Back to the mats
A long time ago, in a dazed overtired world where I had a three-year-old son and an almost-two-year-old daughter, she was a gymnast.
Well, as much as toddler can be a gymnast. Ah, Kindergym, where people sit in hula hoops and the moms try to have conversations but end up rushing across the bouncy floor to stop their child from falling off a balance beam twice their height.
But when she turned three, she started ballet.
Better late than never
It wasn’t that we forgot our son’s eighth birthday in early June. Not at all! We celebrated it in style, during our Ontario vacation, by spending the afternoon playing video games and arcade games at Chuck E. Cheese’s. It was clearly one of the best days of his young life.
Before we’d left on our trip, we had his traditional “family party,” where grandparents and aunts and uncles come to our place for dinner and cake. He had new Lego sets coming out of his ears and had them all assembled by noon the next day, which is his idea of heaven.
But, well, technically … we skipped the part of his birthday where we throw a little party for him and his friends. We came home from Ontario and just … no one mentioned it. June melted into July and July melted into August and I seemed to be the only one who was quietly remembering.
I felt guilty, but enough to go through the effort of pulling together a party — especially during the summer when it’s hard to keep track of who’s on vacation and who’s at their cottage and who’s in day camp. Why, oh why, hadn’t I gotten organized back in June?!
Do you know what it took to kick my butt into gear? A birthday invitation from his best friend, who’s birthday is one of the very last days of August. Suddenly, the guilt was so powerful that I decided I had to do something immediately.
I texted a few friends to confirm their kids would be available in three days — a random Wednesday afternoon — and asked if I could take them to Levels Game Loft for a few hours of nonstop video gaming. No invitations, no real notice and almost zero effort required.
Levels Game Loft is an amazing place here in Truro, with screens everywhere and cool rainbow lighting and those rocking video game chairs. The kids were bouncing with joy as they waited to start their two hours.
I didn’t rent the party room. I just paid for the kids to be able to play for two hours on the PCs, Wiis, WiiUs, Playstation 4 Pros, and Xbox One Ss, bouncing between whichever consoles they wanted. They all had a blast, with some of them switching games every 15 or 20 minutes and others sticking with the same one (good ol’ Minecraft) for almost the whole time.
We ate popcorn as we played. I got especially sweaty during an enthusiastic Wii Boxing match with one guest. Three of the kids fell in love with the dark room filled with PCs — complete with light-up rainbow keyboards and fancy headsets — and declared they were never playing anything else. I couldn’t stop taking pictures of these adorable little eight-year-olds looking like itsy bitsy baby hackers.
At the end of the two hours, everybody’s parents came to pick them up and I handed out cake pops. They had melted all over my kitchen while I made them and my freezer is still a mess of chocolate blobs — thanks, extreme heat and humidity — but they were edible-ish.
I never do loot bags because I hate them, but I’d picked up some $2 clearance water balloon kits at Michaels the night before, so everyone got to take one of those home.
The entire party cost less than $100 and I felt a huge sense of relief that I’d finally done it. Sure, it took two months and two days, but he’d had a “friend party” to celebrate turning eight. Everyone had a great time, and it just reaffirmed what I’ve been slowly learning: kids’ parties don’t have to be a lot of work — or really ANY work.
If you don’t feel like hot-glueing paper decals onto plastic cups or crafting elaborate banners — stuff I used to do for every damn party — you don’t have to do it. You don’t need real invitations or even a Facebook event, if that feels overwhelming. You don’t need a theme or a huge guest list or a single trip to the store to buy party crap.
Just text the kids’ parents and tell them where and when to show up, and do something fun with the kids for a couple of hours. That’s it, and everyone will have a great time — even you.
No-sew pennant banner
Back when my friend was pregnant, she’d mentioned wanting a burlap pennant banner to hang over the baby’s crib (which you might remember from this sweet little makeover).
I insisted I’d made one, but then I found myself procrastinating the project. Burlap is a pain to work with because it frays so easily, and I was dreading cutting out the little triangles and sewing them together. Then, after all that, I’d have to cut out the letters of his name — Colton — and applique around each one, all while praying the burlap held up. Ugh.
When little Colton was not quite two weeks old, I was browsing the craft aisles of my favourite fabric store and discovered a wooden pennant banner kit.* I’d never seen one before. For 7.99 I would get seven wooden triangles, precut with holes, and the twine to string them together. Sold!
Before I left the store, I grabbed a sheet of dark brown felt* and 1.5m of burlap trim.* (I had no idea it was sold in narrow strips, but it was exactly what I needed to fit the pennants.)
Back at home, I printed out Colton’s name — split into two sections to fit it all on one piece of printer paper — using a free font called “Typo Hoop” (DaFont.com). I’d wanted something that would be easy to cut out, and solid enough to be legible from across the room when it was hanging above his crib.
I cut out the paper letters, and then switched over to my fabric scissors to cut them out of the felt. I didn’t bother to trace, since it might have marked up the felt. I just held the paper letters over the felt with one hand while snipping with the other. C-O-L-T-O-N was cut out in no time.
I plugged in my hot glue gun and spread out the length of burlap, cutting it into six rectangles — each slightly larger than the wooden pennants. Then I just squiggled glue over one side of a wooden pennant and pressed it against the burlap with my palm.
Once the glue had cooled, I trimmed around each pennant. It didn’t matter that the edges were already fraying a little, because the glue was going to make sure the burlap didn’t totally disintegrate.
The wood backing gives each pennant a nice heft, unlike a pennant banner made from only fabric, so there won’t be any flapping around if the nursery window is left open. (Years ago, I sewed a fabric birthday banner that we still use for every family birthday. I love it, but it drives me crazy that the pennants get wrinkled.)
I hot-glued each letter onto a pennant, which was a million times faster than having to applique around each one with my sewing machine. Then I strung the pennants onto the piece of twine included in the kit, using a dab of hot glue behind each hole to make sure they didn’t slide around.
I’ll be hanging up this banner next week when I go to my friend’s place for more baby snuggles, and I know it’s going to look great over his crib.
This project was so fast that now I want to get more of these wooden kits to make more pennant banners! Ooh, one for every holiday! I’ve missed you, my dear glue gun.
Are you an early school-prepper?
Even before the calendar flipped to August — and by “flipped” I mean metaphorically, of course, because we’re a digital household — it seemed like everybody was talking about back-to-school shopping.
One neighbour came home with new backpacks, water bottles and plastic lunch containers. Another asked me to watch for a package because she was expecting a lunch bag in the mail. Further down the street, a friend already had everything purchased for her kids, except the indoor sneakers.
I was surprised. They had all of that already? I’d wager that I’m looking forward to the first day of school more than any of them (#workfromhomelife) and yet I had bought absolutely nothing.
Well, that’s not true. I’d bought fabric. Lots and lots of fabric, hee hee. I started sewing back-to-school clothes in early July. In our guest room, there’s a growing stack of hidden dresses, shirts, skirts and leggings. I even attempted to sew tights for the first time!
When it comes to the things I don’t sew, I’ve decided I should probably get my head in the game. Do they need new jackets? I have no recollection of what they were wearing last fall and if it might still fit them. It’s so humid that I am nearly weeping, though, thinking of the cool September breezes.
Continue reading in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
Summer brain melt is a real thing
The humidity has been out of control for weeks — maybe a month, who even knows anymore.
My hair is twice its normal size, and I have big hair so that’s really saying something. Everyone’s hot and sticky all the time. Our house doesn’t have air conditioning, but it does have warm, damp breezes whipping through the windows. They are not refreshing.
My brain is melting, along with the makeup I half-heartedly swipe across my face when I’m making an effort. Summer brain melt is a real thing, I’ve decided. It’s diagnosed when parents (and children) are hot and cranky and can’t seem to focus.
I felt like I had nothing to write about this week, really, so I asked my eight-year-old and six-year-old to pinch-hit. (I really must be dazed and overheated if I’m using a sports reference.)
I told them the topic was “summer vacation,” and even tapped out a few questions for them to answer. It kept them busy for almost an hour, since it’s hard for newbie typers to spell when the A, S, C, N, M, I, O and P letters are completely worn off your keys. (“Mom! I don’t see the M!” “Just skip it! Mommy will fix it later!”)
So, in the spirit of summer brain melt — and to celebrate that summer vacation is nearing the halfway point as I write this — here is what they had to say …
Hello my name is Dexter. This is Charlotte. I’m here to tell you how much fun summer can be for a kid. Summer for a kid has so much time to make new friends. One boring thing: math worksheets in the morning, but some kids like it. Some grown-ups don’t like summer because their kids get loud and rowdy …
Continue reading in my (or maybe now it’s “their”) weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
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Heather's Handmade Life 