Fresh Squeeze: Happy First Birthday June 19, 2011

Hi there, Little Dude. It’s been quite a year.

I just wanted you to know, a year ago today I might have said some things I shouldn’t have. Some of those things I hope to never repeat. When I said, “Mom, you need to leave,” I hope you understand that Grandma Herbie really did need to leave, because she may not have realized that the labor and delivery takes place in the same room, and there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to give birth in front of her. Although if I hadn’t asked her to leave, she may have kept yammering on about her church’s Small Group ministry and not have noticed I was getting ready to push. She also might have stayed to scold me about my sudden onset of religiously themed cursing.

Which brings me to my next point. When the nurse told me not to push yet, and I said, “JesusMaryJosephAndaCamel,” I was trying to think happy Christmas thoughts. I was thinking about the Nativity set I was going to buy you someday, not taking the Son of God’s name in vain. There was nothing vain about it. Trust me. Nothing can be attributed to vanity when my lady parts were open to the breeze while a strange, hunky doctor applied a fetal monitor to your head via my nether regions while asking me if I was in fact lying when I said “I’m OK,” causing me to panic because not only did I not want to meet George Clooney this way but I also realized that George Clooney can READ MINDS.

I’m sure I said some other things, but you’ll have to ask Dad about those. Drugs had some awesome effects on not only the pain you caused me, but they may have permanently made me addle-pated.

Which is why I decided to throw you a first birthday party despite all my past arguing against toddler birthday parties. And it needed to be a pirate theme. I don’t remember why it needed a pirate theme anymore — that was so long ago, at least seven trips to the Dollar Tree and Target ago.

Maybe the pirate theme came to me when I decided we should take everyone swimming. Eat cake and ice cream, then head down to the pool and work off the calories, little children. Then a few days ago I suddenly realized it might rain, and the party would be ruined if I had no back up plan. Problem is, I hate party games. As a child I never got any enjoyment while being forced to see how many marshmallows I could stuff into my mouth while still being able to say, “chubby bunny.” Nor did I ever want to have anything to do with a game that involved relay races with plastic spoons or eggs or whatever passes for fun to deranged people. Humiliating stuff. Also, who wants to pit a group of girls ages 2 to 7 against each other in cutthroat competition? Not I. That is what they call a thing that can only end in tears.

Then I had a spark of an idea. A treasure hunt to find a box, a very special box, hiding special gift bags containing sparkly necklaces and rings and compasses and stickers with Johnny Depp on them! But how to do it …

Here is where I have to give credit where credit is due. Well, not precisely. I did a search on the internet, and Internet suggested something that I tweaked and made my own. Little Dude, don’t ask me what the Internet is. Just know that you are not allowed to use it until you are 32.

In case people are wondering how exactly this qualifies as a craft to make life better in a small space, it TOTALLY qualifies because I defeated negative thinking. The first moment I suggested a treasure hunt, and placing clues around the apartment, my mother — your crazy Grandma Herbie — said, “This place isn’t big enough for that game. Where will you have them go? To the bathroom?”

The answer to the first question is “PISH POSH.” The answer to the second question is “Anywhere!” and the answer to the third question is “YES.”

Here were my materials: party cups with names of party guests pre-written on them: brown paper lunch bags, torn up into pieces small enough for you to choke on, a cool leather box I’ve had in my living room for a hundred years that fit perfectly as a treasure box, party gift bags and a bunch of cheesy plastic jewelry, compasses, fake gold coins, eye patches and other junk.

 

First thing, I cut some of the brown paper bag in a circle and taped it under the cup of the party guest whom I knew for sure could read well. Yeah, I fixed that aspect of the game, so sue me. What are you going to do, Little Dude? You can’t even talk yet. The first clue, which Lydia read out loud to everyone, was “First, have tea with the Disney Princesses.” The girls all collaborated in the way that girls ages 2 to 7 know how. They shouted out the first things that came to their heads all at the same time until  Your friend Anna outshouted everyone when she remembered admiring my Disney Princess tea set on my baker’s rack.

This clue right here read, “Next, go visit the bathing pond and talk to the turtle.” Yep, the bathroom. Specifically, your favorite bath toy, Mr. Turtle, who provided the next clue:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mr. Turtle obviously directed your lovely friends to the “Sea Captain’s library, to check out Mother Goose.”

Somehow I skipped taking a picture of the Mother Goose book, located on the bookshelf in the living room, but you get the idea. Perhaps I forgot all about it upon arriving in the living room. That must be what happened because as you can see, the first thing I saw was your daddy’s adorable rear end. There it is, right over there. Take that, Pioneer Woman.

Anyway, the clue in Mother Goose was, “You scurvy dog, you’ll never find my treasure! Take a walk off the plank and get lost in the underwater tunnel.’ That right there, in close proximity to Daddy’s hiney is the plank and the tunnel with fishes on it. Under it was the next clue, which read, “You’ve had a rough journey, why not get some fresh air on the deck?”

This next little clue that I tucked under the plant here, they missed. Not because they weren’t looking, and not because the girls weren’t bright enough to spot it. But probably because these girls were so smart they spotted the location of the Sea Captain’s buried treasure as soon as they stepped out on the deck.

 

 

 

Perhaps the secret stash was too easy to find.

      So there you have it. An easy peasy little game for some smart little girls, avoiding competition, offending no one and rewarding everyone. Perhaps you think it’s a bit New Age-y for me to avoid competitive games at my kid’s party. Surely, you are not as afraid of causing a living room full of crying girls as I am. You are, therefore, a better person than I am.

Now, you may ask yourself, why would I create a game for my guests that you, the birthday boy, cannot play? I say to that, who cares? You are one year old. And you could choke on the plastic jewelry. What’s the matter with you, anyway? But really, the quick little game served as the perfect moment to rush you off to change you into your swim diaper, which, I have to tell you is a BEAR to put on and take off a kid.

So, say it with me, Little Dude! To all the naysayers who said my home was too small for a treasure hunt, we say, WALK THE PLANK.

Fresh Squeeze: Astronaut Snacks! June 12, 2011

I just want to say, before you start in on me, I know. You’re going to scroll down and see the crazy, janky thing I made, and I have no explanation for it other than it’s a weirdly shaped thing and it was hard to podge properly. I am not proud. But then again I am in some way.

So here goes. We have these empty canisters that used to house the peach-mango flavored puffs. The melting kind that babies eat to practice chewing and swallowing and lifting small things to their mouth, so as to improve their dexterity enough to feed themselves dog kibble as they amble around on all fours, unsupervised. The Hubs started reusing these canisters for Cheerios. He took the label off and we had blank, boring white canisters. Which to me, looked like a canvas. Which gave me an idea. Why not turn the canisters into something awesome, while still containing plain old Cheerios?

My idea was creating a label and a logo for Astronaut Snacks! That there is an exclamation point, on purpose. You can’t say it without shouting. Try it. “Astronaut Snacks!” It’s too awesome for your inside voice.

The above is a picture of my raw materials. The aforementioned lackadaisical puffs canister, some Rockets & Sprockets scrapbook paper from Michael’s, Mod Podge, a.k.a. the glue that now holds together the cracks of my heart, and a completely insane fake canister label of my own design, comprised of images and text from the NASA website and ad copy from the rustier regions of my brain pan.

I just want to apologize to Captain Mark Kelly, the astronaut whom I’m currently fixated on because I’m fascinated with the story of his marriage to Arizona Senator Gabrielle Giffords. I apologize because I made this crazy thing for my crazy kid, and the canister label in its current form does not do justice to the hunky astronaut. You’ll see in a minute.

Anyway, because the puffs canister is such a weird shape, I cut out all the pieces of the label separately, thinking that would prevent much of the puckering and wrinkling. It’s not unlike old school newspaper design. The kind they used to do until 1997. Yes, kids, we used to cut our copy with a knife and glue it onto sheets of paper. This is why old timey newspaper guys were mostly drunks.

Once I finished cutting, I arranged the scrapbook paper in a ridiculous patchwork fashion, the podged it on. After that dried, I podged over the scrapbook paper with the label pieces, then placed some random foam space stickers here and there to cover up the half-assery, until everything looked like an unholy papier-mache mess, like so:

  I know. It’s terrible. It’s an abomination of the craft of crafting. Mark Kelly’s face got so smooshed it looks like he was attacked by vicious space monkeys aboard the International Space Station. A better crafter than I would chuck this away and start from scratch.

But you know what? I still like it. In fact it is so ugly, I think I kind of love it. And I also kind of think someone else will love it, too.

That special someone would be this ungrateful child: 

 

 

At least, he’d better like it. Lately he hasn’t liked much of anything I’ve been making for him or reading to him. It is possible that the terrible twos are coming a year early for Little Dude.

Still. I’m sure as time passes, he will look back on his childhood and realize that the dotty old battleaxe who calls him every Sunday was the same woman who decorated his Lego boxes, who hand knit a terrible sweater for him as an infant, who made homemade robot garlands for his bedroom and who lied to him about Cheerios and convinced him they were Astronaut Snacks! And he’s going to think long and hard before he decides which nursing home to put me in. And finally he’ll realize that the trauma he initially experienced as a child from beholding the Astronaut Snacks! box was far outweighed by the thought and the love and the paper cuts that went into making the ill-conceived thing. And he’ll pick the nursing home with a pool and a swim-up margarita bar.

Because if my generation has anything to say about it, the nursing homes of the future are going to have swim-up margarita bars.

Fresh Squeeze: Robot Garland June 5, 2011

After my baby shower, I ended up with some shiftless robot stickers. Big, cute ones from the Dollar Tree. The Little Dude’s godmother, Heather, stuck some on a blue bucket that we use for toys. My mom cleverly put some of them in shadow box frames for the nursery wall.

Still I had a couple dozen leftover and no idea where to stick them. Then I had an idea. Why not stick them on cardstock and make a mobile above the crib? I’ll tell you why not. Because it’s difficult and I don’t know how to make a mobile.

Cut to about four months after Little Dude’s birth. That would be the weekend of his baptism, to be precise. Fairy Godmother Heather was visiting and the Hubs gave us the gift of a girls’ shopping trip while he stayed home with the baby for an evening. We drove to the nice outdoor mall to shop for some Yankee Candles, but we arrived just as the stores were closing. That misfortune turned out to be a proverbial door-closing-another-one-opening scenario, as we headed over to the Target. When all else fails, Target never disappoints. It was Halloween season, so we were admiring the cute strings of party lights in the shape of Frankenstein’s monster’s heads, when all of a sudden the slightly more metaphorical light came on over Heather’s head. She was having an idea. She gets that look a lot. When she gets that look, you should pay attention because you are about to witness the birth of crafting genius.

“You should make a garland with the robot stickers.”

I thought for a second, and then it was obvious. “YES.”

And boom, there it was:

That there in the corner is the Little Dude’s bookshelf, looking like a honey badger has had its way with it. May I direct your attention to the window? That there is the robot garland. If you see a pack of these robot stickers next time you’re at Dollar Tree, grab one for me, would you? I’d love to make some more. If you send them my way I’ll pay you back. That would be $1.

How I did it was super easy, and super adaptable to whatever materials you like. Besides the stickers, I used:

• Sprockets & Springs scrapbook paper from Michael’s,

• Plain white card stock,

• Double-sided Scotch tape,

• Leftover multicolored wool yarn in green and orange,

• Paper-hole puncher,

• Hole reinforcers,

• Transparent Command hooks.

I started by simply sticking the robot stickers in place on the scrapbook paper, and cutting them into circles and squares. Then, using the double-sided tape, I taped the circles and squares onto measured-out pieces of card stock, just to give the pieces a bit of heft.

Then I punched holes wherever I felt like punching them, to vary the angles from which the robots would hang.

After that, I added the hole reinforcers.

Then I strung the yarn through the holes and voila!

Well, not exactly. First I had to lay out all the robots on the kitchen table to decide how many rows of garland I wanted to make, which robots could hang next to each other without repeating too many of the same colors and shapes and angles and background paper in one row, and where the heckfire should I place that one lonely purple robot. The seating arrangements for my wedding reception was easier than arranging the robots. But the nice part is, the robots don’t complain the way wedding guests do. Yep, we had some complainers. Hey complainers, you’re welcome for the free dinner, drinks, cake and commemorative Hershey miniatures!

Anyway … so, I strung three garlands and hung them using Command strips. I know it sounds chintzy, but this joint is a rental. Command is a sanity saver when you rent an apartment and you hate staring at blank walls as much as I hate staring at blank walls.

Here’s another view of the finished product.

 

Yep, that bottom one is looking a little droopy. I am sure it has nothing to do with Little Dude’s post-bathtime propensity to roll around and grab things on the daybed like a naked maniac while I try to cram him into his night-time diaper and jammies. He has yet to appreciate Comfy Pants Time.

Comfy Pants Time is similar to Tee Shirt Time, except it arrives much earlier in the evening, and rather than serving as a harbinger for a night of carrying on like a liquored-up cat in heat on the dance floor, it is a signifier that I am not leaving the house again tonight even if it’s on fire. Just try to pry me out the door in my comfy pants. I dare you. Really? Allrighty then. Little Dude, hold my earrings and hand me that hole-puncher.

Still here! June 2, 2011

Don’t fret, kittens! I’ve been on vacation for five days, book-ended by days of no Internet connection on either side. New blog posts coming soon (meaning real blog posts, not another baloney “I’m still here” just to keep you on the hook.) A Thousand Blessings!