A superhero is born

Months ago, my husband Brett and I rented the DVD version of a movie we'd hoped to catch in the theater—the corny-on-the-cob
Jack Black flick, Nacho Libre. We figured
the film would register as background noise for Jack that night. We were wrong.

Ever since Jack had his first taste of Nacho, he’s been
spellbound by capes, masks, and stretchy pants. Inspired first by Nacho, and
later by other super-heroic hunks, Jack relied on resources at hand to create
his very own costume. He came up with a very distinct look (which every superhero needs):

He has been using that hot-pink batik sarong as a cape for
months. Creative? Yes. Dignified enough for superhero status? Well . . . it depends on what kind of superhero he wants to become.

This weekend, I decided to design a one-of-a-kind cape for
Jack. We sat down together, picked out colors, and we even drew it together, as
you can see here:

When I drew a fat red “J” in the center of the cape, Jack jumped up, still
gripping a colored pencil in each hand, and screamed with glee:

“I love my cape! I
love my cape!”

When the earsplitting shrieking began, I smiled. I had
triumphed.

I’m about halfway done with the project now. Aside from the
relentlessly repeated “Is it done yet?” query, Jack has been helpful, patient, gracious—even
self-sacrificing, in that he has allowed me to work on his cape without
interruption at least 10 minutes in a row on two occasions. 

Sounds like the makings of a superhero to me.

About that video on the sidebar

So, there’s a link to a video over there (←). On the
sidebar. About The Little Box of Baby
Quilts. I’m in it.

The video runs about 6 1/2 minutes. For about 4 1/2 of those
minutes I’m talking. And talking. And TALKING. And while I’m talking, other
things are going on with me that will likely irritate you if you decide to
watch. They include:

—Looking directly BELOW the camera lens during the majority
of my TALKING. I wrote the script. I am happy with the script. But I did not
realize that I should have memorized
the script. When you notice my eyes darting up and down, down and up (and you
WILL notice), please forgive me—I am reading. 

—Not making a pact with myself to, with absolutely no doubt,
have a GOOD HAIR DAY before leaving the hotel that morning. 

—Giving in to the well-meaning people who told me I needed
MORE makeup.

I think the production of the video is awesome—the editing,
the set-up shots, the pans over my quilts and my photos of Jack—that’s all
delightfully super-duper. My kick-ass publisher took a chance on me, investing
time and money in this video. So, I certainly do not want to scare you off
from watching this video. I just felt the need to preface the watching of this
video with all the things I hate about me in this video. 

However . . . if you do choose to sit through this video, you’ll
be rewarded with some nice close-up shots of baby quilts. After I’m finished
TALKING.

ALERT: Jackspeak

Jack: “Mom, does Spiderman wear a hat?”

Me: “Kind of. He wears a mask over his head.”

“Does Superman wear a hat?”

“Nope, no hat. He has black hair like your Uncle Bill.”

“Mommy, I don’t have a hat! So I’m Superman!”

I'm talking to my fabric again.

YUM. Cotton candy, gumdrops, lollipops, bubble gum. These fabrics are SWEET!

What to do, what to do . . . what to DO with you?

Those fuzzy fabrics look right comfy nestled together under their Robert Kaufman blankee. Get some good shuteye, girls. Soon it will be time to wake up and play. 

ALERT: Jackspeak

Me: "My car is dirty."

Jack: "No. It isn't."

"Yes it is. I think my car needs a wash."

"No. It doesn't."

"Jack, do you need to disagree with everything I say?"

"No. I don't."

"That's what I thought."

"No. You didn't."

Meet Willa

To my sister's great relief, my niece was finally, finally born on Thursday. I'm feeling peachy.

Willa is eat-you-up adorable, with a heart-shaped pouty mouth, a wee little nose, and the perfect amount of chubby on her cheeks. I had a second-row seat as a witness to her birth (doctor and dad had dibs on the first row.) I saw it all. ALL, I'm telling you. I've never seen it from that end. Messy, but astonishing. There really WAS a baby in there!

Willa, welcome. I'm your Aunt Jenny. I promise to become your Very Favorite Aunt over the coming months with a sickening amount of spoiling, pampering, fussing over, and indulging of your every whim.

Congratulations Melainie and Bill. YOU DID IT!

About

My name is Jenny Wilding Cardon. Two last names, not hyphenated. (How irritating to others. Sorry.) I decided to keep my given last name and add a new name when I married in 2000. I had no idea that the choice would prohibit the world's pharmacists and photo-counter employees from finding my pills and pictures. To all of you, I humbly apologize.

I live in Utah. No, I am not Mormon. Yes, I know polygamists. Actually, no I don't.

My husband Brett and I have two boys, a cat named Niko, and a house with a new second-floor deck. We decided to install a new deck when, at 8 1/2 months pregnant, I stepped onto a plank on the old deck and busted it clean in half. Every pregnancy has a low point. That was mine.

I graduated from the University of Utah with a degree in Women's Studies. And what the heck do you do with that degree, you ask? You move to Seattle and work for a wonderful quilt-book publishing company for ten years. Then you move back to Utah and stay home with your two boys. And you make stuff whenever they lend you a few minutes to try.

I went from a new mama who was so exhausted and overwhelmed that I completely gave up my love of sewing to a published designer in the span of 2 1/2 years. I can't believe it took me that long to figure it all out. I thought sewing would obstruct my focus on being a mom. Instead, it helped. Thank you, sewing.

Along with sewing and quilting, my interests include eating nachos and store-bought birthday cakes, listening to classic rock and current soul, writing, and knitting. I do these things on a whim, whenever the boys will give me a few moments to do them. Except for eating store-bought birthday cakes. The boys give me all the time I need for that. As long as they can join in.