“It doesn’t matter where you are, you are nowhere compared to where you can go.”

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...or so it seems, I wore well cut wool suits, authentic cashmere pashminas and Italian silks. Each day I was a fashion plate with a triple shot latte. As a retail business manager, I lead a stellar team and was a killer saleswoman. Working long hours, late night happy hours, my life was a career filled adulthood and I longed for nothing more.

Change sneaks up on you. I met Danny and together we decided to have babies. I wanted to have a family with him. We'd be kick ass parents. It was our opinion that our mothers did us right by staying home with us during our early years, and despite all my ambition, was the low earner on the totem pole, so I became the designated stay at home parent to our babes. I kissed my department store wardrobe goodbye (not very practical and hell, they don't fit postpartum), and said hello to things you can easily launder spit up and poop off of.


No one will ever call me a graceful mother. (Or graceful at all, for that matter.) Stay at home motherhood is daunting. I felt alone. And fat. And hormonal. I was just not me in my own skin. But I don't make commitments lightly and was determined. Every single day, I got up, showered and dressed. I tried my damnedest to be a good stay at home mom knowing the whole time that a finish line was in sight.

I am a fantastic mom to our kids. I know that. But "stay at home mom" is never a hat that fit comfortably on my head. I resented my husband for business trips. At company happy hours I was sure his coworkers made assumptions of me. I used every creative way to say what I did without saying "stay at home mom", including but not limited to the time I recorded my profession as "retired" on a form. (I am truly sorry for that as I am now hounded by the AARP. Seriously. I had to tell them I was going to report them for stalking and to come back in 20 years.)

Somewhere during my tenure as the stay at home parent I decided to change careers. The retail management requirements of worked holidays and weekends don't jive well with family life. Despite not ever feeling comfortable as a stay at home mom, I was very interested in being an active parent to my kiddos. I just needed the adult interaction. I needed validation. I needed recognition and to have goals to work towards. So we decided I'd go back to school when the kids were old enough to go to school.


But what about my blog? My shop? I've sold a variety of things I've made through my shop the five years I've been the stay at home parent, but I like being able to make and sell what I like. Any time I start mass producing something, I quickly grow to hate it. My blog has always been about me. It's my expression. It's where I show off what I make and teach you to make them too, if you want. The 'ads' I post are my friends and shops I respect. The sponsored posts and tours I do are for patterns I'd have bought anyways. My opinion can't be bought. I'm far too mouthy to lie to you all and to be honest, I don't want to shill stuff to you. This it my place and I'm humbled there are so many of you still listening after all these years. Thank you.

Becoming a mother has taken my former self and stretched and confounded and shaken her up until she has settled and grown into this new person. A women with the skills and obstinance from before, but with the mighty roar of a bear. Motherhood tried to break me but I have emerged victorious! I am bigger and better and stronger. I have broken out from my cocoon to stretch my wings.


If you've be around here a while you know I've been taking some classes here and there. Prerequisites for the sonography program I have been accepted into. (Sonongraphy = ultrasounds. Not the people who write down everything that's said in court. That's a stenographer. Think Aquaman, but more badass. Also, it's not just for pregnant ladies. Far from it.) It's going to take me 13.5 months of full time, hard core schooling. From here on out, it's all highlighters and ramen, baby.

This week was the big week. My babies had their first day of pre-K on Monday, and Tuesday was my first day of full time school.

My stay at home motherdom is over. It's gone.

I've been looking forward to this moment for years. I can leave the house without diapers and wipes. I get in and out of the car and don't have two little ones to help. I can walk as fast as I like when I'm late and not have to hustle anyone else up. I'm smart and my peers and professors assume exactly that. No one looks at me and only sees a mom.

So why does it feel so bad in my heart? Why are my eye leaking? Damn my non-robot-ness!

I had the privilege of having dinner with Shalagh last week. We talked about many things, but one of the nuggets she left with me was to look up this poem by Khalil Glbran:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

I am strong enough for myself, but am I a strong enough bow? An ache hollows my heart to know that I must set my arrows to fly, but I know I must. How is it that I've been looking forward to this for so long and now that it's here I feel guilt and fear? Damn you, motherhood. You've done this to me.

And so I embark upon this new chapter of mine. To master a new skill and learn a new trade. To hone myself within motherhood, so that I can be the strong and stable bow. May my aim be true and my arrow fly straight. There's no turning back now.

Getting Happy

Hey, all,

It's Friday! Hoorah! Our house has been running 24/7 lately. We work all day, have family dinner and bed time, then my husband and I go back to work until midnight. Jimmy likes to climb into our bed in the middle of the night. Thankfully we went to Ikea a few weeks ago and bought ourselves a king sized bed. It's a luxury, but with an additional body (or two) in our bed, it buys us more room to sleep.

It's been one of those weeks where I can't decide if I want it to hurry along or slooooow down. I always look forward to Fridays because it means the weekend is here and we can all be together. But the arrival of *this* Friday means that it is one week until Perfect Pattern Parcel launches! Have you signed up for the newsletter? Do you want to be the first to know? GAK! (waves arms like Kermit the Frog) It's almost here. Rachael, Danny and I are really psyched. Like super psyched. Start the countdown clock, friends, it is almost here and you're going to be floored.

This morning was a bit of craziness. Despite my chipper, go get 'em, attitude, the kids were real grouches. I was perusing my newsfeed when I happened upon Lacy of Living on Love's newest post. She a momma of two with a third on the way any day now. She's been doing a project all year called Living on Love Project. This month she's working on the fact that she is *not* a morning person. But she knows her mood sets the stage for the rest of the family and their day. So she's working on Waking Up Happy. In her post she shared a music video. I wasn't about to let two grummy kiddos set the mood for the day so I took charge!



It took three playings of the song to get both kids dancing with me. When the kids were smaller we used to always have Dorsey Dance Parties. I'm officially bringing them back! We danced to Happy only 8 times. We were sweaty, being creative with our movements and laughing. Friday has been saved. Thank you, Lacy!


I need your help. I need to build up my Dorsey Dance Party playlist. What's your favorite (mostly kid friendly) dance song that makes you happy? Mine is Me and Julio by Paul Simon and Bamboleo by the Gypsy Kings. Help me out!

Now go dance! Get happy!

Go play outside

If I think back about it, a large portion of my childhood memories were outside. My brothers and I spend a lot of time outside in our front and backyards. Climbing trees. Building forts. Riding bikes. All the sticks, leaves and dirt we could handle. My mother was forever telling us to go outside. Go play outside.


"Go play outside" is a phrase that was missing from my mom vocabulary up until this point. I spent all spring and summer trying to send my kids out in our un-fenced back yard while I studied indoors only to look up and wonder, where the hell have they gone! Every few minutes I'd look up out the screen door and, poof, no kids. They'd be playing with the hose, or in the drive way, or, my personal favorite, on the porch ringing the doorbell.


I don't know what did it, but suddenly something has changed. My kids ask to go outside. I bundle them up in hoodies or jackets, and hats and mittens, then out they go. They collect leaves. They make piles of sticks. They play pretend and are secret agents solving mysteries. They love it, *and* they stay in the back yard now. Which means I can finally get more stuff done.



"Go play outside." It's such a beautiful thing. I want to cry, I love it so much. Being a SAHM to two small kids, going back to school, and running a business is a lot. It only takes a straw to break the camel's back. But now the burden is eased! I've got an eight page paper due on urinalysis? "Who wants to go play outside?" Kitchen full of dirty dishes and two kiddos running and screaming like cowboys and Indians? "Go play outside!"



I've found myself a small sliver of ease. Slowly, but surely, I am gaining my sanity back. Ok, not sanity so much, as balance. I have time to take a break now. Just a few more minutes in my day to get things done. I will champion the insanity of my life.

The beauty of it all is that my kids benefit from playing outside too. They get a little vitamin D. They expel some of their boundless energy. They learn to play together. They develop creativity. By playing outside they gain independence. So I can feel good about sending them out to play. If only cookies were good for them...I'd be invincible.


Now go play outside!

My Parachute Packers

I shared the story of Charlie Plumb and his parachute packer over at Buzzmills this morning. Jane asked me to take part in her Thankful Tour. All year round, Jane writes posts called Thankfuls. It started when she and her husband began asking their kids what they were thankful for at bed time. They would each come up with something. Usually they are tiny things, but still good things. They began to call them "thankfuls" and she borrowed the term for her own blog posts.


Today I am thankful for:

...a husband who is my sidekick in life. Who not only accepts me for who I am, but rejoices in all that I am.

...that my ex was so so wrong and you can keep that love spark alive years later.

...teeny tiny hugs and little hands that squeeze my fingers.


...a room all to myself for my sewing studio.

...fresh hot coffee in Polish pottery mugs.

...freckles all over my loves.

...a very comfortable bed.


...the beach. I miss your sounds.

...my artistic abilities and my nerdy tendencies.

...a family that I love and in-laws I'm happy to call family.

...waking up to these faces everyday.


What are you thankful for? Have you thanked your Parachute Packers today? Don't forget to head over to Buzzmills to hear The Parachute Packer Story.

Wiener Dog Hoodies: KCW Day Two

Having kids that are only 20 months apart is almost like having twins. You really have to do everything in pairs. I can't make one hoodie. I have to make two. Which means double trouble during Kids Clothes Week. (deep breaths)


On Monday, Jane put on a new shirt her grandmother had bought her with wiener dogs all over it. As I helped her pull it over her head, Jimmy looked down at his plaid shirt and sadly asked, "Where my doggie shirt?" My mother in law has two wiener dogs and my kids love the hell out of thos dogs. I couldn't let Jimmy down and leave him without a doggie shirt.

I go through the kid sale racks often for blank or mostly blank clothes that I can upcycle into something nicer all the time. There hoodies I bought last year on sale. They said something silly on the front, but would be easily enough to cover up.


I whipped up quick wiener dog appliques with freezer paper and Pellon Wonder Under on fabrics the kids picked out. (Which probably took as long as it did to make the damn things.) A quick press with the iron and a run of zig zags, and the wiender dog hoodies were made. I added some handstitching with embroidery floss around the appliques. Jane requested her name on the heart of her hoodie. I was tempted to write "I heart my..." above Jimmy's wiener dog, but decided to keep it PG.



Nutters

Quick and easy appliqued wiener dog hoodies? Check. Just the kind of project I needed during Kids Clothes Week when I'm making for two!

What did you make today?

Teaching compassion

When I packed to spend a week in New York with my family earlier this month to celebrate the holiday, I packed us all funeral clothing. My grandfather, Dziadziu (Polish for grandfather, say Jaah-Joo), had been living in a senior living home with my grandmother. During the weeks prior to our trip, Dziadziu’s heath had rapidly declined. Hospice was called and his doctors said it could be days or weeks. No one knew. The next day when family visited him he was not only out of bed, but sitting at the dinner table with everyone else wolfing down chocolate creme pie.

The morning after we drove up to New York, I took my kids along with my mom to visit my grandparents. I anticipated that this trip would likely be the last time I would see him alive. When we arrived my grandmother was in the living room. The kids and I sat with her while my mom went to check on Dziadziu. We sat with my grandmother and played with the cards from the game Memory. While Jimmy and Jane enjoyed identifying the animals for my Grammy, there was an irony to it all. Grammy has Alzheimer’s and most days doesn’t know who we are. Regardless, her eyes light up to have children doting on her. The gave their best moos, oinks and baaahs, and rolled around the floor as only small kids can do and make you smile.

Only after my grandmother was looking tired did we walk down the hall to find my mother and Dziadziu. She stopped me at his bedroom door. Dzuadziu was in bed and dying, and my mother was worried that it would upset Jimmy and Jane. As much as I want to protect my kids from any unnecessary upset, I didn't want them learn that old people are scary. So many visits to the home my grandparents were in, taught me that the sick and old are left there. I never saw many other families visiting, even on holidays, so I always taught the kids to say hi, blow kisses and hold hands with everyone there whether we knew them or not. We’re everyone’s grandkids and great grandkids when we visit.

I gathered my kids into my arms and walked in. Dziadziu was in a hospital bed and gown. He was sedated and conscious, but unable to speak. My mother and aunt had been sitting and holding each of his hands to comfort him. They explained that he occasionally got upset and that physical touch helped him calm down. I took a seat next to his bed as my aunt left to call family to let them know that his passing was likely soon.

I explained to Jane and Jimmy that Dziadziu was having a Rough Day. In our house, when you’re sick, cranky, or upset, we say that you are having a Rough Day. When you’re having a Rough Day, the rest of the family is extra nice you you. We get drinks for you, we snuggle you up in blankies and read books to you, and sometimes the best solution for a Rough Day is a good nap. I told them we were helping Dziadziu because he wasn’t feeling well and was being a crankus (Moxie-ism) and we needed to help him take a nap. Any hint of awkwardness my kids felt at first washed away.



With Jimmy in my lap and Jane next to me, I held Dziadziu’s hand and he laced his fingers between mine. I stroked his arm, kissed the back of his hand and held it to me cheek over and over again. When he became agitated,I rubbed his chest and told him everything was going to be okay, that he could just rest. The kids played with the Memory game cards again on the floor and periodically climbed on my lap and petted Dziadziu's hand. It was so sad to see, but I was glad we were giving Dziadziu as much comfort as possible.

After a while it became clear that the kids were hungry. We had been there for at least two hours so my husband picked us up to take us to lunch. I hugged Dziadziu and gave him a kiss. I stroked the hair on his head and told him I’d see him soon. While we were at lunch, he sat up, took his last breath, and died. His Rough Day was over and he was finally having the nap he needed.

Fast forward three weeks to yesterday. My kids have been sick and I swear there is a full moon. Or they have their periods. Or something, because they are both having Rough Days. Really Rough Days. There have been much fighting, many time outs and a boat load of frustration. By the end of dinner time I am just done. My husband takes Jimmy upstairs to get his jammies on while I sit with Jane as she slowly, slowly finishes her dinner. I put my elbows on the table, my head in my hands and a few tears rolled down my cheeks.

Jane gets out of her chair and before I can ask her where she thinks she is going, she is at my side. She asks me what is wrong and without thinking I tell her I am having a Rough Day. I worry.

“Like Jimmy and Jane is having a Rough Day today, Momma?” I tell her yes. Then she picks up my hand and tries to lace her fingers between my own. She uses her free hand to stroke my arm, kisses the back of my hand, and then bends over to rub my hand on her cheek. She tells me that she loves me and that it’s going to be okay. I burst into real tears and I scoop her up and squeeze her tight. These kids never cease to amaze me. The make me look like a good mother.

Fancy Pants Leggings: Pattern Review

I worked in retail for over ten years. As a result, I tend to rush the seasons. Actually, now that I think about it, I did that long before I was even old enough to work. My birthday is in May and as I kid I always wanted to wear shorts. When you live in upstate NY, mid May is occasionally cool enough to need a hoodie. When my mother told me I couldn't wear shorts to school I'd just walk out in jeans, then change in the garage on the way to the bus stop!


Now that it is July, I'm day dreaming of autumn. I want jeans and hoodies, boots and wooly sweaters, tights and clogs. I want a steaming cup of hot coffee and to snuggle on the porch under a quilt. I want the leaves to change. I want pumpkins and stews and fresh baked bread. Naturally, when I got my hands on a copy of the Fancy Pants Leggings by Laura of Titchy Threads I pulled out the red thermal knit I'd been hording saving since Jimmy was born. It's so soft and snuggly and I got it for a steal at my favorite fabric store, M&L fabrics.


My kids are the kind of kids who just want to throw on pajama pants at bed time with a tshirt. Mostly because it is what their dad and I sleep in, but also because I hate the feel of 'fire proof' kid's sleepwear fabric. (You guys know it's not really fire proof at all. The legal standard is that is stops burning once removed from a source flame. It's usually made of polyester, which melts and still burns the hell out of kids.) In any case, I hate the stuff. My kiddos are super tall and skinny, too so they either have droopy pants or cropped ones. I was hopeful that the Fancy Pants Leggings would be a great jammy pants pattern for our house. Turns out, Jane thought they were great leggings too and wore them all day. Ninety degree heat and all. That's love.


This pattern is so easy to stitch up and sew along. The instructions are clear and making sewing up knits a breeze. I usually hesitate to sew with knits because I usually end up frustrated and messing things up. Laura's pattern makes is easy. After Kitschy Coo's Lady Skater pattern and this one, I am so much more comfortable with knits. The only way to conquer your fears is to take them right on. Practice does make perfect.


I can't recommend this pattern enough. Both kiddos love their Fancy Pants Leggings. A lot. Now I've just got to take a day to whip them up a few more pairs. And probably some shorts versions as well, since, realistically speaking, it won't be autumn here form months. UGH!


Go get yourself a copy of the Fancy Pants Leggings and tell Laura that Moxie sent you!

May the 4th be with you.

Princess Leia: Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.

[Pause]  [Look left.]   [Look right.]  [Leia turns off R2D2.]




Team Dorsey is celebrating Star Wars Day today. Let's be honest; it's a great excuse for the kids to wear their homemade costumes aside from Halloween. (We really need more costuming holidays.) Plus, this year Jane is old enough to tell people "May the fourth be with you."

This year Jimmy perfectly fits into last year's R2D2 costume. Jane's costume I whipped up this morning and the light sabers I made from the pool noodle that kept Jane from rolling out of bed. (Another vote for Mom of the Year. I know.)






I realize I have committed a foul and given light sabers to two characters who should not have them. To be honest, I was always pissed as a kid that Leia wasn't a secret Jedi. That is just a bunch of sexist bullshit on George Lucas' part. Plus, I suppose if she had her brains, her slave bikini and a light saber, Leia would have just defeated the damn Empire herself.


She's a natural with a light saber.



The best part of the photo shoot was that my kids have never had light sabers before. I had to pose them and show them how to hold them crossed so it looked like they were battling. After I got a few good shots I told them they could hit each other with them. Hit each other with light sabers? It was on.









I'm super stoked that the baby Yoda hat I crocheted for Jimmy is still making the rounds with my nephews and Link is rocking it with full Start Wars pride!




Yoda: Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you?

So have yourselves a great Star Wars Day and May the Fourth be with you.


(She's got a bit of the dark side in her, too!)

After years of making everyone else costumes, I've realized I *still* don't even have a Star Wars t-shirt to wear today. Sigh. And hey, I'm taking my final anatomy lab practical this morning. I'm hoping The Force is with me, too.

[End Scene.]

Crafting with kids

The other weekend we went out to a street sale slash handmade extravaganza. We met up with Jane from Buzzmills who was hosting an adorable tent for kids to come and make crafts.



The kids made butterflies and flowers that they are still cherishing weeks later.



The whole experience left me thinking that maybe I could try a bit harder to encourage my kids to be creative makers too. Jane is always doing such awesome crafts with her kids and clearly all I need is some pipe cleaners, tissue paper and paper clips. In the past I've been more of a "fine you can sit on my lap while I sew" crafting mom. You are more likely to hear me say "No! You can't use the rotary cutter" or "That's is *my* fabric." Hangs head. I can do better.

So yesterday when the kids were driving me bonkers because it was raining and I was trying to study, I just gave up. I herded them to the kitchen table, got out the scraps of elastic cord I keep from the shoes we buy at Target (yeah, I keep those. Call Hoarders on me.) and a box of ditalini. (They're little sliced tubes of noodle. Know your pasta, people!)







Turns out scrap elastic and uncooked pasta is a kid craft made in heaven. Jimmy could even thread noodles on his elastic. Today we had to go to Wegman's for more kinds of "beads".



It was fun and I had a nice happy time with me kids that they loved and made me feel like less of a crap mom for putting them off while I sew or study. Of course, it all came to an end did after Jimmy mixed all the different kinds of noodles together (which make the voices mad) and then made a game of flicking zitis across the table and all over the floor. Sigh.

But I know you are jealous of my new Ditialini bracelet. ;)