the handmade revolution

FAIR WARNING: long post and huge soapbox ahead. continue at your own risk.
this is not where this post was going to go when i made these dresses.



this is not where this post was going to go when i posted the photo on instagram.



this is not where this post was going to go when i took the photos of my girls wearing these dresses.



but somewhere along the line things changed. and this post became something completely different.
here’s the thing: these dresses were inspired by the dresses made by jessica at dreamcatcher baby. and i had all intentions of saying that in the original post—credit where it’s due.



i competed against jessica in sewvivor, and she did awesome. she was selling these adorable baby girl dresses and coordinating boy bowties at the time, and shortly after sewvivor ended her dresses got picked up and “pinned” by a big name blogger…and the rest was history. jessica’s business has virtually (literally and figuratively) exploded over the last few months. she’s got pre-orders, pre-sales, dresses that sell out as fast as her two little hands can make them (whilst juggling a husband, young son and newborn baby boy).
and rightly so: her dresses are impeccably made, and her fabric choices and pattern mixing is top notch. the bows on the fronts of the dresses always have the pattern perfectly centered—a little detail a fellow seamstress can appreciate. it speaks to an extra minute or two spent planning, rather than just churning these bad boys out as fast as she possibly can—chopping that fabric whichever way gets the most cuts out of each yard.

unfortunately, the supply/demand ratio and the popularity of her dresses make their price out of my reach.
fortunately, i sew.
so i made my own version of her adorable dresses for my littles. what i planned on doing was posting about them with a link to her shop for anyone interested.

no tutorial.

why not?

truth bomb: i’ve copied/been inspired by/whatever you want to call it etsy sellers in the past. sometimes i post the things i make-most times i don’t. there are many things i make that never see the light of blogging. they’re for my own personal enjoyment, and too close to someone’s hard won success in their little shop. i can’t justify telling someone else how to do these things, at the expense of another’s livelihood.


(image source)

but then that raises the question: where’s the line? when is it okay to say “hey i copied this from XYZ shop and here’s a tutorial to make your own” and when is it not? because isn’t that like…80% of what’s blogged?

in the blogging world it seems like a rather unspoken rule that that copy-and-paste type inspiration is okay if you’re taking from the big guys: the anthropologies, the pottery barns, the west elms. but not from the little guys: the etsy sellers, the big cartel sellers, the independent pattern makers.
i admit—this is kind of the line i follow to. but why is that okay? i’m not being smart—i genuinely want to know why and when this is okay. is it because we’re taking from a faceless “big corporation” vs. just one or two or three people working in the back bedroom of their suburban home?

and then the reverse comes in to play: the accusations of stores like urban outfitters ripping off the hard work and content of etsy sellers. (go ahead and google…there’s a ton of it out there).

when i see a must-have pillow at Big Store selling for $45 i think hey, i could do that in my home for $5 worth of supplies, and tell other people how to do it on my blog! when i see a cute or funny printable on etsy for $20+ i think hey, i could do that on photoshop in my bed and print it out and it’s costing me like 50 cents for paper and ink …and not show anyone.

again: stick it to the Big Stores, protect the little guy.

same with dream catcher baby’s dresses: i love them. but they are far out of my reach—especially for two (or three…or four…) of them. and here’s the part where i have drop another brutal truth bomb, knowing that jessica may well read this—they’re really very basic sundresses…empire waist, full skirt, bow on bodice. any home sewist with basic knowledge can make it on their own quickly and easily. my first dress from measurements to finished hem took just over an hour—while i did 10 other things in the meantime. and i did a similarly shaped dress last summer—same basic idea, just without the big bow on the front.

but that’s really beside the point, isn’t it?
the reality is ease of creation < how much people are willing to pay.

(image source)

the fact that i can make this dress myself cheaper than i can buy one from her basically has nothing to do with the dresses jessica is successfully selling. because as long as there are people out there willing to fork over the money for a Dream Catcher Baby original, then she’s fine.

but then…again i ask—where’s the line? if i post a tutorial showing how to make an easy high waisted, full skirted sundress, am i stealing from her? what if i add a bow to the front? what if i make the bow and dress two different fabrics? at what point am i “stealing” from her? and how much do i have to change to make it “mine”? and is it different if i open up my own etsy shop and sell something similar?

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so what prompted all this? well, jessica had quite the blowup on her instagram account not long ago. the pictures have since been deleted—and i don’t blame her. a comment from one person along the lines of “i wish you weren’t so expensive and i wish i had money” spiraled out of control—people attacking her prices and people defending her work.

the one comment that really got to me was someone who said basically “i can make 2 or 3 of these dresses at home for the price she’s charging.”

i’ll admit it—when i saw what she’s getting for these dresses i almost choked. whoa!

but let’s stop and think about it for a second: yes. you or i can run out to the fabric store and buy the yard of fabric and fat quarter and (using a coupon OF COURSE) whip up one or two of these dresses for a mere what…$6? go crazy—buy designer—$12?

so we can sniff down our noses at the etsy sellers and their foolish customers and post comments like “bah. made it myself for 1/32nd of the price you fools are paying.”

but now…what if someone wants to pay you to make one for their daughter.

well now. suddenly you are spending your time picking just the right fabrics for her daughter. and sewing for her daughter. and pressing it and packaging it and mailing it. oh, wait. now you’re in it for $18 or $20 with shipping because boxes and pretty tissue paper don’t grow on trees…and you still didn’t charge anything for your time. cause you’re nice like that.

and now everyone LOVES your two dresses. and LOTS of people want them. yayyyy me! kermit arms all over! so now you’re buying bolts of fabric and storing them in your home, and your sewing machine and your serger are churning away for hours each day…oops—gotta get them serviced at $100 each—and you’re spending hours listing each dress on etsy and driving to the post office and communicating with Susie from Nebraska who wants this one for her sister’s wedding but can you make the bow a little bigger and can the fabric be a touch bluer and can i have it in 3 days? and then etsy takes a cut. and paypal

takes a cut. and uncle sam takes a cut.

how much is your time worth? because after you dish out for ALL of that, you still have yourself to pay. this isn’t charity. this isn’t dressing other people’s children out of the kindness of your heart.
ask yourself: what do i make at my job per hour? why should a seamstress’ time be worth any less?
sewing isn’t some magical art. this isn’t sleeping beauty, i don’t have a magic wand to conjure up dresses with. it’s real HARD, frustrating, tiring WORK. you get cramped hands from cutting, painful sewer’s back from leaning over your machine for hours, a tired brain from figuring and measuring and all.the.math.



if you can do it yourself—rock on with your bad self. i can, and i did. but if you can’t, and you’d like me to do it for you—THIS is how much it will cost. and if you don’t like that well then have a nice day no hard feelings.



if you want to scoff at a handmade dress because you can buy a dress at walmart for $8 then go ahead and go to walmart and buy your $8 dress. maybe you want to take a look at the non-monetary ‘cost’ of that dress before you get up on that high horse you’re riding, though.

because guess what—jessica can make 2 or 3 of these dresses FOR HERSELF very easily too. but if you want her to give up her free time—her time spent with her babies and man—her time spent watching dvr’d reruns and double fisting popcorn in her sweats on the couch—then THIS is how much it will cost you. and she shouldn’t have to apologize for that.

truth bomb #3: i’m as guilty as the next seamstress of under valuing myself. when people ask me to do work and offer to pay me i mentally tally up hours and then tell them a number…much less. and that’s why i find myself sewing for people late at night, hand stitching things for what amounts to $3 or $5 per hour. would you work for that? my husband just gave my sewing-freely-for-others-self the smackdown. no more, he said. at least for now. i’ve taken on too many things and stressed myself out over them too much lately.

alida makes wrote a post about this a few weeks ago. it’s a good read.

sooo…where do we go from here? i’m curious what your thoughts are on the matter. let’s talk.

disclaimer: if i’ve ever sewn for you…know that i did it happily and enjoyed doing it. i’m not talking about you, or us, in any of this. :)

she could have danced all night…

this child was waiting—rather impatiently—for the day she could finally be on a stage. and dance. that’s just the kind of kid she is—no problem with the spotlight, this one.

pre-mandatory garish red lips. when she still had some semblance of a little girl ;)

that’s not to say she’s never nervous--when we went to the dress rehearsal she was. i tried to explain what was going to happen to her—but i think the brain of a 4 year old just couldn’t quite process it.

Stage Makeup: freaking out fathers everywhere since the dawn of time.

so when the teenaged “helpers” led her away to go backstage i ran out to the auditorium pretty unsure of what i was going to see. was she going to freeze up in the lights of the stage?

no way dudes.

she absolutely. loved. it. and when i reminded her that this was just ‘practice’—that in 2 weeks mom-mom and pop and other mom-mom and mommy and daddy and her sisters and brother and aunt kate were ALLLLL coming to see her dance on the stage…oh yeah. good stuff.

the night of the recital i waited with her until the show started and the moms went to sit.
“are you nervous, gigi?”
she turned those giant blue eyeballs on me. “why would i be nervous?”
like it was the most foreign concept. who would be nervous about dancing on a stage in front of a couple hundred people? this is the stuff dreams are made of.

shakin’ that tail feather (they danced to Rockin’ Robin)

i’m fairly certain photographing a lit stage from a dark auditorium is a special kind of photography magic i just don’t have. blurry pics aside, i think you can tell just how much she loved it.

one last kiss for the audience

post-recital review with another dancer ;)

and the clincher? the preschool classes do their dance and then their tumbles. she’s struggled with the tumbling all year. and the night of the recital? sister brought the house down.
for your enjoyment: a small video. you’ll know which one is gigi. (or maybe you won’t…she’s the one right in the center of the screen)

gigi tumbles from Shannon Kline on Vimeo.

dear 24 month sleep regression: i kinda want to punch you in the face.

the following is a mainly true account. no names have been changed, because no one is presumed innocent.

8:00 pm – the bedtime ritual starts. clean diaper, jammies on. she is in agreement—“big gul bed!”
8:30  – daddy handles actual bedtime. prayers, tucked in. it begins.
8:35  – she’s up. back to bed.
8:40  – STOP TALKING AND GO TO SLEEP.
9:00  – late night walmart trip for emergency sneakers for harrison (field day tomorrow)
9:30 – guinevere calls our cells. are you coming home soon? elliot won’t stop crying. she won’t sleep.
10:00 – we return home. guinevere is asleep on the couch, elliot is tucked in next to her, bright eyed and watching doc mcstuffins.
10:05  – back to bed. goodnight.
10:06  – PLEASE STOP CRYING YOU’RE GOING TO WAKE UP YOUR SISTERS.
10:10-10:30  – 4 story books read. okay, night night. that’s it.
10:35 – PLEASE STOP CRYING.
10:45 – tiny footsteps coming down the hall. she’s carrying five books and crying. “i told” (translates to “i’m cold”, which really means “i’m hot”. she’s got the concept, a little hazy on the finer points.)
10:47 – back to bed.
10:55 – she WON’T STOP CRYING.
11:00 – bring her in our bed. 3 hours in and she’s won her first major skirmish.
11:01-11:30 – wide awake and talking. lay down, elliot. nigh-night, elliot. QUIET, elliot.
11:30 – shhh…i think she’s sleeping. so long as i lay here on my back next to her with my arm around her in such a way that guarantees a painful nights sleep for me. and don’t move. or breath.
1:30 am – she wakes up crying. for me. i’m right here next to you, elliot. she cries anyway. she finally settles when we are totally face to face, noses touching, her leg over me and her arm wrapped around my neck.
1:50 am – i think she’s sleeping again.
3:00 – she’s crying. again. i’ve dared to move my arm and try and turn on my back. NOT ACCEPTABLE.
4:30 – she’s hot. she’s mastered the maneuver where they lift their legs straight up then flop them down, pulling the blankets down with them. which means pulling the blankets off of us. i’m cold. and i can’t feel my arm anymore.
6:00 am – she’s awake. i can’t ignore her because clearly they’ve made some sort of evil pact and now the dog needs to go out. when i get back in bed she wants to talk.
6:10 am – i’ve settled her back into our 1:30 am position. go to sleep.
6:20 – i think she’s sleeping. her eyes are closed, her breathing deep
6:25 – i hear scary movie music in my head when her eyes suddenly pop open.“what dat noise, mommy?”
6:30 – that’s it. i’ve had enough. i’m tired and i’m turning over to my comfy spot. back to elliot, pillow between my legs, blankets pulled up. i’m a mountain. i’m unmovable. i’m tough.
6:31-6:40 – she cries.
6:41 – she turns into a cat. she climbs on me, meowing and pawing me. i’m mentally writing this blog post.
6:45 – i give in. i turn on the tv. please, for the love of all things sleep related—WATCH OCTONAUTS AND LET ME SLEEP.
8:00 – i wake. at some point we both fell back asleep. she’s sprawled across 70% of the bed like a capital “X” of toddler limbs.

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i don’t have a “what to expect from your baby/toddler/school-age child/pre-teen/teen” book in my home library. i’m a little more granola and crunchy than that--more of a go-with-the-flow kinda parent, embracing each challenging week or growing week as they come. you’ll roll when you roll, walk when you walk, talk when you talk. no pressure. i’m the mom who says “man, you’ve been one miserable baby the last few days”, and suddenly notices a new tooth poking out. huh. that explains that.

but last week i found myself googling “sleep regression in 2 year old” at 2:30 in the morning because please PLEASE let this be a “thing” because if it’s a “thing” then she’ll grow out of this “thing” because i seriously CAN NOT TAKE IT MUCH LONGER.

this lady likes her sleep and i won’t apologize. i’m a champion sleeper. if napping was a sport i’d be olympic level. #truestory

and moonrise kingdom wasn’t bad movie, but watching it from 1am-3am with your wide awake 2 year old? not my idea of fun.

sometimes when we’re not sleeping we pretend to crochet with mommy’s narn.

anyway, turns out it is a “thing”. 4 months, somewhere between 8-10 months, 18 months and 24 months. bada bing—sleep regression.

now the truth is that if i googled “sleep regression in 33 month old great dane born on the east coast in a leap year” i’d probably get 1.67 million hits in .023 seconds. but i think i believe this one, and i’ll tell you why.

first, i read the description of the 24 month old sleep regression: multiple delay tactics for going to bed, wide awake late, waking up multiple times through the night, waking early, and the odd thing—napping well. check check check check. all of it. the bed that is anathema at night time? she can not WAIT to jump in at naptime…settles in and falls to sleep like it’s her job.
the second clincher: i can’t remember 4 months or somewhere between 8-10 months, but i counted backwards to 18 months and realized that’s right about the time we were in cape cod. when she WOULDN’T SLEEP. we thought maybe it was just being away from home? but she would wake in the middle of the night and scream her head off and flail around like she was possessed. this would go on for 15-20 minutes and nothing calmed her. hello 18 month sleep regression, you rotten jerk. i swear if you had been here you would have seen the lightbulb pop on over my head.

the thing is, i don’t know why this makes it better. but somehow it does. elliot has never been a good sleeper—in fact i’d say she’s the worst out of all five. and that's including harrison who would puke in his crib if i tried letting him cry it out. (future grown harrison: that was so gross. and i wish on you a child who does the same so you may know the grossness first hand) so knowing that this really is a “thing”, a phase she’s going to pass through, makes it a little easier to bear.

before The Great Sleep Regression of ‘13 it felt like we were winning. she was sleeping through the night in her big girl bed. she was happy to go in, book in hand, asleep within minutes, and came toddling in to my room around 7 each morning for some cuddles.

and it all changed on a dime.

and this is also how i know i’m done. because even though my uterus aches when i see a pregnant lady or hold a squishy little baby (samuel, i’m looking at you dude)…i also realize i’m so over the night time thing. i’m ready to sleep solid hours without being woken up by sleep regressions or peepee sheets or whatever. at least…that’s what i’m telling myself.

because deep down there’s still a part of me that just can’t help pulling e into bed with me when she comes in. she snuggles in and pretends to read her book “peetaboo! no, no, no i see you!”, oblivious to the fact that it’s almost midnight and she should have been asleep 3.5 hours ago. instead i sniff her up in all her chubby-wristed-toddler-ness and try to brand it on my memory. this feeling—of your baby who loves you completely wrapped up in your arms—is worth more than gold. or at least worth more than some uninterrupted sleep…

thursday randoms

move along, move along…nothing to see here…

just a random collection of things…

o1) today’s prayers
prayers and thoughts for those in boston.

i don’t wish to seem glib by leaving it there…but really, what more is there to say?

o2) today’s sewing
my simple shirred sundress tutorial has been making the pinterest rounds lately. i do love that look, and it is quite easy.

one person asked if the buttonholes on the back cut the elastic thread and made it unravel.
a good question, and the answer is no, not for me. i’m assuming the tightness of the buttonhole stitching is enough to catch the ends of the elastic thread and keep them secure, even though they run perpendicular to one another (whoa math terms).

o3) today’s sales
another reader asked about the doll bed quilt and pillow i’d made for elliot…if i had plans to put them in my etsy shop.

i don’t…however, if someone is interested in a straight commission i’d be happy to work with you. email me at talktothemomma (at) gmail (dot) com.

o4) today’s film petits
did you see today’s film petit? oh how i love this series—skirt as top and a little gray join forces once a month with a guest to create children’s looks based on awesome films. not children’s films—just awesome films. this month is BACK TO THE FUTURE. and it’s as awesome as you’d think.

 image via

hey ladies, i’m sure you don’t want to overdo the 80’s, but i’m thinking…pretty in pink????

o5) today’s goodbye
so google reader is becoming a thing of the past in july. sniff, sniff…let’s all take a moment and shed a tear. or not. anyway, i’ve added links to bloglovin’ and another blog reader canopi over thar--------->>> in the sidebar.
because i know you wouldn’t want to miss a hot second of the genius that is googiemomma.

o6) today’s poetry + today’s plans
i went into the wood because i wished to live deliberately. yeah, i’m getting all thoreau up in here. but i had this sudden vision of our family—just the mister and i and our googies, alone in the woods. it was a fairly specific vision—a cabin, air, space, no neighbors, no electronics and lots of frog hunting, game playing and marshmallow burning. so i turned to the internets and found my cabin.

image via

it’s tiny and secluded and that creek looks ripe with frogs for hunting, does it not? we don’t have a date nailed down just yet, but i’ve been in contact with the owner and the googies will be headed there. soon. and we’ll live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan- like as to put to rout all that was not life. sounds good, right?

o7) today’s mush
monday was april 15th. a big day for taxes, yes. but also a big day in the googiehaus. eleven years ago that was my due date with the little man (he came on the 12th like a good boy). and 15 years ago it was the day mr. googiedaddy took me to a scenic bridge while our friends hid in the woods and asked me to marry him. spoiler alert: i said yes.
like any oblivious momma i totally lost track of the days, so when i came out of gigi’s ballet class on monday to find flowers and a card on my windshield, my first thought was uh-oh, someone mistook my car for someone else’s. but it wasn’t. it was him, remembering what i had forgotten, planning and in cahoots with our kids and a friend to leave behind the regular plans for the day—cleaning, organizing, scrubbing—and return to the bridge.

it’s since been rebuilt—the rusty, rickety thing of our past a shiny new concrete thing. but it was our bridge all the same. and he kept the tradition alive…

he liked it, so he put a ring on it.

something to stand in place of the ring i haven’t been able to wear for…oh..2 or 3 babies. something not too expensive, but shiny and blingy and a link to him. a way to say “i’m taken!”…not because i get hit on lots and lots (ha!) but because i am, and i love that i am, and i want the world to know i am.

i didn’t realize just how much i missed having a wedding ring on my finger until this one was on there.

he’s a good man. and methinks we should visit that bridge more often.

enjoy your thursday.

mini me

do you remember caldor? it was a store—kind of like a kmart, not quite a walmart. it was of the era before walmart. there was woolworth’s, and bradlee’s and caldor and probably some others i don’t remember.

anyway, when the caldor near us finally gave up and had a big “GOING OUT OF BUSINESS” sale i was probably…oh, 9? and mom and i found a dollhouse kit marked down to $6. why i remember that i don’t know. but it was a huge discount and my 9 year old heart got all fluttery.

mom and i eventually assembled it, but it was a raw kit—no doors, no windows. we bought some shingles, i think i may have even painted the outside. over the next 3 or 4 years i would drag it out on occasion and work on it a bit…most of the furnishings cobbled together from clearance sales and things i could make. mom and dad re-papered and carpeted their bedroom—i trimmed the tiniest bits off the edges of the wallpaper to make border for my dollhouse. carpet remnants became wall-to-wall in my dollhouse.

as i got older my dollhouse hacks became more sophisticated. witness the wooden thimble turned hanging plant:

a leaf plucked surreptitiously from one of mom’s fakes, sliced into tiny plant shapes and glued into the center. embroidery floss becomes the hanger.

yup, i still have it. because i never finished that dollhouse, but there came a point when i knew it was time to give it up. the dollhouse went to the trash—but the few good things i had in it got packed away.

even then—at what, 14? 15? i knew one day i’d have a daughter, and i would finally, finally make the dollhouse i’d been dreaming of.

i had my daughter back in 2000, and then i had 3 more, plus my one boy. the dollhouse dream was always there lurking. but there was always another baby—too small to start working on such delicate things around.

then a couple of years ago we hit the jackpot.

i’m sure if i took a poll i’d find a huge percentage of people who had unstarted or half-finished dollhouses at some point in their childhood. and i’m sure, like me, at some point during a spring cleaning they finally realized it wasn’t going to happen. time to give it up.

this huge dollhouse, along with bins and bins of supplies was on someone’s curb. the major work was done—the house assembled, sided, shingled, even some rooms started.

and it looked like a major attic cleaning had occurred, and the dollhouse was given up. the bins contain carpeting and wood flooring and tiny light fixtures and miniature area rugs and rolls and rolls of wallpapers. all the tools for wiring this house so the lights work! tiny trims and windows and staircases—it’s all here. literally hundreds of dollars in supplies.

no, really. i went online to price 3 doors and 3 windows that we need because they’re either missing or broken. $65 plus shipping.

this thing is pretty huge. and it even had an addition piece with two more rooms that attached on one side.

i have flat out refused to part with it since my mom so wonderfully trash picked it for me us and brought it over. it has moved from place to place in our house for the last 3 years, waiting for the day i deemed our kiddos old enough to begin.

it’s now.

last night we pulled it out and began sorting through the supplies. the kids picked wallpapers for the rooms, and we got started on the bottom floor.

they are beside themselves with excitement. i woke up this morning to find furniture placed in some of the still unfinished rooms. they’re beginning to decorate.

we changed it a little, mommy. this is going to be the girl’s room, and the boy’s room will have a balcony!

it’s going to take quite a bit of repair work to really finish this house. but i WILL do it.

because last night as ava and i sat side by side gluing down the carpet in the living room she chattered away about this house. and how it was going to be so fun for all of them.

and then she said and when we grow up, we can pass this to our kids! and they’ll have it! and they’ll get to play with it too!

hello, heartstring tug. if that doesn’t make me stick to it then nothing will. and in that case, i’ll post a curb alert for you—3/4 finished doll house. maybe you can finish it.

little golden dress

sewing, like any art, has definite ups and downs. sometimes your sewing mojo is on like donkey kong and you can’t hardly sew fast enough to keep up with the ideas churning through your brain.

and other times…not so much. all the fabric seems meh. nothing inspires.

but then…THEN. you see a fabric and BOOM! the dress it’s meant to become just jumps into your head like whoa.

this little golden books fabric was one of those. the instant i saw it, i saw a full skirted dress with short sleeves, a peter pan collar, and brown accents.

and boom. this happened:

unfortunately, these are from the same series of pics i talked about here—the ones hampered by a complete lack of interest in the photo taking process by my children. hmph.

not even the addition of a Bribery Lolly helped. she popped it in her mouth like the tiniest james dean and gave me the straight face she does so well. this kid has a whopper of a poker face.

so NO. NO cute photos for you of cute blonde baby/toddlers wearing fluffy full dresses and reading little golden books.

nope. you have to be satisfied with semi-blurry, too dark shots of a grump.

dress details: it buttons up the back with 4 brown buttons. 2 matching buttons on the front center. poofy slip—slightly too big, and thus slipping down—under the skirt, which is as big as i could make it once i cut the bodice pieces from my yard of fabric. bigger IS better, at least when it comes to skirts.

and finally, i’d like to share this little series of photos. proving that no, it’s not all glitter and sunshine in the googiehaus. in case anyone actually thought that (ha).

the look on elliot’s face in that middle shot? priceless.
#keepinitreal