The Roller Derby Highlights Reel

I stayed home from playdates, the library, the gym, AND the park nearly all day Friday in order to wait on the arrival of my new camera, which spent nearly all day Friday riding around and around and around on the FedEx truck.

Finally................................happiness!!!

There's a lot of newness to get used to between my old original Rebel and my new-to-me refurbished Rebel T2i. Fortunately, I know a great place to go to really give my camera a good try-out:

Roller Derby!!!

You'll be happy to know that the Bleeding Heartland Rollergirls won both their matches, with some VERY exciting moments to watch:

 
 
 
 
 

Yep, I think that my new camera and I are going to get along just fine.

Fairy Candles

The girls LOVE to make rolled beeswax candles almost as much as they love to light them and gaze at them and blow them out and re-light them and otherwise goof around with fire and warm wax.

Clearly, these activities require adult supervision (although the girls can roll their candles perfectly well, I use an x-acto knife to cut the beeswax sheets to size for them), so I tend to be spending a lot of time these days hanging out at the big wooden table, many gorgeous sheets of brightly-colored beeswax in front of me.

A girl's gotta keep herself entertained, you know?

That creative time has resulted in a few candles for utility, but mostly candles for fun--lots and lots of candles for future birthdays, and lots and lots of candles for the girls' imaginative play. They're especially entranced by their new tiny fairy candles, a few sets of which I've listed in my pumpkinbear etsy shop:

  
 
 
I'm assuming that the fairies don't mind sharing their treasures with a couple of enchanting little children, don't you think?

An Ode to Her Two Front Teeth

When Willow lost her second upper central incisor, my mind became obsessed with a single goal:

How could I coerce my child into singing "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth" while I videotaped her?

Willow is not performative by nature like her sister. Fortunately, I have a proven go-to tactic for getting children to do things that they do not want to do:

I pay them.

I offered Willow one dollar. She said no. I offered her two dollars. She said no. I reminded her that we're leaving in a couple of weeks for a road trip to Florida (we're going to watch the launch of Space Shuttle Endeavor!), and if she wants any crappy souvenirs, she'll have to buy them for herself. She said no. I offered her five dollars. She said no.

I was close to giving up entirely, the null hypothesis of my proven go-to tactic having been proven in this case, when Matt, who was sitting at the table watching this entire exchange with amusement, said to Willow, "We will pay you two candy bars."

Willow replied, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Children live in a candy-based economy, apparently. And as for teaching my child just how many candy bars she could buy with five dollars...well, I'm trying to use our Meaningless Expenses budget to purchase tickets to the roller derby this weekend, and if I can save a few bucks for that purpose, then all the better, I say. I'll homeschool on economic common sense some other day.

It took a couple of days for Willow to memorize the song, and a couple more days for me to videotape it to my satisfaction (videotaping it to my satisfaction being one of the requirements that I'm savvy enough to set forth by this time), but at last, the child belted out her masterwork:

When she was finished we put our shoes on, drove to the store, and bought the star one Three Musketeers and one Starburst in payment for her services.

Superman Colored Pencil Roll

I used to make colored pencil rolls only out of flannel, because I love the feel of it, but lately I've been enjoying make pencil rolls out of vintage sheets, like this super-sweet fangeek Superman colored pencil roll that I have up in my pumpkinbear etsy shop:

 
 
 
 
I'm not a giant fan of the expression on Syd's face in that last photo, and I would have reshot it immediately, but as soon as I snapped that photograph, my camera died on me.

The camera has died before, most notably at Niagara Falls last year, but it's finally reached the point at which it's so elderly that sending it off to be repaired, especially for the second time in less than a year, would be at least as expensive as purchasing a newer model. Add to that the fact that I've only had the use of about half the focal length for my lens for the past year, so it needs to be repaired, too, and you'll understand why we're now waiting until we get our tax refund before we fix the kitchen floor, because Matt used our kitchen floor budget to surprise me with the Canon T2i Rebel, whose imminent arrival I await with bated breath.

Farewell, Canon Digital Rebel. I will always love you.

I Love My New Open Toe Walking Foot

A couple of summers ago, I inherited a Brother CS-80 from Matt's grandmother, and I adore it. It came with a few useful specialty feet, and did not come with a few other useful specialty feet, which I have been sloooooowly collecting.

How slowly? I still don't have a buttonhole foot. I do them old-school instead, or I insert a zipper from my stash.

I've been doing more jersey knit baby gowns lately, however, and while it's quite possible to stitch a neat zig-zag without stretching that sensitive T-shirt fabric, it does require some fussing, especially on the neckline.

One of the specialty feet that Grandma Bangle gave me with her sewing machine is a standard walking foot. It works perfectly on all fabrics, but won't accomodate a zig-zag stitch. I kept forgetting that and breaking my needles, so eventually I set aside some etsy profits and purchased an open toe walking foot:

Ooh, it's awesome! I think now that I'll begin to experiment with even fancier stretch-friendly stitches.

One More, and She May Have to Go on a Liquid Diet

The days are also numbered for that other top front one. How on Earth will my baby chew?

Make-up Just for Them

Ugh, I know--it's nothing but down the rabbit hole for me these days, but Willow, who was the most AWESOME big sister/stage manager/perfect daughter during every single part of Sydney's fashion show experience, declared that she was jealous of exactly two things having to do with the event:

1) The mom of Sydney's little runway walk buddy gave Sydney treats (in particular, a piece of yellow gum and an M&M cookie, and did not give treats to Willow
2) glitter make-up

As for the treats, I explained to Willow that little children who want to be given something that their sister is being given should leave their books when treats are being handed out and stand next to said sister, smiling expectantly. And also, she didn't even play with that kid! If you don't play with a kid, you don't just automatically get some of that kid's treats. It's a fact, and everyone knows it.

As for the glitter make-up, however...it's a valid point. I could tell when Syd was having her make-up done that Willow wanted some, too, and oooh, it was sparkly. And that's why I spent $50 of the grocery budget (I fixed beans, rice, and baked corn tortillas for dinner THREE TIMES this week! And another day I fixed oatmeal!) on glittery make-up at the drug store, and gave it to the girlies, telling them that, with supervision, they were welcome to play make-up artist anytime they wanted.

Willow, of course, was granted first place in the make-up chair:

Sydney, channeling the make-up artist at the Hair Arts Academy, said to Willow, "Make a kissy-kissy face!"

I bought glitter lip gloss, glitter fingernail art brushes, blush, eye shadow--

--glitter eye shadow, and then just some extra glitter to throw on top of everything.

Part of the fun, for me, was watching each girl eagerly, trustingly, and happily put herself into the hands of her sister for her makeover:

You can't tell from the photograph, but Sydney is looking straight into Willow's eyes here, just as adoringly as she used to do when she was a baby:

Willow's make-up ended up looking pretty sedate, actually, but she, herself, has always had a flair for the dramatic, and Syd ended up ready for the stage lights once again:

You can see the glitter this time, can't you?

Make-up is something that, for me, makes me really uncomfortable. It takes me straight back to junior high, when on the first day of seventh grade I noticed (because some bitch teased me about it) that all the other girls had apparently spent the summer between sixth and seventh grades buying clothes from the mall and learning how to feather their hair and put on too much make-up. I'd spent my summer dealing with my mother's suicide attempt and being taken to visit her at the psychiatric hospital, thank you very much. I never felt in step with my peer group again, and I never put on make-up, and I never feathered my hair (although my Aunt Pam did once, and then she took a photograph, and it's still one of my favorite photographs from my childhood, because damn it, I look so NORMAL on the outside!).

Needless to say, that's not what I want for my own children's childhood. So far, hair and make-up have no gender stereotyped connotations for them--they don't watch Disney princess movies, or commercial TV, and they don't go to public school. The only time that they've seen hair and make-up being done is for the fashion runway, and it was wild, and imaginative, and playful, and, dare I say, immensely empowering.

Funnily enough, that's exactly how I would describe my kids, too, my kids who play with make-up.