Labor of love part deux

I started this train of thought here but didn't finish it due to the length of the post... or maybe it was because I fell asleep on the keyboard. I can't quite recall...

I'd been up to my elbows in fuzzy fleece and stringy thread and flimsy tissue paper patterns for the week leading up to Hallowe'en. My clothes have a fine film of fleecy lint. My contacts don't let me focus close-up so I looked like an old lady squinting at the sewing machine needle as it threaded. My fingers are cracked and raw. It was only out of love that I didn't chuck the whole project out the window.

It's safe to say that I put every effort into this last-minute project, and I learned many things:

1) Don't do this again.
2) If you do do this again, give yourself more time. And find a stress-management technique that doesn't require your hands or your pedal foot.
3) Making Hallowe'en costumes does not give you permission to yell at your two-year-old when he plays with the needles or spool YET AGAIN. Your baby is more important than your project.

I also learned to step back and look at the costumes through the eyes of my children. They had a vision. So did I. Mine involved perfect seams and adorable little details. Theirs involved becoming characters from t.v. that do wonderful, impossible things. My vision did not matter. Theirs did.

I won't remember every mistake I made on these costumes, but I'll tell you what I will remember: the way my seven-year-old's body language changed when I put on the last bit of his outfit. The way he darted around the house like a little platypus spy. And what is seared into my memory is the smile that shone on my five-year-old's face as I pulled the costume over his head. His pleasure at becoming Ferb in that moment. I rarely see such a smile.

All my insignificant perfectionist worries fell away and made me realize that it was, actually, all worth it. I hope some day my children will have the same attitude about me as they do their costumes. I have plenty of imperfections and missing details that they may overlook. But I do my best, and at the end of the day, I do it for love.

Labor of love

My recent escapade to create a costume for my seven-year-old has really started me thinking. Thanks to two fellow bloggers, Shelli and Akaemi (both of whom live on my street... I really need to get out more,) I was able to finish nearly everyone's costume in time for the Hallowe'en frivolities.

I completed the Perry the Platypus costume just in time for our church Hallowe'en party. And since I'm a glutton for punishment, and a sucker for my five-year-old's long dark eyelashes, I agreed to make a Ferb costume (another character from Phineas and Ferb.) One more trip to the fabric store. And more head-banging on the steering wheel, "What am I THINKING??? I don't have time or brain power for this!!!" I've been using Akaemi's sewing machine, which is missing its regular sewing foot (imagine that it holds the fabric against the machine) so I've used the zipper foot (yeah, meant for zippers!) instead. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Then I discover that the white thread I was planning to use was not the right kind. Shelli lends me this MASSIVE spool of white thread for people who know what they are doing. Sadly, I do not, and the little machine did not have a place for the spool. So I MacGyvered a contraption on top of the machine using parts from a broken-down Jelly Belly dispenser. My baby brother would be proud-- he's going to be a mechanical engineer when he grows up.

I finished the Ferb costume a few hours before dark. Then, of course, to complete the entourage, I HAD to make sure that Ferb's brother, Phineas, was well-represented. AAARGH! This time it was fanatical desperation. I cut out strips of orange fabric and basted (wanna-be stitched) the strips onto a white shirt. Combine it with a pair of jeans and Ta-DAA! Hey, the kid is two years old. He doesn't care.

My only regret is that I did not finish my husband's costume in time. He was going to wear a lab coat and be Perry's nemesis Dr. Doofenshmirtz. But I AM NOT A SUPERHERO and I did not get it done in time. Some day I will learn.

Dishwasher, meet Platypus

We recently had to buy a new dishwasher. This was due to a grim diagnosis given by the repair man (the appliance was, after all, fifteen years old.) We also needed to get rid of it because it was creating a puddle on the floor below it. My escapade to buy the thing is chronicled in an earlier post.

Anyway, our five-year-old took a shine to our brand new dishwasher, and it has become his not-so-imaginary friend. He talks to it, sometimes from across the room. He checks to make sure it is closed properly. And he invites it to dance with him. It doesn't seem to matter that the dishwasher never talks back, except when it delivers delightfully clean dishes.

Flash forward to Hallowe'en. My seven-year-old, for a long time, wanted to be Yoda this year. I went online to find a budget-friendly costume but didn't actually order one yet, which was a good call. About a week ago he changed his mind and declared that he wanted to be Perry the Platypus from the Disney show Phineas and Ferb. Why a platypus? He may be a cross-eyed teal colored lump some of the time but he's also a spy-- a semi-aquatic egg-laying mammal of action. Brown fedora and everything.

Once again I went online, only to discover that the show is too new to have an established line of costumes. Get with it, Disney! Usually you are so on top of things. I hit the fabric store and decided to make a teal-colored sweatsuit. The challenge? To find some creative way to attach a long, flat tail in such a way that he won't get a wedgie when he sits down. So that's my current project of desperation. I stayed up until 12:30 this morning in hopes of sewing enough of the costume that I could have him try the costume on, then I would hem the pants and sleeves while he was at school. But my two-year-old had other plans.

My alarm did not go off. Or should I say, the time was changed. By tiny fingers, I believe. I woke with a start and saw that it was too late to do any costume work before school. Aargggh! I stayed up late for nothing!!! As I frantically packed lunches and prepared breakfast and dressed children I heard my five-year-old say, from the next room,

"Watch out for the platypus, Mr. Dishwasher."