Counting Christmas memories

The holiday hustle and bustle has subsided; Christmas is complete. One of my favorite parts of Christmas day is returning home in the afternoon after visiting nearby family, snuggling up on the couch with my husband, and silently recalling the days leading up to and including Christmas. The amusing moments, the fun moments, the surprising moments. The moments that quietly settle into my mind and become my own Christmas memories to keep, like these:

Jack waking up on Christmas morning to find Santa's gifts, unwrapped, in front of the fireplace. His response to his new loot? "Oh my CRAP!"

Grandma Sophie's visit (my mom) with her own Buzz Lightyear in tow. She "buzzed" around the living room with Jack for HOURS. She has the endurance of, well, a Grandma.

The three J's--a visit from my brother Jason, his wife Jen, and their daughter, Janessa. Jason brought his Karaoke Revolution X-Box game. I sang "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder and earned a perfect score. Jason said I was so good I gave him the shivers. (Only for a second, though.) That means I am the best mediocre singer he's ever heard. I'm feeling right proud about that.

Making Christmas cookies for our neighbors. The M & M bars have already had an encore baking at our house. Jack was essential to the baking process this year. I measured, he poured and taste-tested. Then taste-tested some more.

The solitary handmade gift this year. This is the ONE photo I took on Christmas morning--the unveiling of Jack's table tent. Velcro peepholes and painted suns, moons, and stars still to come . . .

Christmas morning--visiting with Brett's side of the family at his brother's house. His brother and wife made an incredible vegetarian breakfast for all of us. I ate for 45 minutes straight. My over-the-top eating was immediately followed by an impromptu nap on the couch. Heaven.

Replaying the days to solidify the memories. After gifts are wrapped and unwrapped, after meals are prepared and devoured, after guests are invited and enjoyed--after it's all said and done, aren't the memories we're left with what matters most to us?

Here's wishing your holiday memories were good and plenty. Wishing you many more where that came from in 2008.

ALERT: Jackspeak, birthday edition

Me: "Jack, I want to tell you something."

Jack: "What?"

"Today is a special day. Do you know what today is for celebrating?"

"Wrapping presents?"

"No."

"Giving presents?"

"Nope. It's someone's birthday."

"Mine?"

"No."

"Yours?"

"Yes."

"Mommy, I am so excited it's your birthday!"

"Thank you."

ALERT: Jackdo

I think Jack was trying to spin a Spidey web (with a skein of my favorite chenille-y yarn) in an effort to catch Santa when he lands at the bottom of our fireplace:

As usual, things always end up with the strip-down to undies.

After dressing the living room with webs, Jack gleefully wrapped himself up in the yarn and yelled "Spidey's got me in his web!" again and again. Not with fear, mind you. With utter delight.

I don't remember creating these kinds of strange scenarios for myself as a little girl. Is this a common little-boy thing? I'm still learning about these mystifying creatures. I think I've got a ways to go before I get it.

An early Christmas gift

Whoa. Look who we saw yesterday:

A nose, a mouth, a face, a FOOT (I even count five toes . . . you do too, right?). That's Tie-Dye--our little one on the way. Yesterday we had a doctor's visit for what they call a "targeted ultrasound." They check everything from fingers and toes to the four chambers of the heart. For most of the visit we watched Tie-Dye on the screen through two-dimensional images. But then the technician changed to the four-dimensional version of the exam. And there he was.

Well. Be still all four chambers of my heart.

Jack came with us and kept the technician entertained by telling her a story about how his shoes were on fire. ("And Mommy, you took my shoes off," he said. Thank goodness.) The technician complimented him on his nicely articulated and highly animated storytelling skills. She thought he was four years old. Even with a shoes-on-fire kind of story, it makes a mama proud.

Now, Tie-Dye, I must tell you--yesterday on the drive home from the doctor, Daddy and I decided that the name we've been kicking around for you fits you just right. But we'll keep your brother's nickname for you in play until you decide you're ready to meet us. Actually, I'm guessing we'll keep the nickname in play long after that, too.

I wish I was one of those mamas who glow and beam and are content and carefree when pregnant. We've been through three miscarriages. I'm not that kind of mom. But the technician said all is well. The doctor says all is well. My body says all is well. I need to believe all is well.

T.D., you are a beauty. Today, all is well.

Quiltless

I'm not working on a quilt right now. I feel all itchy about it. I have ideas, sketches, fabrics, and supplies. But between the holidays, organizing a new playroom, taking care of the day-to-day, and growing a baby, I can't seem to get going. Feels kinda empty, really.

To say I have nothing I could be working on isn't quite true, though. There are plenty of UFO's sitting in my closet, patiently holding their hands up, trying to catch my attention. Here are a few on deck:

I love these wacky, wonky blocks. They are from a block exchange, which I think took place at least five years ago. Sigh.

Not a cut made, not a stitch sewn on this "quilt." Just thrifted sheets, fuzzy fabric, and an idea.

Started this design last year--a kind of puzzle block using solid bright colors.

Another quilt in the making using solid brights. I really think this one has potential. Getting the fabric to mimic what I see in my head--that's the dilemma.

I can feel it; these girls are growing a bit impatient. I think their arms are tired. They're starting to make annoying noises as they raise their hands. You know, like Horshack in Mr. Kotter's classroom. Aww. They're like my little sweathogs! Somehow, I find that endearing.

Well girls, let's focus on wishing each other a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year first. Perhaps you can graduate and get your "bona-fide quilt" diploma in 2008.

(Oops, I just mistyped the year above and came up with "2080." That may be more appropriate.)

Little hands

Every morning, Jack wakes up and comes downstairs to greet me with gifts--little bits of fuzz from his bedtime blanket. He's collected them since he was a baby.

We love to paint, with one rule--when we start painting our bodies, painting time is over.

After months of patient instruction about how markers dry out if their lids don't stay on, Jack discovers you can turn marker lids into claws. Time to divide markers into "drawing markers" and "claw markers," I guess...

(Please note that my son has CLOTHES on in the last photo. Who knew all I had to do was turn the heater off?)

Santa hats

Last week I searched and searched online for a Santa-hat pattern to make with fabric. Couldn't even find ONE. I found loads of patterns for knitted hats but with three weeks until Christmas and three hats to make, knitting wasn't an option. I've been a beginning knitter since I learned how about six years ago. I'm not sure I'll ever graduate to the next level.

Through a bit of trial and error, I came up with a simple design of my own that seemed to work. A doubled band of white; two triangles of red; and two white circles, sewn, turned inside out, and stuffed. Not bad for knowing next to nothing about sewing stuff to wear!

The first hat I made was for Jack. OOPS. It turned out waaay too small. So guess what? His adorable, squeezable, lovable cousin Willa got a Santa hat, too:

That's Willa's mom--my sister--snuggling up with the little ones.

My sister and her husband came over to our house with Willa so we could take turns snapping holiday photos. Our time in front of the camera was spent saying, "Hands down please, hands down!" to Jack. He just wanted to whack at that little snowball on the tip of his hat:

Whack away, Jack--the official holiday photo has been chosen.

To me, Jack looks gorgeous. And OLD. Brett looks like his mellow self, with annual winter beard in full bloom. Me? I look like I'm trying to hide the double chin that has emerged from eating too much "baby food."

Ah, well. The last two years we had pictures taken at the mall. So I'm proud of this picture--no paper backdrop featuring flat trees and fake snow. (Just a fake tree, inherited from Brett's parents.) This is us, right now. At home, excited for all the fun the season is bringing our way. (No, really, Brett IS excited.) I think it'll make for a nice memory.

ALERT: Jackdo

It's fascinating, watching a child's personality emerge. Some traits are unmistakably their own. But more often it seems that you can attribute a child's qualities and quirks to one parent or the other.

For instance, Jack carries my from-birth ability to be a bossy know-it-all. (Or is that just me acting like a three-year old? Hmm.)

From his dad, Jack has acquired the ability to FOCUS. I can finish a little hand stitching, help Jack complete an ABC puzzle on the floor, make scrambled eggs, start a load of laundry, make a phone call, read a story, and organize a closet shelf in the span of an hour. I flit and flutter from one thing to the next. Brett, on the other hand, concentrates on one thing at a time. Stays with it until it's done. Or until the thrill is gone.

I can almost hear my husband's thought process as I witness him FOCUS:

"Snowboarding. I like snowboarding. Gear, gear, gear. Snowboard, snowboard, snowboard. Fun, fun, fun. Now I'm done."

Or

"Computer game. I like this computer game. Learn, learn, learn. Play, play, play. Fun, fun, fun. Now I'm done."

And so goes Jack's play. He created one beautiful "eagle" out of these blocks and was thrilled with his original creation. Then the FOCUS kicked in:

"Eagles. I like building eagles. Blocks, blocks, blocks. Build, build, build. Fun, fun, fun."

And now he's done.

Halfway

I'm more than halfway through my pregnancy now. I'm feeling like it's time to mark the milestone with a photo, so I don't forget what was happening at this stage (at least with my body):

Seems fitting to capture the time of year, too, with the tree...

Brett took this impromtu picture of my belly (below) when I was pregnant with Jack. I remember it was after having dinner with his parents one summer night. I must have been about seven months along here:

Round, round, round.

I love that picture. A few months after it was taken I decided to frame it. I had it sitting on my fireplace mantel, trying to find a spot for it in the house, when the pizza-delivery person showed up. It was a woman, a mom. She saw the picture and just beamed. "I remember those days," she said. "I wish I had taken a picture of myself like that when I was pregnant." A memory of our short conversation reminded me to take the opportunity to do it again.

Round, round, round. There's something freeing about being so round. And being OKAY with being so round. And having people say "You look so cute!" BECAUSE you are so round. (And getting rounder by the minute.) In the morning I'm carrying a balloon; by evening I'm carrying a bowling ball. I like my mornings.

Jack loves the idea of having a brother on the way. For the first three months of the pregnancy he asked, "Is the baby coming today?" every day. Now his latest baby-on-the-way commentary runs more like this:

"I'm sooo happy Tie-Dye is coming. He can play Star Wars guys with me, and he can do light sabers with me, and he can do drawings and paintings with me!"

Yes, Jack has given the baby a name. Tie-Dye. Over these past few months he has also wanted to name the baby Toothbrush and Flash. I'm glad Tie-Dye stuck.

So, halfway. Halfway to an end. Halfway to a beginning. I am so, so looking forward to both!

ALERT: Jackspeak (rated PG-13)

Jack: "Mommy?"

Me: "Yeah?"

"Your boobies look fabulous!"

"They do? Well, thanks. Now tell me, where the heck did you learn to say that?"

"I learned it at preschool."

Turns out, Jack learned the word "fabulous" at preschool. Not the word "boobies." I'm thinking he learned that word from his dad.

Officially unemployed (or am I?)

I need to change two things on my About page. One--I no longer consider getting pregnant a hobby of mine. See? Two--as of September, I am officially jobless. Now I'm a 100% real-deal stay-at-home mama. I've worked for money since the age of 15, so it's a strange feeling, not having a paying job. Now I work an average of 16 hours a day, seven days a week for no money. How did THAT happen? It's taking some getting used to.

Now I'm thinking back on the jobs I've held over the years. Let's see, I've been a:

--Ice-cream, hot-dog, and French-fry slinger at Lagoon
--Inbound telemarketer (you called me, I didn't call you!)
--Video-store cashier (once caught a guy stuffing a copy of Animal House into his pants)
--Helper at a bakery at Utah State (one of my favorite jobs--I can crack two-dozen eggs in record time)
--Salesperson at a now-defunct clothing store called Brooks, which was located at the now defunct ZCMI Center in downtown Salt Lake City
--Custodian at a struggling live theatre company, downtown SLC (complete with bouncing paychecks!)
--Employee at the University of Utah Bookstore (even won employee of the month once)
--Administrative assistant at a life-insurance company
--Copy editor at a doomed-from-the-start publishing company

Which brings me to the job I loved, the job I recently said goodbye to. I was (still want to say "I am!") the sole copywriter at Martingale & Company for 10 years. When I told people I worked as a copywriter I was often asked for advice about copyright law. Don't know much about that, really. I just wrote. Copy. For around 500+ books, as I figure. It was wonderfully fun. I was privileged--actually, just darn lucky--to be a part of that creative company for so long.

I've spent a couple months going through some tough adjustments since I gave up my job. I miss hearing from the people at M&C, and I miss the fast pace of the work. I've had to purposefully reprogram my head. I'm not required to produce anything at lightning speed anymore, aside from the occasional cup of apple juice. Deadlines don't wake me up at night. I no longer get phone calls from my never-gonna-have-another-one-as-fantastic-as-her boss that start with a sentence like, "I need this--can you have it done yesterday?" How do I miss that, you ask? I don't know. I just do.

For the past two months, with the help of my two sons (one here and one on the way), I've been slowly slowing down. Slowly. It's starting to feel . . . comfy. Like my favorite pj's. Like my tattered Bull's Eye quilt--the one that has a small but crunchy-loud piece of tape sewn in between the layers. (Oops.)

A pattern from a wonderful book called Quilts from Aunt Amy.

Here's what it is. It's TIME. I have it. Time for reading another story, and then another, with Jack. Time for a snuggle on the couch with my husband (who IS producing at lightning speed at work right now). Time to bake goodies from scratch. Time to wash, dry, AND put away in a 24-hour period. Time to daydream about our little one on the way.

So, I guess I traded in an extraordinary job for an extraordinary job. Again, just darn lucky. But it's a truly heartwarming feeling, a grateful feeling, knowing I'll never have to give this new job up.

Correction.

On Wednesday I declared that winter had officially arrived. I was wrong.

NOW it's official. Winter is here.

From Saturday's storm:

Frozen.

Forgotten.

Flocked!

Full.

Funny (Sunday).

Fantastic.

My apologies for having to make this correction. Welcome, winter!

ALERT: Jackspeak

Jack slips on his backpack for the following conversation . . .

Jack: "I'm going to Texas."

Me: "Why are you going to Texas?"

"I need some hairspray, and some pipe cleaners. Green and red. Like my cape is red. I have to go by myself. But you can come with me. You can come with me, mom."

"Okay."

"But we have to walk. We have to walk to Texas."

"That's a long, long way, but okay."

"C'mon, I'm late!"

"Late for what?"

"Late for Texas! And then it'll be dark and we'll have to make a tent. And we'll have to make some fuzzy blankees."

"Sounds cozy, Jacky. Let's go."

It's for DECORATION.

Ah, yes, I know it now--this is the year. The year of Christmas crafting with my son. I'm elated. I'm so glad he's into it! Jack's first Christmas-decorating experience was spent in a sling, snuggled into my chest as I hung ornaments and tinsel. The second year was much the same. The third year was spent placing decorations up high, high, high and saying, "No, no, no!" when little hands wanted to pull and prod and touch and taste. But this year, he's got it.

It's all for DECORATION.

DECORATION. A magic word that loosens little hands from break-easy ornaments and untangles nimble fingers from the loopy yarn beards of assorted Santas. DECORATION. (I wonder if I can convince Jack that lotion and toothpaste and grape juice are for DECORATION, too...)

On to making our own decorations for the holidays. After teaching Jack about safely using 1 1/2-inch hole punches, we made a simple garland from card stock and Christmas cards saved from many years past.

I'm going gaga with garland this year. Plans for a good 'ol popcorn garland with red wooden beads are in the works. I know how it'll go--one piece of popcorn for Jack, one for me, and one for the garland. All part of the fun.

Holy moly. Just looked outside, just now. Wasn't expecting this:

Is winter officially here? After my stern talk with Old Man Winter, I'm actually hoping so.

A long (almost) winter's break

A belated Happy Thanksgiving to you!

Our holiday was as low-key as it gets. Brett and Jack spent the morning doing things that take the time that can be hard to find, like this:

By the way, we're proud of our Jack--he is now wearing his undies on a regular basis. I'm shooting for pants and shirts around the house by the time he's four.

We spent the afternoon at Brett's younger brother's house for a wonderful meal and great company with the Cardon clan. I am so thankful for my second family. Open arms, always.

Still, by the end of the day, I was so missing the Wilding clan. My side of the family. Still do.

Oh, and the Cowboys won the football game. That always makes for an especially pleasant Thanksgiving evening around here. Brett says he's not a football fan, he's a Cowboys fan. It's true and I'm lucky (only one game on the TV a week). Thirteen years ago my husband took the time to explain the rules of football to me in a way that I could finally understand--with pennies and dimes and quarters on the carpet. Since then I always watch at least part of a game. I feel quite accomplished when I figure out what the heck happened during a play all on my own.

On Friday, I invoked a new day-after-Thanksgiving tradition. Jack and I spent the better part of the day doing this:

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

ALERT: Jackdo

First--a winner from this post has been chosen! Thanks to Amy from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, for getting the Spidey-undies question right. A copy of The Little Box of Baby Quilts is on its way to you.

Now on to the "do" of the day . . .

When Brett and I moved to the Seattle area several years ago--kind of on a dare, to see if we could stick together in the throes of the real world (meaning not Utah)--we bought a house. And along with the house, we bought a refrigerator. A pristine white refrigerator. We loved our shiny-new refrigerator so much that we decided we would keep the front of it completely clean. No magnets, no papers, no photos, no grocery lists. Sparkling, spotless. Tidy-white only. We kept it that way for many years, even after our move back to Utah with said fridge.

Fast-forward a few years to a three-year-old and a book full of Star Wars stickers, given to Jack by his lovely Aunt Laurie.

A pristine white fridge. What were we thinking? How dull, how hum-drum we were in our pre-kid days.

Still kinda wish I had a "before" picture, though.

ALERT: Jackspeak

During our latest nature walk . . .

Jack: "Mommy, who eats pinecones?"

Me: "Hmm. I don't know if anyone eats pinecones. People don't eat pinecones, and I don't know of any animals that eat pinecones."

"How about turtles? Do turtles eat pinecones?"

"Um. I don't think so."

"I think turtles eat pinecones."

"Let's look it up when we get home."

"Okay. Turtles eat pinecones."

After looking it up online, we found out that indeed, certain animals do eat pinecones--namely squirrels and birds. Some varieties of pinecones contain seeds, and the seeds can be eaten. Who knew? I thought they were just for holiday wreaths and other strange miniature crafts. And for general kicking around.

Name that quilt!

After starting with this, and then going on to this and that, I finally ended up with this:

What a relief to finally have this quilt completed! I showed it to one of the editors of this lovely magazine at Quilt Market, before it was bound. I had thought to bind it in the stripe but asked for her advice. She said, "You could go with any of these colors; why don't you just use what you have left?" I had a lot of cheery blue polka-dot fabric left. I really like how it turned out.

I believe every quilt deserves a name. Hmmm. Well, this one is "fuzzy wuzzy" for sure. But I named a quilt "Fuzzy Wuzzy Hearts" in The Little Box of Baby Quilts. And I named this project "Fuzzy Wuzzy Scarf." And I think I even named this quilt "Fuzzy Wuzzy" something or other.

ENOUGH WITH THE FUZZY WUZZY, JENNY WENNY. PLEASEY WHEEZY.

I just looked up "fuzzy" on my favorite thesaurus site and found these words: downy, flossy, frizzy, furry, hairy, linty, and wooly. Okay. Perhaps we'll name it "The Frizzy, Furry, Hairy, Linty Quilt." Perhaps not.

I do believe this quilt will be published in the next issue of Quilt It for Kids, an annual publication put out by Quilter's Newsletter Magazine. Just peachy! But that means I really do need a decent name.

Any suggestions? Anyone?

ALERT: Jackdo

Scribble, doodle, scratch.

Scrawl, sketch, squiggle.

WAIT! That has ears, eyes, a nose, a mouth . . . that's a FACE!
(Along with Brett's drawing in the background--the oh-so-80s "Blockhead" face.)

After two years of strictly abstract art, the artist admires his first work in realism.

Hello and Goodbye, Quilt Market

Hey, I went to Quilt Market last week! Between a pregnancy that is slowing me down and a Halloween with a three-year old, it's been a struggle to get my thoughts together. But I've been wanting to share a little bit about my time at the show.

I've been to about a dozen Quilt Market shows as a staff member of Martingale & Company. But this time I headed out on my own, knowing I probably wouldn't be back for a few years. For me, it's always an overwhelming experience--the new fabrics, the fresh designs, the funky trends, the stunning exhibitions. Not to mention the quilt-world celebrities! It's like being backstage at Live Aid (or the new generation's Live 8). If you're a quilter, that is.

The George Brown Convention Center, downtown Houston (as seen through a construction site--always something new going up in Houston). I think the building is supposed to look like a ship. I think.

For three days at the show, I walked. And walked. And walked. (When I returned home, I weighed myself. Even though I'm preggers, I had LOST WEIGHT from so much walking.) I met with editors from this and that magazine--both were too, too kind to me and shared their savvy advice. I talked with reps from fabric companies and touched base with contacts I had made at past shows. It's always exciting to meet new people in the industry, and it's wonderful to catch up with people you usually only "talk" to by email. Which brings me to the two highlights of my trip.

After finding Annie Smith of SimpleArts online--and her great quilter-to-quilter podcasts--we started emailing back and forth. I found out she and her family had once visited the po-dunk town I live in. To me, that's just too rare to be a coincidence.

Annie is one of those people you can't help but love at a first meeting--cheerful, energetic, positive, genuine. (Her beautiful daughter? Same thing.) Annie recorded an interview with me Sunday (or was it Saturday?) after the show about The Little Box of Baby Quilts. (I'll link to the podcast when it's available.) I just know I said some dorky things during the interview. That's because Annie put me at ease from the start so I could let the 'ol guard down a bit. The inherent dork that I am decided to show herself. I tried to hide her. I tried! Darn you, Annie. :)

I had a great time with you, Annie. Thank you so much for the opportunity to meet and talk with you!

Me with Annie Smith of SimpleArts.

Annie with her daughter, Kirsten, at their booth. (Loving Annie's yummy quilted chocolates in the background!)

The other highlight of my Market experience was meeting up with old friends at Martingale & Company. I worked for M&C for 10 years. Up until just last month, in fact. I wish I had taken more pictures of everyone there! But here's what I got:

In the Martingale booth with my friends Deb and Shelley. I miss you already.

The deliciously hip Cassie, another good friend of mine from M&C. Somebody actually said "You are a vision!" to her at the show. She is so cool and cute it makes me sick. But in a good way.

I think the reason Cassie and I get along so well is that she, like me, is a dork at heart. Here she is, totally dorking it out for the camera. Dork on, Cassie!

It was so fun to go to dinner with the Martingale crew and catch up and be hilarious with each other. I think there were eight of us. We talked movies from passing the bread basket around until the shuttle opened its doors at the hotel lobby. I had such a great time being with you all, one more time. I am really, really going to miss you.

And with that, I'm saying goodbye to Quilt Market for a while. I did what I went to do. I feel like I did something brave, going to Houston on my own. But I wasn't really on my own--so many old and new friends were there with me. I'm glad I went. I'm equally glad to be back home.

Now on to the next bold undertaking--focusing on slowly rebuilding our nest. This time, with room for four.