and butterflies. Each family member participated. Then I sewed them together. I knew that there was the possibility she would be leaving our home, and I had resigned myself to allowing the quilt to go with her.
But that didn't happen and the quilt is here, on her bed, where both she and the quilt belong. But that's not where the tale of Hope and the Butterflies ends. Because for her adoption day, we left the courtroom, crossed the street, and stood along the river to release butterflies together. The weather didn't quite cooperate and it was a bit too chilly for the butterflies. That means we probably don't want to dwell too long on what happened to those creatures once they left our hands. But it also means that they weren't really into flying so we got to enjoy them for a little while.
Definitely a beautiful day with a beautiful little girl, celebrating the beautiful act of adoption.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Pillow pals
"I just love standing right here in this room; I just love listening to the sounds." HopeAnne King, February 4, 2012
I have to agree with Hope on this one. I, too, love the sounds of the sewing room. Although for me growing up, the sewing room was also the basement family room but I can remember playing while my mom was sewing. The whirr of the machine and the snip of the scissors are two sounds that remind me of childhood and of my mom. Of course I was often on the floor playing around with quilt squares or hand sewing my own project.
And look at me now - a woman who would spend all day in her sewing room if she could. Which she can't. But she can steal little moments here and there. So I have a new goal and that is to use up as many of the scraps and fabrics in my sewing closet as I possibly can, buying as little as necessary to complete any project this entails. Because therein lies the problem with my sewing closet. Each time I make something, I end up needing a larger piece to complete it; the backing for a quilt or a certain color to match someone's decorating preferences. And since my math isn't that great, or because I want to be certain that I don't run out, or both, I always have left-over fabric that ends up on the shelves on my closet.
Monday was Day 1 of Project Clean Out the Sewing Closet. It was easily combined with Project Locate a Gift for a Birthday Party Hope is attending. Hence: Pillow Number 1. Would you believe I was able to complete it fully with items on hand, until I got to the very last knot of the pillow top. Well, my goal was almost accomplished. And buying one little skein of embroidery floss was a whole lot better than going out to buy a yard or more of fabric which would leave me with more fabric scraps to replace the fabric that just left my closet.
Of course Eden then decided that she wanted to make a pillow for a friend. A little birdie told us that this friend's favorite color is purple so we changed the color scheme, but made the same pillow. And Eden helped. She arranged the quilt squares (I had to keep quiet as patches were not placed as I would have placed them; I'm sure my mom remembers those days), numbered the rows for me, piled them up, and even helped me sew. I don't think the sewing process was intended to include a child sitting on one's lap as it is not very comfortable or efficient. But we managed quite nicely. A picture here would have been cute except that I would have been in the picture which would have deemed it unblog-able.
We also decided to add a pocket to the back of Eden's pillow. She wanted to include a note to her friend which she wrote on paper and I traced onto fabric. (The friend's name is purposely edited out because we're not sure if she reads this blog of not)
Week 1 of Project Clean Out the Sewing Closet is now complete. So why doesn't my closet look any emptier? Never fear. Week 2 is just about here and HopeAnne has already announced that she'd like a pillow to match the quilt we made for her bed. Better get started...
I have to agree with Hope on this one. I, too, love the sounds of the sewing room. Although for me growing up, the sewing room was also the basement family room but I can remember playing while my mom was sewing. The whirr of the machine and the snip of the scissors are two sounds that remind me of childhood and of my mom. Of course I was often on the floor playing around with quilt squares or hand sewing my own project.
And look at me now - a woman who would spend all day in her sewing room if she could. Which she can't. But she can steal little moments here and there. So I have a new goal and that is to use up as many of the scraps and fabrics in my sewing closet as I possibly can, buying as little as necessary to complete any project this entails. Because therein lies the problem with my sewing closet. Each time I make something, I end up needing a larger piece to complete it; the backing for a quilt or a certain color to match someone's decorating preferences. And since my math isn't that great, or because I want to be certain that I don't run out, or both, I always have left-over fabric that ends up on the shelves on my closet.
Monday was Day 1 of Project Clean Out the Sewing Closet. It was easily combined with Project Locate a Gift for a Birthday Party Hope is attending. Hence: Pillow Number 1. Would you believe I was able to complete it fully with items on hand, until I got to the very last knot of the pillow top. Well, my goal was almost accomplished. And buying one little skein of embroidery floss was a whole lot better than going out to buy a yard or more of fabric which would leave me with more fabric scraps to replace the fabric that just left my closet.
Of course Eden then decided that she wanted to make a pillow for a friend. A little birdie told us that this friend's favorite color is purple so we changed the color scheme, but made the same pillow. And Eden helped. She arranged the quilt squares (I had to keep quiet as patches were not placed as I would have placed them; I'm sure my mom remembers those days), numbered the rows for me, piled them up, and even helped me sew. I don't think the sewing process was intended to include a child sitting on one's lap as it is not very comfortable or efficient. But we managed quite nicely. A picture here would have been cute except that I would have been in the picture which would have deemed it unblog-able.
We also decided to add a pocket to the back of Eden's pillow. She wanted to include a note to her friend which she wrote on paper and I traced onto fabric. (The friend's name is purposely edited out because we're not sure if she reads this blog of not)
Week 1 of Project Clean Out the Sewing Closet is now complete. So why doesn't my closet look any emptier? Never fear. Week 2 is just about here and HopeAnne has already announced that she'd like a pillow to match the quilt we made for her bed. Better get started...
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