Rage against the machine

Last night the boybot went to sleep clutching a bag of buttons in his loving hand. I kid you not.

buttonsThe buttons in question were these forest animal ones that he’d found in my sewing box and pounced upon with glee and insisted on taking to bed with him. Before he fell asleep he announced that the skunk is is favourite, followed by the fox and then the deer.

To him, I suppose there’s no discernible difference between these and the tiny playmobil animals that he loves. One miniscule piece of animal shaped plastic is as good as another, yes?

I’d actually forgotten all about these buttons. My sewing box is a VOID of good intentions and most things that go into it fail to resurface for many a year…

But – this morning, in a fit of whimsy, I retrieved them from James’s bed and spent my District Line commute replacing the ones from one a neglected cardigan with these.  (This might now become his BEST CARDIGAN EVER …for a week or two).

cardigan

On a related note, I had an inspiring chat last week with a crafty pal who has been stamping custom designs onto onesies for her baby-to-be. This reminded me that I’ve been quite uncrafty for a while but had long been meaning to have another go at customising some t-shirts for Things 1 and 2.

So – I dredged my fabric stash back out of the loft on Sunday and drew a few simple animal applique designs, heavily aided by Google clip art searches. Everything started well and I enjoyed making the patches. The frustrating bit came when I realised that my sewing machine was possessed by a fabric-hating demon from hell.

Not only did it chew up and ruin my favourite of the t-shirts by making holes in it – but it had minor wobblies on the other two as well and kept snapping the thread every 5 seconds and made my edge-stitching look irregular. In fact the only thing that it did a sterling job of was making the air blue. I was entirely unfit to be within earshot of microbes. Thank god the boybot fell asleep and the girlbot can’t understand English yet.

Still…  with the blessed undiscerning joy of a 3 year-old, Jimmy loves the t-shirts anyway. He’s disappointed by the holes in the narwhal shirt but was delighted to be allowed to wear it to bed – and he chose the hippo one to wear to nursery today.

As for me, I’ve discovered that that it’s well worth airing one’s crafty failings on Facebook, if you happen to have creative sewing gurus on your friends list. Thanks to some helpful feedback I have realised that:

a) Jersey fabrics are inherently evil – hence I should have used a layer of interfacing or tissue paper on the inside of the t-shirt when doing the edge stitching. I’d forgotten that I used interfacing on the inside last time and it worked much better. (I blame baby brain – I really shouldn’t be allowed near machinery right now.)

b) If I’d thought of it, I could have covered up the little holes in the narwhal shirt by adding some additional applique undersea bubbles.  I might still do this, actually, if I stop sulking and find the inclination. Otherwise it’s doomed to reside in the pyjama drawer for ever.

I do hope that I’ve now learned enough lessons about applique, so that my third attempt may turn out less shonky.  Otherwise I won’t be held responsible for my next bout of sewing machine rage. (The speed at which it can transform an otherwise peaceful, happy person into a mouth-foaming, homicidal maniac puts it on a par with printer rage, in my book).

In less mouth-frothing news, the boy and I made shredded wheat easter nests at the weekend. These are a mass of Cadbury badness, hence daddy and I can’t stop eating them.  (They’re nothing more than crumbled up shredded wheat mixed with a large block of melted Dairy Milk… + mini eggs on top).

easter-nests4

easter-nests5

So far there appears to be no mention of Easter bonnets in this week’s nursery newsletter. I don’t trust them though. They usually like to spring these things on us with an 8-second warning. Last year I ended up shrieking at around 11pm the night before and making one frantically out of paper… which turned out to be 8 sizes too small for the boy’s head.

Obviously I should have snuck into his room and measured his head, but I reckon my mistake was exacerbated by my belief that the boy has quite a little head compared with a lot of microbes. I swear some small children are made up of 50% head, 50% body.

When the boybot was two I bought him a pair of kiddie headphones so that he could watch The Lion King and other such nonsense on his iPad when daddy and I wanted some “quiet time”.  But they turned out to be bigger than I expected and, even on their most compact setting, would only stay up on his head if we wedged a pair of socks under the headband.

A year on, he’s now big enough to wear them without the socks – but his level of imprinting is such that he objects to the very idea of sockless headphoning. Hence here is is last night, watching Animals United with an entirely surplus pair of socks perched on top of his head.

Each to their own…

sock-head

 

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About Susan Flockhart

Bonsai lady-geek and blogger. I can hardly recall what I used to blog about pre-microbes, but these days I generally ramble about motherhood, nonsense and whatever's going on the world of tiny people
This entry was posted in Crafty Rambles, Life of James. Bookmark the permalink.

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