We All Need Someone

Mom, when you were little did you have an imaginary friend?

Absolutely.

What was his name?

Mr. Fox.

Was he a boy or a girl?

MISTER Fox was a boy.

What did he look like?

I think he was like a fox that walked like a grown up.
So do you have an imaginary friend?

Yes.

What does he look like?

He has like skinny arms and he is yellow.

Like Sponge Bob?

No, like a little fluff ball with crazy eyes.

like The Lorax?

No, that guy has a mustache and my friend just has a really nice smile. He always listens to me.

To The Other Side of the World

An account of how one momma drove her two boys 8 hours and 40 minutes toward a turkey dinner:

First I will tell you that my husband had business in Utah earlier in the week, so he flew out and planned for us to join him in a couple of days. The joining him part was my job.

It was also my job to schedule the floor guys for a final coat while we were away and ensure all scheduling of contractors and house checkers was done. (This was futile as it turns out because we came home to find that they had not done anything. I'll rant more about this later.)

4 a.m. 

Go ahead, blink a few more times and read that purported time, again. I woke up at 4 a.m., without an alarm, after sleeping for a full 7 hours. Tylenol P.M. is the bomb. People who know me well will truly be shocked by my waking up and functioning this early in the morning. Hell, people who know me really well will assume this is both a guest blog entry and a guest driver. 

Now that my boys weigh 50 pounds a piece there was not a chance that I would be carrying their slumbering bodies up a flight of stairs, through the door, down the garage steps, out to my death-by-incline driveway and buckling them into car seats. Instead I shook them awake from their camped-out positions on the sofa and ordered them to get dressed and get in the car. 

While they giggled and squealed like it was Christmas morning I loaded two sacks of sewing orders into my car and the last of the bags and coats into the back. Once they loaded up I locked all the doors and said farewell to my little house on the corner. 

4:40 a.m.

Make clandestine delivery to Cutie Petutie's warehouse before hitting the freeway, all the while Mason is chittin' and chattering about our adventure. 

"Mama, is Utah close to the other side of the world?"

"No; it's just on the other side of Wyoming."

"Oh, that's not that close."

A mere moment of silence -- I think just enough for him to take a breath.

"Mama, just a reminder, are you going to set the timers?" This is in reference to the prize timer that I set on long road trips. Basically at timed intervals if my children have played quietly in the backseat and not fought with each other they both earn a prize. Usually a LEGO minifig or theater-sized box of candy. I tell them the interval is 1 hour, but it is actually 1:20. Will this ruin them for life?

"Hey mama, have you ever seen me shiver and fall asleep?"

"Nope. But I would really like to see that."

"Hey mama, I wish you wouldn't have told me we were going on vacation because then I couldn't sleep. Next time just wake me up and then tell me we are leaving right now," suggests Mason.

4:52 a.m.

We are actually on the freeway, now. Mason has momentarily stopped chatting and is humming four measures of "Deck the Halls" over and over again. I haven't had any coffee, yet.

Cooper says, "It's kinda fun to be the only people who are awake because you don't get stuck in traffic." City boy.

"Hey mama," interrupts Mason, "Do you know that when I get woken up by someone I talk a lot?"

4:56 a.m.

"I think I know why I heard someone say, 'Reset the alarm.' on the walkie talkie." This is a reference to our IKEA evacuation earlier this week. But before I can ask why he says:

"Hey mama did you know the moon is the lightest thing at nighttime?

"I think you mean it appears to be the brightest."

"Yeah, that."

4:58 a.m.

Mason asks, "Hey mama I don't remember, did you remember to set the timer?"

"I did."

"OK if we are asleep and we don't wake up for the timer, will you save our prizes for when we wake up?"

5 a.m.

The alarm on my watch goes off. Both kids sit straight up. I attempt to calm them, "Stand down, that's the alarm to wake up. We're just ahead of schedule." 

Cooper resigns himself for waiting another 40 minutes for the prize timer, "I'm going to open my backpack." This is followed by Ooooohs and aaaahs! And an, "Awesome!"" (I hid new coloring books and a Wimpy Kid Diary in there.)

"Say, 'Thank You Mommy'."

Both,"Thank You, Mommy."

5:05 a.m.

"Hey mama have you ever had a song mash up?" asks Mason and before I answer follows with, "I was singing Batman and then all of a sudden I was like singing Black Eyed Peas. And, I didn't notice so then I was singing Put Your Hands Up in The Air." 

5:08 a.m.

Excitedly Cooper gasps, "Look! It's the Broncos' stadium."

Mason dryly responds, "Go Broncos."

5:20 a.m. 

You may think this represents 12 minutes of silence. Don't be fooled.

In fact, after 12 minutes of enthusiastic humming he has stopped and I think Mason actually fell asleep for a second. 

5:33 a.m.

First McDonald's stop/drive through for the day. Among other indulgences I order both a small coffee and a large coffee and neither are intended for Mason. 

5:59 a.m. 

"Mama how do you spell Plymouth?" asks Cooper and I believe this might be the start of our first holiday relevant conversation.

"P-L-Y-M-O-U-T-H."

"Where is it?"

"Hmmmm... I think it's actually a rock on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean right by Massachusetts." And this is where I start to panic because I realize I'm one of the historically illiterate that my idol David McCullough pities.

"Is that where they built their houses?"

"Pretty sure they just docked their ships there. Then they kinda spread out to build their houses in the woods." Oh jeez I'm botching this.

"What happens on the 4th Thursday?"

"That's Thanksgiving." Then I realize I don't actually know FOR SURE if it's always the fourth Thursday or the third Thursday and I wish he would just ask me about Duck Dynasty.

"Why do they call it that?"

"If you count all the Thursdays that happen in November it's the fourth one, so they call it the fourth Thursday. Wait, did you mean, why do they call it Thanksgiving?"

6:16 a.m.

I realized about 4 minutes ago that I forgot to inject Lovenox -- an anticoagulant that I must use on long road trips and flights -- so I start looking for a safe and well-lit gas station. I settle on a dive in Fort Collins just in time for the first prize timer. When we pull up to the pumps Cooper sees a woman filling up her car while smoking. 

He growls, "Get in your car and never come back." 

Mason pleads, "I'm too little to die." 

This gas station only has an outside bathroom that is approximately 26 degrees, so I elect to inject myself in front of my kids in the car. I hate doing this because they get really scared for no other reason than they don't realize not all injections feel like immunizations. So they cry and I hurry and fumble with the sharp in the dark. Super annoying and cause for a little more bruising than usual. 

I fill up the car with gas and ask if anyone wants to use the restroom. Both boys decline.

6:30 a.m. 

We're back on the road, the sun is up and it is 2 degrees warmer. (balmy 28)

6:42 a.m.

Mason, "Whoa, look at the sky!"

Coop, "I need to pee." 

Because 12 minutes ago you didn't?!?!

6:49 a.m.

We pull over at the only gas station I see on 287. We don't need gas, so we rush in the Shell station for a restroom, gum, and another coffee (don't judge). The gas station attendant is so cheerful and nice to everyone in her station. She's simultaneously listening to some old farmer's drama, running a credit card for something like $400 worth of gas, being sweet to my boys, and encouraging me for my long road ahead. Let it be said, I'm thankful for people like her. Sunbeams shined from her face. 

6:56 a.m.

Now that it is light enough to see, we start playing the license plate game. 

Also, in my hand-written notes I wrote something followed by an exclamation point. This is rare. So I suspect this was super funny. But I can't read my handwriting and I was really tired so I don't remember what it said or what happened. That's a bummer. 

Oh wait, I think I pointed out it was 33 degrees! That wasn't worthy of an exclamation point. 

7:16 a.m.

We cross the state line into Wyoming.

7:23 a.m.

Mason begins to experiment with tempo. Which is to say he hums the theme of Harry Potter in a staccato rush of notes and then draws out each note so long I can hardly recognize the song. This experiment isn't appreciated by everyone in the car.

Cooper is chomping on one of the apples I brought. I need to say they are the best tasting, crispiest apples I have ever tasted. I bought them at Target. Best ever.  

My phone says this part of the drive is called Granite Canyon, Wyoming. And I think it also says, "It's freaking cold here, turn around and go home!"

7:42 a.m.

Both boys are reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. Silence.

7:46 a.m.

Mason sternly asks, "Is there anything I can do?"

"Color in your Angry Birds coloring book?"

"Naw, I'll just count to 36, sixty times."

7:58 a.m.

I see a huge bald eagle sitting on a fence post! A-MAZ-ING!

8:10 a.m.

Our first Idaho license plate sighting followed by Cooper shouting,"That's where we are going!" 

Uhhhhhhhh.

8:23 a.m.

Prize time, squeals of delight for the mini LEGO batmobiles I found at Target. (Yes, I'm telling you I love Target today.)

8:37 a.m.

We pass Wolcott and my stomach does a little flip. I lecture to the boys, "Do you remember when we had to stop there because the road was closed for a wreck and the gas station was closed because this town is lame and it was super cold because Wyoming has wicked weather and we forgot to bring blankets?"

They both nod yes.

I continue, "The lesson here is that we always take blankets, even if it is warm when we leave."

They both nod yes. 

On second thought maybe they were just looking down at their LEGOs. Either way, I capitalized on my opportunity to teach road trip safety. Yes I did.

9 a.m.

We cross the continental divide and receive a phone call from husband. 

9:26 a.m.

We spot our first international plate -- Ontario. 

9:43 a.m.

Prize time.

10:05 a.m.

We see our first Wisconsin plate and send good thoughts to our very own cheeseheads. Also, I switch to iced coffee. Which is to say that all my hot coffee is now cold and I'm drinking it anyway.

10:17 a.m.

Stop for gas in Rock Springs. The gas station attendant calls me, Hon. She doesn't know me, so I'm not sure why she does this. 

10:32 a.m.

Back on the road after extensive candy aisle contemplation. I also try to fill their garbage cans with all our car trash. In process drop my already chewed gum on my floor mat. I'm mad at myself.

10:48

We pass through the Green River Tunnel and Mason points out a rock formation to us and says, "That looks like a statue of a girl tied up." Has he ever seen a girl tied up?

11:01 a.m.

Mason, "When are we going to be in Idaho?" 

Uhhhhhh.

11:04 a.m.

After an interminably long time of Jazz (the genre, not the basketball team) radio followed by Country radio followed by lots of static stations, we find "I Will Wait for You" by Mumford and Sons and I am cheered knowing that with good music you can make yourself do just about anything. 

Also, the song puts me in such a good mood I declare prize time. 

11:51 a.m.

Cooper sighs, "Are we in Idaho, yet?

Uhhhhhh.

11:56 a.m.

We cross over into Utah. This is met with no reaction from the back seat. 

12:08 p.m.

Mason says, "Mama, when we get there will you play LEGO with me?"

"Of course."

Cooper clarifies, "Yeah, because me and daddy and grandpa and grandma and June are going to play dummy rummy. We've been planning that."

12:14 p.m.

"Look at that mountain, Cooper!" shouts Mason. I almost wreck my car in surprise.

"Oh, that's where vampires live," explains Cooper with no surprise at either Mason's loudness or that vampires might live in the mountains of Utah.

12:19 p.m.

We drive above Echo Lake (actually I don't know which lake it is). Coop starts getting ideas about it's entertainment value, "Can you fish in there?"

"I think."

"Can you survive swimming in there?"

"Not right now!" (it's only 48 degrees)

12:24 p.m.

"Mama are we almost there?" asks Mason

"Yup."

"How many minutes?"

Uhhhhhh.

12:25 p.m.

"Wow!" says Cooper. "Are those sheep!?!??  l love sheep." 

Mason adds, "And then the big bad wolf comes..."

12:39 p.m.

As we get deeper into the canyons that feed into the Wasatch Front the radio signal gets worse and the music gets questionable. 

Cooper says, "Why doesn't Idaho's music sound like ours?"

Uhhhhhh.

12:43 p.m.

With clear disappointment Mason asks, "Hey, why is it so snowy here?"

12:45 p.m.

The first complaints about butt pain.

12:53 p.m.

"I know this!" says Mason with confidence. "I can't believe we finished our trip in one day!"

1:04 p.m.

Oh I missed the exit to my in-laws' house. Now we are lost somewhere on highland drive. 

1:15 p.m.

My kids start talking about people and their ages and I don't really pay attention because I'm lost. But my ears perk up when Cooper says that he thinks I am 99! I correct him and he says, "I think you're as skinny as a grown up should be." Now that's consolation for an old comment. 

1:23 p.m.

After 2 panicked phone calls to husband, license plates from 25 different states and countries,  across 3 states in 8 hours and 40 minutes we find our way to the driveway of our destination. 


Editor's Note: I would like to apologize for periods of time in which  this entry was published without photos and  in draft form, and then with huge formatting issues. I tried to write and post this while traveling with my iPad. Frankly it didn't work very well. If anyone has a mobile app for iPad that they like for blogging, please suggest.

FBSG: The Crafts

please note hair and clothing during FB.

Our home is always a flurry of fake productivity in the form of crafts. In our kitchen roughly a quarter of our pantry space is dedicated to paper, pens, coloring books, googly eyes, glue sticks, markers, crayons (melted and otherwise), foam mosaics, wooden figures, plaster bobbleheads, and the like. Then in the basement – which we recently finished – there is a “guest” room that is roughly the size of two bedrooms and has two closets, a sewing table, two sewing machines, a work table overflowing with computers and files and project ideas, an ironing board, and the remnants and preparations of thousands of craft ideas that I have either cooked up and never finished or tried and abandoned with little to no success. It’s safe to say that any break from school includes a crafternoon, or two,maybe three. It’s also likely that said crafts will be ambitious, messy, overwhelming to the entire house, and somewhat popular with the littles.

Over Fall Break I had my hidden craft surprises and one that I let the children choose. The second half of that statement actually reflects the extent to which I will go when I am bribing my children in a fabric store.

Our surprise crafts were the frosting and chocolate cookie haunted house, the wood bead spooky creatures, and a foam haunted house. These came out of The Halloween Box.

But on a frenzied afternoon at JoAnn’s I happened upon a 99 cent pattern sale that I had to look through. Had to. So, I told the boys to also look through the patterns and find a craft they might like to make during Fall Break. They picked Simplicity 5310, McCall’s 6052, and McCall’s 6481. I did say ambitious, right?

I bought all three patterns but when the rubber hit the road and I actually made the boys cut their own patterns and hunt for their own fabric scraps (in my scrap bag that is daunting) they narrowed their scope of work to McCall’s 6481. This pattern aids in the creation of a zoo of stuffed toys that look an awful lot like Angry Birds, thus the appeal.

The wood bead craft took only an hour. I like crafts to take at least two hours because you spend a half hour preparing and another half hour cleaning up. So, you better get the most out of your Fall Break, right?

But the Angry Birds took all night long. The boys cut their own pattern pieces and selected their own fabric. I had some concerns about Mason’s choices at first. But you know what, he has an artist's eye and it all worked out famously. This pattern is a bit fiddly for a novice sewist. It was hard for my children to do much more than the body pieces and the stuffing. I was left to close the birds and sew details like the eyes. I would recommend making this in fleece or felt. My kids just used what I had which made for some tricky materials to run through the machine.

The two boys attacked the project differently. Cooper's was the most ambitious. He got the cutting done much faster than Mason. Mason took at least an hour deciding what fabric scraps to use and then chatted the entire time he was stuffing the bird. Topic? What to name it. 

I don’t understand why this pattern made such small animals. The scale could be bumped up probably 50% and make for a really great pillow or stuffed animal. Were I to make these again, I would absolutely take the pattern to a copy store and ask for an enlargement.

As for my sewing during Fall Break, I prepared for the holiday rush season for Cutie Petutie Originals http://www.cutiepetutieoriginals.com/ and then sewed Vogue 1261, New Look 6977, and two of Simplicity 2911. For reals, that’s a lot of sewing. I’ll be writing about all these patterns and showing pictures of the finished awesomeness on my sewing blog. 

Generous Heart

You know that awkward moment when the teacher puts you on the spot in front of 23 kids? Guh. Why do they do that? 

Mason's kindergarten teacher -- who we like very much -- invited me to be a part of a tradition she does during a student's birthday week. Basically it's some form of show-and-tell every day of an entire week. Gratefully she gave Mason a short week. 

I'm sure you can guess her reasons. During the presentation of his life on a poster board -- 5 years condensed into 10 photographs -- he stared directly at the poster board and read word for word the captions I had written. These captions said things like, "My brother Cooper and I built a replica of the Fukushima nuclear plant disaster." and "I volunteered to paint the cafeteria last fall." Come on, the kid was reading it having never rehearsed it! I was both totally proud and somewhat aching at the awkwardness.

His teacher wanted him to improvise, however, and was trying to get him to talk into a microphone. Hated it. But he endured. Oh that's when sweet kindergarten teacher said, "I'm going to ask your mom to list some of the reasons she loves you so much." 

Is this a test? Am I supposed to cry? Or am I supposed to let things just eloquently roll off my tongue like a Hallmark card? Pah-lease. I decided blubbering would be frowned upon. Basically I said, but I can't remember exactly what I said because I was mostly concentrating on not crying....

1.  When Mason was born, one of the reasons he stayed at the hospital (they had just seen his grotesque NICU picture) so long is that he had what is called a generous heart. Generous is a word we use when we mean big. He was born with a big heart and he still has a big heart. He is kind and gentle and generous of his time, and his things. He never wants to leave out someone. 

2.  Have you ever noticed Mason doesn't talk as much as some of your other friends? (Can I tell you how many times small boogery children point out this when I'm in the classroom volunteering?) And when he does talk he speaks very quietly? Well, I call this soft spoken and it is one of my favorite things about him because I know he listens to others before speaking. When he does speak, he means what he says. 

3.  And last, he's creative and I love creative people. 

And here is where Mason interrupted me and said, "What about those LEGO crayons?!?!" What a transition! Basically he gracefully got me off the hook and allowed me to stop talking and start handing out tiny LEGO men made of melted crayons. He then bragged about me while I bragged about him. It was excellent. 

Tonight, as tradition dictates, I tucked in 5-year-old Mason for the last time and said good bye. sniff sniff. Thankfully Mason, reassured me with, "I'll still be the same person tomorrow." And just as I'm wishing they didn't grow so quickly I'm reminded of a conversation I very recently had with Mason. 

He asked, "Mom, do some kids grow up and never leave their mom's houses?"

Tentatively I answer, "Yes. Why? Do you think you wanna do that?"

"Well, I been thinking about it. " And that was the last I heard of that. Until today when he twisted off the stem of his apple in 29 turns and declared that is when he would get married. Great. Idea. 

PS -- I'll be writing about the party on my sewing blog later this week.

Furniture Shuffle

After weeks and weeks of remodeling our little house on the corner, we are at that stage when we have to decide what furniture will stay and what will go. Mainly, what will go someplace else in the house.

I didn't want to keep any of it. Much of our furniture was bought for one purpose and one purpose only -- get us through the little kids who don't make it to the bathroom stage. It's not terrible expensive, not a perfect fit to our style, but was a perfect fit for expense when it came to what we were considering disposable furniture.

In the planning of our new spaces I think everyone in the family assumed there would be new furniture everywhere. What we didn't take into account is that we are challenged when it comes to making decisions. There's also that 6-8 weeks factor on furniture delivery. And last but not least, the "I'm attached to it, now" factor.

This final straw that we're asking the camel to carry about is really upsetting the kids. Please examine the shiny red table pictured here. It was a cheap find (in every sense of the word) at IKEA. I let the boys pick one each. They wanted them for LEGO stations in their own rooms. Mason picked a glossy red one, Coop a fancy black one. But now, I don't really want them and they do NOT want to get rid of them.

In this shuffle I have two towers of shelves that need to part ways -- one to find a new nook in our home the other to go to the first hungry college student who asks for it. Two squat bookcases that need new homes, but that I am having a hard time parting with because they are such high quality and surely we can find a spot for them. I've got to make a decision about the bedroom furniture that my husband's parents gave us. It's really pretty, but we don't have the full set and we're having a hard time matching it up to other pieces of furniture we do have. Argh. We absolutely won't be able to part with it. But where to showcase it?!??!!

Our big burly, red sectional found a new home in the basement. That was an accident. I fully intended for that to be thrown away. But you can't watch Rio on the big screen while sitting on the floor. It might be new, high quality carpet on a plush pad, but it's just not THAT comfortable. Not 6-8 weeks comfortable.

When the red beast found a new home downstairs it abandoned the front living room. So now I have one of my pet peeves, a welcoming room -- genuinely the first, and sometimes last, room visitors see -- empty but for toys. Children's toys. Oh and a lamp. We left the lamp there because we haven't found a new room for it, either.

Let's also chat a little bit about my plan to make the basement grey, chocolate brown, and tangerine. Now there's a big red elephant in the room.

Games Boys Play, VI

Favorite toy of the sons of a seamstress? The cardboard tube at the center of bolts of home dec fabric.

There Are No Words

Watching the boys play while they wore these mustaches was only slightly more amusing than watching them try to peel them off without pain. Ha ha ha ha. (I'm sick.)

Your Favorite Gift

This time of year a lot of folks belly up to the pulpit, or step on a box or just write in their annual Christmas letter about the true meaning of the season. So I’m here to keep it real.

Our oldest has a December birthday. And so it seems that we open presents all. Month. Long. It’s a virtual parade of LEGOs, puzzles, books, games, you name it, and we’ve seen it. And those gifts really do mean something to that little boy born in a month wrapped in tradition and dedicated to something much more magnanimous than him.

His little brother, too young to understand the weirdness of a December birthday, too sweet to care about the clout of the newest video games, and too kind to give anything but his whole heart gave Cooper his favorite gift.

Back in November when all the stores had Halloween costumes and candy corn on clearance Mason happened upon a small plush monkey that was dressed in a skeleton costume. The monkey looked like Cooper’s Mo – the original lovie – but in costume. Mason found this hysterical and immediately said, “We should give this to Cooper for his birthday.”

Because it was only a dollar I agreed and tossed it in the cart. In the coming month Mason would occasionally tell me he was looking forward to Cooper’s birthday then he would lean into me, put a hand to his mouth as if to tell a secret, and whisper, “Because of that surprise, mama.” I enjoyed the conspiracy from the point of view of Mason, but I also fretted that his brother wouldn’t find it as awesome as Mason found it. After all Cooper is actually getting old enough to constrain his requests to very mature gifts – scooters, NFL jerseys, a new chess board.

Then with just a few days before the big day Mason busied himself at the kitchen counter drawing and writing cards to Cooper. Without any help at all he drew a stick figure of Cooper wearing a party hat emblazoned with a 7, and spelled out Happy Cooper. He also wrote another note that simply stated, “I love you, Cooper.” Then he folded them into small little squares about ½” by ½” and asked me for an envelope. Instead I found an old box from Valentine’s day.

The box sent Mason over the edge. It was pink (which I thought would make him reject it) but it had a monkey with a heart on it. He squealed with delight proclaiming it was perfect and put all the notes he had drawn inside. Then he patiently waited for Cooper’s birthday.

On the morning of Cooper’s birthday, we started with an early breakfast and present opening. Cooper tore through new video games, a CU shirt (I know, vomit), and some other things he had wished for including $35 cash. And then he came to Mason’s gift. Mason’s little heart was so filled with love his chest was visibly bursting. And I braced myself hoping against hope that at the very least Cooper would be gracious.

Cooper opened the box of notes and read them carefully. He smiled. He said thank you. He gave that monkey in the skeleton costume a hug. All the while Mason grinned from ear to ear. I felt it was a success, but I brushed my feelings under the rug along with all the other commotion of the day.


You know the routine: classroom treats, 27 kids belting out birthday wishes, special stickers from teachers and the principal, all a very big deal in the realm of 7. In the quiet at the close of a long day, however, when I opened Cooper’s backpack and unpacked the remains of his lunch and homework I found a booklet.

It was a book stapled together by his teacher. Apparently something she does for all the kids on their birthday. It was a journal of sorts. He was meant to illustrate and write about his day. On the page dedicated to “Your Favorite Gift” Cooper had drawn a picture of the monkey, the monkey box, and the teeny tiny notes with a huge message.


Every day my children remind me that while I created them, and endured the discomfort of carrying them around in my belly as close to my heart as a womb can be for the better part of a year; they have their own thoughts, their own hearts, and their own amazing lives. This is the gift I open ever year on Christmas morning, and the day after, and the day after that, and every day forever more.





PS -- In case you are wondering, Cooper is NOT in Boy Scouts. That shirt is a hand-me-down that he loves.