Realistic Sewing Project: Shorten Drapes

Ah, my bedroom drapes. I remember when I first put them up how pleased I was that they were a bit long and therefore "pooled" on the floor, just like in the homes in the design magazines.

Why I will never have silk drapes, so long as there are cats

Apparently none of these homes has cats.


A few years later the crib came to rest in our room. This required placing our bed against the window wall. Now my pooling drapes were subject to the ignominy of being tied into a knot so that they wouldn't lie, resplendent-like, across my partner's face as he slept.


The bigger issue for me was that in their knotted state the drapes wouldn't close. And while I like to think of myself as a sharing kind of person, the neighbours started to drop subtle hints that they weren't enjoying the view.


In shortening the drapes, I figured, both the issues of appearance and length would be addressed. On the night that I chose to undertake this task, my pre-schooler was sick with a virus and planted in my bed with a video, and my under-one was protesting his being dumped in his highchair to watch mummy in action. (Our two toddlers were on their way home from the grandparents'.)

Baby helping mummy with the measuring tape

Knowing that my sewing session was under threat of interruption at any second, I quickly measured the new length with my measuring tape while holding the drape with both hands and marked it with a pin. No time for laying it out on the sewing board! I folded the panel in half lengthwise, grabbed the scissors and, with a prayer heavenward, cut what I hoped was a reasonably straight line.



Having already committed several cardinal sins against the art of sewing, I jumped recklessly to the foot peddle and began stitching, making the fold and turning under the hem as the needle punctured the fabric. By this time, the baby was mewling at a constant rate, and the four-year-old calling at 30 second intervals for me to come upstairs. I felt the pressure of a sprinter dashing to the finish line with moaning, squealing ghouls nipping at my heels.

Big fold of fabric? No problem, it's on the back side!

In my mad haste, the otherwise-forgiving loose-weave fabric did not lie flat as it went through the machine. By the time I got close to the end, the hem was sufficiently askew that there was significantly more length left for the top layer than for the bottom. I was faced with the choice of either ripping out the seam I had just made and trying again, or "absorbing" the excess and artificially forcing the top and bottom to end evenly. As I'm sure you've already deduced, I chose option 2, wadded up the extra length and sewed right over it.  

The task finally completed, I yelled towards the second floor to just wait I'm almost done, and picked up my bawling tot. The second panel would have to wait for another golden opportunity.

The finished product, back in place. Not too bad, eh?

Reforming a Type-A Gal: The Zen of Lowered Expectations

I tend to be an "all or nothing" kind of gal. If I'm going to do something new, make a change in my life or take on a responsibility I like to give it my best. And before kids, if life got bumpy I could still make it all happen by knuckling down to a task, burning the midnight oil or "just doing it."


But since having kids, I find that all my "git 'er done" energy is fully spent by midday in solving major juice crises or mediating toy sharing between belligerent parties. 


So how's a type-A, formerly-relentless super-achiever supposed to adapt to a life full of never-finished to-do lists, half-completed projects and habitually below-par personal hygiene? The answer for me has boiled down to one thing: Lowered Expectations.

The detritus of life... it always seems to land in my dining room.

Indeed, "Lowered Expectations" has become my mantra. I need it when I'm trying to get a few critical things done and everything goes wrong, no one cooperates, and I see the minutes ticking by. Angry outburst threatens!


That's when Lowered Expectations prompts me to ask, "What if task X doesn't get done right now? What are the real non-negotiables?" Even more importantly, "What state do I want my family and myself to be in at the end of this? Frazzled, harried and stressed? Or calm, confident and open?"


Over the past four years, I have found that calm, confident and open is the more desirable state for pretty much any context (a party, errand running, etc.). When I practice this, I enjoy the time with my kids, and they enjoy me (wouldn't you choose zen-mama over the angry she-beast?).


The trade-off for calm, confident and open is that I have to accept the realities of Lowered Expectations. I have to accept welcoming guests into a very messy and often not-too-clean home. I often let my to-do list languish so that I can have positive interactions with my kids. And I have to hold my head high when I venture out in public with no make-up on and somewhat unfashionable or unflattering attire.


Do I make good choices every time? No. Do I still sometimes yell at my kids? Yes (and with great passion too, I might add). But I find that the more I use my mantra of Lowered Expectations, the more natural it becomes, and then the more I use it... And then I find that I'm acting more like the mother I want to be for my kids....


So, there's one of my survival tactics. How about you? How do you negotiate that compromise between your parenting ideals and the pressure of, well, all that other stuff?

Lunar New Year Crafting

The Lunar New Year is only a few days away, and if you're like me, then you've just awakened to that fact and are looking for some kid-friendly activities. Or maybe it doesn't make a difference to you one way or another. We happen to live in a neighbourhood that includes a significant Chinese and Vietnamese contingent. In other words, there's lots of talk about the upcoming celebrations in my oldest's kindergarten class.


In fact, recently my little guy eagerly asked if we could do something to celebrate the Lunar New Year. I almost fell off my chair. A year ago, if I asked him if he'd like to celebrate some occasion, he'd look at me suspiciously and adamantly refuse all participation. (It didn't matter what the occasion was --it could've been a Thomas the Tank Engine circus-themed monster truck candy party-- he'd certainly say no.)


So, when he initiated a marking of the New Year, my mind immediately went to work trying to figure out how we could adopt some low-impact aspects. Some traditional activities I've opted to NOT do are lots of cooking and cleaning. Oh, I'm also choosing to not festoon the house with symbolic live plants. Or artificial ones for that matter. (I've shared what happens to Christmas trees here; it's basically the same for house plants.)

http://crafts.kaboose.com/lantern1.html

I did find, however, some idiot-proof construction paper Chinese lanterns on a crafting website. These are my kind of craft: at-hand materials, a minimum of steps, fully recyclable, and no essential preparation. I made two lanterns with three of my boys present in that late-morning time between peaceful play-time and lunch (you know, the period that starts around 10:30 a.m. and ends when the food reaches their stomachs?).


Now, before you react to my supposed ingenuity, organizational prowess and child-management skills, please note that it states "I" made two lanterns. Hmmmm. Yes. The picture becomes clearer: an infant screaming alternately in his high chair and in his play pen; a toddler defiantly wadding up construction paper and throwing crayons on the floor; and a four-and-a-half year-old waving a pair of safety scissors and whining, "Mawwwwmeeee, it's too haaaaard!" Ah, yes, another family-bonding moment realized thanks to the magic of creativity.


I can't decide if I'm excited or horrified-but-in-denial about our plans to shop for and make nian gao (rice cakes) tomorrow...

Ludachristmas

Last week we took down our Christmas tree and packed away the ornaments and Christmas books. In the weeks before Christmas, I always find the prospect of the tree a bit daunting. It seems to loom up like a lot of work. I think that's why when I read about people having multiple(!) trees and dozens of boxes of decorations, I just can't fathom it.


Of course, my perplexity is most likely rooted in the fact that a Christmas tree in our house is not so much thing of beauty to be admired, as it is a obstacle to be surmounted and an adversary to be subdued. 


Every year, no fewer than seven beings (four boys, two cats and a dog) delight in debasing our dear tree. It starts out innocently enough with the young'uns rearranging the ornaments within their reach on the branches. (Imagine needles dropping to the floor.) 


Then it progresses to them including the tree as a prop in their games --it's a road! a train station! a dinosaur lair! (More needles...)


The activity reaches fever pitch when, inevitably, the games take a violent turn. Multiple vehicle pile-ups, raging battles among all sorts of creatures and good ol' frenzied chases do a number on our tannenbaum. Quite denuded now, and with ornaments from the lower third of the tree largely rolling around on the floor, our tree is looking a bit the worse for wear. (Did I mention that this is within three days of our putting the tree up?)

One of the many ornaments I will be discovering as they periodically make their way out from under furniture.

But the Christmas tree has still more abuse to endure. The cats --not surprisingly, really-- like to climb among the branches and swat off the ornaments into the waiting jaws of the dog. She, in turn, chews anything she can get her paws or mouth on. And if the cats are not providing adequate supply, she'll help herself when the humans are out.


So, by the time we take down the tree, most of its needles are on the floor, a good portion of the ornaments are under the couch from where I will retrieve them for the next 11 months and the tree has a decided tilt towards the centre of the room.


Why, oh why, would I want one of these shedding, hazardous, make-work things? Yet, when the moment comes to say goodbye, I always feel a bit sad to see it go! (I've decided it's either unresolved issues from my childhood or masochism...)


That said,  I do have a radical plan I'm contemplating for next year. My partner's not on side yet. But that's another instalment. 


How about you? What lunacy does Christmas bring to your home?

Full disclosure

Are you looking for a blog that will inspire you as a parent? Make you gasp in amazement at the author's competency and organization? Stir you to embark on fantastical projects? Well, you won't be finding any of that here. 


But if you're looking to share a laugh with a friend, swap survival tactics and generally feel affirmed that, yes, you're doing fine, then you're in the right place.


In the spirit of full disclosure, let me admit to a reality that I know many parents share: I feel lucky if I get to shower on a given day. Many days I don't. And I am only somewhat ashamed to say that today is the second day for my underwear and socks (partly because of the aforementioned shower issue and partly because I was pretty sure that I didn't have anything clean to replace them with). And my hair is --as my partner puts it-- "special."


But, my kids are clean, nutritious food made it to the table and we spent some good time together as a family. So, to sum up: it was a good day! (They aren't all, are they?)