Creating a gallery wall for a boys’ bedroom

Updated on December 27, 2014: I featured this project in “My Handmade Home” over on TheChronicleHerald.ca, so please check that out here. It’s much less long-winded than this blog post. 🙂
***
Last time on the ongoing saga of Oh What Shall We Put on D’s Bedroom Walls, I showed you a nearly-done room with freshly-painted dark blue walls, newly-installed white board-and-battern, and a really cool rain gutter bookcase.
It was very simple and clean, but OH, did it need wall art!
Usually I’m pretty quick to make decor designs — impatient personality combined with a creative certainty in most things I do — so I was surprised it took so long to fill those walls.
I knew I wanted to do a gallery wall, because HELLO, my name is Heather and I love gallery walls. But it took me forever to figure out an arrangement that worked.
I wasn’t going to use only white frames, like galleries I did in the kitchen and living room. I wasn’t going to use only black frames, like the gallery I did on the stairs. I wasn’t going to use all yellow frames like the powder room. You get the idea.
I knew I wanted to use a mixture of colours and textures — oh jeez, this just got really design-snobby, didn’t it? — but I couldn’t figure out WHAT to use. I have a huge collection of frames (it’s an addiction) from yard sales, and my mom and my aunt periodically give me more. I also have a lot of little paintings and crafty things that I’ve done, so I had a lot to sift through. I wanted each item to be meaningful — not just something that fit the space.
I also had to figure out an arrangement. I spread everything out on the floor of our basement playroom/TV room a bunch of different times, and nothing would feel right. Did I want to do two mini-galleries, one over each bed? No, because then I would feel limited to keeping the beds there. LIMITED, I TELL YOU!
So I’d shove all of the frames and artwork back into my office, and forget about it for a while.
A few days ago, I got sick of tripping over frames — no one goes in my office except me, which means I consider it the only spot in the house worthy of being a dumping-grounds for random junk. I dragged everything back to the playroom and tried again.
I don’t know if it was the sheer desire to get it all OUT of my office, or if I’d finally figured out the right arrangement, but I did it. Then I dragged everything upstairs, and — with D’s help — nailed and/or 3M-stripped everything to the damn wall. DONE!
Welcome to D’s room … (again)
D is obsessed with farms (OBSESSED) and I’m obsessed with chevron, so …

 

Red poster is from a school supply shop, grey “Always remember you are so loved” was painted by me, blue square painting by me, two landscapes by me (I got new paints for Christmas, thanks Mommmm). Cute baby D photo is on the left, and a cute Baby Darling Husband photo is on the right.

 

Little Sis always makes fun of me for putting Cs in all of my gallery walls, but THERE IS NO “C” here. Just a six, because our sweet boy was born on 6/6/10 (it’s a brass house number from Kent). The red frame is a $1 cut-out I bought at Michaels and painted red, the yellow mat around D’s artwork is a piece of yellow cardstock, the “What is a little boy?” plaque is from when Darling Husband was a baby, and the “C-L-A-R-K-E” photos are free printables that I stuck in two three-slot Walmart photo frames and jammed together.
Like D’s new desk? I think it’s so fun! Our town was actually giving a bunch of them away, and tweeted that they were in front of the old teachers’ college for anyone who wanted them. I sent Darling Husband down IMMEDIATELY and he grabbed one for each kid, along with some extra chairs. D is in LOVE with his “real school desk,” and it meant I got to move his old one to the entranceway. Woo!
More info about our rain gutter bookshelves here!
***

Thanks for tolerating yet another post about The Boy Who Got The Worst Room In The House. I don’t have to feel bad any more about choosing a bad paint colour originally (too-pale grey = ick), and it feels good!

D’s room now has so many elements that I LOVE (board-and-batten, a nice bold paint colour, a gallery wall) along with kid-approved items (a funky old school desk, stickers all over the window) and lots of colour (the red and yellow accents in the gallery wall make me smile).

Most importantly, my obsession with gallery walls has been appeased … for now …

xoxo

Pin this!

 

When eggs are the enemy

I’m over at Scratch or Sniff talking about C’s egg allergy!

I’m a huge fan of Roo’s sites (she’s known for her famous This Is How I Feel Fridays over at Neon Fresh), so it’s exciting to be guest-posting for her.

If you have a little one with allergies, I hope you hop over to check it out!

xo

The worst game of tag … ever

Almost two (two!) years ago, I posted about how much it sucks when your kids “tag-team” you at night.

You know, older kid wakes up screaming/crying, you drag yourself out of bed and deal with them, and then just as you’re falling asleep again, younger kid chimes in with their own separate complaints/issues.

Well, here’s an update for you: it still happens when your kids are three and almost-two!

Last night, Darling Husband was working an overnight shift — isn’t that always the way? Holla at me, shift-work spouses! — and the kids were doing everything in their power to overwhelm and exhaust me …

  • I come up to bed and start reading
  • D is now whining because his throat hurts
  • Tell D that he needs medicine to make it feel better, he refuses
  • C is cheerfully calling “Hi, Mummy!” from under her bedroom door
  • Tell C to please get some sleep and she happily responds “Oh-tay!” (“Okay!”)
  • D starts crying because of his throat, and I also suspect he has to pee
  • Carry D to the bathroom, make him pee (I was right)
  • Carry him downstairs to the locked medicine cupboard, show him his medicine choices (orange chewies, grape chewies, or grape liquid), he declines them all
  • Tuck D back into bed
  • Huge crash from C’s room
  • I run into her room — dropping my iPhone on the floor in the process, so y’all know I was concerned! — and she is hysterical. A framed photo fell from her gallery wall (my bad!) but luckily nothing broke, and she wasn’t anywhere near it.
  • C won’t calm down, and I feel really guilty about my crap photo-hanging abilities, so I bring her in bed with me (something I never do, but I figure it can’t hurt just this once)
  • Tuck C in next to me, close my eyes, tell her it’s time to sleep
  • C lies next to me, breathing softly
  • *poke* *poke* “Ah-bows!” (She is poking my eyebrows)
  • “Go to sleep, baby!”
  • C lies next to me, breathing softly
  • *poke* *poke* “Ah-washes!” (She is touching my eyelashes)
  • “Yes, C! Go to sleep, please!”
  • C lies next to me, breathing softly
  • “Daddy blah blah blah DADDY blah blah blah BLAH?”
  • “Shhhh, C. Daddy’s at work. Go to sleep.”
  • C wraps her arms around my neck and says “Mamaaaaaaa!”
  • I hug her back, and start realizing I am never going to sleep with her in the bed
  • Fifteen minutes later, I ask if she wants to go back to her room, and she says yes
  • Carry C back to her room, tuck her into her “floor bed”
  • Console D, who woke up cranky again because of C
  • Collapse into bed, and sleep straight through until, well, the crack of dawn when I hear D puttering around his room.
It’s definitely been worse, though. At least I wasn’t contemplating sleeping in the minivan this time.
xoxo

Sew your own Frozen costumes for $10 each

We are certainly a Frozen-obsessed household. If you have yet to see Frozen, I can bet that you either do not have small children, OR you do have small children but they are too young/fidgety/easily-frightened-by-movie-deaths and that’s why you haven’t seen it.
(FYI the deaths in Frozen aren’t scary at all — a wave quietly crashes over a ship that, erhm, has a Mom and Dad aboard — and the kids don’t really notice. I just say their parents are going on a trip.)
D and C also love to dress up, so D asked if I could make Frozen costumes — specifically, he wanted to be Elsa and wanted C to be Anna. He said Darling Husband could be Kristoff, and I could be Sven (the reindeer) and Olaf (the snowman). Ouch, kid.
I decided to make a Kristoff costume, as well as dresses for Anna and Elsa, since D has (only very recently) become sensitive to the notion that “boys don’t wear dresses” (I blame some of the preschool boys) and I figured he wouldn’t actually want to dress up as Elsa.
So I grabbed $30 in fabric — totally guessing on how much of each, but basically a meter for each — and spend Friday night scribbling “patterns” and doing some cutting, and spent Saturday and Sunday sewing. D was really excited and helped me a bit. 
And then?
My sweet, gracious children DID NOT WEAR THE DAMN COSTUMES.
Seriously! D flat-out refused to put the Kristoff costume on. I managed to coerce C into the Elsa and Anna dresses — using marshmallows and the iPod as a bribe — so I could take a few pictures of her. Gratitude, thy name is … not C and D.

I think they turned out really cute, but OH LORD, they were not an easy project. Well, I take that back. Kristoff’s costume was easy. Elsa’s dress was easy. Anna’s dress and cloak were a nightmare. 
(I blame Little Sis — who was visiting with the kiddies — for the troubles with Anna’s dress, because I asked her to string the elastic through the neckline, and she got the safety pin so tangled and caught that I had to cut it apart. CUT IT APART. Sewing does not run in genes, it appears. Love you anyway, Sissy! xo)
The cloak was the real dramz, though. I bought slippery fabric that wasn’t cooperating, and I think I really screwed up my “pattern” to begin with, and it just ended up a hot mess. Oh well, it’s only for dress-up (she told herself dejectedly).
Patterns, you say? Tutorials, you say? Sorry, I was winging it majorly, but I’ll try to impact a bit of wisdom. 
I think I’m probably high-level beginner sewer, if that helps you determine if you can tackle this. The only really trick part is the cape, and I think that’s because I (A) struggle with slippery fabric, and (B) didn’t think it through (uh, like I never do) …
(tldr: If you can make a simply baby dress, you can make these!)
Approximiate fabric shopping list:
  • 2 metres light stretchy turquoise fabric (for Elsa’s skirt, Anna’s sleeves and faux V-neck)
  • 2 metres of dark grey/black corduroy (for Kristoff’s tunic and Anna’s bodice)
  • 1 metre of blue fleece (for Kristoff’s sleeves, pants, faux V-neck, mittens, and hat)
  • 1 metre of super shiny/sequinny ice blue fabric (for Elsa’s sleeves and bodice)
  • 1 metre of ice blue tulle (for Elsa’s train)
  • 1 metre of deep maroon silky fabric (for Anna’s cloak)
  • 1 metre of deep blue silky fabric (for Anna’s skirt)
Rough idea of my pattern pieces (Note: I never measure anything, it’s all based on sight — and therefore wonky and maybe charmingly homemade-ish?)

I apologize for the lack of a real tutorial, but this is the only photo I took while making the costumes …

 As you can see, I really do just kind of “wing things” when I’m sewing — which would drive a lot of serious sewers crazy, I know. I don’t measure things. I’ve just made enough little baby-girl dresses to be able to eyeball sleeves, bodice shapes, etc. so that’s why everything is very basic.

I hope I’ve inspired someone (anyone! Bueller …? Bueller? …) to make Frozen costumes for your little ones. Other than the pain-in-the-butt cloak (*$#* cloak!) I would highly recommend playing around with it.

And now, of course, the goal is to get my kids to WEAR these costumes!

xoxo

Language explosion x 2

“The language explosion.” I remember doctors and hearing & speech therapists talking about this all the time, when D was struggling with his hearing loss.

“There’s a language EXPLOSION around 18 or 20 months,” they would tell us excitedly. “You’ll see!”

Um. No. We didn’t see.

(If you’re new around these parts, D had a serious speech delay and was diagnosed with a mild hearing loss when he was 18ish months old. He had tube surgery right after he turned two to clear the gluey fluid blockage, did speech therapy for six months, had another tube surgery when he turned 3 1/2, and is doing great these days)

But C, on the other hand, has never worried me in the speech department. She seems like a total GENIUS, actually, because we’re accustomed to having babies who are the strong, silent type! (She is blissfully average, though, I promise — not a Janine Kishi)

I looked through my archives, but I can’t find a single post where I write down the words C can say — like I madly chronicled for D, during his issues.

I just looked at a list of words he could say — right after he turned two — and shook my head. I couldn’t begin to write down all of the words C can say, now at 22 months. D’s spoken words were simple ones like “pullpull” (purple) and “Sissy” and “muk” (milk), but he could do dozens and dozens of ASL signs.

C only knows a couple of signs (“more” and “jump” are her usual ones) but she jabbers on like she’s telling you the greatest story of all time, and a lot of it is intelligible. She calls her dolls by name (“Janey” is her favourite) and can ask me for any food or drink imaginable. She requests a “sweatshuuurt” when she sees someone else wearing one, demands “ceeem” when she wants some of my face cream, and says “Pincessssss Anna” when she wants to watch Frozen clips on YouTube. (Oddly enough, she calls Barney “Nanny,” though)

In the past few weeks, though, I’ve noticed huge improvements in both D and C’s language. D’s speech has been improving rapidly since he began attending preschool in the fall (two mornings a week).

I’m constantly blown away by his maturity, as he comes home and starts talking about subjects so knowledgeably — like how poisons can hurt your skin so you have to keep them away from kids. Or how that thing on the wall is something you squirt on a fire so it puts the fire out. Or how smoke detectors go BEEP BEEP BEEP when there’s a fire, and you STOPDROPANDROLLANDCOVERYOURFACEMOMMY! DID YOU KNOW DAT?

He was on a knock-knock joke kick a few weeks ago, but he didn’t know how to tell them. I think I confused the issue by trying to teach him the “Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? Knock, knock. Who’s there? Orange” repeating one — that ends with “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?” — because he would say “Orange who?” and then burst into hysterical laugher before the punchline.

He’s telling me the plot of Honey I Shrunk the Kids. He’s discussing what happens at preschool with vivid detail. He’s memorizing entire books — like Just Go To Bed and Green Eggs & Ham — and blowing my mind with how he “reads” them aloud. He’s asking real questions about things, and I’m actually giving him real, thoughtful answers instead of jokingly making something up — because he remembers everything!

It’s very strange being able to have a real conversation with both kids, while I’m driving. Or quizzing them on something when I read them a book. Asking them questions and getting answers from both of them.

It’s a new, big-kid phase of life that hammers it home that we’re done having babies. But it doesn’t make me sad — well, not really — because I’m really enjoying being able to talk with them. It’s fun! They’re like PEOPLE or something!

xo