Channeling My Inner Seamstress

My head is still spinning from last week. Besides having our first week of school (go on over to Kindling the Fire to read all about that), my mom decided at the last minute to come to town. So all of the time that was not spent on school/soccer/Cub Scouts/martial arts and on what little housework I did was filled up with playing with my mom and Allison.

The good news is that I got to bed early most nights and got up early to exercise every day, something I never would have done if it weren't for this exercise challenge! So far, I haven't missed a day, although points-wise I am way behind the overachievers (Debbie, Prudy, and Malia are putting me to shame.) Still, for me it is a victory that on a week when I otherwise might have felt justified in sleeping in I still managed to exercise and stick to my routine.

One of the things that we did with my mom was a sewing project. Now, my mom is an excellent and accomplished seamstress and Allison can sew although she does so in spurts. I on the other hand. have a brief but ugly history with sewing.

I remember making some drawstring pants for myself before my study abroad in Jerusalem. Somehow I managed to put the drawstring in the back of one pair, and sew another pair inside out. Not destined for sewing greatness, but there were other possibilities for me, I was sure.

The next time I even considered a sewing project was several years later, while I was pregnant with Henry, when Alli and I decided to make my mom a quilt for Christmas. I will confess that Alli did the majority of the machine work because I am scared of that thing, but we spent many many hours slaving over the quilt. It turned out to be enormous--much bigger than her double bed required. It also turned out that the pattern we chose, which we thought would be easier and more forgiving than most for us beginning quilters, required acute precision (not my strong point.) In the end, the quilt was beautiful and we were burned out--in fact, we decided that if Mom didn't cry on Christmas morning that it would not have been worth it. Luckily, she did cry. (In my family, we all try to get my mom the Best Gift of Christmas, which means the one that makes her cry.)

Since THE QUILT, I have done very little, largely because I have lived far away from Mom and Alli for most of that time and I am completely dependent on them for any sewing that I might do. My goal is generally to "participate" in the project while letting them do anything that might require skill, accuracy, or attention to detail. And yet in the past year I have really been wanting to learn to sew independently. Maybe it's because the new me is thriftier, maybe because I realized that I'm really lacking in the self-reliance area, maybe it's because I have a daughter now and I am shocked by the immodest clothing that is ubiquitous for young girls and teens. But it is on my list of things to do before I'm 40.

Well, this project still relied heavily on my long-time crutches, but I did more of the actual sewing than I had in the past. And I came to understand the importance of the precision, etc. I can't spill the beans on what we made because it might involve Christmas gifts for some nieces and nephews-- and we're not quite finished yet. But I was filled with an undeniable thrill as I stitched away on the sewing machine. (As invigorated as Bob is about sailing in the following clip, I called out: "I'm sewing! I'm actually sewing! I'm a sew-er!")



So my Christmas gifts are mostly done (for those nieces and nephews--I wish my whole list was done), and even though I am a classic almost-finisher, my Mom and Alli will make sure I do this time. (Plus the new and improved Michal of 2008 would never abandon a half-finished sewing project and spend twice as much money on different gifts rather than finish what I'd started. I'm far too prudent for that! I hope.) (I am going crazy with the parentheses tonight, aren't I?)

This project won't count for my 40 list since my crutches still did more of the work than I did, but it is instilling some confidence in me that I can be a seamstress one day. Before the millennium.

Do you ever start a project and not quite finish it? Are there talents that run in your family but that seemed to have skipped over you completely? Help me feel better about myself and tell me about yours.

For Nana Part II

So I figured out that some of the videos I was trying to post were too big and I have to go to YouTube, which takes a while. Here's one of Isaac developing the famous Johnson sweet tooth (don't worry--he only got to have it during the video.)



And here's one of Bronwen playing with a ladybug that flew on her when we were trying to get her to sing for you.

For Nana on Mother's Day

My other readers should just take the day off. If I could figure out how to send an email with files this big in it, I would have done that!

Here's some video that Alli and I took of the kids on Friday. At the beginning, my camera was on an alternative color setting, unbeknownst to me. I can't even say how many takes we had to do on Ian, Bronwen, and Isaac--and never got the perfect ones. Oh well, hope it makes you smile on Mother's Day, Mom!

Here's Kimball singing his favorite hymn.


Here's Henry singing a home-cooked version of Mother, I Love You. (At the end you can tell that he has the words written on the white board and is trying to figure out why it doesn't sound right! Too cute:).

Ian required several takes because he likes to be so silly. Here's the best I could get. Wish the color were better.


This is taken when Bronwen climbed out of her high chair during one of Ian's takes. I turned around to see her standing on the counter chanting, "Nana, nana."

I had a couple more to post, including one of Isaac--but Blogger seems to be having a hard time uploading any more. It may be that I've maxed out. So I'll try another post. Happy Nana's Day!

Mom

Abraham Lincoln once said, "All that I am and hope to be, I owe to my angel mother." To that, I say "amen." Except for my junior high years (heaven help me when my daughter is 13 years old), I have always wanted to be like my mother when I grew up. I was imitating her as a toddler, mothering my sister and brothers from the time they were born. I grew up knowing that I wanted to be a mother first and foremost (much to the disgust and disappointment of my senior English teacher.) This would simply not have been the case if my mother had not been an example of love and service and joy to me. She isn't perfect and I'm sure that she made some mistakes along the way--not that I can remember any, but I tell myself that she surely made some mistakes along the way so that I feel better, knowing that I surely have and do. (Note: most of the pictures in this post were taken by my dad. I can tell when I look back at them how much he loved taking pictures of her--and how much he loved her. Sometimes it means more to know who is behind the camera when looking at a photo.)

My mom taught me how to make bread, how to do housework, how to read. She taught me to love reading and learning by exposing me to great literature from an early age and by taking an active interest in what I was reading. If I ever read a book that she hadn't already read, Mom read it, too, so that we could talk about it together. My mother taught me (at a very young age, I might add), how to diaper a baby, how to rock him to sleep, how to comfort his cries. My mother taught me to love the Lord and how to gain my own testimony that He lives. She taught me that keeping His commandments brings happiness in life, even though it does not mean that we will not have trials.

My mother has lived a life of faith and sacrifice. As I have gotten older, I am better able to appreciate the trials that she has endured so well. By the time she was seven years older than I am today, she had lost both parents to cancer, her husband, and a five week old son. She raised six kids to adulthood, which I now understand is a trial as much as it is a blessing!:)

When my father was killed, she was our pillar even though her world seemed to be falling apart. We followed her example to forgive; she decided immediately that it would not be productive or healthy to dwell on the manner of his death (he was murdered) or to seek out justice for the perpetrators. She knew that to do so would only lengthen the darkness and misery that we felt. Instead, she told us that she would lean on the Lord and trust Him to care for us, to heal our hearts, to make us whole again. We needed to save our energy to make it through. I know that there had to have been many days when she did not want to get out of bed and get back to her new life without him, where she was not only the mother but the breadwinner; where the responsibility of parenting these children rested solely on her. But she never did stay in bed and let the day go by without her. She got on her knees and asked the Lord to help her get through one more day. And He always did.

I know that I would not be the same person I am today if my mother had responded to that trial differently. I would venture to say the same for my siblings. We drew from her strength and faith and we learned for ourselves how to rely on the Lord. My father's death and my mother's reaction to it were defining experiences in our lives. It was in that year that I learned the most about myself, when I solidified my faith, when I learned that with the Lord's help I can endure anything He asks of me. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to learn these things while in my youth, even if I could never have willingly submitted to such an experience.

My father's passing also strengthened my friendship with my mom. I'm sure that this would have happened by the time I got married, at least, but we needed each other without him there. We began talking on the phone most days and continue to do so now. When she's not teaching, it's not unusual for us to talk three times in a day. She is one of my best friends today. I refuse to consider what my life will be like without her one day.

It has been fun spending these past few days with her. Allison and I came down with our kids for Mom's birthday, and we have just enjoyed being together. We always have a list a mile long of things that we want to do when we're together, but we're also content to just cook together, play a card game, or read to the kids. I hope that we get to do lots more of the things we love to do together, since she plans to retire this year and move nearer to Alli and me. But I know that we will need to expect that she will spend much of her time in service--in her calling, in the temple, on a mission, helping someone in need . . . and I wouldn't have it any other way. I can only hope and pray that I will one day be more like my mother--that her good works and faith will continue to rub off on me for as long as I live.

"Richer than I you can never be. . .

I had a mother who read to me."--Strickland Gillilan

I have always loved great children's literature. I come by it honestly. From my babyhood, my mother read wonderful books to me. She says that by the time I was walking, I would follow her around with a book, begging her to read. She'd wash a few dishes, then read me a book. Finish the dishes, another book. Put in some laundry, read me a book. I was a bookworm as a one year old, and I think that it is not just because she read to me, but also because she cared enough to find high quality, well written and illustrated books. All children's books are not created equally--there are plenty out there that are complete junk.
I remember when I was in eighth or ninth grade my parents started talking about moving the family to somewhere more affordable (they fixed on St. George, Utah) so that my dad could quit his job as a salesman and open a children's bookstore. It was my dad's middle age crisis dream--he was afraid that his job should be making the world a better place, and he wasn't sure that selling guitars and drums to rock stars really qualified for that. (I think that raising six children was his contribution to improving the world.) This children's bookstore dream came before the big box Barnes and Noble or Borders and long before Amazon.com forced many small, independent bookstores to close down. When I saw You've Got Mail, The Shop Around the Corner reminded me of the children's bookstore that they dreamed of.
I have done my best to instill the love of reading in my children by using the same method that my mother did--by filling our home with beautiful, well-written books, and by making them accessible to my kids. They have bookshelves in their bedrooms that are overflowing with books. We read a lot together (although I will admit that I used to spend more time reading to them five years ago when I only had two kids. The upside is that now Kimball will read aloud to them as well--and he does great voices!) We are all passionate about books around here, and there's nothing that I love to see more than finding one or more of my kids reading quietly, wrapped up in the story unfolding. Even the boys who can't read yet will sit and "read" for ages, because they have so many of their books memorized by now that it's almost as enjoyable as being read to. (Last week, they took all their pillows and blankets and big stack of books into the refrigerator box that is still here and made a "book cave." Aren't they cute?)
So, because I love children's lit and because I want to share that with you, I have a new section on the sidebar of my blog, entitled, "Fall in Love with Children's Lit." Go check it out. I've made a link for each book so that you can easily get them on Amazon if you are so inclined. Or go to the local library. I will be adding books regularly and will also try to post sometimes featuring specific authors, illustrators, or series that we enjoy. One of the great things about quality children's literature is that you as a parent (or aunt, uncle, babysitter) can enjoy it as well.
Feel free to comment here about your favorites that aren't on my list yet. I just made this list in a few minutes tonight and it is by no means comprehensive--it is a work in progress.
Now, if I can just find where I put my book, I'll curl up for a few minutes before bedtime. Happy reading!

Are We There Yet?

This morning, my mom and I (what would I do without her?) loaded the kids up in the van, put one last load of laundry in the wash so that everything in the house could be clean, stopped for gas, picked up a prescription, and dropped off some leftovers out of our fridge at Christine's before finally getting on the road to L.A. Back in the days before I had four children, I regularly made the jaunt to L.A. to visit my mom without my husband. (His schedule is far too restrictive for me--it really cramps my style:) I had it down to a science: leave at 9 am, stop once at a rest stop for 15 minutes for potty breaks, etc, then get back on the road and get into Whittier by 3:00, beating the rush hour traffic that hits at 4:00. Most of the time I could pull it off just like that.
Well, now we've had a baby and everything's changed. Just getting out the door on time was unrealistic--at 9:00 I realized that I was going to need to wake up Bronwen and feed her before we left (the dear thing sleeps until 9:00 or 10:00 in the morning--12 hours straight without waking up once!) We had to make much more frequent stops (4 total) because Ian is only on his 5th day in underwear. And of course, Bronwen couldn't go all day without eating and only took cat naps instead of her usual four hour mid day nap. And twice we (meaning Mom) managed to make a wrong turn or miss our exit and it cost us some major time. Naturally, we hit the city of Angels at prime time, so it took much longer to get through the city than we were hoping it would. All in all, we arrived 8 hours and 12 minutes after we got on the freeway this morning. A much longer trip than we had planned.
Every time we got off the freeway, someone would ask if we were at Nana's yet. And everyone was so thrilled when we finally pulled up. Bronwen was so happy to be out of her car seat that she just rolled around on the floor cooing for at least half an hour after we got here. Ian was so happy to be here that he promptly messed his pants after being accident free all day! And Kimball and Henry raced past Allison in the kitchen to get out to Nana's backyard and start exploring. So, it was obviously worth the trip.
The bad news is, I'm going home on Saturday--without my mom as shotgun/backup driver. Which means there is potential for it to take even longer. Do you think that if I think positively the universe will send me a sidekick for the ride? Maybe there's an angel who needs to head north for the weekend! I'll need all the help I can get!

(These pictures were taken last summer on our visit to Nana's.)