Five years.

For those of you who have been following along for awhile, I need to tell you something incredible that happened this month. Jack turned five years old. FIVE. YEARS. OLD. I am officially the mama of a five year old. I'm feeling quite proud.

Jack, you have grown so much this past year. In shoe and shirt sizes, yes. But also in your mind and in your heart. You have transformed from a pant-leg hugging, bashful soul into a social butterfly who will walk right up to a new person, look them straight in the eye with a smile, and say, "Hi, I'm Jack!"

That's huge. Not even I can do that. And I'm 37.

You are gentle and thoughtful and helpful with Charlie, your little brother. You often introduce him to others by simply saying, "This is my baby." Yes. Just as much as ours, he is yours. And you his.

You have become intensely inquisitive, asking me questions I need to open a dictionary to answer. Being shrouded in the throes of mamahood and babyhood these past few years, I thank you for getting my mind back up on its feet. I've been in a fog. You are making me think again. It's a good thing.

One of my favorite changes in you during the past year? Your facial expressions. Coming from a family of many deaf people (hereditary, on my side), you have effortlessly learned the art of communication through animation. In your hands, in your feet, in your face. You are expressing yourself visually. And it's all quite convincing. You can convey emotions ranging from satisfied to terrified just with a tiny squint or widening of your big blue eyes.

(Oh, and let's not forget that this year Jack learned to cross his eyes. Always used to express excitement. Silly excited. Makes me think we should all cross our eyes when we're excited. Try it sometime. Really. It will take your excitement to a whole new level.)

This year I put together a special birthday party for you, with art as the theme:

The invitation.

There was quite a bit of party preparation on my part: 

Testing of projects, collecting of materials . . .

Calling of other mamas to make sure their kids could come.

And then party day came. 

There was painting of shirts . . .

Collaging of frames . . .

Painting of paper (a keepsake for Jack) . . .

Tracing of bodies . . .

And decorating of cupcakes, too.

I think some people wondered why I went to all the trouble. I mean, I worked on your party for a month. It was a two-hour long party. And I worked on it for a MONTH. Why? Why, mama, why?

I'll tell them why, Jacky. Because you turned FIVE. Because you are wonderful. Because I want you to always remember what it was like to be five. I hope you will always remember.

I have a feeling you will never forget.

Mornings with Mama: Fort Building

Okay, I admit it. Sometimes, I wish I had a daughter. Yesterday I watched as my neighbor helped her daughter sew her first skirt. It was delightful.

Sometimes, I wish that was in my future.

It's not in my future. I have two boys. And a husband who, well, would be against his boys wearing skirts. Sewing them, maybe. But wearing them? Unlikely. And there's certainly no fun in making and not wearing.

I'm not giving up, of course--there's lots we can sew, and have sewn, and plan to sew, me and the boys. And with a mama like me (stay-at-home feminist/Women's Studies graduate/quilt lover-maker-designer/make-something-out-of-nothing soul) you can bet my boys will be in touch with their feminine side. (Meaning their sewing side.)

So I'll continue to encourage an interest in sewing, yes. That's where I can be creative, imaginative, and inspired; maybe my boys can reach that through sewing one day, too. But I'm assured that you don't need a needle and thread--and you certainly don't have to be a girl--to create, imagine, and inspire. My biggest little one did just that this morning.

Need bricks and mortar to build a fort? Malarkey. All you need is a nursing pillow, some painted, half-painted, and unpainted blocks, and selected items from your treasure bowl (on the left).

The fort's fleet.

Even the ghastliest winged bat-thingy monster enjoys a little color--preferably in the form of batik scraps left over from a Craftfail-style sewing project.

Hands eagerly pile on a flurry of treasure-bowl contents (including leaves from a front-yard bush).

Ah, I finally understand why he insists on saving the bothersome tags we cut out of his shirts.

Creativity, imagination, inspiration. It's all here. No sewing required.

ALERT: Jackspeak

After months and months of diligent practice, Jack finally masters a new skill--snapping. He is thrilled with himself, snapping himself silly all day long. While I'm making dinner that night, Jack comes into the kitchen with a question.

Jack: "Mom, do you think snapping is fun?"

Me: "Well, yeah, sure. I like to snap to music sometimes. So yes, I think it's fun to do that."

"Yeah, me too. Because you know what? I've been snapping for hours and hours and hours. And you know what, Mom? I'm really, really enjoying it."

Baby Quilt "Friday!": Sleepy Bees

Welcome to the almost-final installment of Baby Quilt "Friday!," featuring quilts from The Little Box of Baby Quilts. Here she is, quilt number twenty (if you've been counting). With all the bees and all the ZZZ's, I figured I'd call her "Sleepy Bees."

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

Only four fabrics are used in this quilt--pink, blue, purple, yellow. It's the largest
quilt in the bunch of twenty, too. Big enough to move with a kid through their
preschool years. My favorite part of this quilt? The fuzzy eyelashes and
antennae, hand-stitched with black eyelash yarn.

Yep. I pulled YARN through cotton
quilting fabric. (Just a little.) Not a monumental quilting no-no. Or is
it? (Maybe just a little.)



This quilt has a sprinkle of several familiar techniques. Never a boring moment
making up this girl. Let's see... there's chain piecing, strip piecing, and half-square triangle piecing, plus applique and embroidery, both with yarn and thread. If you're looking for a fairly simple tutorial on a variety of quiltmaking techniques... and you are also looking for a baby quilt... and you happen to like this particular design... and the baby shower isn't tomorrow... hmm. It's a fun quilt to make. Let's leave it at that.

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

My plan is to create one final post about The Little Box of Baby Quilts to wrap things up. You know. Closure. I imagine little thumbnails featuring my favorite details of each quilt. When you click on the thumbnails, full photos of the quilts will pop up. Then, your computer screen will turn soft and cozy and fuzzy and frilly so you can reach out and touch the fabric in each quilt and see its true colors. Then your computer screen will turn back into a computer screen and show a picture of every candy bar in the whole wide world, and you can click on your favorite and it will materialize right before your eyes. (Mmmm, Reeses.)

We'll see how those plans go--cross your fingers. Hope to see you back here soon.

ALERT: Jackspeak

It is upon us. The season in a child's life when he or she finds ecstatic humor in potty jokes.

Jack: "You're a goose."

Me: "Well, you're a moose."

"You're a boose."

"You're on the loose."

"You're a foose."

"You're apple juice."

"You're orange juice."

"You're banana juice."

"You're banana poop juice!"

"Ew. That sounds pretty yucky, Jacky."

"No, no! It tastes really good because it has bananas in it."

Only being in the business of mothering for a little less than five
years, I ask you intermediate and advanced mothers out there--when does
the potty-joke season end? If I look to my husband for a gauge, I fear the season
is eternal.

Baby Quilt "Friday!": Flotton!

Baby quilt "Friday" has alluded me for the past several weeks. Since March 13, to be exact. A DIY home project, out-of-town visitors, birthdays, and the very-welcome bustle of springtime have all contributed to the slowdown. But there's just two quilts from The Little Box of Baby Quilts to go on this little journal-journey of mine. Let's see if I can complete the journey before 2010.

Quilt #19. A fun little guy that could easily become a fun little girl with the right color choices. This one's called "Flotton!":

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

As with a few other quilts in the "little box," I tried to make this quilt more complicated than it needed to be. I sketched it 7 or 8 different times before realizing I didn't really need to sketch it at all. Obviously, the blocks are as simple as quilt blocks get--three rectangles. The twist is in the skinny center rectangle. It's not quilter's cotton, it's fleece. So baby gets a little extra-puffy softness in his or her blankee.

There are a few quilts in the collection that are just right for sewing in time for the baby shower--this one and this one come to mind. Oh, and also this one and this one. And I forgot about this one! And then there's "Flotton!"

Hmm. Guess there are quite a few quick quilts in the bunch. When you're making 20 quilts in nine months to the cadence of a fast-approaching deadline, all of the quilts seem "quick." They have to be. Looking back, though, I notice that I kinda dabbled in a little of everything--from fast machine sewing to hand applique; from chain piecing to matching a gazillion points; from silly quilts for the baby to sweeter quilts for the mom. Quite a hodge-podge to choose from.

It's been two years since the "little box" was released. And I think, just now, looking through the quilts posted here, I realized something. Geez. I think I just might have done good.

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

One last quilt to share with you next "Friday." Hope to see you then (whether it's 2009 or 2010).

One year.

This weekend we celebrated Charlie's first birthday. Our closest family, a few pizzas, and a gorgeous star-studded cake (and a smasher cake, too!) made by Charlie's Aunt Nini. All day long I found myself glancing at the clock, trying to remember what was happening exactly one year ago--now I was having mild contractions, now I was having horrible contractions, now I was crying through my contractions, now you were born, now you were two hours, six hours, ten hours old.

And now you are one year old. My sweet Charlie-Barley. One year.

I'm your mama, Charlie. And out of the small circle of people you have gotten to know, I would guess that I just might know you best. After all--with the exception of an hour or two, here and there--I've been with you these 365 days. This year of firsts. First laugh, first cry. First nursing (still nursing). First food ("Mama, I'll eat a whole loaf of bread before I eat that fruit or vegetable, thank you very much.") First sling ride. First outings--the park, the library, the duck pond. Aunt Nini's and Grandpa George's and Uncle Aaron's. First rain, first snow, first flower. First roll, first scoot, and just this month, first crawl. First kisses and hugs. First I love you's. I was here.

I'm still not sure who you are just yet. I'm watching and patiently waiting. But here are a few things I know to be true about you:

When you were this tiny, you liked to sleep. Now? Not so much.

You adore your brother.

Your brother adores you.

You are a gentle soul who likes to explore, play, mimic, and laugh. And you seem to like my quilts.

You'll jump out of my arms and into daddy's for bathtime.

You are lovable, laid-back, and a little shy. Like your daddy. May be too darn cute for your own good. Also like your daddy.

You love birthday cake. Like your mama. May like it too much for your own good. Also like your mama.

Happy first birthday, my little love. I am so glad you have been with us this past year. Our world has only gotten better and brighter with you in it.

On to year two.