promises i don’t intend to keep.

there are two quilts that are in my head that won’t get out until i make (made) them.
two quilts and that’s it. okay, maybe three because i’d love to try making something like this chevron quilt from e tells tales one day.

oh—and a fourth because i promised my sis-in-law i’d make her a very hungry caterpillar quilt when they have a baby. but for that one—i won’t hold my breath.

okay, so three—potentially four—quilts in my head and once they’re done i’m done. i lay down my quilting…er, needle or thread or ruler or whatever item of quilting pariphelnalia makes sense in this metaphor (simile?) for good.
i give you my word as a spaniard.

(no good. i’ve known too many spaniards.)

but here’s the thing: i’ve no need to take up quilting. i’ve got my sewing and my crocheting and sometimes my knitting, plus home projects and oh yeah those five kneebiters that require occasional mothering.
i’m good. for realsies.

but since we did the girls’ room elliot’s crib has been lurking there in the corner—mocking me with it’s mismatched and unmatching linens. the sore thumb in an otherwise pretty room. and i had enough scrap fabric from the pillows and curtains i made that i set it all aside way-back-when with the vaguely formed idea of stitching it up into a little quilt for the crib.
no new purchases, no more $$ spent, still a coordinated look. win-win-win all the way around, right?

so it’s been seven months now since the room was done, and elliot is officially a crib resident (having given up her claim to our closet) and it was high time to get it done.
so i did.

a simple random width striped quilt, with a plain black border.

maybe it doesn’t even really count as a quilt?

i don’t know. i’m not a quilter, remember? i’m just dabbling. sticking a toe in the frigid waters of the Quiltic before deciding it’s not for me.

what i do know is that i’m happy with how it looks. it’s sweet and bright and it was very easy.

i did buy 1/2 yard of this french print fabric. because i saw it after we were all done and laughed at how perfectly it coordinated with their room. although i’m glad i didn’t see it when we were actually fabric shopping, because i may have been sorely tempted to buy it and it’s a little too “theme-y” for the look we wanted in there.
but a little bit goes a long way.

leftover scraps from the pillows, plus a piece of red and white stripe from IKEA’s as-is department—snagged for $5 on one of our epic shopping trips.

for the backing i snagged a white sheet from our linen closet—a leftover from our queen-sized bed days. simple. clean. cheap.

i bought 2 yards of natural cotton batting. standing there in the batting section of joann’s i couldn’t do it—could not bring myself to buy that horrible poly fluffy stuff to wrap my baby in. no matter that probably every other comforter we own is filled with that nonsense—i had to go around the corner to the stuff that actually looked like it should be in a blanket and not a recycling bin. and when i finished the blanket’s last stitches and held it out to elliot—look at the blanket mommy made you—and she ran over and stood there waiting for me to wrap her up in it as if she KNEW, which i did—and then she laid quietly in my arms, in that blanket i made for her. and in that moment i knew none of my children could ever again lay in a blanket that didn’t come from my sewing machine. it would be a hug from their mother that blanketed them in the night—figuratively, and literally.

so there it is. one down, and once i finish the others i officially give up quilting. pinky swear.

i did try to take some photos of this quilt. pictures in my head of a cheerful elliot peeking over the top of her crib where her new quilt hangs jauntily. but the elliot in my reality knows how to tell time and was 100% certain it was NOT TIME FOR A NAP.

and she would not be swayed, no matter how many funny faces i made at her or how many other sisters i threw into the crib with her.

sisters with leftover face paint who just joined in the clamor rather than assuage the crying.

and that left one option:

lone quilt shots…

and a baby more than happy on mommy’s bed, and away from the blasted crib.

oh yes…quite content.

great expectations.

last weekend we were invited to a party at a friend’s home.

they had a face painter, a balloon…ist? ballooner? err…a gal making things with balloons. and…

they.
had.
a.
PONY.

gigi is a bit horse obsessed. it’s been a dream to ride one for a long, looonnnnggg time. and we told her there would be a pony and the party for rides.

when we pulled up to the party kids were already riding (of course we were fashionably late).

“did you see that pony, gigi?”

“yes! it’s so…REAL!”
apparently she thought it was pretend pony rides? (phony pony? hahahahahaha gigglesnort)

so she waited her turn…

and fulfilled a dream.

two turns around the yard and this was the face we got:

sometimes our dreams are better as dreams. the reality doesn’t always fulfill expectations.
when she was done she took off for the backyard swingset. i asked if she wanted another ride before the pony went home? no, daddy will buy me a pony later.

miss elliot was content to give the pony a quick pet—riding wasn’t really her speed.

so we tried the face painting.

THAT, at least, lived up to expectations.

seeing herself:

and her sister’s reaction was priceless:

add in one pair of balloon butterfly wings, and you have one happy—if slightly manic and creepy looking—butterfly princess.

even the biggest got in on the action—transitioning to adult, but still not too big for face painting.

i love that.

okay, so yeah—i would have gotten my own face painted. but i let all the kids go first, and then she packed up before i realized it. :( boo.

matching elmo balloon hats.

expectations fulfilled: good times and good memories ;)

and this is why we can’t have nice things.

so many times i plan tutorials for you guys. cute little easy-to-make dresses that i plan on taking step by step photos of and blogging a nice how to.

and i cut out all my pieces and lay them out, thusly:

and then…

do you kind of feel like the jaws music should be playing right now? because i do. de-dent, de-dent, de-dent-de-dent-de-dent-de-dent

oh, were you trying to take a picture of this?

because i was thinkin’ it looked like fun to toss around.

here, you wanna try?

good thing she’s cute.

so just know this…

this is what i started with:

and this is how i ended up:

but if you want to get there too you’re on your own. my little land shark has seen to that.

1 @ 12, 5 @ 12

12 is a big turning point.

12 months is the completing of a year. we don’t usually say “my baby is 12 months”. we say “my baby is 1”.

……

no matter how much we may not want to say it.

my baby…is one.

can i call her a baby anymore? that’s been the subject of much debate around here.

because if she isn’t my baby…who is?

and no, i don’t think i can live without a baby, thankyouverymuch.

but this one who’s one isn’t the only one.

because this one…

 

is also twelve. 12. one-two. tuh-welllve. as in—really, REALLY not my baby. as in—her official “last year of childhood”. as in—next up, the teens.

kelle at enjoying the small things just wrote a beautiful, poignant post about the happy-sads. and that’s how i feel—happysad.
i love the person she’s becoming—the woman. it’s amazing to me. before i had children i would look at women interacting with their grown children and wonder…how do they not walk around in a perpetual state of “i can’t believe this person came out of me.”
and sure, now that i have children i realize well, duh, you can’t walk around in that state of amazement and amusement non-stop. but yes, there’s definitely moments when you think i can’t believe this person—this grown up child-adult came out of me.

and i already waxed poetic last week about her growing up and the stages we’re reaching so i won’t go crazy again here. but let me just say—so far, i’m enjoying the ride. and i don’t WANT to hear about “wait for the teen years” or “you’ll see when she turns 13” because i’m not sticking my head in the sand like it’s not gonna happen—but i LOVE this child and i’m excited and happysad to experience growing up with her.

i don’t want to dread the future, i want to embrace it. because all periods of growth are exciting and scary and messy and dangerous—even when you’re an adult.

************************************

so there they are. my #1, and my #5. my engine and my caboose. the one that made me a mother, and the one that (hopefully??) closed out my child-bearing years.

yes, there’s much of the happysads around the googiehaus.

5 @ 10, 5 @ 11

this is late for a reason. my little man turned 10, and i had plans of a “5 @ 10, 2 @ 10” post.

it didn’t work out that way.

so it’s a combo post, because—as much as i HATE to say this—my little miss elliot is 11 months today.

 

11 whole months have gone by since i birthed this little fruitcake.

 
tubbies in the sink—one of our favorite things ;)

and i really can not believe that we are on the countdown to the big 01.

but it’s coming for us, whether i believe it or not.

she’s a walker. not all of the time, but in the past few days it’s becoming a LOT of the time. those funny franken-baby little drunk person steps make us all laugh and clap our hands for her. then she stops and looks as if to say i know you’re impressed, keep watching. and then she ungracefully plops down on her behind and we all laugh and yell uh-oh!

one thing she will never lack as the youngest of five: a full complement of cheerleaders.

she’s a talker. hi, bye-bye, uh-oh, max, nummy (when she’s eating), nice (when she pats our faces in a soft way as opposed to smacking), boo when someone plays. and the best is her yelling through the house maaaaahhhh! while she looks for me, wherever i am.

she’s a sleeper. i’ve mentioned that she’s not the best sleeper of my kiddos. desperate times called for desperate measures.

the child has her “own room” now—our walk-in closet has been appropriated as her sleeping quarters. it’s always dark, it’s always quiet, and truth be told it’s bigger than the “room” our first baby had in our tiny first apartment. ;)
it’s a touch inconvenient for getting dressed…but we’ll gladly sacrifice for the ability to sleep through the night. because that’s what we’re doing—SLEEPING.THROUGH.THE.NIGHT.
word.

baby got back.

she does tricks. we get “fresh face” on command. she gives kisses—a heart melter of the highest proportions. the “hi'” and “bye-bye” waves are distributed liberally. peek-a-boo is a favorite. she points at people and things, especially her opa who always greets her with a big “i’m lookin’ at you”. she wants him to know she’s lookin’ at him, too. 
 

11 months.

to go from this:

 

to this:

11 months.

to go from this:

to this: