Baby Quilt Friday!: Fast Asleep on Cloud Nine

Welcome back to baby-quilt Friday! This week I'm highlighting the third baby quilt from my book (but actually, it's a box), The Little Box of Baby Quilts. This one's called "Fast Asleep on Cloud Nine."

From The Little Box of Baby Quilts, copyright 2007 Jenny Wilding Cardon/
That Patchwork Place. Machine quilted by Cheryl Brown. 

The inspiration for this quilt came easy. One morning I watched a sleepy baby Jack snuggle up under a blanket on our bed, sigh a little baby sigh, and drift off to dream. I wished for a little bed of clouds for him to dream on. I sat at the kitchen table with my graph paper and colored pencils to sketch out a quilted interpretation of that little moment.

I ended up drawing a design that was completely different from the quilt above. And I really liked what I had drawn, too. But here's the thing. When I started trying to figure out how to translate my drawing into fabric, I COULD NOT do it. The math just didn't add up. I had drawn a quilt that was mathematically impossible to stitch. Anybody else ever had this happen? Please say yes.

(I flunked geometry in junior high, you know. It's one of my deepest, darkest secrets. I really, really hate math. But it's true what they say--later in life, you just might actually use the math you learned in school. I should have paid more attention, tried harder. Slap on wrist.)

Anyhoo, I tweaked the design again and again. Never worked out. In fact, somehow I kept making it more complicated. I took a deep breath and told myself to try again. And this time, KEEP IT SIMPLE. I stuck with just two colors, and used only super-simple squares and rectangles. The quilt above is the result of that paring down.

The wonderfully kind and talented editorial director at Martingale & Company showed me a photo of this quilt after the professional shot was taken. She asked if I had meant to create the circular shape that links the four corner blocks together. (Stare at the quilt photo for just a moment, and you'll see it, too.) I told her, "Of course I meant to do that!"

I lied.

Funny no matter how well you plan out your quilts, they always have a sassy mind of their own, don't they?

This quilt was a favorite of several of my family members. But when my then 41-year-old sister, newly married, found out she was pregnant with her first child, I knew exactly where this quilt would land. It's now with my niece, beautiful Willa, who just turned a year old. I hope she'll grow to love it, just as I love her.

You can view more quilts from the "little box" here, watch a video about it here, and read more about the quilts here.

Next week is Jack's favorite quilt out of the whole bunch of 20, called "Inch by Inch." Hope to see you back here next Friday!

ALERT: Jackdo

Most mornings when Jack wakes up, he says good morning. And then he says, "Will you play guys with me?" "Play guys" means we both choose a superhero action figure and begin acting out made-up stories with them. I like to say yes when I can. I get a kick out of the stories that emerge. This particular morning, the story turned unusually domestic. Starring Jack as Wonder Woman and me as a little-known superhero named Bishop . . .

Jack (as Wonder Woman): "Hi Bishop. It's me, Wonder Woman. I love you. I love you, so I want to marry you."

Me (as Bishop): "You do? Well, alright then."

A small, sweet ceremony is played out on the living-room couch. The superheroes even smooch.

Wonder Woman: "Now we need a home."

Bishop: "Well, I just happen to have built one for us right over here."

"Cool. Now we need to have a baby."

"Oh, a baby? Hmm. Um . . . what should we name our baby?"

"Um . . . well, we already had our baby. And now he's all growed up. And his name is Wolverine!"

 

That was fast. We now have an adult child. With claws, even.

Domesticity ends. The typical superhero story kicks back in. But this time we have the additional tag-team luck of married superheroes . . .

"Bishop, do you hear a bad guy in our house?"

Baby Quilt Friday!: Fuzzy Wuzzy Hearts

Here's another baby quilt from my book (but actually, it's a box), The Little Box of Baby Quilts. It's the second quilt I made in the collection of 20. It's called "Fuzzy Wuzzy Hearts" because . . . well, I won't state the obvious:

From The Little Box of Baby Quilts, copyright 2007 Jenny Wilding Cardon/
That Patchwork Place. Machine quilted by Cheryl Brown.

I even saved the original sketch for this one:

 

Colored pencils just weren't loud enough to mimic the fabric I wanted to use...

When I was dreaming up ideas for 20 baby quilts, I made a list of baby-themed motifs for possible use. Hearts were at the tippity-top of my list. And I thought these plaid homespun flannels were perfect for baby's eyes, as little ones are always drawn to and delighted by bright colors. I layered three heart shapes in different colors, sewed them to a background fabric raw-edge style, and then cut away different pieces of different layers. When I threw the quilt in the washer/dryer to fray the raw edges, the homespun fabric fluffed up in such a fantastic way. A delight for little hands, too!

The technique used to make this quilt is one of my favorites. It's simple and straightforward. I love opening up the dryer at the very end of frayed-edge quilting adventures for the big surprise. Haven't been disappointed yet.

Right now this quilt is on display at Macon Sewing Center in Macon, Georgia, as part of a trunk show. She'll be home at the end of the month. She is promised to no one right now. And so starts the hunt for a good home for her. My goal is to get all of the quilts from the "little box" matched up with babies who love them, or with charities that can use them. One by one, the quilts are ending up where they should. I wonder where this one will land...

You can view more quilts from the "little box" here, watch a video about it here, and read more about the quilts here.

Next Friday I'll introduce you to a simple squares-and-rectangles quilt called "Fast Asleep on Cloud Nine," which uses only two fabrics. Another really quick one. See you back here next Friday!

Friday nights at the park

Most of my summers as an adult have been lazy. A lot of lounging, a lot of laying--or is it lying? Either way, lazy. Slushy, liquid motion for a solid three months. But my past few summers as a mama mandated a different rhythm. A high energy. Run, laugh, create, play. From sun up (just barely up) to sun down (way, way down). Every day. No exceptions. No Sundays off.

That's Jack's rhythm. (And that's me three paces behind Jack's rhythm, panting and wiping my brow.)

This summer, Charlie joins the get-up-and-go vibe that now surrounds our family summers. But at just over three months old, Charlie likes lazy. (I so, so love that Charlie likes lazy.) The puzzler--how to enjoy each other's company without denying my little summer dreams (hand-stitching outside in the shade, a Diet Coke on standby) or Jack's big summer delights (running, running, and running). Where's the middle ground? The ground where all six of our feet are deeply planted in happy?

Hee-hee. I figured it out. That ground exists. I found it a few Friday nights ago. It's at the park, when the day is cooling down and the bands at the ampitheatre next door are tuning up.

Jack--complete with specially selected parktime attire--races toward the playgyms to climb, jump, and say hello to his fellow climbers and jumpers. I set up home base under a decades-old tree, with just a few essentials: two quilts, a baby sling, and the diaper bag. I walk Charlie to sleep in the sling, and then return to home base. Lay Charlie down (or is it lie?) and check my watch. It's 7:15 p.m. Take off my shoes. I feel light and lifted. Free.

I watch Jack climb.


And dig.

 
And return to home base.


Just to catch his breath, of course . . . in moments he's running again.

 
Charlie. Lovely, lazy Charlie.


And what Charlie sees when he opens his eyes.

Jack and Charlie, free. Watching Jack play and Charlie doze, I get it. In their little ways, they are gently reminding me that it IS possible to create situations for us where I feel free, too. Like at this shady park on a Friday night. With my boys.

Free.

ALERT: Jackspeak

As I'm making dinner Jack runs into the kitchen, wrapped up all cozy in a Batman beach towel...

Jack: "Mommy, I took a bath with Daddy!"

Me: "Great! You look all clean."

"Yep. But I have a towel on. Wrapped around my pregnant parts. So no one can see my pregnant parts."

"Huh?"

"My pregnant parts. So my butt's not sticking out."

"Oh. Do you mean your private parts?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm such a silly!"

Obviously, there's been waaaaay too much talk about babies in our little house this past year...

Baby Quilt Friday!: Ten Little Piggies

It's been just over a year since my book (but actually, it's a box) The Little Box of Baby Quilts was published. And almost a year since I quit my day job. Geezo peety, time flies. With children and pregnancy and weaning myself from work life to stay-at-home life, I still haven't gotten around to doing what has been a longtime goal of mine--to post a bit about each quilt in the "little box." Reaching that goal begins today!

I'm setting aside time during the next 20 Fridays to blog about each baby quilt from the "little box" (grouped into a new blog category called Quilts from the Little Box). Each girl will get her own special day. Today, fittingly, is "Ten Little Piggies" day--the first quilt I designed for this collection. Here she is:

From The Little Box of Baby Quilts, copyright 2006 Jenny Wilding Cardon/
That Patchwork Place. Machine quilted by Cheryl Brown.
Nine piggies on the front. Piggy ten is on the back.

Gosh darn it. I do think she's cute.

This is the quilt that launched the whole idea of the "little box." At the time I started sketching out the design, Jack was just about ready to toddle. And I was completely wrapped up in the world of babes. I hadn't touched my sewing machine since Jack had been born, and I missed it. So with baby on the brain--and Jack as my muse--I started sketching, then sewing, whenever I had a few quiet moments.

(Oh, I thought those quiet moments were few and far between. They're even fewer and farther between now. I had NO idea how quiet I had it back then. Heaving sigh.)

Jack and I were inseparable--pretty much still are--and he got to know the local quilt shops very well. It was Jack who chose the hot-pink fuzzy fabric in the quilt above. He couldn't stop touching it, with his hands and his face, at the shop. So I brought some of the fuzzy stuff home to experiment. Ten Little Piggies is the result. The quilt is made with simple machine piecing, a little hand applique, and a little perle-cotton embroidery.

After the quilt returned from her trunk-show tour of quilt shops, I sent her to her final home--with my niece in southern Utah. Janessa likes to play with the project cards in the "little box," and her parents say she points out this quilt as her favorite every time. So now it's hers. I hope it will be well loved--enough to be in need of repair--the next time we visit.

You can view more quilts from the "little box" here, and a video about it here.

Next Friday comes another fuzzy one, called "Fuzzy Wuzzy Hearts." Lots of fuzzy-wuzzy quilts in this collection. Hope to see you back here next Friday!

A boy's life. In pictures.

Yet again, I'm lifting ideas from the book The Creative Family by Amanda Soule. For me, the book is like flipping through pages made entirely of gold--there are so many unusual, inventive activities to try with children. LOVE IT. The activity in the following story came from the book...

Anyhoo, this weekend Jack and Charlie and I made an unexpected stop on the way home from the grocery store after a huge yard sale came into view. Oh, good heavens. I'm so glad we stopped. Not only did I get my dream rotary-cutting table for 15 bucks:

And these fancy shoes (that cost more than the table):

I also picked up an old Polaroid One Step camera for $1. During my next trip to the grocery store, I picked up Polaroid film. For $16. For 10 pictures. Eeek. But wait, I'm straying from the story...

After loading up the camera and making sure it worked:

  It does...

Jack and I set out on a neighborhood walk to search for ONE SPECIAL THING Jack could take a picture of. We walked and walked. And then we walked. And then we, well, you know. Finally, Jack stopped. He pointed toward some coneflowers in full bloom in someone's yard, just along the sidewalk. "I want to take a picture of these," he said. He plopped the cowboy hat he was wearing down on the sidewalk. He was ready.

I gave Jack the camera and told him to look through the hole until he saw what he wanted to take a picture of, then to push the button. Big bulky camera in a boy's tiny hands. Jack squinted one eye, then the other, moved the camera this way and that. Then he pushed the button. The photo shot out of the front of the camera. "Let's look!" Jack said.

We set the photo on the sidewalk and sat down in front of it to watch the image emerge. First textures, then hues. This is what Jack captured:

Jack looked at his photo for a few moments. "I like it," he said.

"It's beautiful," I told him. "You know what you are now?"

"What?"

"A photographer."

"I am?"

"Yep."

"That is so cool. It's just awesome! You know, Peter Parker is a photographer too, mom."

"Yes, I know."

(For those of you who aren't familiar with the superhero world, Peter Parker is also known as the amazing Spiderman.)

So, a life in pictures begins. I've started an "On Polaroid" blog category to share more photos as Jack takes them. We'll keep the originals, numbered, in an album. My plans are to make time for one special Jack-and-mom walk each week to let him take more pictures. My plan is also to have him continue to take them until he turns 18. Although I'm terrified to think how much the film will cost then . . .

I'm the mom--my view is certainly subjective. But heck, I think this kid's a natural.

Four years.

What a milestone, Jack turning four. No longer a babe, no longer a toddler, and just barely hanging on to preschooler-hood. Through diapers, through babbles. Through words and sentences. All the way through to back talk. Through walking and running and jumping and spinning and tumbling. Through owies, so many owies. And through quiet moments when mommy can still make the owies all better. Through big boy beds and big boy bedtimes and big boy behavior.

But he's still my little boy.

Jack woke up on his birthday and asked, "Am I four yet, mommy?" I said yes. He jumped up and down and clapped. "Now I have four year old feet, and four year old hair, and a four year old head, and four year old . . . everything! I can't believe it!"

The now four year old tour of becoming a mother made a stop in Superhero City for a little party with preschool friends. A chance for me to be creative in bits and pieces. We made a superhero training course in our backyard. When all training was completed, the first task of the new superheroes was to find Jack's missing birthday cake.

Each superhero received a handsewn cape at their graduation.

Star stickers were earned for each skill the children mastered (like throwing bean bags into hula hoops, balancing on 2 x 4s, and shooting balloons with a water hose).

They also passed a team skill--winding themselves round and round with black yarn until a spiderweb began to appear.

Each superhero decorated a one-of-a-kind mask.

And yes, they found the missing birthday cake. I know, I know, a birthday cake. The leftovers were mine. Mine, mine, mine.

We also hosted a small birthday party just for family.

Family feet.

Of course, the superhero theme remained a thread . . .

Daddy and Jack checking out Jack's loot after the festivities. Love those big four year old feet!

So, the tour continues--for Jack as the son, for me as the mom. Back on the tour bus, getting ready to begin the journey toward year five. Five. My heavens. Only 363 days left until five. Please, tour bus, don't take us there too soon.

Oh, wait, hold up, just one last stop before we really get on the road . . . to mark Charlie's three month "birthday," yesterday.

"What the hooey is a birthday?"

Oh, my sweet and still little one . . . I guarantee Jack will fill you in on birthdays, and the parties that go along with them, soon enough.

ALERT: Jackspeak . . . I mean, Mamaspeak

One of many examples of a mother's deteriorating mind the second time around...

While thinking about feeding Jack breakfast, I notice a piece of garbage has flown into our backyard.

Me: "Jack, it's time to eat some garbage, so go on and sit at the table."

Jack: "Mommy, what did you say?"

I guess sometimes it's okay to question your parents.