Me Made May 2014: Week 1 Recap

Woo-hoo! I did it! Sure, it was technically only three days but I totally made it through the first week of Me Made May successfully. There was celebration wine.

Anna Dress, City Girl Top, Hemlock Tee

And now, since I'm someone who tends to think about blogging the details of her sewing adventures instead of actually doing so, here are the pertinent details on Week 1's wears, or "unblogged" items, as the kids say.

Day 1 - By Hand London Anna Dress: Polka-dot rayon challis, slash neckline, knee-length (though you'll have to take my word on that one thanks to my headless torso-selfie... my torsie?), and successful invisible zipper insertion on the first try--huzzah! But I flubbed the facing/zipper technique. While it works just fine, I'm acutely aware that I did it wrong. Handmade charm, though, amIright?

Day 2 - See Kate Sew City Girl Top: A lightweight, semi-sheer linen sweater knit with half-sleeve option. (Once again, you'll have to trust me and my torsie.) The pattern suggests a sturdier, stable knit, but I really wanted something soft and drapey. I left the arms and hem unfinished, and I love it.

High on the success of that one--hello, speedy sewing!--I dove into another City Girl Top in an even looser sweater knit. It was, in a word, soterriblewhatwasIthinking. My mistake, though, not the pattern, and I've got another one planned, which you may or may not see here in one of these recaps at some point in the near or distant future

Day 3 - Grainline Studio Hemlock Tee: I think this a poly-blend tissue knit, but I stitched it up so long ago that I honestly don't remember. The shirt and pattern are cute enough (plus, the pattern's FREE!), but the fabric feels strangely stiff. This was actually the first time I'd worn this shirt, grabbing it from the sleep-shirt drawer in the spirit of Me Made May, and I have to say that it kind of grew on me over the course of the day. Maybe I'll bump it up into the workout-shirt drawer. Ha! Like I work out! Good one, Hemlock Tee.

There: I sewed, I wore, I recapped. Hurray for Me Made May! Maybe I'll see you next week.

Me Made May 2014

My parents gifted me my first sewing machine in high school--or was it middle school?--and I immediately set to work making Very Important Things like boxer shorts, constructed with cockeyed plaid, to be layered with my ill-fitting biker shorts in gym class.

On a slightly related note, the class behind us only had to take one year of phys ed, while my class had to take two full years. Injustice! At least I still have the shorts.

Fast forward to me as a mom, several years removed from my crooked boxers and unevenly hemmed dresses. I found myself wanting to sew for my little one, rusty though I was, so I gathered some supplies and tentatively refreshed myself on the ins and outs of sewing. Good news: It's like riding a bike with needles and thread and dangerously sharp scissors. Even better: There's an incredibly vibrant online sewing community to serve as inspiration and a never-ending resource for help and motivation.

My kiddo is four now, and I still make plenty of things for her. (I mean, come on: Kids' clothes are cute!) In the past year or so, though, I've really stepped up my own me-made wardrobe, and I have no intention of stopping. There are a number of reasons to be invested in the process of making your own clothes, but for now let's just go with this: It's fun!

Me Made May 2014: I think I can?

So, without further ado: I, Meagan of howikopp.blogspot.com, sign up (one day late!) as a participant of Me-Made-May '14. I endeavor to wear at least four me-made items each week for the duration of May 2014.

Thanks, online sewing world, for making me want to play along!

Princess of Power

What's that? Take two years in between posting things on my blog? Sure, don't mind if I do.

In my mind, I've been a very good blogger with regular updates for family far away. I've kept photos current and stories fresh. I've documented all of the wonderful things that I've made for my wonderful daughter while my wonderful husband wonderfully tolerates my wonderful hobby. I've documented a first day of school and riding a bike (WITH training wheels--I'm not that far behind), the loss of a beloved kitty, and the addition of a puppy.

But yeah...Let's just dive back in like I've been doing this all along, okay?

So, Happy Halloween from She-ra!

 

This year I decided that I wasn't going to put a bunch of time and effort into making a costume for Charlie. Why go through all of the hassle for a one-day-only outfit? (To lend validity to that reasoning, let's just suspend reality and pretend that I'm NOT the mom who encourages allows her child to wear costumes year-round.) Enter the "what do you want to be?" conversation, followed by a quick web search to find one toddler-size Princess of Power costume.

Guess what? They don't exist. Oh sure, if you're a grown woman who watched She-ra when she was in her prime (we're talking 1985 here), then you can be She-ra. If not, too bad.

After a bit more help from good old Google, we turned up some lovely home-made She-ra costumes, though. Great. Fine. I agreed to make one, but I wasn't going to like it. (Spoiler: I did. I really, really did.) I found some red and white metallic shot cottons from Fabric.com, along with some gold ombre spandex. Amazon led me to a simple white leotard and nude footless tights. I figured that the rest of the details would just kind of come together as we went.

Aside from a belt that I probably should have basted down so that it would quit creeping up her belly, it's not too shabby!

 

I had originally planned on making some sort of leg warmer/boot cover things for her, but Target came to the rescue with these cuties. (Does my three-year-old own more pairs of boots than I do? Maybe.) We also found a sword in the Halloween section at Target, and she was content with it as it was. You better believe that the purist in me started to spiral out of control, though, envisioning ways to She-ra-ize that baby. I painted on the chest emblem with some fantastic gold glitter paint that we found at Joann, completed by a single turquoise sew-on rhinestone. Of course, you can't buy a single rhinestone, so I now have a small bag of those just waiting to find a home.


The white shot cotton turned into a simple, double layer, elastic-waist skirt. No pattern, I just cut a yard in half and double layered it because it's fall and the fabric is pretty thin. The cape came together using a darling pattern from My Childhood Treasures that I already had. I just eliminated the hood, and cut about three or four inches off the front pieces in the center. (Sorry! I was just kind of winging it, so I didn't track the changes very well.) I added button holes at each shoulder of the cape so that she can easily remove it, and the gold buttons that secure the cape are a nice little nod to the additional gold on She-ra's outfit. The belt, necklace, and armbands are all jersey-covered fleece. 

It might be the head-dress that made this the most fun for me, though. Joe is normally content to just let me go, but early on in this project I mentioned that I was putting him in charge of the crown. And did he nail it, or what?

 

You can really see it in all of its glittery goodness in the photo above. (The lovely Egyptian goddess on the left is my pseudo-niece Jordyn. She's delightful, but I had nothing to do with her costume. Sorry, J.)

Anyway, after gathering a few supplies along our travels, the crown ended up coming together with a foam visor and some sparkly gold foam paper, both from Joann. Some cutting, some glue, the addition of a red jewel that we had on hand, and voila!

 

She totally loved it. The day I had her try the whole thing on, she declared, "Mommy, I'm the REAL She-ra!" High praise indeed.

Someone should really teach her not to run with swords, though.

Yes, please.

Alternate title: Why My Child Screaming "LOWWWWWD!" While You Try to Eat Your Dinner is Actually Polite (And Why Did You Sit So Close to Us When There Are Plenty of Tables Open?*)

So, wee lil' Charlie had a handful of signs that she used before she could talk. Adorable little pudgy-fingered signs for things like more and milk and please.

Here's evidence from early April (over seven months ago!) of the unprompted "please," followed by evidence of why Charlie thinks she can have whatever she wants whenever she wants it. Good parenting in full effect, ya'll!

Yes, very practical and helpful and did I mention adorable? But she can say words now, and does. A lot. Except for please. That one's been a challenge.

If you prompt her to say please, she'll quickly rub her chest like any good little ASL student should. Great, but perhaps it's time to try saying things without our hands? No? Well, would you like Mommy to teach you some new sign language? Just pay attention in the car, Sweetheart, and you'll learn some new vocabulary words, too!

And thus began my brilliant quest to get my toddler to speak in three easy steps:

1. I started with asking Charlie each time she signed please, to say it with her mouth instead. Genius! Except, what does my kiddo do? She's just moved her hand up from her chest and started rubbing her lips instead. (I'm not gonna lie, I actually think that's pretty smart. Again, the adorable... it's overflowing I tell you!)
2. Though the mouth signing was cute, it wasn't exactly what I was going for. Up next, each time she signed, I'd respond with, "Say it out loud." To which she'd respond with "Loud." OK. Well, at least she's saying something, right?
3. And the final phase: I tricked her! Ha, take that, Toddler! I got her to repeat after me by saying PLEASE! really, really loudly, and then please! really, really softly. And it worked! Sort of... I can get her to say it now, but it takes much cajoling, and I have to say it in a really exaggerated way first. Good thing I like speaking like a Muppet.

So, there you have it: How to almost get your toddler to say "please" in a way that everyone around them will understand. Almost.

Enter dinner last night and another proud parenting moment. After negotiating with Charlie to let us have something other than beans and rice, she agreed that a 'tato would be good. Off we went, happy to be one day into a short work week. Food was ordered, food was delivered to our table, Elmo was offered bites of potato. (This is the first time in a couple of weeks that Elmo has been invited to join us for an outing thanks to Charlie's on-going love of all things pig. He was really hungry.)

As we were winding down, Charlie decided she'd like some ice from Daddy's cup for dessert. (I know, we're spoiling her.) I, of course, prompted her to say please.

And then I watched her start to sign. But, but, BUT! She stopped mid-sign.

I could see the wheels turning in her brilliant little mind. Charlie knew that she was supposed to say please. She opened her mouth, I braced myself for a pride swell, and she said as clearly as she possibly could, with as much volume as she could muster:

LOWWWWWDDD!

Ah, manners.

*A woman came in toward the end of our meal and chose to seat herself at the booth right behind us. She even sat down in the seat that backed up to the seat Charlie and I were sharing. Huh? I didn't even try to keep the kid quiet because really? You picked your poison, lady.

BIG TIME PIG TIME.

What’s this? A Blog post? From me?

I could go through the motions of trying to condense the last missing six months worth of life into one lil’ old update, but let’s be realistic here: it ain’t happening. I can’t. I won’t. Let’s not.

Instead, let’s jump right into how we’re Kopp-ing these days. PIG!

At some point in the last couple of weeks, Charlie dug up an old VHS copy of “Babe” at Gramma Kate’s house. Yes, much to Joe’s chagrin, I let Charlie watch TV. I try to make sure it’s moderately educational, or at least not full of quick edits and strobe lights, but I work from home in the afternoon. I either get an assist from a televised playmate, or I have to teach Charlie how to place media buys and edit e-newsletters, and frankly, her spelling is just terrible. (This would be the part where Joe would say that if I didn’t let her watch so much TV, that she’d be able to spell. Don’t be stoopid, Daddy.)

So, “Babe.” She loves that movie. I mean, she loves it. She goes to bed requesting “Pig,” and wakes up asking for it again. If you make the mistake of mentioning one of the animals in the movie, like say, a sheep (you’d be surprised how often sheep come up in conversation with a toddler), then she asks for it again. That poor old tape has been rewound so many times in the last week that I’m surprised it still plays at all.

But Grandma Vickie is here this week for a visit, and guess what she found at Target? Well, that would be “Babe” on DVD, of course! Charlie’s very own copy to keep at our house, where she now not only requests “Pig,” but will specify “Pig… DVD.”

And you know what makes watching “Babe” on DVD even better? Watching it with Babe! I’m sure that we’ll eventually have to add a tuft of hair to the top of this little guy’s head, but for now she loves him whole-heartedly. Thank you, Grandma Vickie for both the DVD and the softest little piggy friend ever!

Confession: On one (or five) of our viewings, I may have been overheard whispering to her that while some people eat pigs, Mommy and Charlie do not. See, I can do my own brainwashing, television or no.

Making a Mother’s Day

Alternate title: For Amity  See, it’s a pun! Amity is my friend and “amity” means friendship! You should all have a friend whose name means friendship. It just makes life better.

This year marked my second Mother’s Day. Well, it marked my second Mother’s Day as a mom. I’ve actually acknowledged my own mother for years now. Probably for as long as I’ve known her. (I’m guessing.) And Mother’s Day is great – if you’re a mom. If you’re not, it’s more likely a day that you remember with just enough time to join the throng of Hallmark shoppers, jammed shoulder-to-shoulder in the tiny aisles, searching for the right card… one that mixes humor with love, thankfulness with poop jokes. (You know you’ve seen them.)

Yep, I love Mother’s Day. And I’ll have photos up from my MD fun soon, but this post? Well, this post is actually about my wonderful, beautiful, giving “mother” of a friend, Amity.

Seven years ago, Am became the first of my close friends to become a mommy, and almost five years ago she added a second love to her fabulous family. It was a role that just came so naturally to her, and I really don’t think I’ve ever seen her happier than she is when she’s with her kiddos. She’s nurturing and patient and makes me pause sometimes to think, hmmm... maybe I could handle more than one. Then I glance over to see Charlie dancing on the storage trunk that she’s just managed to scale, and I come to my senses.

Amity though? Well, she was meant to be a mom.

It’s funny, within just a few months of giving birth the first time, I remember Am saying that she could see herself being a surrogate one day. I, of course, attributed that to a rush of some sort of superwoman hormones, but it stuck with me.

Then, early last year, I became a mom. And when Charlie was about one month old, I received a beautiful email from Amity, who probably doesn’t know that I saved it. (Point of clarification: emails aren’t necessarily an impersonal way of communicating for us – especially when one of us is hard to get in touch with due to, oh say, a newborn being in charge of everything. Everything.)

Am’s message explained that something had been weighing heavily on her heart, and that she had begun the very slow process of becoming a gestational surrogate. 

In her own beautiful words:

     I literally woke up one morning and felt like the wool had been removed from my eyes. I saw my kids and my life with fresh eyes. I saw how wonderful my family is and was overwhelmed by this feeling of my family being complete. Every day since then I have woken up with this feeling of peace and contentment. 

     I think that seeing you with your daughter has just reinforced this notion I have, that so many people are meant to be mothers. Life hands people all kinds of things, and I feel like not all women were meant to carry or grow babies, but that doesn't mean they aren't meant to be mothers.

     To be able to give someone the same amazing life with children that I have would be amazing.  I have my children, I relish them and love every bit of them.  I want that for everyone I know.  And if I can help someone to get that, it doesn't take much thought. In the end I get to see a family completed. 

Amazing, right? You know what’s more amazing, though? She did it. My dear, sweet friend made a family for someone else. And just in time for Mother’s Day.

*****

It was decided pretty early on that, wanting to maintain some sense of normalcy, it made more sense for Amity’s husband to stay with their kids when the big day came. And that, my friends, meant that I was able to be Amity’s “person” in the delivery room, and I joked for weeks that I was going to doula the hell out of her.

At first I was a little lost. The last time I did this, I was in the other seat and all that I really remember "needing" was to get that baby out. But I figured it out. Boo-yah, doula on! Before the epidural was called for, I was actually helpful, providing counter-pressure to Amity's hip during contractions. (That was funny, really. Amity couldn't see what I was doing, but it took all of my might, leaning as hard as I could into her with my feet planted in what I can only imagine was some sort of strange wrestler-like lunge. But hey, it worked!)

Once the epidural was in, well... I didn't have much to do other than break out the camera.

Note: This begins the not-too-graphic photo part of the post.

Here, an incredibly uncomfortable Amity waits as patiently as possible while the epidural is being prepped. One of her goals going into the birth was to go into labor on her own and see if she could make it epidural-free. At about six centimeters she decided that natural labor - especially when it feels like your hips are being ripped out of their sockets! - is just fine. For someone else.

Well, that's just much better! We learned that you're allowed to have whatever clear foods and beverages you want during labor, including coffee, but not with cream. Who knew? (I wasn't offered anything during Charlie's birth, probably because I was too busy puking in the corner.)

I stayed by Amity's side - or rather, her head - during the actual birth, and it was perfect. The baby's parents stood on either side of her, helping bring their little girl into the world. (In response to the look on most faces when it gets to this part of the story, Amity normally clarifies that both parents are trained medical professionals. So just relax! Geeze, you'd think no one's ever watched their baby being born out of someone else's body before...)

The baby was (and is!) beautiful. A full head of hair, totally kissable cheeks, and oh, did I mention HUGE?

Daddy was the first to kiss his precious girl. To see the joy on M&J's faces really was priceless. I'd get up in the middle of the night (or, in this case, at 5:15 in the morning) everyday if it meant seeing a family completed.

I kept Amity's hubby updated all morning on the progress she was making via text message. (Technology, I love you sometimes. Mwah!) And just like magic, he and the kids happened to be around the corner when Baby A arrived. They were able to make it to the hospital to see their mommy and meet the baby she'd been growing for another mommy "whose tummy was broken" before the rest of the visitors arrived. Look at those faces! They're as beautiful as their mom.

And here's Baby A with the woman, my friend, who helped bring her to her family. I know I've already over-used these words in this post, but come on! Beautiful. Amazing. Wonderful.

Love.

Amity, you made a family. Happy Mother's Day.

(And yes, I know I'm late on this one, too. But really, it wouldn't be me if I'd written this on Mother's Day, would it?)

By the way, in case any of my two readers were wondering, Amity has a blog, too. (Click on the word "blog" to find your way there.) She does a much better job of explaining everything that went into the surrogacy, which makes sense since it’s her story!

My own Mother's Day photos will follow soon enough, but for now, I want to celebrate Amity: friendship and my friend.

It's not too late for Easter, is it?

I figure at this rate, I should have a nice, complete Mother's Day update by the time Father's Day rolls around. And a Father's Day post by Labor Day. And a Labor Day post by... well, you get the idea.

So without further ado, here is one slightly stale "How we spent our Easter" post.

Alternate blog title: Are you happy now, Amity and Catey?
(That's right. I called you out for calling me out being supportive and encouraging and urging me to write more. That'll teach you thanks!)

Up first, a Thurb-Bunny. I can only assume that he was downstairs keeping a lookout for a more traditional Easter mascot. I repaid his dedication to protecting the family and his food dish by hiring someone to shave him. No, really, I did. Photos to come on that one later. Maybe by Christmas.

And this? Well, this is Charlie with her very first Easter basket. No, it's not her first Easter, but I am a terrible mother hell-bent on ruining every holiday with lack of festivities and late blog posts didn't think a three month old (last year) would appreciate a basket full of sugar quite as much as a 15-month-old (this year). That, and a year ago I was much better about what I ate since the kid was nursing, like, every half hour. This year? Bah! Sure, she still wanders up to me asking for milk, but it's a lot easier to distract her with a Cadbury Creme Egg these days.

(Embarrassing admission: I had to look up whether it was "creme" or "cream." If we had any of them left, I'm pretty sure I'd have to give one up as punishment.)

Oh, and by the way, the basket clenched in Charlie's lil' hands was once clenched in my lil' hands, but I find it hard to believe that mine were ever as cute as hers.

In addition to candy, the Easter Bunny also tried to make my kid smarter. 

Stupid Bunny.

(Tweety Bird basket from Grandma Vickie & Grandpa Joe!)

The magic of the aforementioned Cadbury Creme Eggs is seen below. (Don't worry Charlie, you're not the first person to display a double chin in the presence of a Cadbury Egg.)

If you ask Charlie, however, the real magic of the Easter basket was not the candy (though it was good), and it certainly wasn't the flashcards (pfft!).

It was the pink "grass" that somehow got spread all over the living room. 

If only we knew how that happened...

Skip ahead a few hours. Have some time to kill? You should probably just follow someone around taking their picture. People love that. Especially toddlers.

The real point of these pictures is to point out that after much hemming and hawing, I cut Charlie's hair. OK, that sounds more impressive than the reality of me grabbing a flap of her long, born-with-it hair and snipping it to be the same length as her grew-in-later, thicker hair. But still, first haircut!

And it happened just before Easter, so it belongs in this post, right?

Charlie is clearly delighted with her new 'do.

Easter basket? Check!

Educational toy? Check! (And eye roll.)

Haircut? Check!

It must be time for a bit of egg hunting at Gramma Kate and Grampa Greg's house.

Yes, yes, it is.

Charlie's buddy (and surrogate big sister) Jordyn helped teach Charlie the ropes. For the record, Jordyn is a very patient teacher. Charlie is a less receptive student.

Unless you count her dedication to mastering a surly, "Don't tell me to pick up these eggs, I didn't drop them out here!" demeanor, in which case, A+!

So, Easter eggs? Blah.

Big, rubber ball? Suh-weet! And also worthy of some very deep, introspective thinking.

And then there was the obligatory Easter family photo. Obligatory because I SAID SO! Nah, everyone was delighted with my suggestion that we pose for a family shot. Charlie couldn't get enough. She just wanted us to keep asking her to stay still and look at the camera. She was nothing but smiles and joy.

Or not.

Is it just me, or does she look like she's really contemplating the merits of spitting on my head?

But, BUT! We got one. Sure, Joe might be the only one facing the camera, but thanks to the angle on my girl and me, my friend Sue pointed out that Charlie's nose wrinkles like mine when she smiles. And that, family and friends, is worth her thinking about spitting on me.

What a difference a year makes!

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter. And Mother's Day. And, well, have a Happy Thanksgiving, too, in case I don't get to tell you that until next February.

(OK, one more embarrassing admission: I totally airbrushed the bags out from under my eyes in the "Last Year" photo. True, I couldn't erase the dead-tired look in my gaze, but at least my skin looks fresh!)