Stand Back

These are the pumpkins we carved on the weekend. And the costumes. The inherent laziness of my efforts at costumes for the kids aside, I'm here today to talk about something important. So begins my rant against helicopter parenting and nearly as bad, helicopter crafting.

I want to start my clarifying I am not a helicopter parent. My kids run wild at the park, too wild for many, many parents who either feel free to admonish me with looks or not so gentle reminders that my tiny 2 year old is hanging from the monkey bars or standing 20 feet up at the playground. My kids are allowed to scream, run, and explore without me following behind. My kids are encouraged and even pushed to try new things, ask questions, and challenge (even when that creates a challenge for us). My kids are learning that if they want something they have to work for it, or if they ask that they answer is quite possibly no and that is okay. My kids do get punished when they break rules, and yes, there are a number of basic rules to follow. Most importantly, my kids are allowed to be kids.

We all have our parenting styles/philosophies. I have friends who are close to being helicopter parents and they are still very good parents. I have friends even more lax than us, or more strict. I'm not judging anyone.

But this weekend I had to stand back and judge myself. We were carving pumpkins and making the girls' costumes. The Monster decided that she was going as a traffic light and her sister would be the car she would make stop. (Oh, that is definite fodder for therapy later in life.) Up first was the pumpkins.

First, there was the insistence on 5 pumpkins and no less. They were cheap and really they are the only decorations I do for Halloween, so I let her get that one. Next we had to decide what kid of face each one would have. The first one was for a surprised face. No problem. I carved an O for a mouth, eyebrows, and rather bad eyes. After that I surveyed the girls for their direction on the second one.

(See what I'm doing there? Giving them choices on things I don't give a damn about but will matter to them. All part of my parenting philosophy so I can hold that against them when it comes to a choice I actually care about.)

So there I am carving a mean face on pumpkin number 2 when The Monster discovers the Sharpie. She quickly proceeds to draw all over the pumpkin. Hair, another set of eyebrows, freckles, words, and random shapes. My instinct was to snap and give her hell for wrecking the pumpkin. In only a few seconds though, I realized that I was about to lose it over a pumpkin. A pumpkin with a life span of a few days on my front steps.

Why shouldn't she colour it with a Sharpie? Why shouldn't it take on its own life in her hands? She isn't allowed to use the knife, so what else is there for her in pumpkin carving other than facial directions?

Another Sharpie later, a very serious discussion about what can and cannot be coloured with said Sharpie, and I let them go to town on the pumpkins. And we were all happier when I stood back.

By the time we came to costumes I was feeling strong. No problem, I can stand back and let them decorate things. Yeah, not so easy. I fought every instinct to step in and help them paint Smilosaurus' car. Doesn't it need windows? Or complete coverage in one colour? So many times my hands reached out to take a brush. In the end I resorted to sitting on them when not adding paint to the palette. Was I happy with the car? It certainly wasn't what I wanted or expected, but they were happy in the process of creating and the little one was ecstatic to wear it. That makes me happy.

One final challenge came with the traffic light costume. Just felt glued, then sewn, to a yellow t-shirt. Nothing fancy, until the addition of LED lights. And, according to the Monster, not quite finished until she added some completely random marks with a black pen. I'll admit, there was a very sharp name-calling and a lot of internal frustration. Then she said she loved it and thought it was perfect now. Who am I to argue with that?

As parents we need to stand back some time to let our kids be kids, let the mess or the tantrum happen, or let them dress themselves even when they look like a hot mess. As crafters and artists we need to stand back some times to let the piece be or speak. As teachers we need to stand back and let the students' voices ring through. And some times we need to stand back and shut the hell up.

Conquering my Fear

Handquilting is something I've tried a sum total of three times. The first time was on my third quilt ever. And only because I was terrified of free-motion quilting. The second and third times were earlier this year. That makes a 10 year break between efforts.

I'm trying it again. I would be talking out of my ass if I didn't confront my own fears after that last post on Fear. In my case, I was afraid that I would mess up this project with bad stitching. And the wealth of excellent examples on-line seriously intimidated me. But I can't sit around in fear, I just can't. It isn't my nature, although it is certainly easier. But I would be a hypocrite to you, my faithful readers, if I didn't challenge myself.

I would also be a hypocrite to my kids. You see, The Monster is a very intense child. If she can't do things perfectly the very first time she does something then the world essentially ends for her. Last summer, at 3, she tried her tricycle for the first time. When she couldn't figure out the notion of pedalling in the first 30 seconds she quite promptly got off the bike, picked it up, and threw it.

She gets that from me.

So, if I am working every day with her and her sister to get them to understand the notion of practice, work, and simply trying something even if you aren't perfect at it, then I need to do that myself. Enter handquilting.

Each of the 27 circles on my low-volume circles quilt will be handquilted. This is in contrast with the straight lines I'm doing on the background. It seemed an appropriate approach since the circles were done entirely by hand shortly after I injured my knees in January.

Now, I'm only three circles in. And it certainly isn't pretty. But each one looks progressively better. Seeing improvements certainly helps the confidence level. Regardless, I'm committed to the process and the product.

Full confession though, I'm stabbing these stitches, not using the traditional rocking motion. I know that isn't the correct way, but it is working for me. I believe that counts for a lot. Besides, on my recent trip to Nova Scotia I had the opportunity to snuggle by the fire under an incredible handstitched quilt that was entirely stab stitched. That was enough to motivate me to tackle my quilt. I don't know if I'll ever be as good as the artist, but I won't know if I don't try.

Her Name, Big

Please ignore the odd shape of the M. Coming up on 4 weeks of more or less solid single parenting. I get the odd break with a babysitter or Hubby unpredictably arriving home, only to leave again a day or two later. But he's working the whole time he's here too. Needless to say, exhaustion and crankiness are evident.

That being said, it is all the more managed now that I am home with the girls instead of in an office. I had a particularly bad day last week and in between crying and fighting with Hubby on the phone he commented that quitting my job was supposed to make this better. So the wrong thing to say. But I was somehow lucid enough to calmly (or so I think) point out that at least this was only one day. Prior to quitting my job that would have been everyday.

And having the opportunity to quilt nearly everyday during naptime (whether I take it or not) goes a long way towards keeping my mental health in check. A long, long way.

This afternoon saw me finish the main part of one of the girls' quilt tops. Our oldest asked for a quilt with her name on it, all over. Like a good artist who takes every commission with a grain of salt I modified her request. I went for her name once, and made it big! This will cover nearly an entire twin mattress. All that is left is to sew the rest of the top to this.

Oh, and actually get the twin mattress and the bed it is supposed to go on. Pretty sure I'm winning the race.

Browned Butter Sunday

After finishing 5 articles in a week (recipe testing included) and single parenting for most of that time, frankly, I didn't care much for Sunday dinner. The fridge was full of food, the girls spent the afternoon munching on late season strawberries, cheese, and a cantaloupe, and we were all getting downright cranky.

That left only one option for dinner - popcorn.

When I told the Monster that we were having popcorn and I would find us a movie to watch she got so excited that she literally burst into song. Then, on her own volition, she start cleaning up the living room to make it ready for dinner at the coffee table. Hell, if that's what it takes I'm thinking dinner like this everyday!

Not all was lost when it comes to a good Sunday dinner though. When we returned from the market and I went to refresh the fruit bowl I had some mealy peaches and sad looking apples and pears to contend with. Then there were the ripe peaches that didn't make it home intact from the market and a few half eaten apples courtesy of the girls. The only option was to make a fruit crisp.

The girls got grains and fruit for dinner. I am not a bad mom.

While cutting up the fruit (just a pile of what we had, peels and all) I had this notion to try browning the butter to the crisp first. I guess some part of me was still able to be creative. The butter melted and crackled away on the stove. Then it occurred to me that I never really know how brown is technically browned butter. Turns out I've not been browning enough all along. So I kept it on the stove and got to the lovely browned bits.

In the end, I could have left it a bit longer, I think, but it had that rich, nutty smell and some good colour. Even though I was making crisp, I must confess that the smell only made me think of lobster. I must still have Nova Scotia on the brain.

Once the butter cooled a bit I made up my regular crisp topping. Frankly, I could have eaten it straight, and did so for a few nibbles. It was rich with a butterscotch goodness and with a slightly lighter texture from using melted butter. I am never making crisp any other way, ever again.

And I refuse to feel bad about taking the time to treat the girls and sit quietly in front of the TV. Roasts and veggies are nice and all, but Sunday is also about family. After such a hectic and trying week sitting down together, this time with snuggles, was a much better option.

Browned Butter Fruit Crisp

Filling

4 cups fruit

2 tbsp brown sugar

2 tbsp flour

1 Tonka Bean/1 tsp cinnamon

Topping

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup flour

1 cup rolled oats

1. Chop the fruit into 1/2 inch chunks. Peeling is optional. Gently toss with flour, brown sugar, and spice. Pour into an 8 by 8 baking dish.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

3. In a small, stainless steel pot on medium low heat melt the butter. Then let it cook , swirling the pot every now and then, until it turns brown. As the colour starts to come to it, watch it closely. It can burn quickly.

4. Once the butter is browned nicely, pour it into your mixing bowl and let cool a few minutes. Admire the colour and dream of lobster. Then add in the brown sugar and stir. Once combined add the flour and oats.

5. Crumble on top of your prepared fruit, trying not to snitch too much along the way.

6. Bake for 30-40 minutes until the topping is crisp and more than golden and filling is bubbling.