I'm a curmudgeon

I usually think of myself as a young, hip person.  Of course, I happen to be a mom, and of course, I'm over 30, but these things certainly don't make me someone who can't relate to the younger generation, right?  I mean, I remember being 14.  I even sometimes still  feel 13 (so awkward meeting new people), so I just didn't imagine I would find myself being the grumpy old killjoy of the neighborhood.

But. . . (and you knew this was coming). . . I was driving by the school today, and I saw a group of 12-14-year-old kids gathered around the homebase of the baseball field, and there was one kid climbing all the way to the top of the chain-link fence that guards spectators from flyballs. (What is that fence called?  I want to say "dugout", but I know that's wrong.)  Instantly, I stopped my minivan (Minivan?  Grumpy old mom clue #1.) and looked out my window at the kids.  They noticed me and looked back, somewhat cowed by the adult watching them.  (Cowing kids?  Grumpy old mom clue #2.)  They said something to the kid on top of the fence (20 feet up!  I would want someone else's mom to stop my kid if she was doing something that dumb.  Saying that last sentence?  Grumpy old mom clue #3.) , and he started climbing down, casually, but watching me the whole time, obviously willing me to just drive away and go about my business.  But I didn't (Grumpy old mom clue #4).  I stayed, ignoring that awkward feeling of the kids glancing over in my direction even as they tried to pretend I wasn't there.  I waited until his two teenage feet were planted firmly on the ground, and then I smiled and waved at the kids and drove away.  But even as my hipster self was humiliated at the spectacle my neighborhood watchdog self had just made of us, my inner curmudgeon wanted to turn around at the next stop sign and make sure that rascally kid hadn't tried to climb the fence again.  What is happening to me?

Flip-flops, Forts, Friends, and Fun

Is there anything better than a visit from some best friends (or cousins, as Mimi insists these girls are)?  I submit that there is not.  We snagged the Soelberg ladies for the last couple days of their spring break, and it was a delight from beginning to end.  

We began with some crafting--state love canvasses inspired by so many from around the web.  We both made Indiana (that wiggly-pointy part at the bottom left was a little bit tricky, doncha know), and then I added some Ohio and Utah love.  (Gotta represent!)  I'll probably have to add a little heart in the Roosevelt area of Utah soon, but I'm not doing it until I've actually lived there.

 Then we continued with some shopping--the 30% discount offered at Old Navy and Gap because of their "Give and Get" campaign was irresistible and called for a trip to the outlets. . . 

 . . . where we scored some matching flip-flops.  (The little sizes have straps behind the heels and Bella was genuinely distressed that her "fwips" didn't make the right noise.  And click on the picture to see how Bella--in the black leggings--likes to split her toes with the flip-flop strap.)

 Then the girly-girls slept in forts, made by John between the boxspring and mattress of the girls' bed (AWESOME!). . .

 . . . and me, by tying the fort sheet onto the kid chairs (lame).  You can see which fort made it through the night.

It was sad, as it always is, to let our friends head back to the wilds of Bloomington.  Bella nearly had a meltdown when she realized she was not going to be able to climb back into Sara's car and go home with her.  (Are you sure you don't want to come pick her up, Sara?  I think you need just a little more chaos in your life.)

I'm thinking there has to be an opening for a fantastic MBA somewhere in Roosevelt so we can continue our spring break tradition.  I'll be on the lookout.  Okay, Joe?

The World, According to Bella

John:  Bella, are you a crazy little sucker?

Bella:  No, I NOT a crazy little sucker.

 J:  I think you are a crazy little sucker, Bella.
B:  I not, I NOT.  See here, on this tog [tag].  It says, 'Bella not a crazy sucker.'  I NOT.

J:  I defer to the wisdom of the tag.

The Best Part of my Day

 2:43 p.m. Every school day.
I love this face.

 And this face.  (I can't aim my camera)

 And this crazy fashion sense.*

 I had big plans.  We were going to happily work on a fun spring project.  (One of these.)  The house would smell of cookies and sunlight and I would bustle about my perfectly clean house in a smile and a fantastic apron.

My girls would smile and laugh and helpfully help each other and Maddie would play quietly on the floor next to us and Bella would never even dream of cutting her shirt with the scissors or touching buttons on the Cricut or having meltdowns every three minutes or poking herself with the pins or demanding more cheese sticks.  

Well, at least the wreath got done.  And I never actually yelled.  Success!  It's still my favorite time of the day.

*Sidenote:  Olivia's teacher asked me, as I was volunteering at the book sale, if I was "responsible for Olivia's unique sense of style."  (You can tell she thought that question through for a while before she decided on the least offensive wording.)  I told her that Olivia was entirely at the helm of her own fashion boat, and I just tried to make sure the clothes were clean when they left my house in the morning.  The fantastic combinations of elements are pure Liv.  

Night of the Babies

I'm trying to catch up with all the updates I missed while my life was happening.  To borrow the words of Kenna Wahlquist, this is what I would have blogged in December, had I been blogging.

To prepare for the family trip we took to California in December, I made all the cousins matching t-shirts.  If you have never stenciled a t-shirt using freezer paper, drop everything this very minute and try it out.  It may change your crafting life.  (This was the first tutorial I read.  Very helpful.)  A note:  I used my Cricut to cut the letters and circles, but it only takes a couple minutes to cut the same thing by hand.

I wanted to get a picture of all the Anderson grandbabies in a row, but we had a couple problems. Problem #1:  Annabel.  Problem #2:  Quinn.

He has the most mischievous eyes, right?

We had one good shot.  

The perfect lineup.

Ruthie there (in the "r") is exactly two months older than Maddie.  Isn't she darling?  Madeline decided that Ruth was her anchor, and she clutched her hand and arm as if her life depended on it.  

I don't think Ruth was a fan.  

"Hey, guys.  This little fuzzy thing won't let go of my arm.  Help!"

Best. Shot. Ever.  Maddie happy, Ruthie perplexed, Quindo oblivious.

Looks like we pushed it too far.

I think I want the initial shirt to be a tradition.  Let me know if any of you want the tips for how to crank out twelve shirts in less than an hour.  I'm a master.  ;)

Christmas Dresses

This year, I made FOUR dresses for Christmas, and I finally got all of them clean at once and on my daughter's bodies for a post-church photoshoot.  Outside lighting is always best, but it was TOO cold, so we did it in Liv and Mimi's room, and it turned out pretty darn good, considering.  

I decided this year to make each of the girls a different dress, but using only two fabrics for all of them.  I chose a lovely black cotton velveteen and a silver polyester dupioni.  (Dupioni is that fabric that's got a dull sheen and some fun slubby--that is a word--texture.)  Machine washable was actually among the most important of the characteristics I was looking for, and these dresses all wash up beautifully.  

 Maddies dress was my own design.  I love the tuxedo ruffle and the three black buttons.

I used Oliver + S's Sunday Brunch pattern for Olivia's ensemble.  I've used three of the Oliver +S patterns now, and I heartily recommend them.  Liesl Gibson, the designer, gives amazing instructions, and the patterns have incredible tailored details.  They are very satisfying to complete.  

Mimi's dress was made from McCall 5795.  It's an easy, simple, customizable dress.  The lovely thing about the dupioni is that the reverse side of the fabric is shiny, shiny satin.  I used that side for the linings of all these dresses.  Mimi, with her obsession toward all things silky, loves this detail.

Bella's bubble dress, from another one of the Oliver + S patterns, was the fastest of the dresses to sew.  Again, I love the details and the sewing lesson integrated into the pattern.  (My next pattern purchase:  The School Photo Dress.  Google "School Photo Dress Blog", and you'll see some of the cutest dresses ever sewn.)

I think this matching-fabric-different-dresses is going to be my new strategy for Easter and Christmas dresses, as long as my girls will let me make them match.  Which one is your favorite?

Wherein I demonstrate my clumsiness. . .

. . . and also my incredible luck.

First the clumsiness.  As we are getting ready to put our house on the market, I have been working like a madwoman.  Last week, it was the basement's turn to be painted.  As I was moving a task light into place, it slipped a bit in my fingers and sliced my pinkie.  Not enough to be a problem, but enough to cause blood to pool in my palm.  Pool.  In my palm.  I don't do blood.  Well, not with grace.  I was feeling light-headed, so I talked myself up the stairs and over to the phone where I decided I needed to call Bonnie, just in case I passed out, you know.  So she'd know and come check on me in case I'd fainted on the kitchen floor and gotten a concussion.  (And really, people, that's not as far-fetched as it sounds.  I've done it before.)  But then I decided that if I could summon up enough willpower to stay conscious long enough to call Bonnie, I could summon up the sheer will to remain conscious indefinitely and not call Bonnie, thus avoiding embarrassment and teasing.  Whew!  Three band-aids later, I was back in business, painting the basement and determinedly not thinking about blood.

At craft group a few days later, my story-telling self decided this was a tale worth telling, embarrassing or not.  So I told it, a little dramatically, of course.  And I laughed about the ridiculousness of it all.  And my craft group buddies laughed with me.

Cut to Saturday:  The basement proper was completely painted, and in preparation for painting the guest bedroom in the basement, I created this deathtrap with a bedframe and a staircase.

The setup

Beautiful, right?  We were heading out for a Saturday expedition to Shipshewana, and I needed to grab something from the laundry room, so I dashed from the upstairs to the main floor, past my mom and kids (who were all ready to go), and turned the corner to head to the basement.  I was trying to put my arms into my cardigan and run down the stairs at the same time.  Why on earth did I think I was capable of that level of multi-tasking?  I'm not.  The toe of my boot caught the lip at the top of the stairs, and I launched down the 12 steps to the basement.

I experienced the fall in slow-motion, but I'm a little hazy about the details, since I can't quite figure out how I ended up head-down, but face-up, and dangling from my favorite boot which was caught on that bedframe corner.  The top of my head was only inches from that very hard wall at the bottom of the stairs.

My favorite boot now has a serious warwound.  Jake, do you think you could stitch it up as well?

My mom and girls heard the yelp, the crash, and the silence and ran to my rescue.  (Thank you, ladies!)  I was still assessing the possible damage when they arrived, so that must have been some scary anticipation. (Sorry, ladies.)  I was okay until I saw that my hand was covered in blood.

Here's where the luck comes in:
1) My mom was there.  Yay!  I didn't even have to pretend to summon my incredible will.  One look at the blood was all I got before she had paper towels and pressure and everything under control.
2)  Residency life comes with the perks of knowing the telephone number of 80 gazillion incredibly helpful doctors.
3) The doctor I called was not only willing to look at my hand to see if I did need stitches, he actually had a suture kit right there in his kitchen.  (Thanks, Jake!  Thanks SOOO much.)  That saved a billion dollars and 37 hours at the urgent care with 17 kids in tow.  (I'm only slightly exaggerating.)

4) I fell down an entire flight of steps and walked away with only three stitches, along with a dozen scrapes, quite a few bruises, and a big helping of lost dignity.  How's that for lucky?