tutorial: dotty valentines

Every year, I'm amazed by the thoughtful Valentine's cards that the kids' friends give -- sweet photos, sweet puns, sweet sweets. It gets a bit stressful trying to think of something with the same wow-factor to give in return, so this year, we've just kept it simple and handmade -- plain card, stickers and a hole punch. A card that is easy to make in large quantities -- and easy for little hands to join in making, at all stages.

You'll need: 
plain card
a hole-punch
glue
scissors
string
a paper cutter (optional)
stickers or coloured pens
 

I told Tilly what I was writing on the front of each card, but in true toddler fashion, she insisted the saying was, "I'm dotty JUST LIKE you." So we put that on a couple of cards, too, to give to her unashamedly crazy friends!

Bringing Books to Life

Library books come and go -- most are forgotten the moment they disappear into the book-drop, with a parting clunk. But every now and then, every one-in-twenty or so, a story becomes inscribed on the soul of our little reader. These are the books that get read three times in a row before bed, that are renewed and renewed and have a few fresh tear-stains on the cover when they are finally returned.

For these special books, I've been trying to find ways to make them more interactive, so that as well as reading and reading and reading them, we can have a go at re-enacting some of the fun.

So far, this has included sewing a little set of felt gingerbread, to accompany the favourite, Lucy Cousin's Maisy Makes Gingerbread. Tilly can roll out and serve up her Charley and Tallulah cookies whenever she fancies, even when baking a real batch might not be possible!

A little red hat, a simple cone of felt, goes along with Jon Klassen's I Want My Hat Back -- all of her animals have had a turn 'stealing' it, and I'm often forced to squeeze the much-too-small elastic strap under my chin to be the thief.

And this weekend, with the promise of a little autumn weather at last, I'm hoping that we'll have a go at bringing Mr. McGregor's garden to life, with a few packets of carrot and radish seeds!

{in progress: 'on the tube' baby quilt}

Sometimes, inspiration hits so hard that there's nothing to do but give in, right away, dropping everything else and running with it. 

That's how I felt when I saw this Tokyo Subway quilt by Elizabeth Hartman of Oh, Fransson!. She provides full instructions for making the quilt, including just how many thousands of squares to cut... 

 (image source: Oh, Fransson!)

...but I loved the idea of designing my own snaking, bendy train lines. I also loved the idea of scaling it all down a bit, and making a baby/toddler-sized quilt instead. Oh, and I like to imagine these are London Underground trains instead (so please 'mind the gap' between some of the blocks).

The idea was to slowly but surely cut out the 500 squares I needed over the next few months, a few each evening, leaving plenty of time to sew it together before our December due date. However, it was all just a bit too exciting, and one manic night of cutting led to four manic days of sewing, and within a week the whole top was done.

So much for slowly but surely... but then again I do have an awful habit of just making quilt tops and never backing or binding them, so at least there's a good few months left to get all that (boring) stuff done. Until then, Tilly is putting the top to good use, driving her Brio trains up and down the tracks and stopping at each 'squirrel crossing' square (made out of a pair of Justin's old boxers) to avoid any casualties.

{bird feeder fail}

Have you always wanted to use every bowl and utensil you own, all at once, and cover your kitchen in corn syrup and birdseed? Yes! Try this -- make bird feeders with three toddlers. 

Tilly's friend, Selah, was a pro at mixing and cutting out the animals, while little Radley enjoyed banging the measuring spoons together, and Tilly tried her hardest to sneak mouthfuls of the birdseed from the spoon, while exclaiming "Yummy!"

We got to try out our new IKEA woodland creatures cutters -- lovely hedgehogs, bears and moose, and, of course, a Dala horse -- which took on a more abstract quality when created in birdseed. Sadly, the recipe I'd found (from here) wasn't very good, or we measured wrongly, as our menagerie of feeders never hardened. Twenty-four hours later, slick and shiny with grease, their heads fell off as I slipped a spatula beneath them.

The food was still enjoyed by the birds, but as sticky blobs and crumbling hunks, scattered on the grass, rather than prettily hung in the trees.

With three-quarters of a bag of birdseed still left, we'd love to hear about your (successful) homemade bird feeders, if you've got any, and give them a try...

{photography amongst the bluebonnets: a beginner's guide}

As any Texan will tell you, it's rather a tradition around here to take family portraits in the wildflowers that grow alongside the roads. Justin was away, but Tilly, a few friends and I took a little road-trip down to the town of Independence one morning, to frolic, picnic and take photos in the fields.

This is what happened when I tried to sit Tilly down in a nice fat clump of flowers, as I could see the other families were doing:

Major scowls... and then attempted escape! So, as perhaps there are other families who can't magically produce smiles out of thin air, these are the things that I found did work for getting a semi-decent photo in the bluebonnets.

1. Find a spot far enough away from any roads that you can let the children run free. No matter how good your photos, no one wants to remember the day little Suzie was squashed by an eighteen-wheeler.

2. Wear your running shoes. As your children run towards something -- a butterfly, a family member, someone's discarded lunch -- sprint ahead, quite far ahead, and then turn and get a shot of them running towards you.

3. Accept, and work with, the back-of-the-head shot (from behind, no one can see them scowling, at least). Try to angle yourself so that the wildflowers fill in the background, and it might look as if your child is gazing thoughtfully across the meadow (when they might really be turning away in a sulk).

4. Find something for them to hold onto. A fence, a tree trunk, a flower. A large enough prop will prevent them running off so quickly, and the little props serve to hold their attention for a second, while you snap away.

5. Remember, one good shot is enough. You're probably not going to wallpaper your house with this roll of film -- just one, lovely photo to frame or save is all you need.

6. But... take lots. My 400 photos yielded less than a handful that I really liked.

7. Try something different. Lie the child down and take a photo from above (if it isn't too muddy). Throw them in the air a bit to get them laughing. If they're a little older, perhaps let them try a self-portrait?

8. Bring help. Bonny and Jonathan, who joined us, were a wonderful help, serving as safety officers, entertainers, photographers, subjects, and, perhaps most importantly, navigators to actually get us there.

And for those of you with children who will sit and smile, well, perhaps there is a secret that you could share with the rest of us? 

{watercolours: a first attempt}

Life with a toddler is colourful. Sometimes, it's a wash of warm pinks and yellows, spread across the blank page that was our life beforehand. And other times it's more of a frantic "if you try to drink that cloudy water you just washed your brush in one more time, that's the end of watercolour painting forever".

How true it is that the most joyful moments of parenting aren't the ones you plan. Laying out the paper, collecting the paint and brushes and water, imagining wonderful, peaceful hours of artistry together -- it guarantees nothing. Peaceful, our painting was not. I didn't picture so much splashing. Or so much time spent trying to squeeze a small hand into a smaller jar. Or such general wetness. (Surely, the 'water' in 'watercolour' would have warned me? Wouldn't a bucket of water alone have been just as much fun?) But it was wonderful, in a different way.

Rather than painting on the paper, Tilly loved painting on herself. And she loved painting spots (a.k.a. repeatedly banging her brush on the table). She also put these two together, and worked out that she could paint her own freckles.



Both Justin and I have quite freckly arms, and one of Tilly's favourite pass-times is poking those freckle, to which we're supposed to respond by pretending to be electrocuted (this game, if you hadn't guessed, was Justin's invention). Now, finally, with her watercolour-spotted arms, Tilly could join in all of the game. Shaking, convulsing, buzzing -- what good family fun!



So we raise our glasses -- or cloudy-water-filled jam jars -- to the fun that's to be found in mess and chaos and painting outside the box, outside the paper, outside of our plans. (But, no, don't drink that!)

{new pajamas, old pajamas}

These flannel frogs, for Tilly, are the first pajamas I've made. What, I cut out the pattern upside down? No, no, they're Australian frogs.

The pattern came from this tutorial (via Pinterest). Very easy. Very forgiving.

These are my pajamas. My favourite/oldest/softest/most hideous pajamas. As Justin so tactfully put it yesterday, "Don't you have lots of nice pajamas? Don't you own a sewing machine?" Apparently the thread-bare, lop-sided look isn't for everyone. Perhaps they'll be given a new life as toddler-sized 'jamas. Just one more night in them, please...

{international studies for beginners}

People often ask us what sort of accent Tilly has -- British or American. So far, it's a complete mixture -- trash has beaten rubbish, but jumper has won out over sweater. Here's a taste of our daily cultural chaos.


TILLY (holding a Beanie Baby): Anteater!
JUSTIN: Hey! You've made her say it the British way!
ME: What do Americans call anteaters?
JUSTIN: Anteater.
ME: That's what I say.
JUSTIN: No. You say antea-ta!

-     -     -

JUSTIN (going in to get Tilly out of bed): Guten morgen, Til-Bear.
TILLY: Goo-goo mo-ney, Daddy.

-     -     -

JUSTIN (pointing to a herb): What do I call this again? Oleander?
ME: Do you mean coriander?
JUSTIN: Oh, yeah. What do I call coriander?
ME: I can't remember. But this is parsley.

-     -     -

TILLY, JUSTIN and ME (in three-part harmony): A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y...
JUSTIN: Zee!
ME: Zed!
TILLY: Dzzzzzz!

{language for beginners}

A few of our daily exchanges, now that conversation is (sort of) possible:

TILLY (pointing at a picture of a pig's nose): Snah!

ME: Yes, that's his snout.

TILLY (pointing at my nose): Mummy, snah!

-     -     -

TILLY: APPLESAUCE!

ME: How do you ask?

TILLY: APPLESAUUUCE!

ME: Can you say "applesauce, please"?

TILLY: Yes.

ME: Can you say "please"?

TILLY: Yes.

ME: If you want some applesauce, you have to say "please".

TILLY: PASTA!

-     -     -

TILLY: I-O-I-O?
ME: Old McDonald had a farm, ee-i-ee-i-oh. And on that farm he had a...
TILLY: Em!
ME: Em?
TILLY: EM!
ME: The letter 'm'?
TILLY: Yes.
ME: Okay. With an 'm', 'm' here and an 'm', 'm' there...

{a valentine's party}

This year, we got more than our fair share of hearts, as we hosted a Valentine's party for Tilly and her friends. Oh, to be one again, and get a dozen cards from your favourite people!

Of course, most of the photos turned out to be a blur of children bouncing off the walls and each other. Here are some of the sweet moments in between -- you'll just have to imagine the rabble of other children just outside of the picture, and add in about two-hundred pompoms. (Yes, the kids loved to dump them out, but, admittedly, Terri and I started it by trying to get a 'raining pompoms' photo with poor, unimpressed Jackson)

One of Tilly's best friends couldn't make it, but sent along a little Valentine's card with a photo of himself in it. It is now officially the most looked-at piece of paper in our house.



Hope you had a lovely day, too, and were lucky enough to enjoy a festive cupcake or two!