No good deed goes unpunished or Lessons in the joy of giving from a 5 year old

I thought I was so clever finding a scout elf, for my girls, who isn’t interested in expensive couture apparel and appreciates a more modest skirt length in a more traditional, Polar style, even though it might slightly resemble the pattern of a $3 knit bottle coozie from Target. 

Then I took my girls shopping last night at our local big T.  The only two reasons we were there were to get snacks to put in E’s class’s snack barrel and to select pajamas and books to contribute to La Petite’s participation in the Great Sprout Tuck-In.  

  Well, in the book department, such that it is, there just so happens to be an Elf on the Shelf adoption station.  There were no elves to adopt, but there were some elf accessories, including some “limited edition Elf couture” skirts. 

  E was delighted.  “Mommy!  Look at this!  Looks like I found a present for Samantha,” she gushed, while grinning ear to ear, so proud of having found what had to be the most perfect elf gift ever.

  “Do you really think it’s something she’d like?” I respond.

  “Oh, yes.  Look it’s special for the Elf on the Shelf,” she says pointed carefully to the words on the display.  “Please, Mommy, please, can we get this present for Samantha?”

  See, now this is what you get for trying to teach your children the joy of giving AND the belief in Christmas magic.  How could I say ‘no’?  After all, we were there to buy gifts for strangers and she’d been great and thoughtful with that. 

  “Well, if you think she’d really like it.”

  “Yes!  Can we get her a card to thank her for being such a good elf?”

  “I think she’d probably like it more if you made her one.”

  “Yes, but won’t she see?  I want it to be a surprise”

  “No, I’ll tell her to give you some privacy and stay upstairs until after bedtime.” 

  Grin.  “Okay.”

  E took so much delight in making the “card” and wrapping the present.  She was so happy to put the present where Samantha could see it.  It was beyond sweet (I may have gotten a cavity watching it all).

Both girls were so excited to see Samantha wearing the new skirt and E was beside herself over the thank you note she received.  It was worth the ridiculous $6.96 for tiny piece of fabric--cheaper than a movie and more entertaining and definitely more memorable.

Samantha is responsible for the snowflakes.  She's a messmaker, that one.

Please follow links for information on  the Great Sprout Tuck-In and how you can support the Pajama Program.

30 Days of Public Gratitude

I was raised by parents who taught us to count our blessings.  I try to remember to do it daily.  I usually do it multiple times a day.  During the month of American Thanksgiving, I like to share a little of that gratitude more publicly than usual.

11/1

Grateful to be blessed with the opportunity to be a mother to two precious little girls.

11/2

Grateful for a job opportunity that sparked an interest and led to a career with a company filled with great people. It'll be 20 years on 12/17. :-)

11/3

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears reliev'd;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believ'd!

I am grateful for grace.

11/4

Grateful for friendships, longtime and new. Grateful for how they broadened my horizons, strengthened my resolve, opened my heart and mind, provided me with encouragement and shown me patience and forgiveness (and helped me practice those things). Grateful for the shared experiences both joyful and sad. Grateful for the lessons in the unique sort of love that stems from friendship.

11/5

Grateful for laughter--the sound coming from my little girls, the sore muscle from the belly laughs when I get together with my silly peeps, the inappropriate stifled snickers during church or a corporate meeting, the silent, tears rolling down the cheeks sort of giggle fits, the blasting bahhahas. I love them all and love to hear them and am so very glad there are moments in nearly every day that seem to be filled with them.

11/6

Grateful for the women who came before me to break down the walls and barricades and stupid laws to ensure I can vote today. 
Grateful, too, to live in a republic in which I can freely take part in electing the people I want to represent me and guide the direction of my local and federal government. While it may not feel like my vote always counts, I know that it is more than a right and it is an important responsibility.

11/7

Grateful (always grateful) that no matter how unlovable or even unlikable I have been I have never known a time when I did not have a family that loves me. I am grateful to have grown up surrounded by unconditional love and grateful to know it exists even beyond the safe and known realm of my family.

11/8

Grateful for having my mother for 23 years and 360 days. 
My mother embodied grace, love, kindness, integrity and humility.
A natural teacher with great intelligence, she viewed the world as a place of learning and took every opportunity to expand her horizons and teach her daughters to love learning, particularly through experiencing. 
She had a heart so big that it loved everyone--really. If she could not think of at least one good thing to say about a person, she would simply say, "I just don't know him/her well enough."
She saw the potential for goodness and greatness in everyone. She held her daughters accountable for their behavior, their efforts and their results.
From her I inherited a great deal of my compulsion to create, to DO things and to serve. My goodness, did she know how to serve. In support of my father's military career, she chose the route of stay home mother but that did not mean she stayed home. Girl Scout leader, substitute teacher, camp counselor, PTA officer, Academic Booster Club leader, museum volunteer, OWC, Sunday School teacher, adult literacy teacher, reader for the blind, transcriber for the blind, chaperone, school play costume maker, base Santa Claus and Easter bunny costume maker, bake sale queen, ESL teacher, homeless shelter volunteer...I could go on and on. And while doing all those things, she made our many different homes warm, inviting places, was a loving wife, an engaged mother, a devoted daughter and gracious sister, and a thoughtful and considerate friend to so many people.
From my mother I learned to be grateful for even little things, to forgive even the big things, to make the most of what you have and to never sacrifice quality for quantity. She taught me that doing things well and doing things right were their own reward, so while appreciation and recognition are nice they should never be the motivator nor an expectation.
She was not flashy or loud, clearly I inherited that from another part of our family, but she was strong and brave and confident.
Some folks might think it sad that she left us much too soon, and it is. But for almost 24 years I had that kind of mother and I am keenly aware of how very fortunate I am. I am extremely grateful.

11/9

Grateful for my father, Phil. He is an amazing and incredible human being. He just keeps getting better as person, which is something special since he’s always been a great person. He has simply chosen a path of continuous discovery and with each experience he adapts and grows. 

His childhood was the kind people write books about as case studies about how hard life can be. Yet he still knows how to enjoy things from a child’s perspective—you should see him with his grandchildren. They adore him. He really plays with them, on his hands and knees, hair bows in his hair, foam swords at the ready and surrounded by geo tracks. He is present with them and still connects to the “wonder and fun” of life. And my sister and I have great memories of play and laughter and silliness with our father. Our father’s sense of play and fun and silly definitely has kept him young at heart.

He has led by example, showing integrity, patience, discipline, responsibility and wisdom. He is a wonderfully fun person but he knows when and where to be serious. He has stood up to authority when morality and ethical principles were at stake and did not back down, regardless what it cost him professionally and personally.

Like my mother, he loves learning. He reads with great passion, relishes new experiences and has never let go of the wonder in this world. Their shared devotion to experiencing the world around them is deeply ingrained in their daughters.

From my father I inherited a deep and passionate love of music. Even my very eclectic taste can be attributed to him. And his great love of song and dance can be seen not only in his daughter but in his granddaughters.

He taught me that the coolest of people where the ones who know exactly who they are and embrace that—geek, princess, jock, leader, follower, whatever. And like my mother, he sees the great potential within people.

His heart is enormous and his capacity to heal himself and others with love is powerful to behold.

He showed me what a good husband was supposed to be—devoted and loving and true partner with distinct personality, interests and passions. As a father he was present, engaged and took pleasure helping raise his daughters. And as a grandfather to my children—there is none better.

His life has not always been easy (sometimes it was downright awful) and he has been handed some thorny branches but he carries not even an ounce of bitterness. For him life is sweet and his vision is as infectious as his laughter.

I am truly blessed and so very grateful to have such a man for my daddy

11/10

Grateful for my stepmother, Grace. 
As a CPA and longtime single mother, she pushed through glass ceilings and helped redefine the role of women and mothers in the workforce. Her skill, work ethic and high standards paved the way for women like me, who could enter the workforce just assuming we belonged there.
She accepts and loves my father the way he deserves to be loved and she let my father love her the way she deserves to be loved and the way he needs to love. 
She is a loving and spoiling (despite herself) grandmother and a supportive and encouraging mother and a great friend.
She is a remarkable woman in a thousand different ways and I am grateful to have her in my life and in my family.

11/11

Grateful for the men and women who served in our armed forces and to their families for the sacrifices made in the defense of peace and our nation.

11/12

Grateful for music--it tames the savage beasts (and the crankiest of my moods), brings joy to heart of many, and is a universal language through which we can all connect.

11/13

Grateful for babies. In them is our future--the next big thing, the next great thing, the opportunity for amazing things. In them, one can see a miracle.

And, today, I'm especially grateful for the arrival of a new baby girl and send love and cheer to her parents.

11/14

Grateful that people who are called to teach answer that call. So pleased to have so many friends who are in this noble and too frequently underappreciated profession

11/15

Grateful for modern medicine and the people who practice medicine!

(yes, the migraine is gone--thoroughly killed by modern meds, client visit a success)

11/16

Grateful for my sister, Casey.
She spent almost 25 years as an only child, not having to share her mother with anyone. She has adapted beautifully to having share her mother with two sisters and our father. She and her husband have provided my girls with cousins they adore. She was even so thoughtful as to have her son born with red hair, so I could delight in someone else in my family sharing my hair color. (My nephew has, since, stubbornly become a towhead and refuses to go red again but now I've got two of my own so I'll forgive him). She's a fun travel companion, guaranteed to go out on the dance floor with you, a source of inspiration and advice and an all-around terrific person. It is a great blessing to have her in my life and my family.

y family sharing my hair color. (My nephew has, since, stubbornly become a towhead and refuses to go red again but now I've got two of my own so I'll forgive him). She's a fun travel companion, guaranteed to go out on the dance floor with you, a source of inspiration and advice and an all around terrific person. It is a great blessing to have her in my life and my family.

11/17

Grateful for miracles big and small and the loving God behind them all

11/18

Grateful for the weird road that led us to northern Alabama. It's a great blessing to live close to family and to make new friends, and it's extra special to make friends who feel like family.

Plus, the weather today 11/18 was sunny, mid 60s. just saying.

11/19

Grateful for a cozy home with climate control and a stocked fridge and pantry.

11/20

Grateful for silly, ol' Facebook letting me connect and reconnect and on various levels share, get to know and/or get a peek in the lives of people who have crossed my path over the years. It doesn't replace face to face contact but it does make a big world a little smaller and I really do appreciate that.

11/21

Grateful for traditions. They connect us with our past while we enjoy our present.

Pass the sweet potato casserole

11/22

Happy Thanksgiving! Grateful for friends and family, food and fun and the fact my dad and Jeffrey are totally in charge of the meal!

11/23

Grateful for extra-long weekends

11/24

Grateful for a creative streak and even happier to see it has been passed on to my children.

11/25

Grateful for the resilience of children. They flourish and thrive despite and in spite of the mistakes and failures of their parents.

11/26

Grateful for an internal clock that woke up on time to get Monday started off properly even though I forgot to set an alarm.

11/27

Eight years ago today, I married my Mister.

Grateful for a husband who can do almost anything--build, cook, fix, hunt, protect, snuggle and so much more. Grateful for a father to my girls who is present in their lives. Grateful for a partner in life and love and parenthood.

11/28

Grateful for all the wonder and magic of the holiday season.

11/29

Grateful to have so much for which I can be grateful that sometimes its hard to decide what should make a post.

11/30

My last installment for the month of Thanksgiving and 30 days of public gratitude:

I am grateful for my baby sister, Elise.

She is amazing. She inspires me, encourages me, raises me up and keeps me grounded all at the same time. She is smarter than I am, but I’m the big sister, so to keep my big sister authority I work hard to have just enough knowledge to be able to offer her useful advice from time to time. I read more just so I can keep up my end of a conversation with her.
Her bravery humbles me. I have an artistic streak, but she has the heart of an artist. She has sacrificed much to be true to that heart and it amazes me what she capable of doing. With all the sacrifice an artist’s life requires, she has never compromised her principles or character. She may sometimes feel small but her heart is enormous. If she had only $5 to her name and you needed $4, she’d give it to you. Never big on material things, she does like to surround herself with beautiful things—primarily art and books. While I may sometimes question her taste in shoes—no one can rock a platform sneaker like her.
She isn’t always easy to get to know but every bit worth the effort. To her nieces and nephews she is fun with legs and arms and a thousand voices for storytelling—they adore her and she showers them with love and affection.
There is no one who is more like me and simultaneously so diametrically different. I am so thankful to have been blessed with a sister like her.
Now, if she’d only move closer so she could babysit and I could borrow her shoes...

Human Race

I have two tattoos (my father prefers to say it's only one—inked at two different times). My first tattoo is of three shamrocks and my second, inked in Ireland, is of an Irish harp. The original shamrock tattoo is centered in the strings of the Irish harp so it does look like a single tattoo.
I chose those symbols as a tribute to my obvious Irish heritage. Just one look in the mirror and there was no question what I was. Heck, when I was traveling in Ireland, I got stopped twice by British tourists for directions. Sure, I knew that I had some Cherokee in me from my dad's side. His grandmother was at least half Cherokee, but that only made me a sixteenth Cherokee and as far as I knew the rest was Irish, with maybe a little English. My family being full of great story tellers was because we were Irish. Our being prone to debate even when in perfect agreement was because we were Irish. We were all great lovers of art and literature and history because we were Irish. This was my hypothesis, not anything my parents remotely suggested or encouraged. To the contrary, really, they had a great fondness for absorbing interesting cultural traditions from wherever we lived or visited so our family "traditions" are rooted from Hawaiian, German, British, Mexican and varied American rituals, but I digress. The point is that I was very sure of my ethnic makeup because of the way I looked. Family names like Harrison, McAnnally and Hardiman helped solidify my assumptions.

Then I started doing genealogical research. Good bye theory. Technically, I was not wrong about being of Irish descent. But if I choose tattoos based on pedigree, I need to add a thistle, bagpipes and a crown. For the record, it is very unlikely I will get another tattoo. And if I really want to represent my heritage, I should be sporting more Americana. It turns out, while many of my ancestors came from the British Isles, my mother's family tree goes back to the Mayflower and early colonists of Virginia and my father's pedigree includes Cherokee, several generations of Scottish and Irish Americans and, according to census records, a "mulatto" from Puerto Rico. These days when people query me about my ethnicity or heritage, I proudly state, I'm more than 400 years of American made. 
For my daughters, I researched my husband's genealogy as well. My husband's side of the family made a claim about his mother's people being descendants of Pocahontas. I thought it might be just lore, but I researched my mother-in-law's ancestry using multiple sources and yielded consistent results. The claim is true. Pocahontas is a famous Native American so, so unlike many Native Americans whose family ties have been lost for a variety of reasons, her legacy is well documented and my daughters are clearly, direct descendants. His father's side of the family has a healthy concentration of Irish and German and, relatively speaking, they are recent arrivals to North America. 

Our girls

My girls, like their mother, could as easily be cast as Scottish or Irish by first glance as they could American. But I want them to know that ethnicity and even race cannot really be determined by a glance. I want them to know that bloodline, while interesting, has precious little to do with who you are as a person. I don't want them to spend any time trying to box themselves into an identity associated with something as arbitrary skin color or race or ancestry. I want them to focus on being part of the human race and loving their fellow humans as the uniquely beautiful and remarkable people they are today.

Genealogy is fascinating and heritage based traditions can be really cool but they cannot dictate your character. You are who you decide to be, not who your parents' grandparents were. I want my daughters to understand this and I pray that they grow up into a world that finally understands this, too.
And if they ever decide to get a tattoo based on their heritage…frankly, I just hope they don't decide to get any tattoos. But if they do, I hope they choose symbols that reflect how varied that heritage really is, and really small versions of them, placed somewhere discreet.

Lessons in Beauty from a Four Year Old

We took our girls to a family reunion in the Outer Banks. From the moment they saw the beach it was next to impossible to pry them away from it. They are part mermaid, I'm sure of it.

The beach was littered with all sorts of shells, including many black scallop shells. I started picking up the black shells. There were so many that I started getting picky, putting down any shell with chip or holes. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with the shells I collected but I was going to have perfect specimens for whatever it was.

As I was collecting my "perfect" scallop shells, E decided she wanted to collect shells, too. She grabbed a sand pail and in about 2 minutes she had it filled. She was very proud of her haul. She had picked up anything—oyster shells, broken shells. She had no plan, no specific preference. I wanted to tell her to leave the dull gray oyster shells on the beach, they filled up the pail much too quickly. I did tell her to slow down and that she might want to concentrate on just the really special ones. She picked up another oyster shell and said, "This one is special." I did not agree but I didn't argue. I just watched her enjoy the collection and went back to gathering perfect black scallop shells.

We brought our pails back to the house and left them on a table on the deck and went inside. During the night some strong winds knocked over our assemblage of shells. I saw the toppled over pails and I figured I'd lost a couple of my pretty black shells. I wasn't particularly concerned with E's shells; half of them were broken when they originally went into the bucket.
As I walked over to the table to pick them up I noticed that my pile of black scallop shells looked rather flat and unremarkable. E's various shells were more interesting.
E was right, her shells were special. Even the oyster shells had character. I mixed my black shells with hers and made a temporary little shell collage and gave thanks for a daughter who knows beauty isn't about perfection.

May Day

     My birthday is in early May so I've always been a fan of May 1^st since it means my birthday is right around the corner.

     In my opinion, May is the best of the spring months. It is, usually, not too hot and there are still lots of flowers all around but the pollen is usually under control . May 1st is the beginning of one of the most glorious months of the year.

     In Germany, as in much of Europe, many towns celebrate the first of May with a huge festival and something called a May Pole (and, I suspect, beer drinking but I was only 6 or 7 when I saw this celebration so I can't be certain). I remember seeing such a festival and watching the dancers in their traditional German folk costumes holding long ribbons and dancing a wonderful jig of sorts around the pole, starting from quite a ways away and ending right next to the pole with the pole wrapped in a gorgeous plait of ribbons. Cool memory. May 1^st =something to dance about.

     When we lived in Hawaii, May first was the day of a big school festival, aptly named, May Day. At Kailua Intermediate School May Day meant a pageant of Polynesian dance performances and I think some singing. I can distinctly replay in my mind Karen and Kristin and Laurie doing a hula performance and thinking it was so cool that these three haoli chics could do such honor to a non-haoli tradition. I remember how hunky (that was the exact word that came to mind back then) the boys looked all shirtless and barefoot doing the Hawaiian and Tahitian dances that showed off both their physical strength and rhythm. I also remember how May Day meant malasadas and shave ice and not a thing that resembled school work or classroom time. I recall that my sister's elementary school had a similar pageant on May Day as well and her learning a song and dance about going to a Hukilau. I missed May Day celebrations after we left Hawaii and thought Florida was seriously lame for not recognizing what an important festival day it was. May Day=awesome.

     Seventeen years ago today, May 1, 1995, May Day, I stood in a conference room in Fairfax, Virginia doing my audition presentation to join the team on which I continue to work to this day. It was an exciting day for me. I'd finally convinced the sales consulting team manager at the time to take a chance on a 23 year old with little industry experience and to give me an opportunity to show I had the skills necessary to be an asset to her team. I'd taught myself how to use PowerPoint (it might have been Freelance, it was so long ago) and built a slide deck to present on the most effective way to submit an expense report (I was working in accounting at the time and processing the expense reports during a time we didn't have a standard policy). I presented to a packed room of sales people, managers, sales consultants and a VP or two. I totally rocked the presentation. I felt fantastic.

     Apparently, while I was presenting, the front desk was paging me. I couldn't hear the page in the conference room. My boss at the time, a wonderful lady, knew where I was and took the call. She met me outside of the conference room. She had news for me. It was not good. My mother, who had been battling a vile cancer called melanoma, lost the fight while I was doing my presentation.

     Here's the thing about losing a loved one, there is no way to prepare for the loss. Hospice was coming to our house and my sister and I still believed she would get better, even though we fully understood the purpose of hospice and why they come around. Losing someone you love knocks the air right out of you and creates a hole that cannot be filled (though you can, absolutely, learn to navigate around it).

     At first I was so upset that I hadn't been there with her in her last moments. But, the truth is, my mother would not have had me be any other place. She wanted nothing more for us than we valiantly pursue our passions. She had an amazing work ethic and she would have insisted that I go do my presentation even if she had known exactly what time she was going to die. Through her, I can accept I was where I was supposed to be. The "audition" did lead to a job I have loved for years, a job that afforded me a life of travel and adventure and amazing friendships.

     But now, May 1^st, May Day, always finds me in sloshy mess of mixed emotions. It will undoubtedly always be remembered as one of the saddest days of my life. And it is a day that is associated with so many wonderful memories. It is also the day that led me to a career I truly enjoy. And this morning, May Day 2012, I danced in the kitchen with my girls to E's new favorite song, the ABBA hit, SOS. I cannot adequately express how fun it is to have your child really enjoy the music you love. This song is the reason I bought my first album, ABBA's greatest hits with my own Deutsche Marks (I also bought Best of Blondie) over 30 years ago in Germany, the place I first learned about May Day.

May 1^st=May Day=awesome (+random bursts of tears).

Lesson from E #240

good times with good friends

Last weekend the girls had a big weekend, especially E. She attended a birthday party of a good friend from school in addition to the rest of the activities. After the birthday party, I took E and B to get their pictures taken a mall portrait studio. They behaved remarkably well. So, I rewarded them with rides on the little coin rides (I don't know why they love them but they do), ice cream cones, a spree at the dollar jewelry store, and some candy shopping. On Sunday, after church, we went to a local festival called the "Chicken and Egg" festival. We went with their beloved Opa and Gigi and started with lunch on the fairgrounds (chicken, naturally). Just as we were checking out the rides, we saw some familiar faces, our good friends and neighbors. The girls squealed with delight and got in line to ride all together. The rest of the festival involve four little friends running around giggling and included a pony ride and a petting zoo. It was, indeed, a packed weekend.
On the way to school, on Monday morning, I asked E what were the fun things she did over the weekend. She said, "Play with A--- and C----." That was it.
What? She went on her first pony ride that Sunday and all she could think of was the playing with her friends who live down the street. She didn't even mention the fair at all. When I asked, "anything else?" She replied, "and E's birthday party." Nothing else. I was a little irritated—all that time spent running around trying to do things that would be fun for the girls and they only remembered playing with their friends. Sheesh. I knew it wasn't cool to get too frustrated with a 4 year old but she knew I was annoyed, even if she didn't understand why. The irony of the situation was I was one who had forgotten something.
Today, the message at church was about Martha and Mary. I'd read the story and had heard sermons on them before now and thought I understood the passage, but today something finally clicked.
The passage is from Luke 10:38-42.

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. ³⁹ She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. ⁴⁰ But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"

   ⁴¹ "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, ⁴² but few things are needed—or indeed only one.^[a] Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

As I listened to the message, beautifully delivered by our good friend, Jack (the father of the girls with whom we shared the festival), the events of last weekend played through my head. I thought about my sweet, little girl and how out of all the fun happenings of the prior weekend, from her perspective the best, most important part was being with the people she loves. And I'd gotten irritated with her. Doh! Mommy fail.
An important lesson from Luke 10:38-43, is that, time with Jesus, their friend and loved one, was more important than all the preparations or tasks at hand. The lesson from E, the best activity is the one shared with your friends. E is a little Mary.
We are tasked to love God and told that one way to do that is to love each other. E has already figured that out. Hopefully, now her mama will be able to remember that.

Reality Check

I looked in on my sleeping girls and thought, "they are really such agreeable little things most of the time, but, dang, if they don't have the fiercest of stubborn streaks."
Then, it occurred to me that most people I know, even the ones who love me best, might describe me the same way and realized the "stubborn phase" was never going to end.
So I said a little prayer of gratitude for my beloved babies and for wine and chocolate and all things that make life a little sweeter.

Quilted Pendants for the Girls

Once I got my sister's sewing machine out of my attic and started using it I became obvious that I reasonably capable of sewing I started looking at patterns and taking sewing projects on pinterest more seriously. Mostly though, I want to do things with materials I have around the house. I made a few doll quilts out of scraps of fleece (from blanket making activities) and burp clothes (we have a ton of those since my first daughter was especially spitty). Then last week, the morning of the day I left for a four day business trip to Montana I saw a cool little pin on pinterest http://pinterest.com/pin/120963939961468112/. And I thought, "hmm, I could do that for the girls. I can do that for the girls today." So I thought about what fabric I had around the house and remembered a giant pile of receiving blankets (again, with a really spitty baby you just have a bunch). I decided I'd make monogram necklaces for the girls before I left and they would have them when they came home from school and know how much their mommy loved them even though she wasn't there.
Here's how I did it:
I found two blankets with pink patterns and cut out little squares, four from each blanket. Then I cut hearts out of some scrap felt I had left over from the doll making. My plan was to iron the hearts in between two pieces of the smaller squares I cut, to give the top quilted piece some textural depth. I had some stitchwitchery for hems, a perfect fit for what I wanted to do.

I didn't really like the idea of simple ring jump like the inspiration pieces had. I know that the girls would tear something like that off in 30 seconds without even trying. Plus, I didn't even have any handy. But what I did have was safety pins. I used pliers to crimp them shut so they wouldn't accidently open under the fabric and ironed the safety pin between the larger squares of fabric.

After that, I painted the hearts I'd ironed into the smaller square with silver nail polish. It took a few coats to get the metallic shine to really come through. I let it dry between coats.

After letting it dry I used embroidery thread to give the hearts a monogram with each girl's initial.

I cut two mid sizes squares of felt I sewed the largest squares together with a small zigzag stitch around the edges. Then I sewed on the felt with a larger zigzag stitch, then I added the smallest square with the hearts, again using the zigzag stitch again.

I added some colorful silk rope and viola, two easy to wear, practically unbreakable monogrammed necklaces for the princesses in about 90 minutes total.

I've got ideas for more, but for now I'm going to write in permanent marker on the back "mommy loves you" just a little reminder.

My Daughter Thinks I Can Do Anything—I can’t let her down

My daughters received La La Loopsie dolls for Christmas and they really like them. However, while the dolls are designed to look like ragdolls, they are made of hard plastic and are not good for snuggling with at night. So my eldest daughter, my four year old, asked me to make her a “soft Loopsie doll.” I have not sewed much more than a hem or a button in nearly 20 years, but I’ve been feeling pretty crafty lately (thanks Pinterest), so I told her I would try. I had my sister’s sewing machine in my attic and if I couldn’t figure out how it worked, figured I could always just hand sew one.
I took the girls to Michaels to get the supplies I thought I might need. I really like Michaels as a craft place and the one in Huntsville has awesome sections for baking, candy making, painting and canvases, and even jewelry making. It does not, however, have a real fabric or sewing section. In hindsight, I should have gone to Hobby Lobby. But I had already committed to making the dolls and having the girls (4 and 2) pick out their colors and whatnot. I can only brave one crafty store with the girls per day and we all wanted me to get started on the project. I had in my head that the dolls should have yarn hair and button eyes and that felt might be easy to work with (any real seamstresses are now laughing at me). So the girls picked out their yarn for hair, my four year old was set on multi-colored yarn and my two year old wanted pink. I got some inexpensive skeins and looked for buttons. Since this store was definitely more for crafting than sewing I found the best bang for my buck and just about the only way to get plain round buttons was in a bundle pack. I figured I can always find a way to use the rest later. I got some black embroidery thread for the mouth and sewing on the button eyes and creating eyelashes. I looked for filling material and found some natural cotton quilt batting that I liked and it jibed with my idea that I didn’t want to use traditional stuffing material (I really don’t know why I thought this way). I found a large sheet of white felt, I’d planned to make the head and body with and let the girls pick out smaller sheets of felt for making clothes. I was pretty sure I had the thread that I needed at home. So with the supplies I purchased I headed home and started on the project.
It didn’t occur to me to record the process until I posted a picture of the first doll on Facebook and was encouraged to pin it. Even when I expressed out utterly amateur the project was, it was suggested that it might inspire other people who don’t really sew or craft to feel like they could do something like this, too. Hopefully this does. Keep in mind this is more of a “how I did this” than a “how to do this.” I am sure there are many better ways, I tweaked the process for the second doll and will improve it again if I do another one. The pictures below are from the second doll I made.
I had no pattern so I traced the doll on to the white felt giving myself extra room for sewing (I gave the head a lot more than I needed, and not sure how to make I perfectly round head, I decided I could create more depth with an band sewn between the front and back of the head. Not necessarily the best way to do it but it worked well enough for me. I cut small circles out of pink felt from the cheeks. When I started cutting the white felt I decided it wasn’t very soft and cuddly and the quilt batting that I got was and the natural cotton was a prettier color. So I decided to make the body out of the batting an use the white felt as a liner to give support and strength to the batting. For the belly, I wanted the finished shape to be thinner at the top and rounder at the bottom, like the inspiration dolls bellies, so I created an inner belly for stuffing by layering multiple belly shaped pieces of large and small pieces. The stuffing for the legs and arms were layers of batting and felt cut smaller than the outer “skin.” Below are the pieces I started the project with.

When I took home economics, almost 30 years ago, I was taught the values of basting. I hated basting. I liked to pin and sew. This project does not let you just pin and sew. I basted like crazy. The best thing about basting is that it doesn’t have to be neat. Perfect for a girl couldn’t hand stitch a straight line if her life depended on it (I still marvel at the masterpieces of fashions that people used to sew completely by hand). Anyway, I started with the belly pieces layering them to get the shape I was going for and then basting the pile to one of the largest pieces (of the stuffing part, not the outer belly, then I did a tighter blanket style stitch to join the two large pieces, leaving the neck open. After sewing the outer pieces were together, I flipped it all right side out and tucked in the neck and whip stitched it closed. I wasn’t especially neat with it because it is the stuffing and no one will see. I also sewed on the facial features, this meant I didn’t have to baste the batting and felt for the face—yay, one less thing to baste. I did, however, do a quick stitch on the buttons with regular white thread to lock in placement of the eyes before sewing them on tight with the embroidery thread. The cheeks were sewn by hand with pink thread. The inspiration dolls have a look of visibly sewn cheeks so I kept that look by not trying to hide by thread. I gave the cheeks a more quilted look by tucking the needle under the felt just a little bit as I pulled it back through the face. For the mouth, I just drew lines for a smile with pen and followed it. The eyelashes are also done with embroidery thread. I drew them on to look like the inspiration doll’s and filled them in with the black thread.

Next, I sewed the shells for the arms and legs. I used my machine for this. I used a rather tight stitch to make sure the doll stayed together. Because I was sewing such small parts I used my sewing machine’s foot as guide to create the selvages. I left the top and about 2 centimeters worth of one side open to make it possible to turn them inside out. After sewing the arms and legs right sides together, I trimmed the ends a bit closer to the seam and turned them right side out.

After turning the arms and legs right side out it was time to stuff them. I figured out an easy way to get the stuffing pieces into the tight fitting arms and leg pieces. I ran a needle and thread through the tip of the stuffing piece and knotted it, keeping the needle and thread attached. Then I held the outer appendage pieces and dropped the needle and thread to the bottom of the “tube”. Once the needle was at the bottom, I guided it to the tip (finger or toes) and pushed the needle through. Then I gently pulled the needle and thread through, pulling the stuffing along with it. Then I cut the thread close to the seam and worked the end back into the fingers and toes.

The results—two arms and two legs. I trimmed the stuffing to be about a centimeter shorter than the outer sleeve of the arms and legs and hand stitched the sides all the way to the top. I think the stitch is called a whip stitch, if done well, it essentially disappears, closing up the seam neatly. I won’t say I did it well but fortunately that high up on the leg, that part is covered where it’s attached to the body.

Next I basted the arms and legs to the right side of one of the belly pieces. This basting job was a little more serious, making sure the arms and legs were well attached before sewing on the back side of the body. I folded the arms and legs across the body piece to make sure they wouldn’t accidently get stitched into the seams where I didn’t want them to be.

Then I placed the other body piece right side down on top of the pile of arms and legs and basted it down, checking to make sure I didn’t snag any fingers and toes. Running through the machine can be tricky but not impossible or even really difficult, you just have be confident and willing to push a little.

Next I turned it right side out and stuffed in the belly stuffing. Once again my arms are a little uneven. Like I said, I’m a total amateur so this is far from perfect. But I can tell you, my girls have not noticed it at all (the clothes cover it well and the girls are looking for the imperfections).

Next I worked on the hair. How you approach this will depend on the style for this doll my two year old wanted the hair down. The first doll has ponytails so the direction of the seams were vertical, instead of the horizontal seams you see here. To create bulk and keep the “scalp” from showing I used a lot of yarn, almost the whole skein and I’ll admit after trimming there was A LOT of waste, but I’m happy with the results. First, I pulled a bunch of yarn from the skein, looping it around both hands until I felt I had enough. Then I stitched three bands in the center of the strip I used to join the front and back of the head. On each edge I overlapped the yarn just a little bit since it was going inside. The center band, I uses a longer stretch of yarn and sewed it on across the middle. How did I sew it on? This part I’m proud of, I spread the yarn out to where I wanted it to lay for the doll and then I took a piece of tap and taped across where I wanted to sew. This held the yarn in place and gave me a guide for sewing (I stitched right down the center) and kept the yarn from getting tangled in the foot and needle. You will want to use a very tight stitch to make certain the hair is stable. Once the hair is sewn on, then I remove the tape. The tape tears fairly easily from the seam.

On the right side of the back of the head I did two additional bands of hair one in the center and one along the top, both were sewn horizontally. There is, indeed, a lot of hair on this doll.

I centered the band on the right side of the face and once again basted it together, then ran it through the machine. My sewing machine wasn’t thrilled with bulk but I pushed it through anyway.

I turned it right side out to check my work and give her bangs. Bangs on dolls, like bangs on people, hide little imperfections.

I basted on the back and ran it through the machine as far as I could –with all the hair there was quite a gap at the bottom. Time to add the stuffing for the head.

I had a roll of acrylic batting. I pulled back the back to the depth I wanted for the doll head and cut right across the roll, giving me this. Then I stuffed it in and sewed up the opening with a whip stitch.

Once all stitched up, I cut a hole in the center to tuck in the neck and attach the body. The inspiration doll has a very floppy head that rolls around and flops side to side. So does this one. It’s not quite the same but it works. I hand stitched the neck and head together and then closed the hole completely.

And then the doll was almost complete. Now all she needs is clothes.

First, some underpants. I used felt and simple shape. I basically traced the her bottom half and leg spacing then cut it slightly wider then sewed up the sides on the machine. I used embroidery thread to add decorative stitching along the waistband and add a heart similar to the one on the inspiration doll. I also added my daughter’s initial.

Now for the dress. I started with a piece of felt and folded it in half.




Then I traced around the doll again leaving enough room for sewing. Then I cut out the dress and cut a neck hole.

Next, I stitched up the sides and cut a slit in the back of the dress and turned it right side out.

Then I added some flair.
Here is the finished doll and her slightly older sister. The second doll was easier to make than the first, since I wasn’t spending so much time figuring things out. Each are totally unique. They are definitely rag dolls but the girls love them. Mission accomplished.

Why I love my church, from the girl who never thought church was necessary.

For as long as I can remember, I have subscribed to the school of thought that one’s relationship with God is personal. I have often eschewed organized religion and consequently church because of this belief. And I still believe how one comes to and relates to God is a deeply personal thing.
That said, today, I was reminded of the value of church and the community that comes with it. That got me thinking about what being part of my church’s community has meant to me and why and what that all means. And now I’ve to write about it so it can stop floating around my head.
I continue to believe a person’s relationship with God is personal. How we communicate, connect, worship, give thanks—all those things ultimately come down to what we feel in our heart and the choices we make in our lives. A building or a set of rules and regulations, what other people see us do are really not key.
However, after searching for and finding a church home, I began to better understand why I needed it in the first place. Initially, I thought it would be a good way to meet people, especially in a culture deeply rooted in church related connections, and to get more formalized guidance in learning the bible.
What I have learned is that finding a church home is much more than finding a place to show up, hear the good word and meet a few people. For me, it was about becoming part of a community and not necessarily a community of people who share my demographics and chosen faith, but rather a community of people who share my same interests in how to pursue a better relationship with God and our community as whole.
My parents taught me God is Love and God is in us. It is concept that has fundamentally stayed with me all my life, whether or not I’ve always understood it. Over my life I have made connections and formed communities of sorts that provided me with great support and many good lessons about love. But I must admit, very few of these communities have really directly helped me further my connection to or understanding of God. The understanding love part, they helped me with in abundance, but the God part, I was still really pursuing on my own. And I was pretty much okay with that.
By finding a church community and investing myself in a church home I have found much more than a place to go on Sunday. I have found people who inspire me to learn more, teach more and say more about God. It has help make clear that my path to God is to follow Christ. And for me that has been a really cool thing.
 My favorite teaching from Christ is from Matthew 22:36-40:
“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
Jesus replied: “’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Basically, the lesson is, love God and love each other and everything else will fall into place. An awesome lesson and one I try to follow.

What I particularly appreciate about my church community is that the people in it really take this lesson to heart. It is frequently repeated in services along with a related piece of scripture, 1 John 4:20. The gist there, again, is we need to love each other (for another essay but important to note—regarding that love each other part, it really means everyone, no caveats). And while I have been blessed in this life with an abundance of love, despite my many flaws and regrettable transgressions, I have never before experienced such a genuine feeling of love from casual acquaintances or even veritable strangers. Your family is fairly obligated to love you and your good friends know you and have made a conscious choice to love you, warts and all. But people who don’t know you, technically, have no obligation to even be nice to you, much less love you (Christians, actually do, but that’s for yet another essay). So when you have community that gives you love whether or not they know you well, it is remarkable and helpful and can, ultimately, bring you closer to God. There is a type of closeness that can only be found from community, not in study or even prayer. That is not to say you can’t get as close to God by study or prayer—it’s just a distinct type of closeness. I am so very grateful to have found that type of church community.

I found this church home through friends and have developed more friendships at this church. However, it is a good sized and growing church, so I don’t know everyone and some of the folks I know, I don’t know as well as I’d like. Still, I must express, how much I appreciate the feeling of walking into a place filled with love. Whether you walk into this church wearing sweatpants and a dirty t-shirt or a dress shirt and tie, or your grandmothers pearls and a tea length dress, or a micro-mini and stripper stilettos, you will be welcomed with the same smiles and the same open arms. This community will pray with you and for you and for people they do not know and will never meet, if you but ask—you don’t even have to tell them why. They will fill your house with boxes of diapers and bring food for days when you have a baby. Some in this community suffered significant losses due to the tornados last Spring, yet those same people were out organizing and providing helping hands for other tornado victims outside of the church. This is a really great community. I am so thankful to have found it.

Today, I was, once again, reminded of the importance and value of community in one’s life and humbled by demonstration of God’s love by this particular church community. Today, I did not even want to go to church. In fact, yesterday, I’d decided I would take a break and maybe just catch the service online. However, when I tucked my daughter in, she asked about the progression of the next day and what we would be doing after church so I felt that was good reminder I really should go. And even though I was up before 7am, I puttered around long enough to actually be about 10 minutes late to the 9:30 service. I was not motivated to get there. My mood was a grey as the weather and it showed on my face.

Yet, from the moment I walked into the building, I was greeted with love. Friends walked up to say 'hello' and rightfully, tease me about the ridiculous mess that is my purse. And the service's message, coincidentally, was perfectly suited to my current state of mind. But most notably, a woman, of whom I’m quite fond but primarily know through working with her in the children’s area, tapped me on the shoulder during the final songs and gave me the biggest, most needed hug. She said I looked like I needed it, and I so very much did, though I hadn’t realized how desperately until I got it. She didn’t ask me to explain why I might need it, didn’t stop to wonder whether I deserved it, she just gave it freely, with love, the way we’ve been all been tasked. And I am grateful. I am grateful to her and to the community filled with people just like her and for a church that teaches that community that to love God is to love each other.