abrupt beginnings, too.

the pictures i’m about to share hardly do the dresses justice.

but then again, that’s kind of become my motto. either “oh boy i haven’t blogged in FOR.EH.VER because reasons” or “sorry these pics are lousy but the kids were cranky and reasons.”

whatever. i’m over it. this is my life and i’ll never be THAT blogger. i’m me—the blogger that sews things and doesn’t take pictures because she can’t be bothered, and sometimes takes really super cute pics of her kids to share but mostly they’re just…not. consider it my way of keeping us bloggers, as a whole, approachable. you’re welcome.

so, where was i? ah yes, the dresses. first i tried the window shot:

nope. blown out pic and oh heyyyy untrimmed door! how you doin’?

(good thing i watermarked that bad boy…people be stealin’ that pic like whoa)

so i moved on to the hanging-from-our-dresser shots.

i swear to you—those handprints on the drawers? NOT there when i took the picture. at least…i didn’t see them.

but this is it: two little dresses. the paper boat fabric had me at hello when i found it in joann’s. 1 yard, which i managed to miscut. truly these dresses were like a comedy of errors with the poor photography as it’s climactic ending. it began when i cut the first front bodice piece of elliot’s dress in half accidentally. i had to recut it, and so i ran short on fabric for gigi’s bodice and had to make it more empire waisted. worked out though—i like the shorter bodice better.

but it didn’t end there: i somehow made the top of elliot’s dress way too small. no way would she fit. i sent it to the corner for a time out and to think about what it had done. eventually it came back sheepishly, apologized, and offered up the idea of a contrasting back placket with buttons to add in a design element and extra bodice width. (i sound so like i know what i’m talking about, right? totally made up that ‘back placket’ thingy.)

i like big bows. and i can not lie.
elliot’s bow actually ties, and only the left three buttons are functional. the right three are just for looks. gigi’s dress has an invisible zipper and her bow attaches with snaps nope. at midnight before they were to wear these dresses i sat down in bed to sew on the snaps and sewed the first one on backwards and said that’s the end of that. i’m pinning it. like with a literal safety pin, not like on my imaginary online pinboard. so yes, gigi’s bow is safety pinned inside. (approachable, remember?)

i also pretty much love the little cap sleeves on gigi’s dress. and if i had thought to take some closer photos you would surely be astounded by the pattern matching happening through those aforementioned sleeves. which was totally on purpose. (shifty eyes).

and so all my foolishness with door/dresser pics in the morning left me no time to get pics of the girls in their just-dressed, just-coiffed, happy happy morning looks. instead you get afternoon just-before-naptime photos. and as…well, virtually anyone will tell you: that is simply a Bad Idea.

gigi was actually trying. bless her little heart--even with messy hair and a grumpy sister she was attempting to give me a smile and be cute.

elliot, on the other hand…well, i think her face says it all. i took. away. the noodle.

there is five yards of navy tulle between these two dresses. FIVE.
tulle, i don’t know how to quit you.

it’s like trying to sew two live cats together and every stinkin’ time i’m like oooh a tulle skirt would be sooo purdy yes five yards please and then later i’m all RAZZAFRAZZA PPPFFFLLLLTHHH HATE TULLE stomping around like that red headed looney tunes character (figures. us gingers have such a bad rap. totally undeserved i might add.)

please—for my own sanity and the welfare of my family, should i ever again be lured in by the siren song of tulle you have my permission to smack me on the head with a bolt of fabric.

not only did i do three layers of tulle on each skirt, i hit up my favorite trashy fabric store and bought the world’s largest roll of navy piping for ONE DOLLAR (adding to my collection of black and brown). so, obviously, PIPE ALL THE THINGS. or each layer of tulle. individually.

i see you lookin’ at that stripe matching across the zipper. yeah.

it’s fine though. the bazillion yards of tulle and piping and miscut striped fabric turned into two fluffy dresses. the piping simultaneously weighed down the tulle skirts and puffed them out. how? i don’t know. can we get some scientists on that? but i like the way it looks.
mmmm…tulle….
you know what else the piping did? provided a convenient hook for elliot’s skirt to catch on daddy’s shoe and rip clean off one whole tulle layer. the second time she wore it.

not cool. not cool at all. :(

so now i’m tired and cranky and can’t think of a smooth segue way to ending this bad boy. thus, abrupt ending.

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.

+

+

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…