Author: kyce

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This Old Bedsheet: Cowl Neck Tee Edition

Welcome to the first edition of This Old Bedsheet, wherein the crafty re-purposer makes all kinds of wondrous things with old bedsheets, fearlessly expanding her fledgling sewing skills, saving the earth, and looking something like stylish while she does it.

Today we have a queen size, oatmeal colored  jersey knit flat sheet. It’s first re-incarnation is as a long sleeved, cowl neck tee shirt.

 Cowl neck shirts are tres elegant, I think, even when homemade on a whim. This one could be a little more low cut, or drapey, or something. Perhaps somebody reading knows how to achieve that look?

To make this one I took a t shirt that I currently tolerate the fit of, and cut it out with a little extra room in the seam allowance. The neck line, as you can see, was ignored in favor of this big tube shape.

I sewed up the sides to where the sleeve begins, and had marked with a pin where the sleeves should end. Then resumed sewing to close the tube. A sleeveless cowl tee would have been done at this point.

The stitch I use for sewing knit fabrics is an outline stretch stitch. (It looks like a lightning bolt on the settings.) This is super strong, stretches, and best of all looks like a straight stitch on the right side of the fabric. Zigzag is also plenty fine, but I tend to break those seams in everyday wear and tear.

To make the sleeves I used my “pattern” shirt to shape the curve, and another long sleeve shirt to get the rest of the shape down. It didn’t come out perfectly at first–kind of bunchy and misshapen. I ended up cutting out about an inch of fabric where the sleeve joins the shirt, and it is fine. A little strange to sew a sleeve onto something without an actual shoulder, but I lived to tell the tale.

The neck and sleeve openings were left raw. I used the bottom bedsheet seam to give a finished look to the bottom seams of the shirt and avoid fussing over pins and my twin needle.

Voila!

 What will this bedsheet become next? A tunic dress? A skirt? Pajamas for the kids?
Stay tuned for the next edition of…This Old Bedsheet.
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Head, Heart, and Hands

Thinking about creativity, the mother’s journey, and the deep need each of us has for a sense of purpose. I’ve been really enjoying the audio interviews at the MAPP gathering that speak so wholeheartedly to this.

Feeling the rising energy of spring. Warm days and a little moisture make me wonder if it’s time to plant. Too early yet for the garden, so I turn my attention inwards. What is it in me that wants to be nurtured into being? Okay, is that too hokey? How about this: I’m feeling really satisfied by the time alone I nabbed to get some ideas manifested. The sap is running, friends.

Doing the usual: walks on the ridge and along the river, keeping house, tending children, writing in the quiet space of naptime. Also, neglecting my spring house cleaning to give some long overdue love to Old Recipe, and experiencing a bit of awe for all the things I’ve written here, all the people I have connected with through this space, and the way this journal is a record of my need to live mindfully and from the heart.

Grateful for all of you who join me here, for friends that inspire and motivate (especially you, Erin, for letting me copycat your beautiful Seeds and Stones), for my ability to both surrender and strive, for the full water tanks that are nurturing our garden, for the borrowed computer (thanks, ma!) that allowed me to spruce up this here Recipe Book in hours instead of days, for the snowpack in our mountains, for my family, for my life.

::

If you are reading this as an email, do come see the changes. And I’d love to hear from you: Which of my categories represents best to you what Old Recipe is about, so I can order the list more meaningfully. You can read descriptions of each here.

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Traditional Foods Blues

It’s a song, people.

dum dum dum deedum

I woke up this morning

my earl grey tastes like a goat.

Set the sourdough rising,

and cooked those soaked oats.

Dee dum dum deedum

The yogurt milk boiled over,

but it’s gonna taste okay.

Got to keep at it,

it’s just that kind of day.

Dum dum dum deedum

My bone broth stopped gelling

after two days a cooking,

I don’t know what happened

but at least the smell is gone.

deedly dum deedee dum

My fermented carrots turned nasty

guess something went wrong

it don’t really matter

cuz I got me this song

dee dum dum deedum

These beans I’ve been soaking

for 48 hours

So get yourself supper

and feel the food power.

Yeah!

::

Won’t you sing along? What’s happening in your kitchen, right or wrong?

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Ski Date Love Song

Sometimes, the snow comes.

And the kids are sick.

And Grandma and Grandpa want to be with them.

Sometimes we are let loose, my love and I.

The land shimmers in it’s snow blanket, fresh and airy.

Shifting clouds, filtered light.

Everything is gliding motion.

Forest and snow.

Well worn trail, well-known love.

Skis and you.

Gliding along we go.

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Yarn Along

Joining in again!

We’ve been so happy that our library got Pocketful of Posies, a book of nursery rhymes by one of our favorite’s, Salley Mavor. It is such a feast for the eyes! (I loved the illustrations in another book she did, In the Heart, so much that it inspired a whole “line” of repurposed  and embroidered woolen clothes like the ones in the book.) The link on her name takes you to all her books.

 I believe so strongly that fostering literacy begins not with letters but literature. And for very small children, that means lots of verses.  It’s been hard to find a beautiful collection that doesn’t feature animals dressed as people, and save for This little piggy went to market, this book delivers. Gorgeous illustrations you will want to step right into, and a perfect assortment of our favorite rhymes with many new ones, too.

In knitting news I take back my words about size one needles–this bonnet turned out to be easy and fun and fast. I’d show you a pic of Maida wearing it but a) it would be so cute your computer might freeze up, and b) she’s asleep. So my third little baby here was kind enough to model. The pattern is DROPS bonnet in “Fabel.” It’s darling.

I’m also reading Unconditional Parenting at long last. So good to finally read the book that has indirectly had such a huge influence on my parenting, both inspiring and at times confusing me. I’ve really been mulling over this line:

“The reasons we parent as we do might be said to fall into roughly four categories: what we see and hear, what we believe, what we feel, and, as a result of those, what we fear.”

Hmmm.

Think I’ll pick my knitting back up to think about that some more.

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Waldorf 101: Notes from Parent Night

Here are some impressions and notes from a parent night at  Cora’s preschool this month. Yes, I’m the dork that takes notes at parent night. What can I say, I’ve been studying Waldorf early years stuff so intensely on my own, and finding such wisdom and inspiration in it, and also so much to be baffled by, that it is a huge relief to just sit back and have someone (our dear, wise teacher) who has been doing it for years give the straight dope. It went something like this:

In early childhood, two pairs of things are most important for educating the child.

The first pair is Rhythm and Repetition. These are the primary tools for teaching children under seven. I love to think of rhythm as pattern. The repeated rituals and acts of daily life that connect us to ourselves and the larger world.

The second pair is Imagination and Imitation. Healthy play springs from what children have seen and experienced, the impressions they take in from the world around them.

Our work as parents is to be worthy of this imitation, to be the best role models we can be. This is where parenting becomes a spiritual act, as we tend to our inner self in order to embody beauty, goodness, and truth. We can do this in part through our own self-education, by asking ourselves what we are doing to grow alongside our child. I can honestly say that I got hooked on Waldorf the moment I realized the extent to which it hinged on my own inner work.

The gestures of gratitude and thankfulness are the well from which all of this—rhythm, imitation, imagination—springs. The virtue of gratitude is instilled in the first 7 years of life, and lays the foundation for the later development of love and duty. Our expressions of gratitude in daily life at home are deeply nurturing to our young children. And ourselves.

That’s the gist of it, folks. Short, sweet, simple. And kind of deep, if you think about it.

I think whether you are into Waldorf or not, there’s a good chance this will seem like common sense. It’s kind of natural and intuitive for us to strive towards this in our mothering, isn’t it?

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One Year Later: Remembering Birth

One year ago, around today, I was getting ready to have my second baby. Oh, I’d been waiting and waiting and waiting. Wanting that birth to come more than anything. And you know what? It just wasn’t coming.

My due date came and went. Then two more weeks passed by. I did everything I knew how, but my cervix was unbudging.

Acupuncture three times a week and hardly even a braxton hicks. In New Mexico, 42 weeks is as far as you can go and still have a homebirth. Oh, how I wanted a homebirth. Specifically, a homebirth after cesarean. Oh, how I grieved when I had to let go of that. And oh, how scared I was that another hospital birth would mean another cesarean.

My midwife called our local hospital and was told they wouldn’t induce me for a VBAC. It would pretty much be an automatic cesarean. So she called this Doc in Albuquerque who is known for delivering breech babies and other old school things. He said come on down. I was so happy for the glimmer of hope he offered. And so scared. Could I really be going to be induced again? The same procedure that had ended so disastrously last time?

 My dear friend had wise words for me then, about how this was not the same road leading to the same place I’d already been. She said, sometimes life gives us experiences that are remarkably like things we have been challenged by before, only we get to meet them with fresh wisdom and strength. I began to see this journey as one of healing as well as a birth. Whatever lay before me, I would rise to meet it as a love warrior, with an open and courageous heart.

Nevertheless, I whined to the doc, “My cervix is unpoenable!” He looked like a scruffy gnome with his long hair and beard and Navajo bolo. He was unphased. “It might take a few days, but I see no  hurry,” he said. And that was when I knew we were going to be okay (I wasn’t paying attention to the three days part).

It helped me to see myself not as a victim of pitocin, having an especially painful labor due to pharmaceutical augmentation. Instead, I just reminded myself I was in labor. This was my labor. Mine. And nobody said labor was easy (okay, maybe those hypnobirthing people do, but I wasn’t there for easy, I was there to have a baby!).

I stood swaying on my feet, leaning against a hospital table, moaning like a howler monkey. For oh, about 18 hours. Doctor checked me and said “Great news! You’re 3 cm!” And I did celebrate, just a little. After all, my cervix had never been 3 cm open before! But then I started doing labor math and figured out I had about 40 more hours to go, and began planning my epidural. But hey, if you can get through the first three years of motherhood without tv, then surely you can get through a 26 hour labor without an epidural, right? Not to be blithe about it, though, because I surely did scream for it after they broke my water and things got a-rolling for real.

My husband shooed away the anesthesiologist, pulled me back onto my feet, and we got down to the real work of having a baby. It was at that moment the tide shifted and I knew I was going to have this baby naturally, right there on my two feet. And I was so glad that hypnobirthing never worked for me because this was amazing. And harder than shit. I don’t like to curse, but it’s true. Birth is so hard and so so good.

The nurses kept telling me “You’re having your baby!” And I was like, oh, so that’s what’s happening. Because it just doesn’t seem possible that anyone could feel like that and survive. And to think every person ever to live on this planet was brought into the world in some way resembling this–it just boggles the mind. It felt amazing to be a part of all that. I was having my baby!

Things were cruising now. We were in, swept away and carried by the birth. Through transition, my body pushing of its own accord.

Doc asked, could a few med students come in and watch; they’d never seen a natural birth. Ha, this was not the candle lit water birth I’d dreamed of–this was better. It was my birth! Let them come in, I said. Let the whole world witness my might! My husband held me in a supported squat. The doctor knelt on the floor and delivered her onto blankets.

And so Maida was born.

 My child, bringing you into the world was the first gift you gave me.
My heart is full with you!
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Notes on the New Year

Hi Friends, Happy New Year!

I’ve missed you. I wish I could say hello here more often, and am glad you come by for when I do.

These days I’ve been:

::Resting. Home from a big family Christmas, it has been blissful to be back in our sweet little house, reclaiming our rhythms. I am so aware these days of how completely this humble space nurtures us.

::Resting also my hands and mind. December was low key enough, but still so goal oriented–things to make, to do, to feel. It’s been nice to sit idle, to gestate creativity and action through that stillness. It’s amazing to watch myself go from low inspiration and energy to slowly building until I can’t help myself, it’s time for things to happen again. This post case in point (though it’s taken over a week to complete!).

::Reveling in my new found love of La Dishwasher. Our kitchen sink is totally out of commission since my husband banged on the faucet in a moment of angst (it was leaking) and snapped it straight off. So we now have a hole that water sprays out of, and I load the dishwasher and it is, seriously, a revolution. And amazing to see how much less water gets used, which is a polite way of saying how nice it is to not be washing dishes all day.

::Practicing staying warm, not just with our hats and woolens and slippers (though keeping the kids well dressed is a practice of sorts) but with my thoughts and actions. Meeting my work as mother with tenderness and love, pausing more often to actively cherish the girls and Man of the Place, to let my heart overflow a little bit more through my words and touch. It’s not like I didn’t do these things before, but since I’ve turned up the thermostat (so to speak), I’ve noticed that my older daughter is especially calmer, more secure, and centered. And I’m happier, too, able to meet my day with more cheer and patience.

::Wondering how to be more cheerful and patient when the three year old starts whining and the one year old is crying and we’re all trying to get out the door but I can’t find the keys and my tea spills and then someone gets pushed and…has anyone figured that one out yet?

::Planning a deep winter cleaning and organizing and de-cluttering extravaganza. This post at Clean says exactly what I’ve been feeling about this. I’ve made a list of all the places that need to be sorted and cleared, and will dedicate Fridays of my housekeeping rhythm towards those efforts.

::Marveling that not only have I learned to knit and sew (against the odds, people!) in the last few years, but there are many days when my girls are dressed almost entirely in clothes I made…many of them re-purposed out of thrifted tees and woolens. I wouldn’t call it high fashion, but there is something very charming  and old fashioned about it.

::That said, I’m feeling so over knitting!  Note to self: Never knit on less than size 8 (10?) needles. Avoid purling whenever possible. Knit in the round whenever possible. Only two projects at a time, please! No cables, no counting. Ever. At least not until I’m a grandma. Cora’s little maxi dress (above) is about the perfect pattern for me these days. Maida is wearing Swing Thing.

::Feeling grateful for our time walking the land as a family, where our bodies and minds and spirits are renewed and our bonds with each other and our home land can grow stronger. Have you been getting out enough?

::And especially grateful for my community, the inspiration and discoveries I make here in the blog world, as well as the sweet ties growing ever stronger with my real world circle of friends. Especially the ones that gather around a kitchen table one night a week to craft and talk–oh that is my greatest pleasure (and they are on their way over right now)!

::Opening to the unknown life waiting for us to step into it–the discoveries to make, the passions to pursue, the growth that will happen. The books I’ll read, the things I’ll cook, the garden that we’ll grow, the travels still to come, the songs yet to be sung…

::

 Thanks for coming by, all. I treasure sharing this journey with you.

Tell me, what are you doing these days?

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Waiting for the Light

I’ve known it was coming. Since September I’ve been preparing. But still, now that it’s here I’m caught by the fullness of it.

Darkness.

Two days of beautiful, much needed rain underscore it. No sun. Dark nights.

I didn’t quite realize how I was feeling till I looked around and saw my house lit up like a lantern.

My husband asked, “Do you think you have enough lights on?” and I was like, “Not even close!”

It’s like being cold but not able to get warm, this longing for light.

And the answer I always find is to stoke the inner fire.

To pray in my way, to write and draw and express some of the soul’s light, to shine it out into the world.

To sing. This song, a lot.

To not turn away too quickly from the darkness, but to give thanks for it, for the way it turns us inward and brightens our spirits.

It’s why we seek to create so much joy and community during this season of light. Our work is all about light making!

It’s coming, friends. Not much longer now and the sun grows stronger, the world reborn.

Excuse me while I go wait by the fire.

::

The never-ending seasons 

that so lightly come and go

Are miracles of wisdom 

no man can ever know.

–JF Wornal

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Finding Grace, Going Slow

Simple days, as ever.

Re-reading Mitten Strings for God and Simplicity Parenting.

These books just make me feel so good when I choose to forgo the many holiday activities going on, to not go overboard with the homemade gift thing, to not stay up till 3 am making an Advent calendar, to not go to the Holiday Faire, and all the many other things I Just Say No to.

Because that means there is so much left to say Yes to.

Yes to having time. Yes to being with my children, unhurried and unstressed.

Yes to walks in the snow.

Yes to letting things grow in their own way–our traditions as a young family, the beauty and meaning we find in celebrating the seasons and their festivals in the simplest ways.

Yes to creating out of inspiration and because the spirit fills us, not a sense of obligation.

~

 Of all the things I might think up to do, it’s what I feel, the richness within, that is most meaningful.

Things take on a depth and richness when I have time to enter them more fully.

There is a space for creativity to blossom, and to be received in a way that bears fruit.

For me, Advent is a time of quiet, and of making.

Keeping the computer off at night, sitting and entering the deeply creative space of crafting gifts. It reminds me of the girls in their play–intent, absorbed, and ultimately being nourished on the soul level. Finding meaning in our work of play and life.

This is grace.

Oh, there is so much to be grateful for!

Take care, friends. Wishing you slow days and nights, quiet joy, and the peace of stillness. What are you saying no–and yes–to these days?

::

PS Along these lines I was recently inspired by this post on Advent from Renee, and this one on Finding Time from Heather.