Category: Mulling

Rearview Fridays: Folk Art Eggs, Pysanka-styles!

I made this pair of folk-arty pysanky for my mom about 17 years ago. And she still has them! They dried, they didn’t rot, amazing. I was super-duper into folky-hippie-arty suns and moons at the time as you can see! I couldn’t believe it when I saw them at her house a couple of months  ago. But I should back up and tell you how I learned this Ukrainian art form in the first place …

When I was almost too old to for summer camp I went to a day camp that blew my mind. We got to be pioneers for 5 whole days at the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village! I did it for 2 or 3 years I think, and then I worked as a volunteer ’cause I was too old to be a camper but I really wanted to be a pioneer at least once per summer still. And then I worked as a leader of the program, because I could not get enough of being a pioneer! I still love a good historic site, but the UCHV has never been topped for me. If you’re ever in the Edmonton area, you must go, it’s an unforgettable experience. You will be forever moved by the tenacity of the settlers of Western Canada and the richness of the culture that the Ukrainians carried with them over the brutal miles of untamed Canada.

Here I am at the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village on the old ferry, circa 1996. Can you think of a more beautiful place to work and be? The town site is in the background.

Honestly, those were some of the best days of my life. Both campers and program leaders (along with the interperters there) dressed in historically accurate clothing. For the ladies that meant brown cotton stockings held up with penny garters, cotton bloomers and slips and drop-waisted cotton print dresses. And to top it off, hustkas, the colourful, flowered woollen headscarves.

We became members of the families in the farm and town sites, we ground grain, “shopped” at the old store, fed animals, made meals from scratch, fetched water, rode in wagons and old cars, smithed tiny horseshoes, weighed grain at the elevator, dipped candles, packed ice in the ice chest, pumped gas at the hand pump, sent out Morse code messages at the train station, went to school and church (there are 3 varieties on the historic site there!) Can you think of a better way to spend a summer? I cannot. It was the best summer job ever.

And each week we made Pysanky, Ukrainian Easter eggs. Witness Susan in heaven. Beeswax melting, pots of dye waiting, delicate eggs ready for art. We worked from traditional Ukrainian patterns, though none of mine have survived. I did get my own kystka (if you scroll down in the link you’ll see beautiful eggs and then some lovely hands working with a kystka), the tool for drawing with heated beeswax on the eggs.

Each pysanka is made with a process exactly like batik. A layer of beeswax is drawn on the egg to seal in the white of the original surface, then the egg is dyed the lightest colour you want (traditionally yellow).  Next a layer of wax designs over the yellow seal it in, then it’s dyed orange, draw, dye red, draw and so on through to black (or whatever your darkest colour will be). Then all the wax is heated and wiped away and a colourful egg appears, its magic, alchemy really! For these eggs I evidently drew the entire piece on the white egg and then layered the dye colours.

And lastly, you really should check out the Giant Pysanka in Vegreville, Alberta. Happy weekend!

Night Owl Tastes the Early Worm

This morning I got up early to make a quick gift for a wee girl. It’s a soothy/pacifier/nuk-nuk/chooch/you-name-it holder, a key piece if you use these things so they don’t get lost or dirty. And it might as well be charming!

I’ve been trying this lately, the up-early-to-get-some-work-done bit that is, and sometimes it works with my sleeper-iner boys! The time is finite and my ears tense for waking sounds, but so far I’ve some fair success, as long as I don’t plan too big a task.

I tend towards the Night Owl side of things, always have. I revel in a quiet, still house and come alive creatively after 11 o’clock pm, loving the possibility in the hours that lie ahead and not being interrupted (except perhaps to nurse). But the danger is that I’ll easily work almost all night and that’s not great when those hours are meant for sleeping. And it isn’t particularly compatible with present, conscious mothering, so I’m trying to choose sleep when there’s sleep for the taking and not to get seduced by long stretches of quiet, velvety, night hours I could use to sew and sew and write and think!

One of the things I miss most from my before-kids days are the long chunks of undivided, dedicated time I could carve out for projects. I definitely couldn’t appreciate what a freedom that was. Sometimes, nay, often, keeping so many balls in the air is not the most effective or satisfying way to get things done. But I’d rather be juggling in order to still be creative and creating alongside my lovely boys than not. And I wouldn’t trade them, don’t mistake this for a complaint. Rather, their presence in my life has taught me to use my time way more efficiently. And to value quiet night hours like gold.

But I am an Owl in Robin’s clothing. The early worm tastes okay, it’ll definitely do. But there’s no doubt I’ll still succumb to the night now and then … hoot hoot!

I’m loving this easy soother strap design I’ve settled on and recently picked up some great ribbon so I can make a bunch for Etsy. Cute, non?

Velcro Baby and Love Letters with a 4-year-old

A love letter “posted” in a bike basket full of flowers. All photos in this post by Lindsay Zier-Vogel, the Love Letterer herself!

 

 

I haven’t written specifically about the kids or the mothering in a while. We are truckin’ along and I am riding the ever shifting balance of being home with two energetic, gorgeous boys. Gene is now 9-months-old and he is suddenly Captain Velcro, meaning he’s stuck to me like glue every waking moment. He’s utterly content if he’s on me, but the minute I try to leave — and by leave, I mean to go, say, get the mail or make some lunch, something innocent and necessary like that — he’s panicing, weeping, wailing piercingly, heartrendingly. He falls asleep clutching a handful of my breast in case the food source should try and sneak off whilst he’s at rest! He’s realized in earnest that I can disappear and that he doesn’t know when I’ll be back. And this consciousness has led to paranoia on a grand scale! Of course it’s normal and good and I’m so glad to see him evolve, even if sometimes I find myself trying to go pee with an infant stuck to me, which is no easy feat. I surrender a lot these days and just lie on the floor or in bed and let him satellite around me, maybe fold laundry or read but often just be there (at the cost of cleanliness or order in the house, but this too shall pass!) We have lots of giggles and gazing sessions together and he continues to charm me silly.

Then there’s Rudi, now 4 years old. He’s suddenly so grown up! He’s still got his powerful will Will WILL intact but I am finding that the near constant butting of heads that we’ve been playing at for the past few months is easing up. He is more independent than ever, he makes his own toast now and is so proud to “make breakfast!” He is a little more logical, a little more worldly. He can wait when I ask him too, knowing that it won’t be interminable. And we are starting to have little moments of, for lack of a better way to put it, hanging out. As mom and son rather than mom and toddler. I take him out once in a while without Gene because even though I’m with both boys all day, my attention is divided and Gene usually gets more of me. So I jumped at the opportunity to take Rudi to go Love Lettering last week with my friend, the indomitable artist Lindsay Zier-Vogel.

Choosing his Love Lettering materials carefully.

The Love Lettering Project is a community arts project bringing love letters to strangers. Lindsay’s been at it for eight years now and gained all sorts of local and national attention last year. The project grows by leaps and bounds each year and I “love” it (a-ha-ha). This year, she’s setting up at various community events, inviting people to write a love letter to something they love about their city and then leave it anonymously for someone to find — which will surly brighten the days of all involved! Rudi and I went to The Avro in Toronto’s East end for PAL-SAC‘s (Post A Letter Social Activity Club) night hosting The Love Lettering Project. We chatted, he had water in a pint glass, worked diligently on a love letter to The Secret Park (which is near our house, but I can’t say where exactly, what with it being Secret and all) and chatted up the locals. Then we went for burnt-marshmallow ice cream at Ed’s. It was a good night!

Working oh-so carefully on his Love Letter to The Secret Park in Toronto. I love the white finger tips on his left hand!

I loved being able to chat with Rudi without the divided attention necessary when I’m  solo with the two boys. We are so much calmer together when we’re alone together. I think there’s a lesson in there for me somewhere! I’m sure it has a lot to do with my tension level. I am constantly amazed by what mirrors we are as parents. Rudi so often reflects how I am, and he’s got keen senses, because I can’t be faking calm, he’ll still pick up on the turmoil underneath if it’s there. So cheers to one-on-one dates with 4-year-olds, with sons, and cheers to love letters. And to velcro, can’t forget the velcro …

Love Letter accomplished and sealed. Now time for delivery …

Hometown, Heart and the Headstrong Baby

12 days ago my dad’s heart very nearly failed him. He lives across the country from me in my hometown of Edmonton and with this hard news came the clarity that I dearly wanted him to meet 8-month-old Gene. So Gene and I flew over the lakes and the prairies and I got to introduce my dad to his second grandchild. Happily, the docs were able to fit dad with a pacemaker/defibrillator and he’s back at home for now, heart ticking along.

In spite of it being an emergency trip filled with apprehension, it was so good to share my wee boy with my Edmonton family and friends. My own heart is overflowing with big sky and the big love of my amazing people there. Gene made some ridiculous strides in Edmonton, standing against things and cruising a bit, crawling for the first time and walking his little legs to get where he wants to go when you hold his hands. He is a ball of determination!

Edmonton was exploding with apple blossoms. I was lucky to catch those magic couple of days when the trees are full of their short-lived pink and white flowers:

I miss the wide Alberta sky. If you aren’t familiar with prairie skies, it’s hard to describe the amazing, shifting endless space. I don’t really miss it til I’m there and then I feel like I’m brimming with the aching familiarity of it.

I learned about chewbeads, silicone bead necklaces that are made to be chewed by babies yet look look like lovely, chunky jewellery, brilliant! My cousin was wearing hers so stylishly while her little guy held onto them with a vice grip, chewing and playing as we walked and caught up.

I went with the aforementioned cousin to the Duchess Bake Shop, a super fancy, high tea looking place, yet totally approachable and momma-with-baby friendly. We  ate and savoured and enjoyed our little boys, who are only 15 days apart in age. This made for an extra special, hilarious visit as we are both firmly in the midst of sleep deprivation, infant eczema, baby food and the glorious madness that is mothering an infant. The Duchess has a great ceiling, it mesmerized both me and Gene!

My cousin’s name is Tamsin, but we mostly call her Tam. And it happened to be her birthday! I opened my mom’s late 70s edition of The Joy of Cooking, found a delectable banana cake recipe and baked it up. Then I had a wave of brilliance and cut out the letters of her name in paper, sifted sugar over them and presto:

Lastly, my cousin adventures ended in a quilting shop. Oh dangerous deliciousness! She is a crafty fabric-a-holic also and we found some prints that simple could not be left behind. Here are my spoils:

And here I am, back in super-hot Toronto, somewhat jet-lagged. Back to my mothering of 2 and my sewing and my regular blogging. Happy week everyone!

Aflutter Over the New Quilt

I finally finished the bird-patterned quilt I’ve been planning and working on over the past few months. This was the project that kept getting bumped aside for other more pressing matters and crafts. But its time has come! I present the Birdie Quilt and Burping Pad Combo.

I plan to carry this set on my Etsy store when I’m up and running in the summer, so the next step is to make some more sets. I am so happy with how this design came out. I like the big, chunky blocks and have always been attracted to baby stuff made with strong colours and a pattern that’s not so common.

Unfortunately in my photos you can’t really see the leaves sewn into the black blocks on the quilt, but they’re there! I am slowly increasing my photographic skills because of this blog, but the black fabric stole the light and I couldn’t find it. Will experiment more, am open to suggestions …

On the simple, flannel side of the burp pad and the blocked side of the quilt I used green thread so that the quilted leaf design would stand out. It’s fun to quilt this pattern free-hand on the machine, reminds me of painting or sculpting. Probably my favourite of the process!

The busy side of both pieces is stitched with white thread. The leaf quilting almost needs to be felt to be seen amidst the birds and foliage. I hope the detailing invites fingers to touch and baby cheeks to rest peacefully.

I’ve been reading and thinking about pricing and perceived value. Burping pads, my speciality, are just not that cost effective. The ones I make are relatively labour intensive but there’s a limit to what people will pay for such things and it’s not a lot more than a super fancy latte! I see a lot of sewers undervaluing their work on Etsy, burping pads for as low as $2.50 with a median of about $8 per pad, which I find totally ridiculous and frustrating. I think it may be one of the great failings of such a platform, that value gets diluted with uneducated or timid artisans not really understanding how to value their work. Because mass-produced brand names versions often go for close to $20 per pad! Anyways, I’m slowly working on the math to find the sweet spots for pricing my work.

The idea to pair a pad with a quilt is something I’m going to try since consumers seem to be willing to pay more for a quilt; perhaps the overall square footage of the item persuades them?! And I like the idea of these 2 items together, perfect for a new baby gift. My slow advance on cottage industry continues …

PS: I wrote this entry with a sleeping 8-month-old draped across my arm and lap. My wrists have been performing acts contortion in order to type! Insane perhaps, but I find that getting my blog post ready the night before is more enjoyable and practical for the most part. It’s just too hard to get a long chunk of time at the computer amidst the littles and isn’t fair to them. And I really am enjoying blogging, it’s helping me keep on some kind of task creatively I am surprised by how much I enjoy the act of writing and sharing here. Over and out.

Springing and travelling and gathering myself

Folks, it’s spring, I smell it. I saw a Robin. I heard a Robin. I saw heaps of Crocuses. Rudi picked one, stopped the stroller of his own volition and worked it into Gene’s sleeping hand today. Is there anything better than dimpled fingers on the first crocus of spring?

My blog was quieter than usual last week because I was away from my desk and my everyday life. I took a trip across the country to Victoria with my wee-man Gene to stay with one of my best friends in the world, commencing a 3-day “vagilogue” as my husband so tactfully put it. My heart and mind got filled up with the true solid, friendship, the kind you can slip into easily, years folding up on one another, marrying now and “the last time.” I feel super buoyed up even if I’m physically exhausted from solo travel with a baby and too many time zones!

At 6-months Gene was a spectacular traveller. He happily boarded 4 planes in 5 days, did a lot of sleeping, nursing, watching airport lights, and peek-a-booing with friendly dudes behind us. He even met his uncle Dave for the first time on a strategically planned layover and he snuggled his Alberta Gran-E (obviously that’s her rapper name. She’s a granny + her name’s Elaine … you see where I’m going with this, my mom is so cool!). I also ran into 3 friends from my teenage life in Alberta 17 years ago — how nice for that to happen in real-alive-life rather than on social media, as much as I truly do love the book of faces and the twits.

And now I’m excited to be getting back into the groove of my life, surrendering happily to this utterly moment-to-moment existence as a full-time mom on maternity leave with 2 wee ones who’s also trying to get ready to hit the ground running with her own work — sewing, editing, choreographing — when the formal mat leave is up. I am working hard and gaining at my practice of simplicity in a moment, being present right where I am, which, to be totally honest, is usually: feeding, doing dishes, thinking about sweeping up the dust bunnies, reading (to clarify: not my own popular novel or work of complex theory but more of a librarian-reading-to-the-poo-joke-loving-masses), cooking, thinking that 5 months is too long to wait for a hair cut, walking to the park, colouring, thinking about blogging, playing, getting vomited and/or pooed on, thinking how long is it since I washed my hair, huh, and so on, you get the picture.

But I’m also keenly aware of the things I want and need to do to keep my adult self and creativity sharp. I keep them tucked in a brain-drawer during most of this extravaganza that is the current norm and at the end of the day, I take time to weigh what’s really necessary for the coming one, and to be reasonable with myself in order to have the personal wherewithal to meet the necessary and leave a little for the desired. Thus not a lot of action on my sewing-work front, but good plans for when the time arrives to make it all happen for reals. I live in hope good people, keep the faith!

A pocket full of thoughts …

I love/need to mull things over, weigh thoughts and ideas thoroughly (sometimes that means ad nauseum, I admit it!), check ’em out in different lights, size ‘er up. I don’t have a lot of time for that these days, but I grab my moments, my in-betweens — in bed as I fade out, nursing on the couch, walking to the park, making soup, riding up the stretch of highway between us and Nana&Papa’s house for weekend visits.

Which brings me to:

As mentioned in last Wednesday’s post, I’ve been meditating on simplicity. For me, right now, I think simplifying means not planning too much in a day, a week, a month, something I was practicing when Gene was under 3 months, but since then I’ve shifted into planning/hoping to do too much and often end the day frazzled, thinking I didn’t do enough, frustrated by the unstarted or unfinished projects staring at me with longing eyes. I set myself up for failure every time I plan too much in a day because my natural response to having too many things going is to panic and run for cover, figurative and literal. I stop thinking clearly or being able to prioritize and I just sit on the couch hoping the things I wanted to accomplish will get some of that Disney-princess-story-magic where they do themselves and have a catchy soundtrack and a subliminal message to boot!

So last week I started consciously planning to not plan a whole lot. I do the basics of my stay-at-home-mom day (which is a full-time job, I know I know, I grant that to others in my position but have a hard time feeling legitimate in it myself) and then I choose one thing beyond that that might, just might, get done. And funnily enough, I’ve actually been more effective since it seems this approach has alleviated the flight response. We’ll see if I can keep it up.

I’m consciously working at, reminding myself, to be present in the moment I’m in. It feels a little cringy and trite to write that down. And I am fully aware it’s not original. But it’s exactly what I need to know and practice right now. Actually Being Where I Am — in heart, head, body.

All my life I’ve been a planner, an anticipator. I think and yes, definitely worry, about the mythic “down-the-road” days … the big one for me right now is what happens when the mat leave is up in August? I just don’t know. And the lack of security in the not knowing freaks me out. But then I sabotage the lovely, suspended, necessary time that I am so privileged and deeply glad to have courtesy of this mat leave, particularly because I know so many women that don’t even have the option to have this year of partially-paid mothering. And when I am fully present, I experience such deep satisfaction, in everything really.

Someone wise recently reminded me that as a trained dancer, I’m practiced at being acutely present in the physical moment I’m in as a mover. I am working on translating some of that knowledge from studio to living room.

My 3-year-old is in a creative dance class on Saturday mornings. He loves it, skips down the street, has a buzzing, jumping energy in anticipation. He’s in class with two little friends of his whose moms and I have grown into wonderful friends through our kids. The class is only 45 minutes but we go for coffee during that time and honestly, Saturday coffee with these ladies has been a fantastic anchor point in my quiet maternity-leave life. In a period without a lot of adult-only interaction, I revel in those minutes of catch-up, giggling and gossiping and trading stories. We’ve decided to keep it up once classes are out, because somehow knowing that that visit is set gives the week a marker, a turning point of shared-experience. I must say, I like having a regular ladies-visit in my calendar. I highly recommend.

Last week I got a joyful email on a sunny morning from a lovely friend with the following link she was inspired by. And I think it’s worth sharing. Thanks to the writer Amelia Olson,

Click for the whole thing.

This bit feel particularly relevant, not directly but something that I often sense, and subsequently temper myself because of:
“As a woman, I feel continually shhh’ed.  Too sensitive.  Too mushy.  Too wishy washy. Blah blah.  Don’t let someone steal your tenderness.  Don’t allow the coldness and fear of others to tarnish your perfectly vulnerable beating heart.  Nothing is more powerful than allowing yourself to truly be affected by things.”

I’m going to keep feeling deeply. Cheers.