Heathen Family Revival

She Can Be Taught

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 15:27:00 +0000

My parenting/homeschool philosophy is pretty laid back. If it weren't for the fact that people keep asking where Violet goes to preschool, I wouldn't even bother with labeling myself a homeschooler (yet). I guess I agree with the Scandinavian tradition of delaying formal education until six or seven.

Of course, we do all sorts of preschool-like activities. It's not like I sit around eating bon-bons all day while Violet watches Sponge Bob. I have a ~~stubborn~~ strong-willed child and she learns best ~~when I get off her back~~ at her own pace. Bribery, rewards, threats and peer pressure are all completely ineffective . Violet only absorbs what Violet finds useful. Hmmm, just like adults do.

So, when Violet developed an interest in the letters of her name, we showed her how to write it herself. It turns out that my sweet little boo doesn't care for the letter I, but we're working on it. In the meantime, Violet discovered that her pet name "Boo" and what a ghost says are, in fact, the same thing. Violet loves "spooky" stuff. I wrote out BOO for her one day almost a month ago and although she initially refused my request to write it herself, I could tell a spark was lit.

Last night I found these sticky notes in various places around the house. There were also a bunch of rough drafts crumpled on the floor in the craft room.

When a lesson seems to have been learned purely by accident I usually look at Aaron, pretend to shake imaginary dust from my hands and exclaim, "School's done for the day."

I'm going to go eat some bon-bons now.

Wardrobe Wednesday: Flash Back Edition

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 15:24:00 +0000

Okay. So that's me on the right (looking remarkably like a strawberry-blond Violet) and that's my sister in the diaper (looking like a baby boy) and that's my Dad. I know, I know. You were thinking Paul McCartney, but I assure you, it's my Dad.

Anywho... This post is not about how ridiculously cute I am in my 1970s running apparel. No, it's about the couch. You see, if you were to swap out tiny me for full-size me (ditto for my sister and Dad) the photo would look EXACTLY the same. Well, maybe that pillow wouldn't be there and my sister probably would NOT sit in Dad's lap, but you get my meaning. This couch and that tastefully off-white wall color have not changed in thirty years. In fact, the orange velvet couch hasn't aged a bit. My Grandmother has toyed with the idea of getting rid of it for as long as I can remember, but dammit if that couch doesn't refuse to wear out. Not that I want it to go away. Quite to the contrary. While I may be a champion of change in the world at large or even in my own house, I do not approve of change at Grandma's house. When the marbled, orange, shag carpeting that once sat beneath this very couch gave it's last dusty breath, I insisted on getting a souvenir hunk. I framed it. Come over some time and I'll show it to you.

Some things just never go out of style.

Wardrobe Wednesday: My Flower Fairy

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 13:48:00 +0000

The day before Halloween was the most beautiful day I've seen all year. The sky was a dazzling blue and the air was a warm 70 degrees. The forecast for Beggars' Night was predicted to be exactly the opposite. It's true what they say about Ohio (especially in the fall), if you don't like the weather wait five minutes. I made the executive decision (as head costume constructor and ego-maniac) that we must take photos of Vi's costume while the weather was on our side. Aaron came up with the brilliant idea to go to the Children's Discovery Garden. The pictures turned out so great that we decided to make a storybook. Here's the link if you want to look at it, but those who share my genetic material should probably not look unless they want to spoil Christmas.

Sometimes I can't stop staring at a photograph I've taken. My fellow artists will understand this feeling, but I'm pretty sure I can't stop looking at this one because of Violet's eyes. Either way, I sure do make pretty things.

Little Beggars

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 15:59:00 +0000

We had a wild night trick or treating with our friends. Violet's first three Halloweens were spent with her camera wielding, familial entourage, so last night was her first real kid Halloween. I had to trot to keep up with them, but it helped keep me warm. It was so much fun.

Happy Halloween!

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 16:00:00 +0000

Wardrobe Wednesday: From Denmark with Love

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 14:28:00 +0000

Our downtown post office is a place of wonders, where I can see homeless people trying to mail tattered, 20 year old sweepstakes cards and enjoy smelling the mixture of old lady perfume and unwashed feet. I go in there for two reasons:

1. To send packages back from whence they came when certain online retailers send me pre-snagged tights. I'm talking to you we love colors.

2. To pick up signature requiring parcel posts that always arrive serendipitously on the ONLY afternoon I am not at home to sign for them.

Lorry promised me some time ago that she would send me her old Apple Store duds, so that I could wear them about town and further the cause of recruiting soldiers for the Mac Army. The box was overflowing with Apple embroidered goodies, which I had every intention of modeling for you, but alas I have been unable to remove my jammies today or shower. Violet will have to do. She can totally pull of the all-day jammie look.

Wardrobe Wednesday: The Death of Pink?

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 14:40:00 +0000

For some time I have been coveting (on behalf of my child) this skirt from Hannah Andersson. I have yet to actually purchase anything from their catalog, but someday when I win the lottery, Hannah will be getting a big order from the Heathen Family.

So, anyway. The skirt is pictured with a pair of pink and black striped tights and when I showed the ensemble to Vi, her tiny heart fluttered and she let out a gasp. Oh, Hannah, why must your skirt be $38.50, plus shipping?

I've been keeping my eyes open for a suitable replacement, in the $10-$15 range. I was about to give up hope, when I saw a passable alternative in the least likely place. Wal-Mart.

We were at the evil place because we needed to buy cat litter and Violet insisted on visiting the "spooky" aisle before we left.
There she was. For $5. Her label sternly warned me ; Do Not Hand Wash, Do Not Machine Wash, Do Not Dry Clean, Do Not Iron. Clearly, you get what you pay for, but Violet doesn't seem to care that her garment may disintegrate at the slightest provocation (or contact with water). She has to be begged to remove what she calls her "Black Kitten Ballerina" outfit.

Married

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 13:41:00 +0000

Married.

For nine years.

That's a long time. It's longer than my parents were married. It's longer than The Cosby Show was on the air. Yet... it doesn't feel like a long time. It doesn't feel as if we've been laboring on a chain gang for the length of our marriage. We work on our relationship, but it feels like the kind of work I was built for, we were built to do together.

And Violet...

What can I say about the sticky, sweet glue that is our child. I thought I loved and needed and appreciated Aaron before we replicated ourselves. I had no idea. And still, I persist in underestimating the depth of affection I am capable of. I underestimated the entire universe of emotion in those blurry, childless, early years of my life with Aaron. So fuzzy are those days of yore, that I am fairly certain that nothing really existed before Violet...nothing except Aaron.

Marriage and family makes for a fine case of amnesia.

Wardrobe Wednesday

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 13:04:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I made some lovely flannel jammies using the Oliver + S Pajama Party pattern. They turned out pretty cute, but they have one major drawback, they require parental assistance. Now, I can occasionally wrestle Violet to the ground to put on the kimono top and tie the strings, but I'm pretty weak come bedtime and I get tired of yelling.

Of course, I bought enough flannel for three pairs of pajamas, so I couldn't abandon the project altogether. I dipped into our deep pile of mismatched hand-me-downs and found a shirt to go with the polka dot pants. The appliqued heart is to signal to Violet that this top goes with these pants.

I just made my own Garanimals, except that Garanimals don't come with the matchy tags anymore do they?

Lunch is a Battlefield

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 19:44:00 +0000

Lately, I've been lacking in kitchen inspiration. I used to watch hours of the Food Network and I looked forward to experimenting with new recipes and flavors, but now not so much. Food is totally unappealing to me as an activity. Sure, I want to eat it, but I'm really tired of having to prepare it. I'm tired of trying to figure out how to cook within a reasonable budget while keeping three divergent appetites happy. You see, although creativity is usually aided by loose guidelines, my list of dietary restrictions is so long that I feel trapped inside a box full of boneless chicken and steamed peas.

My husband is not supposed to eat red meat, dairy or other high fat foods. Aaron also needs to carefully monitor his balance of soluble and insoluble fiber. He has IBS. My daughter would gratefully eat fresh fruit and steamed veggies all day long with a side of buttered bread and a slice of cheese, but she's not so keen on anything that once had a face. In fact, she's anti-protein in general. No beans please.

Another problem is that my husband needs to eat plain starchy foods to help with his digestion. The child sees the rice or white bread and says, screw all of this other food, I want the carbs. Oh, and Aaron has borderline eating disorder type food issues to begin with, so some days it takes every ounce of my creativity to prevent him from gorging himself on cheeseburgers or pizza. I don't expect Violet to have a handle on good food choices, but it would make my life a hell of a lot easier if her father did. Our biggest fights are over food, because no amount of suffering is too great to come between my Aaron and a quarter-pounder with cheese. We only have one bathroom gentle readers, so when my husband has an IBS attack, the whole house pays for it.

Violet also suffers from garden variety childhood food anxieties, like food mixing and touching and not looking like she remembers it looking. Today I made soup. Soup makes for a stressful lunch because all the food is mixed together. Even when I make an effort to ladle chunks of familiar veggies onto her plate Violet dissolves into terrified tears. This afternoon it was celery that had her in a tizzy. The celery was touching the carrots and the potatoes on her plate and she not only didn't want to eat them, but she was scared that she might eat them by accident unless she picked up each piece of vegetable with her fingers.

Last week, I snapped. I opened a can of Spaghettios because I was just too tired to think about making something else. All kids love Spaghettios, right? They are relatively nutritious and probably not habit forming. What harm is there in one can?

Violet refused them. She wouldn't even taste them. I made her sit in her chair for two hours; cold lumpy Os in front of her, because I was determined not to lose face. When she fell asleep at the table I quietly emptied her bowl into the trash and then woke her up to congratulate her for eating her lunch like a good girl. Her little face was so relieved and only slightly bewildered. I'm sure she thought the naughty kitten had come to her rescue, but she wasn't about to let on. I was embarrassed that I had punished her for what amounted to sound dietary judgment. It was a banner day.

I'm tired folks. So, very tired. Ideas?

Enough About You...

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 17:33:00 +0000

...Let's talk about me.

Nonlinear Girl tagged me for a meme and sucked me into actually participating by putting into words all of my own weird, adolescent fears about... memes, which incidentally did not exist when I was a teenager and should therefore not carry any high school angst and yet they do.

I'm rambling.

The rules are: post 10 honest things about yourself and tag 7 people to do the same. I'm only tagging 3, because I am a non-conformist.

1. I sometimes worry myself into a lather about whether or not my daughter will do something important with her life, because I feel like I have failed to do this in my own. What is "something important"? I don't know. I feel like being a mother IS important, but it's only one (albeit ginormous) stage in a woman's life and I am scrambling to find something to do once the full-time part of this gig is up. I'll always be a mother, but at some point I'll no longer be needed for 24 hour shifts. I just want Violet to see me do something, anything. I am her first role model.

2. I am desperately tired of my acne and my oily face and pretending like it doesn't bother me. I've stopped trying to fix it and that usually works, right? Once you let go of a problem it solves itself, but my skin is not playing along. Grrrrr.

3. I am a terrible housekeeper. Sure, the laundry is under control and the dishes are done, but don't look at my ceiling fans. I have layers of hairy dust on every surface higher than my reach. I'm only 5'5". You do the math.

4. I'm going to steal this one from my meme sponsor. When my daughter gets really needy I just want to run away. At bedtime, I am so touched out that I can't wait to get Violet to take a long bath. This feeling, this involuntary resentment is one of the many reasons I have for limiting our family to one child. I just don't think I have enough for two.

5. I am photographing a friend's wedding this month. It's small and casual, but I felt like I REALLY needed to have a professional (looking) camera. I want to be taken seriously. I feel better now that I have a "real" camera, even if it hasn't improved my photos that much (yet).

6. I don't like my mother, but I try my hardest to be kind, just in case my own daughter ends up feeling the same way. Karma, she is a bitch.

7. I am afraid of my daughter's uni-brow. I don't want her to be wrapped up in her looks or feel bad about her appearance, but it will have to be dealt with someday. She will have to learn to pluck or wax or shave. I want her to have a healthy attitude about it and that's a hard sell. "Here Honey, let me show you how to get rid of this completely superficial imperfection that has no bearing on your worth as a human being." Sometimes, I Photoshop it and then I feel really awful.

8. I suffer from creative tunnel vision. When I get stuck on a project or a certain craft, I forget about everything else. Right now, I am obsessed with photography, so my cooking has really suffered. I just don't care about making tasty food or devoting time to meal planning.

9. I am a binger and purger of stuff. I will accumulate fabric and yarn or clothes and shoes and then in a fit of clutter induced rage, I throw it all away. Well, I donate it away, really.

10. I don't really like memes, but when the invitation comes wrapped in a compliment that strokes the most vain parts of my ego, I cannot resist.

There you go. Here is a random photo of Violet not eating her lunch. Take it as a Thank you and a nod to what I would normally post today, Wardrobe Wednesday.

Your turn:

Secret Mom Thoughts
Feet Off the Table
Becky

It's Like a Blow Torch to the Nads...No, Really

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 18:04:00 +0000

Right now my husband is resting, like a 19th century lady who has swooned upon hearing tragic news. He has a headache. He is justifiably behaving like a weenie, because today is the day he voluntarily allows a little old Pakistani man to take a laser to his nether regions.

We've talked about vasectomy for two years now. We've known for some time that one child is all we ever need and want. When you hit the lottery, you don't play again, right? Of course, some people don't understand why we're bothering. You're infertile, aren't you? Why submit my husband to this sort of medieval torture, when chances are his sperm are mostly useless?

Violet is something of a miracle. Sure, Clomid made the egg a bigger target, but that sperm still had to find it's way there and it did. Aaron's stock is not dead. It is profoundly lazy and kind of stupid, but we all know that lazy and stupid get lucky sometimes. As a family, we are semi-charmed. Blessings always come wrapped in stinky packaging. If an accidental pregnancy had happened, we would have loved that poop machine to pieces, but it didn't and it's time for us to move on. We've spent a lot of time coming to terms with our family size. It's a big decision, especially when you are as young as we are. I could spend the next ten years trying to have babies, but I'd rather not. It was too hard and we are happy as a threesome.

So, this afternoon my husband will bravely submit his crotch to the hot knife and we will never again need to wonder if nature has cooked up an inconvenient miracle for us. Aaron is terrified right now, but in a few days he will feel liberated and so will I.

Wardrobe Wednesday

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 11:15:00 +0000

Halloween is officially Violet's favorite holiday. She loves the word Spooky and sprinkles it liberally throughout her everyday conversation. I may end up a stage mother, whether I like it or not.

The Saddest Place on Earth

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 21:16:00 +0000

The Ohio BMV is a place where vanity goes to die. Between the duct taped indoor/outdoor carpeting, the Aqua Net sealed work force and the fluorescent lighting, there is no hope. I have always tried valiantly to look human, if not attractive in my driver's license photo. Here in Ohio you get a chance to try again every four years, so you'd think the odds would be in my favor. I have yet to achieve anything short of disaster. My first DL was an old school cut-and-paste affair, with an underage profile shot. The state cut off the very end of my nose before affixing my photo to the I.D. When I was newly married and feeling sassy I tried a little harder to gussy muhself up. The resulting photo was me impersonating Judy Jetson after dipping her face in cooking oil. When Violet was a wee four months old, I was forced to put in my nursing pads and make the trek to the office of doom. I made an effort, I truly did. I showered and put on my some mascara. I'm even wearing my favorite necklace. But, the BMV, she does not lie. Here is that classic of identification art:

If you can tear yourself away from that terrifying visage, take a gander at my official state weight. Insert maniacal laughter here. Mama hasn't seen that number in many moons, but they don't make you change it, no matter obvious it is that you no longer fit that description.

In less than a month's time, I will have to do this all over again. I swear, this time will be different, because basic human, present-ability is no longer my goal.

Yesterday, I sent my husband off to the license bureau with an assignment. His last DL made him look like a homicidal maniac without him even trying, so I thought, why not try for absurdity on purpose. I told him to present for the camera the face of a man who had just farted and was really hoping that no one noticed. In the interest of marital harmony, I cannot share that photo with, but I will say this:

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

I laughed good and long. Take that Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles! You cannot debase us with your unflattering photography. The citizens of this great state will take control of their own identities. It won't be pretty, but it never has been, so watch out BMV employees. I'm coming and I'm going to try my hardest to creep you out.

This is where that Theater degree really pays off. Only, I'm not sure what "face" I should put on. I need to tell a tale with just my eyes. Suggestions?

Fear and Loathing at Discount Prices

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 15:11:00 +0000

There are lots of reasons not to shop at Wal-Mart. Bad lighting, grime, the "helpful" staff and fetid restrooms are bad enough, but my local Wal-Mart also employs a charming combination of unacknowledged in-store construction and un-manned cash registers to drive me away.

I do occasionally, shop the evil empire for certain household items that I hate to spend money on, laundry soap, toilet paper etc. I am ~~frustratingly~~ adorably cheap when it comes to things that will quite literally be flushed down a drain. If it wouldn't cause my total social isolation, I might consider using washable rags instead of T.P. As it stands, I buy tissue with the maximum amount of wood chips allowed by law.

I'm digressing.

Despite the service atmosphere at Wal-Mart, I've been known to use the photo department when I need prints in an hour. I'm still feeding the beast, but I don't do it very often, so it's okay (because I say so). The photo counter staff don't appear to be exploited, sweat-shop style. In fact, they are generally much more pleasant than employees in other areas of the store.

Sigh.

In keeping with it's upstanding Christian agenda, Wal-Mart has taken it's customer service to a whole other level. Sure, you can buy guns and ammo at your local super center, but your child pornography will not be tolerated by those crusaders of morality in blue smocks.

A family in Arizona was actually prosecuted for attempting to develop bath tub photos at a Wal-Mart in Peoria, Arizona. Now, it's no surprise to me that employees of Wal-Mart would be personally unfamiliar with the concept of bathing, but our culture as a whole does embrace the practice and finding photographic evidence of children getting a bath should not be shocking to anyone with a lick of sense. Read the whole sordid tale, here.

What I find so totally amazing, is the credibility granted the Wal-Mart photo developer in our legal system. The employee deemed the photos to be in violation of their photo policy (don't bother looking, you won't find the actual policy). That's fine. Don't make the prints. But, the employee did not stop there. She felt strongly enough about the photos to call the police. The police agreed with said (specially trained, kiddie porn expert) employee and filed charges. The whole scenario is truly nightmare inducing. It is the stuff of highly implausible Lifetime movies. Who in their right mind would take happy, healthy children away from their family for THAT?

The answer is Wal-Mart. Arizona law does not require them to report suspected child pornography, so they took this up on their own steam. They are amassing an army of under paid, untrained, rogue, undercover child welfare agents.

Who's in the mood for everyday low pricing now?

I'm No Indonesian Mama

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 13:06:00 +0000

I've not had an easy week.

Much like I did 2 and a half years ago, I agreed to be a transitional baby sitter for my friend M's new babe. Unlike his predecessor, Baby T is needy. In fact, he's reminiscent of my own child during her tenderly aggravating newborn phase. Big Brother Z just lay there like a happy 18 pound slug. Baby T wants to be held and bounced and talked to.

Damn baby. Doesn't he know I've got blogging to do?

But, the baby is also deliciously warm and squishy and he smells like clean laundry and breast milk (a fragrance idea sure to repel men and cause spontaneous ovulation in passing ladies). I sort of breathe him in and get high on baby pheromones, until he kills my buzz with a spectacular, wet fart.

And, I'm rusty, so very rusty. My newborn instincts have atrophied. My diaper skills are laughable. I've been peed on three times by this kid and I am haunted by the bloody raw crease of his fat right thigh. I nearly passed out when I realized my gentle cleansing had actually drawn blood. I welled up relating my harrowing experience to his mother who gave me the calm, patronizing look of a woman who can handle waaaay more drama than I can. I tried not to draw attention to myself as I quietly minimized my page of panic induced google search results.

Of course, my week could have been worse. Instead of providing temporary care for a normal sized, healthy newborn boy, I could be recovering from having a 19 pound infant excised from my withered womb (in Indonesia, no less). So, today I look on my little charge with softer eyes, knowing that his yeasty neck smell is nothing compared to the aroma that must emanate from the forgotten, milk filled crevices of the giant Indonesian baby, who weighs more on his first day of life than my Violet weighed on her 365th.

Wardrobe Wednesday

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 13:12:00 +0000

Did you know that a 6-9 month sweater makes a great shrug for a slender 4 year old? Well, neither did I until yesterday. My child is obviously a re-purposing prodigy. I'm swelling with pride and flush with the $15 this discovery has saved me.

Violet is also going through a shirt tucking phase right now. I have NO idea where she learned this. I cannot think of a single person in her everyday life who actually tucks their shirt into their pants. She insists that the waistband must be seen, even when it doesn't have a bow or rosettes or whatever. Am I raising an accountant? I'm not so sure the visible panties under the tiny tutu is a part of the CPA's wardrobe.

*Pssst...visit violet tintype...

A Little Action on the Side

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 17:42:00 +0000

I feel like my photography needs it's own space, so here it is.

I hope you'll visit.

Maybe you'll subscribe and tell

all your friends. No pressure.

Wardrobe Wednesday

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 18:32:00 +0000

We interrupt this regularly scheduled Wardrobe Wednesday to bring you cake.

I'm no great baker. Generally, my goods are delicious or pretty and never the twain shall meet. Today's endeavor is presentable and edible and that's about as much as I could hope for.

Because it is Aaron's birthday, there is absolutely no chocolate in this cake. My husband refuses to eat fruit in it's healthy, raw state, but he sure does love it all pulverized and sugared in dessert form. So, I made strawberry-lemon layer cake with cream cheese icing.

FYI: Trying to explain the skull-n-bones joke to a four year old is an exercise in futility. She only understands sprinkles.

This cake might have been 4 layers had Heathen Family Luck not intervened to destroy one layer as I attempted to remove it from the pan. In the end I think that was probably for the best. I'm already petitioning strangers on the street to come take some of this cake away.

Any blog readers in the Southwest Ohio area are welcome to come relieve me of my cakey burden.

*Oh, and lest you find me cruel and insensitive, Aaron will only be "old" for 34 days. On October 20, I will join him at the impossibly ancient age of 33. Seriously, neither of us feel a day over 31.

Only 370 More Posts and I Can Get Some New Shoes

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 17:05:00 +0000

I found this in my e-mail this morning:

Hello Kelly xxxxxx,

BlogHer Inc. just sent you money with PayPal.

Payment details
Amount: $26.53 USD

Transaction Date: Sep 15, 2009

Transaction ID: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Subject: BlogHerAds AdShare Revenue

Custom note: BlogHer Payment

Sincerely,
PayPal

*This means I am now a paid, professional blogger. Just sayin'.

Glass Ceiling (Passive Aggressively) Still Intact

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 02:48:00 +0000

I'm no sports nut. Football does not light my hair on fire like it does my fellow Ohioans, but I do love tennis (and the Olympics, but that's a story for even numbered years). I especially enjoy the US Open and I recently discovered the joy of watching my favorite sport in HD. Of course, we are waaaay too cheap to pay for HD cable, so we use our fancy digital tuner and watch CBS locally. It fills the screen and it looks beautiful.

My point is, I would prefer to watch tennis on my local CBS affiliate, as opposed to ESPN. Ya know, for the pretty.

Wet weather in New York really screwed with the whole schedule for the open. The women's final should have been played on Saturday, but instead it is on tonight. Earlier today I watched a men's semifinal, on CBS. It was made clear that the women's final would be shown on ESPN in primetime. Now, at first I was just annoyed that I would have to watch the match in standard definition (I know, you all feel really sorry for the well-fed, SAHM who has to watch tennis on her flat screen WITHOUT HD. They're writing my Hallmark Hall of Fame movie as we speak). Then I started wondering why my girls were getting the shaft. Most people have cable, but it's still sort of an insult to be relegated to ESPN. I took a gander at what was playing on CBS. What could be so important that it couldn't be interrupted by a Gram Slam Final? Was the President speaking? Nope. CBS is playing a Big Brother clip show. Seriously?

Tomorrow, the Men's Final will play on CBS. Of course, that will only be interrupting Katie Couric reading the news and a re-run of How I Met Your Mother. Way less important than a rehash of Big Brother 11.

Are the men so much more interesting to watch? Certainly, this year the women were way more compelling. Serena Williams threatened a line judge. Melanie Oudin came out of nowhere and Kim Clijsters returned from baby retirement to kick some serious ass. In fact, Clijsters is the first wild card player to ever make it to the finals of a grand slam and if she wins tonight she will be the first mother in 30 years to win a major title. The men were boring by comparison, predictable even. Andy Roddick choked and Federer couldn't be beaten. No surprises there.

It's subtle, but gender bias is at play here and it annoys me. I guess the men just sell more razors and luxury cars and investment services than the ladies.
It still sucks.

Wardrobe Wednesday: Sleepy Samurai

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 19:57:00 +0000

Shortly after I made this, I attempted to adapt the pattern for Violet. I failed and became convinced that I needed to find an appropriately sized pattern, because I am not very good at grading (that's fancy talk for making a pattern bigger or smaller). I remembered seeing some pajamas by Oliver + S lurking about on the crafty blogs, but the pattern cost $15.95. Generally, I don't buy a pattern unless Jo-Ann has a $.99 sale, so I balked at making the purchase. Unfortunately, no one else made a pattern for kimono style pj's. After a few days of thinking about it, I bought the pattern from Oliver + S. Their patterns come in two sizes; 6M-3T and 4-8. Since I was paying approximately $15 more than is my custom, I decided that I better get the bigger sizes, so that I could get more use out if it. You know, because no matter how many times I buy a pattern, I always convince myself that I'm going to use it like a hundred times. That almost never actually happens.

I will never learn.

Violet, aka Princess Pee-Wee of the Teeny Tushy Tribe, was swimming in the first size 4 pajamas I made. I gave them away to my friend's two year old son. I needed to make the pattern smaller and that's what inspired me to make Violet's dress form. I had tinkered with the pattern for a few days, but I wasn't confident it would come together right. My next attempt was going to be with good flannel and I didn't want to waste it. The dress form helped me get the pattern just right and then I started cutting.

This fabric was on clearance at Jo-Ann's. The selvage is very prominently stamped with the ominous warning: NOT FOR USE IN CHILDREN'S SLEEP WEAR! I have always found it annoying that children are supposed to be flame retardant when they sleep. I know why the regulations are there, I just think it's overkill and what else are you supposed to use ballerina stamped flannel for? Hmmm? The ladies who cut the fabric do not enjoy observational humor of this sort. They take flame retardant sleepwear very seriously. Anyway, I seemed to have digressed...

The pattern calls for you to make the neck, waist and leg bands out of a separate fabric. I almost bought contrasting flannel and I'm glad I didn't. This trim really needs to be thin or the ties are just too bulky. I had this pink stripe fabric in my stash. It was once a ladies' blouse from Talbot's via the thrift store. It worked so perfectly, it was almost as if I'd planned it.

OK Mama, but Only if the Duct Tape is Pink

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 01:25:00 +0000

This morning I became obsessed with acquiring a child size dress form. I have suffered several sewing failures as of late and a fake little body that stands perfectly still and NEVER, EVER whines would really help me out.

After 30 minutes of googling it became clear that they do not make adjustable dress forms small enough for my needs. Then I remembered seeing a tutorial about making a dress form out of duct tape and fiber fill. So, off we went to buy the necessary supplies. Violet insisted on pink duct tape, even though it was twice as expensive.

I dressed Violet in form fitting, disposable clothes and just started wrapping at the hips. I only bought one roll of the colored tape and two would have been better. A single roll of the silver would have been more economical, but I had to talk someone into this little endeavor with a bribe, so pink it was.

The idea is to get a basic shape and then perfect the edges after you take it off the model. Be careful at the neck area, tiny hairs get stuck to the tape and then there's crying and you don't want that.

Try to keep your model from wiggling her impossibly cute, pink behind.

Basically you want to make a skin tight dominatrix style dress.

Make sure the child has a potty break before starting this process. Perhaps I should have mentioned that at the beginning.

Anyway, keep wrapping. Try not to overlap too much, especially on such a little body, it will make the dress form bigger than you want it to be.

Once you are satisfied, or your model threatens to throw herself on the floor in protest (whichever comes first), start the cutting. This part was way scarier than I anticipated. I was so concerned about wrapping and conserving tape that I didn't give a second thought to placing sharp metal against my baby's skin.

It went well and there was no bleeding, but I'm glad Aaron was here because Violet kept trying to reach around and protect her booty from my scissors. An understandable reflex, but not something I wanted her to accomplish.

After releasing Violet, I set to work taping the form back together and stuffing it. I also stuck a wrapping paper tube in the center of the form to make a neck-like thing for hanging it. Hmm, sounds like wholesome family fun.

It doesn't look like much in the photo, but it works. It also illustrates nicely how Violet has inherited her mother's waist-less figure and her father's total lack of ass.

Now I'm off to sew all night with my headless and gloriously cooperative Violet clone.

Sometimes a Quote Just Needs to be Quoted

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 03:04:00 +0000

"It's like the right wing blogosphere went home, dosed themselves with mescaline and sat around watching History Channel reruns on mute while Pink Floyd's The Wall played in the background."

Read the rest of article here, or not. The quote is pretty awesome all by itself. I may start throwing it into conversation randomly, just for shits and giggles.

Then and Now Thursday

heathenfamilyrevival@gmail.com (Kelly) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 17:47:00 +0000

I love amusement parks. Growing up, trips to Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio were the only vacations we ever took. My parents were also extremely practical about the trips. We never stayed in a hotel, or bought souvenirs. Not even the keyhole photos they take of you when you enter the park. As a teenager, with my own discretionary income, the first thing I did was buy a souvenir keychain.

Circa 1995.

I'm the girl on the right being strangled and yes I actually took this photo through the little eyepiece on my key chain souvenir. Notice, my best friend and I have included the requisite flannel shirts in our wardrobes for the day.

Last week, my best mommy friend and I took our girls to King's Island. Our trip was much different from the trips of my youth. For one thing, we had to drag along a breast pump (not for me) and make time to use it throughout the day. Luckily, we looked so innocent at the gate, no one checked our bags. We were relieved, but we also would have enjoyed the embarrassed look on the security guard's face. Would you like me to demonstrate, sir? We also had to employ two babysitters in separate locations to take care of my friend's other children. When I was a teenager our biggest problem was figuring out gas money. We fought hard for this day to happen.

We did get our picture taken, but by a kind stranger and not an employee of the park. We didn't ride everything, but the kids got to go on whatever they wanted, as many times as they could stand it. A passing storm cleared the cowards out of the park and we didn't wait in line all day. Oh, and we did buy one souvenir. I just couldn't help myself.