novamade

smart solutions, brought to you by the number four

 
So you know how I advocated making two things (in my case, hats) when you are trying to appease siblings?  Turns out, this is a good rule to maintain peace in one's household in general.  I am not sure why I thought I could get away with making a quilt for one child and not the other, apparently, I missed that day in the Mother Tutelage Workshop series.  So now I am faced with the task of making another quilt,  in a manner that is more expeditious than my usual way of quilt making (which usually involve great lapses in time between start and finish) because the boys have come to fisticuffs over this quilt (especially now, since Little Sir has decided to keep the quilt at home--I am sure he is doing this just to cause discord.  You may think I am kidding, I'm not.  Sometimes he likes to get rough and tumbly, I think it's a brothers thing, I honestly have no idea).

 
When inquiring about a solution to this new problem (is it just me, or is my propensity for asking a four year old for advice about this sort of stuff, maybe, counter-productive?), Little Sir looked at me, like the fool I apprently am, shrugged and said, "well, you could just make another quilt, Mommy."  Maybe it was just the way he said it (patronizing, much?), but I have gained a better understanding of how my children/THE children (or at least the older one) thinks that I am made of time.  It's kind of cute that Little Sir thinks that I can just magically produce something of awesome proportions just because I will it to be so.  I mentioned that, "it's not as easy as all that.  These sorts of things take time and planning."  I have to plan and draw out a design, buy the fabric (let's just disregard the mountains of fabric currently at my disposal, trust me, fabric must be bought), cut the fabric, piece everything together, and then you know, there is the quilting and the binding and probably another cute signature block...  I am seeing hours dripping away from my life...but, it could be fun, so I am not complaining--I am simply making an observation here.

 

And when Little Sir offered to help, well, obviously I could not turn down this opportunity to collaborate with an artist of such renown.  I am finding that collaboration with such a diva (divo?) can be challenging.  He is feeling quite assured of his creative vision and is discounting my suggestions at the moment ("that's not feasible" means absolutely nothing to him).  But we are working on it.

 

So maybe in a month (or two?) we will see another maze quilt and a pattern to go with it around these parts (since so many of you inquired about one).  It will be my first foray into writing a pattern for a quilt, so, fun, right?  And obviously, there will be other stuff going on while that Maze Quilt 2.0 thing is going on.  Obviously, multiple craft disorder and all that.

 

it a-MAZE-ing

 
Do you remember a few years ago when Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes were first dating and they kept saying that everything was "amazing"?  Well, I have your amazing right here.  It's a maze quilt. It's also an "I Spy" quilt of sorts too, because all the maze segments are bits of small scale fabric of awesomeness.  It's okay, you can jump on a couch, I think it's pretty amazing clever, too.

 
Last year when Little Sir decided that he was all done with the whole business of nap-taking, his teachers and I realized that he needed something to keep him occupied while all the good children slept.  When I asked him what it would take to make him either take a nap or simply be quiet, he suggested that a blanket, or better, a quilt would be the solution to the whole situation (I didn't see the logic in it then either).  So obviously I had to make him a blanket, or better, a quilt (my friend Diane has described me as something of an enabler, she may be right)...

 
At the time, and still today, mazes were an area of interest and preoccupation for Sir.  So I wondered, "would it be possible to make a quilt with a maze on it?"  The gauntlet was thrown, the challenge was on, and awesomeness was achieved.

 
It wasn't that hard.  Some graph paper and simple math--it's all built on the concept of a nine-patch block (well, that's the way I did it).  Either draw your own maze or find one on the internets, (I made one slight change to this one here--make sure the maze is do-able/skill appropriate for the recipient).  Work out a color scheme, cut, sew, quilt, and voila!  You have some awesome on your hands!  Also, point of order, you should consider letting the recipient choose the fabric for the quilt backing, just a thought.  If the lucky recipient is young, it will make his or her whole week (seriously, Little Sir almost lost his mind with the enormity of "this important responsibility"), and it gives wee ones a sense of ownership (also, if you are lucky, they will pick the fabric that you like least and you can eliminate is from your stash, ahem--and yes, Sir loves those neon hearts, especially the pink ones).

 
I finished this quilt, except for the binding last summer.  The reason the quilt sat languishing in my "to fin" pile was because I sewed the binding too wee to machine sew both sides and knew that hand sewing the binding was in order.  It's the first time that I have hand sewn a binding on anything larger than something the size of a napkin (a very small napkin, okay a coaster, really).  I knew this was going to take time and, fundamentally, I am kind of lazy, so I kept putting it off. 

 
After being pestered about my inability to finish quilts (yes, by the four year old), I knew I had to finish it to preserve my own sanity. It took three nights of hand-sewing.  I should have just done it months ago.

 
And as cool as this maze quilt is, the maze is not even the best part.  No, the best part is the signature block (she says, ever so humbly).

 
In our house, we do not say, "because I said so." This is a phrase that always annoyed me when I was growing up and I always thought, "when I grow up, and have my own kids, I am not going to use this phrase."  It wouldn't work anyway since Sir requires explanation for everything and "because I said so" is so lacking in explanation, it would be an insult to his highness to even utter it.  The first time I almost used said, "because I said so", Icaught myself and said instead, "because you are precious to me..."  I don't know, it's the first thing that popped into my head (and yes, it was said with not just a little sarcasm), and it gave me time to think of an explanation that would appease a small child that was (and still is) entirely too articulate and assessing for his own good.

 
So this quilt was amazingly (okay, I'm done) successful.  I was right in the middle of patting myself on the back when Little Mister asked me about the location of his quilt...

"the children need hats"

 
Little Sir has taken to referring to himself and his brother as, "the children."  I am not sure why.  While it sounds cute in theory, waking up to a child yelling, "the children are awake" or "the children are hungry!" a few mornings in a row has killed any sort fondness I had for the phrase when it first became part of the vernacular of our house.  The one thing I have learned of late, my "the children" are very needy.  But what they were most in need of, apparently, were hats.

 
Little Sir mentioned on several occasions that he "could really use a a hat, maybe one that was handknit."  He further piqued my interest by appealing to the fiber-crafter in me by saying that "it would be nice if it was made from handspun yarn, too." So obviously, he was going to get what he wanted, at least in this regard . 
I let him go through all of my handspun and he picked out his favorite.  I really nice blue-sy superwash merino dyed by Traveling Rhinos in the Baron colorway that I spun up ages ago (you remember back when I decided to spin a rainbow ? I know it was a really long time ago).  I did want to start doing something with my handspun, afterall, so this worked out well. 

 
And you can't knit a hat for one child and not the other, well, you could, I guess, but that would be mean.  So I picked some of the Ashland Bay merino (in English Garden) that I spun to knit a hat for Little Mister.

 
While he normally eschews anything that covers his head, Little Mister has taken a shine (I have no idea where this phrase come from, but I think it's funny) to wearing this hat.  He loves it.  Which I, of course, think is awesome.

 
The best thing about these hats are the fact that I just cast on and knit.  Okay, reverse that, I took the measurements for the circumference of their heads (they're both huge) and did a small swatch (I know, it was an OMG moment for me, too).  I ripped out the swatch (I wanted to make sure I had enough yarn--I did), I did a little bit of math and cast on and knit.  Knitting on the fly.  I know, it's just a hat (or two, actually), but it was the first time I had this thought of "pattern?  I don't need no stinkin' pattern," and was, well, right!  Yes, I do feel terribly clever.

 
So now "the children"  have hats. Knit with handspun, no less.

love, twue love

 
Did you celebrate Valentine's Day?  The day itself, for me, was uneventful, but the days leading up to it were very celebratory.  Children sort of force the issue of ridiculous holiday observance (says she who considers her birthday a holiday, ahem) because they get interested in anything Hallmark chooses to hype up, and really, hoping to be a contender for the Mother of the Year award sort of obligates one to play up the interests of one's children, and etcetera.

Special K wants nothing to do with Valentine's Day, but even he felt inclined to cave in because the Littles wanted to get me flowers (which was sweet, really). 
So mostly, I guess you could say we celebrated Valentine's Day this year by catering to Little Sir and Little Mister.  I made red velvet cupcakes because Little Sir wondered what they were (he decided that he "didn't like them, actually." 
I made cupcakes for other people, and let Little Sir decorate them with those teeth-achingly sweet tiny hearts (he was obsessed with them this year). 
I read books with Little Mister all weekend, because it's his thing right now (please excuse his Robert Pattinson 'do, he is loathe do let anyone touch his hair post naptime). 
And the thing I did that really demonstrates maternal sacrifice...I sat down and patiently watched Little Sir write out all of his Valentines this year.  He was adamant about doing them himself (with me watching him do it).  It was cute for the first three minutes. 

 

After two hours, I wanted to gouge my eyes out; but, I smiled the whole time and told him what a great job he was doing --even though many names ended up two lines long, and I had to listen to him complain about parents--including his own--giving their children names with so many letters.  I just smiled and nodded, because I am pretty sure that's what you are supposed to do when a four year old, basically, tells you--the parent--that while you thought the name you were bestowing on him was so terribly clever, it wasn't and you, in fact, are a moron.  Smiled and nodded. That is true love, no?

snow day best

 
Lest you think that the only thing I accomplished in January was list generating, allow me to disabuse you of this notion.  I did, in fact, get quite a bit of crafting done.  While the quilting last month was haphazard with not an iota of focus, the knitting, surprisingly, was extremely focused.  So I finished a pair of socks.  Don't be too impressed.  They were started during the middle of last year, with the intention of finishing them for a Christmas giveaway; but, then I got involved in the whole real estate game involving the buying and selling of houses and, well, you know the rest of it.
In any case, socks.  They aren't fancy.  After receiving the Lichen Rib socks last year, Special K commented that "handknit socks are, actually kind of nice...and if [I'd] like to make more, they would be perfect for shoveling snow."  While most knitters would take this as an affront to their mad knitting skillz ("You want socks to shovel snow? In handknit socks?!  Handknit socks are to be put upon feet to be admired!  Oh, woe!"), or what have you,  I take it as a compliment, because my significant other is nothing, if not practical.  It is rare that he is ever in want of anything frivolous. Kitsch is not part of his vernacular.  If the item can not be deemed "utilitarian" in some way, it's a thing that Special K neither wants or needs. 
One would think that my tendency to hoarde raw materials of the craft variety  could drive this man, who I deem Special, to hysteria; but, he is really supportive  and somewhat enabling when it comes to me and my accumulation of all that is various and sundry, as he is a subsciber to the "happy wife, happy life" philosophy of marriage.  It's true.  So, that being said, the very least I could do was knit the man some socks for Christmas his birthday.  I finished them with time to spare really. 
                                     I used Nancy Bush's "Gentleman's Plain Winter Sock" pattern from Knitting Vintage Socks.  My only modification was to eliminate that purl stitch down the center of the back of the leg that seems so prevalent in vintage knitted hosiery.  The yarn, in case you were wondering--and, you know you were--is the Black Olive colorway in Hello Yarn sock yarn dyed by Adrian Bazilia.    The socks are perfect in every way from color to fit.  And I think this will likely be my go-to pattern when knitting socks for K because the man knows what he likes and he likes these socks (and so do I, those are my feet, by the way--while too big on me, the socks are a perfect fit for K).