The Color Purple

I don't like the color purple.

I know, some of you are shocked. You love purple. And that's the thing about purple. It's a strong color about which people have strong opinions. 

For eight years I have been the mother of a girl, and yet I have maintained a purple-free household. The occasional purple t-shirt we have purchased, but there has been no bedroom, no birthday party in which purple has prominantly featured.

Until now.

My eldest daughter's bedroom is now Bher's Premium "Hosta Flower" lavender with a white and purple duvet on the bed and purple curtains on the window. 

Sophia turns nine on Valentine's Day and what she wanted more than anything in the world was to redecorate her bedroom. While she was still in the womb, Mommy got to choose her colors.  Following the height of Pottery Barn baby fashion in 2004, I chose pink and green bedding with Vanilla Milkshake on the walls (Daddy said no to pink walls, or they would have been pink). Since infancy, we've obviously bought a big girl bed and a desk, but the vintage "Dick and Jane" art was still on the walls and the color scheme the same.

Slowly, Sophia has shed her baby accessories (a baby carriage-shaped vase that her first bouquet of flowers came in) and added age-appropriate trinkets (Harry Potter Legos, soccer trophies). It's been a blending of how Mommy envisioned her first baby girl to be and who she actually is becoming.

But now, in an obvious metaphor, Sophia has declared herself her own person, and I, very wisely if I do say so myself, have embraced it. Even championed her cause to Daddy who was still championing the yellow walls (he likes purple less than I do, and also dislikes painting).  See before and after photos!

And here's the odd thing: I love the new purple room! It's beautiful and soothing and so well-suited to my wonderful, creative girl.

Even more, I love the opportunity to ponder a great truth of mothering: We can try to direct our kids to what we like or wish for them, but ultimately loving them is about learning to love who they actually are and what they love. I have tried to shape my daughters' palettes with healthy food; their musical ear with diverse artists; their creative impulses by exposure to beauty; a love of learning by much reading; their relationship to God by exposure to His word and His love. (My mom did the same thing, and blames herself, by the way for my dislike of purple, because she dressed me in it constantly). But ultimately, I'm not in control of who they are and what they choose to love.

I know the future will give me ample opportunities to love what they love. Maybe it will be lacrosse. Maybe I'll be sitting (cheering silently) at chess tournaments. Maybe it will be admiring their first tattoo (oh please no!).

During both my pregnancies, I dreamed a dream of my little girls and imagined out their lives. So far, they have both surprised me and surpassed what I expected. They have, of course, exasperated me with unanticipated challenges as well. But I keep dreaming my own dreams for them, clinging to them loosely and giving their lives over to God.

Meanwhile, I'm getting lots of practice in the color purple. Before I tackled Sophia's walls, I made my new baby niece a quilt in the challenging shade. My sister in law, pregnant with her third daughter, decided it was time to bring violet into her household as well. I struggled with the project; it's so much easier to be creative in one's own familiar palette, but when it was done, I loved it. As I love my darling sis-in-law, and my new baby niece Hailey who I've not yet met (she lives several states away).

I hope she will love the color her mommy chose for her, but perhaps she will want Vanilla Milkshake walls when she's nine. We're dreaming dreams for her, our little five-day-old baby, but we still don't really know what she will be like, what she will love. Won't it be exciting to find out.

Pet Peeves on a Short Leash

Ross: What is Monica's biggest pet peeve?
Joey: Animals dressed as humans!
Ross: That is correct.
from Friends, "The One with All the Embryos"

In my last post I painted a word picture: pet peeves are small things that annoy me, which I nurture and dress in silly clothes and keep near me. And as I said before, I don't think peeves are things I should keep as pets. Instead, I believe I should figure out what bugs me, why it bugs me, and then try to stop letting it bug me.

So I've been a'thinkin on this for a day or two. And here are my pet peeves:

1. People who get to the front of the line in the grocery store, wait until all their items are scanned, and then start looking around in their purse for their wallet.

2. People who get to the front of the line in a restaurant, and then start reading the menu.

3. Stores that have really long lines and only one cashier, while employees walk around stocking shelves and don't open another register.

4. People who don't pay attention at stop lights when the light turns green. They they take so long that they get through at the last minute but I get stuck at the red.

I could go on, but I think the theme is pretty clear. I have a patience problem.
The dialogue at the top of this post is from one of my favorite "Friends" episodes. The friends are having a trivia contest to prove which of them knows each other best, and one of the four categories is "Fears and Pet Peeves." Monica's pet peeve is above. Chandler's fear, the episode reveals, is Michael Flately's Lord of the Dance ("His legs flail about as if independent from his body!").

This is a telling episode. Its true: if you want to really know what defines a person, find out what their pet peeves and phobias are. Because again, the things we let chronically irritate us say a lot about our character, especially when we list them like items on a resume rather than as items on the list of things we'd like to change about ourselves. I'm not sure exactly what is says about Monica that she hates it when people dress up their pets. But I know what mine say about me: I do not like to be kept waiting.

Again, I have a patience problem. But I do notice that these things don't bother me if I've allowed myself enough time to get somewhere or do something. It's only when I'm trying to squeeze too many things into too little time (which is usually) that this irritates me. (And also, if I'm really, really hungry.) When I've left a margin of time, I am extremely forbearing and polite; I might even let you go ahead of me if you have less than 10 items in your cart.

But generally, places like JoAnn Craft stores need to put up a sign just for me that says "Your poor planning is not our crisis." Or possibly, "Just because you are trying to buy black felt and Steam-a-Seam before your daughter gets out of school and left your house too late does not mean we need to page someone else to the cutting table or open another register." But that would probably take up too much space.

So, reality check, Amanda. The world does not revolve around you and your housewifely agenda. Becoming short tempered with the children, the cashiers, and your fellow drivers on the road is not worth crossing one more item on your list.

I shall now edit my list of things to do and, in so doing, put my pet peeves on a shorter leash. How about you?

Spring Fever

There are 158 reasons for my husband to be worried right now.

Today is an exciting day in my life: It's the day my Martha Stewart Living magazine came in the mail. There is a tragic crease in the front cover, which means it won't be pristine like many of the other Martha magazines I have catalogued on my kitchen shelf. But still, the very sight of it's robin-egg blue sheen gives me a thrill from the tip of my thimble finger all the way down to the toes on my right foot, the one I use to make my sewing machine whir.

There are two times of the year I'm particularly vulnerable to Living's influence. One is at Christmas (which starts the day after Halloween, in terms of crafting season), and the other is Easter time. I actually climbed up into the attic on my own -- and expressly against my husband's wishes -- to get my Easter goodies out of the attic the day before Lent. I suffered ridicule from both my best friend and Hubby for doing so. Even my seven year old came home and said, "Mom, why are there Easter bunnies all over the house? When is Easter?"

I can't help it! I love to make my house pretty for spring, because I crave the newness of the season so very much.

So, back to Living. The April 2011 cover says "spring starts here! 158 reasons to celebrate, decorate & refresh." Did you hear that? Refresh! Doesn't it just make you want to get out your decoupage paste and fire up your glue gun?

Over the years I have attempted many lovely Easter decorations from Living. Many of them have been flops, to be honest. The eggs I tried to wrap in lace and dye blue -- supposedly the lace would block the dye to leave a white lacy pattern on the eggshells -- just turned into blue eggs. I got a lot of scraps of blue lace out of them too. The eggshells I tried to puncture and blow the actual egg out of to create lasting heirlooms for my little girls just got crushed, and my fingers got very sticky to boot. However, my Styrofoam eggs that I decoupaged pastel scraps of fabric on did come out lovely, though in the heat of the attic where they're stored, they kind of melt and stick together every season, and have to be pried apart.

On the cover of this month's issue are some gorgeous white and blue stenciled eggs in a next with a pristine Easter chick sugar cookie nestled in the middle. I want to make it soooo bad. It's most likely outside my skill set, but I can't resist.

I know that once I open the magazine, a wave of anxiety will come over me, the way a broke shoe fetishist might feel in a Jimmy Choo shop. So many pretty things that I want to make mine, but will likely be unable to attain.

Still, I look forward with pleasure to this evening. When the kids are safely in bed, and with my husband working late tonight, I will make a pot of herbal tea and sit down for some quality time with Martha. Read my blog throughout the month of March to see what kind of superfluous projects I attempt. This is living indeed!

Failure Can Be Fun

"There are no rules you can follow. You have to go by instinct. And you have to be brave." --Whitney Otto, How to Make an American Quilt

There is a creature who resides in my three year old Livie's room. My husband believes he is some incarnation of the Loch Ness Monster. My friend calls him the Turducken. Only I know what he really is, and still see him that way. He's a deformed turtle.

Nessy, as he is now called in our family, is not the offspring of a Turkey and a Duck (thank you very much, friend). His mother is Creativity and his father, Bravado.

You see, Livie's older sister had a big pillow shaped like a sea turtle in her room, made for her by a Hawaiian cousin. Liv was always stealing it, so I thought I would make her one. Can't be that hard, I thought. Big round pillow, add turtle head and flippers. I had the other one to work with as a pattern. And I truly thought mine would be even better because I would use wonderful vintage chenille and batik fabrics. Well, you can see the results: a kind of turkey head and duck tail, and no discernable shell shape. Livie loves him, however, and the colors are nice. So though I don't choose to bring Nessy to boutiques as an example of my fine work, she's a success of sorts.

This is a common tale in our home. I see something homemade by someone else or produced by a factory in China, and I almost always think, "Hey, I could do that!" I'm often wrong. Another fine example is the scarecrow I made with the kids last fall. I was tired of seeing all the cookie cutter scarecrows at craft stores, and thought, Well, farmers used to make theirs, why not me? Well. Mine is probably more authentic looking that the mass-produced one, but it's not really very cute. I used an old floral onesie and some fabric scraps, a handful of hay and some felt. Her hay arms are always falling off. So are her legs. She's rather barrel chested. And the dye of her felt hat ran so she has dye streaks down her face from the rain. My daughters like her, however. So she stays, albeit behind in a back corner next to a broken birdhouse and an old gnome torso that we call No-Leg Gnomen.

There are quilters and crafters who like to do things exactly by the rules, follow the patterns, and buy all the exact materials they see on the sample in the store. I never do that. I like to draw my own things with the help of clip art from google images search. I like to pick out fabrics from all different lines. And I like to move things around and change the sizes. But I throw a lot of stuff out, or at least hide a lot of stuff from my more skilled quilting friends. Gosh, I have fun though.

You have to be brave when you want to be creative. Because inevitably you will fail some of the time. Perfectionism is the enemy of creativity, because it presupposes a "correct" outcome, and that's not actually truly creative, or at least not in the liberating, joyful way that I experience it. It's not that I'm totally pleased when something comes out screwy, when I birth a Turducken when what I wanted was a turtle. But this is how mythical creatures get born! This is how discoveries are made. Great chefs produce a lot of inedible dishes, I'm sure. But sometimes they come up with something grand, like California fusion cuisine, or Reese's peanut butter cups.

I consider this blog as Part II from yesterday, my calling to Halloween creativity. I know that not all people need to create to clear their heads the way that I do; just like some people thrive on running while some people's bodies (mine) are just not made to do that. But a little creativity is good for everyone. I believe it's one of the ways in which we were created in God's image. We invent; we experiment; we create beauty out of the mundane; whimsy out of the scraps of life.

So carve a pumpkin. Pick up a brush. Grow a flower. Decorate a cupcake. Failure can be fun. Failure, in fact, can be its own kind of success.

Happy Halloween

I am a danger to myself and others at this time of year. I walk into Michael's craft store, Target, Dollar Tree, or past the racks of magazines at the grocery store, and I feel myself beginning to get worked into a frenzy. It's craft season! It's Halloween! Preheat the oven! Find my scissors! Where's the construction paper? I'm more excited about the $6 bottle of sprinkles I bought this week than the new purple sweater I got on sale. Yippee!

Do you know how many hours I have spent in the last month on marthastewart.com? Neither does Hubby, so don't tell him. I just can't get enough of Halloween cupcakes, fall wreaths, jack-o-lanterns, and more. Last year, as I was busily turning pine cones into owl ornaments (Martha used pine-coned shaped boxes, but I use real pinecones from my yard, thank you very much), Sophia asked, "Mom, why do you have to make everything you see?" Oh, if she only knew how many things I want to make and don't.

Halloween is a great time for even the non-crafty to enjoy being creative, because it's almost all about making things for kids, and the kids aren't picky. Jeff and I have actually made it our mission to get our craft-wary friends' hands dirty every year by hosting a pumpkin carving party. And here, reaching the dozens of people who may or may not read this, I hope to inspire you to do one homemade thing this year. Here's a list of options:

1. Host a pumpkin carving party! Put out newspaper, grab some spoons and some old knives and invite your neighbors. Everyone will feel insecure, laugh, and get into it. Give prizes in silly categories like "Most abstract" and "best pumpkin with three eyes." If you want to get the men excited, bring out a power drill and watch the pumpkin pulp fly. Don't cover your backyard with straw, however. We tried it one year and I think there still might be some straw out there somewhere.

2. Let the kids design their own jack-o-lantern. We give Sophia a Sharpie marker and let her go to town. Then Hubby does his best to carve whatever shapes she's drawn. It looked awesome, if slightly abstract, and she was so proud.

3. Make, don't buy, a Halloween costume. The best ones are always silly conglomerations from the dress up box, if you ask me. I hate all the made-in-China superhero stuff. One year, Sophia was a cowgirl wearing my brother's suede vest from the 1970s, a pair of hand-me-down boots, and a Knott's Berry Farm hat. Livie wore a peasant blouse my friend sent me from Ukraine and a pair of outgrown jeans I cut the bottoms off of, and a pirate hat. She was hilarious.

4. Be flexible. I like to buy a big, hot costume for the kids, take their picture in it, and then take it back to Old Navy, because, seriously, the kids always refuse to wear it on Halloween when it's usually 90 degrees here in Southern California. I always have a back up option in the dress up box for those occasions. Last year, Livie wore her Babystyle peacock costume for the whole month of October, and wouldn't put it on on the 31st. Since Sophia was Tinkerbell, I pulled out a pink leotard and wings, and Livie was a pink fairy. It was one of my favorite years.

5. Make caramel apples. They are the easiest thing in the world to do, but possibly the most delicious. The hardest part is unwrapping the caramels, but make the kids help you. They make great teacher gifts for your school Halloween party. There are recipes on-line, and on the caramel package.

6. Make tissue paper ghosts. Ball up a paper towel, wrap it in a Kleenex, tie a string around it, draw on eyes and hang it from the ceiling. Don't hang it from a ceiling fan and try to make it fly though. Trust me.

7. Dress up! One year I was a 1950s housewife with red lipstick, a pink apron and pearls. I've also been a cowgirl and a cat. I went to a Girl Scout Party on Monday as a witch (I was the only mommy dressed up, which was embarrassing, and I got some cat calls from passing cars, but so what?). This year, I have a blond wig and I think I'm going to be Martha Stewart. My wig is pretty ratty so Hubby says I'll look like a Martha who's just been on a weekend bender. With all that gal accomplishes, I wouldn't be surprised if that really is what she does when the season's over.

If you're not interested in creativity, we can still be friends. But if you're just a little intimidated by it, read on tomorrow for why failure can be fun.

Happy Halloween!

The Coffee Cozy

Isn't it lovely when you can combine two things you love? Some of my favorites: eating dessert and talking to a friend, swimming in the ocean and hanging out with my husband, working out and eating veggies (ha -- just through that last one in to see if you were paying attention!).

This weekend I did a project that combined two great loves: coffee and sewing. Sort of. Hubby gave me a wonderful book for my birthday (I subtly pulled up the page on half.com for him) called Pretty Little Patchwork. I saw it in a Beverly's craft store and had to have it. Project Number One for me was what the book called "perky bird coffee jackets" but I prefer Coffee Cozies. So much chicer and greener than the cardboard sleeve from Starbucks! I shall keep it in my purse from now on.

These were so fun and quick to make. The hardest part is deciding which funky fabric to use. For one of my BFFs, I did a turquoise and orange combination, and for me, a blue, pink and green. (NOTE: the green here is my favorite fabric ever, by Anne Marx for Free Spirit. I buy a yard whenever I find it.)

Hubby says I will lose my Cozy within a week. This is quite possible. But then I can make a new one! Meanwhile, if you have a birthday coming up, let me know and I'll make you one. I can do hearts, flowers, apples, cupcakes -- not just birds. I also sell them for $12 if you're looking for a funny little gift for a girlfriend. Happy caffeinating!

Old Glory

I married into a creative family. Mother-in-law is an awesome seamstress (from quilts to drapes to clothing to handbags). Father-in-law works with wood, restores antiques, and builds model boats. Sister-in-law April has worked in interior design, dabbled in paper making and is now a fabulous chef. Sister-in-law Kari is a landscape designer and gourmet baker in her own right. Brother-in-law Cody is an engineer. Husband Jeff is an architect and artist. I, well, I'm a dabbler in anything with fabric, glue, construction paper, pipe cleaners -- whatever -- so I fit in. People always tell us that we should somehow go into business together, but one of the only times we have all truly collaborated recently is on our entry for the Balboa Peninsula's annual Fourth of July parade float.

Our rewards have been slim (I think one year we won twenty bucks for a local burger joint, and another year five dollars towards ice cream). But we're still basking in the glory of our accomplishments. This year, half of the Anderson family was away for a wedding, so it was the first in several years that were absent from the event, and as I'm missing that creative family time, I thought I'd take a moment to reminisce.

The two years that our entries were victorious in the prestigious "wagon" category, we were up past midnight working away in the garage like so many cobblers elves. The men typically are our engineers, specializing in all the cardboard, Exacto-knife, and duck tape construction; sometimes they also incorporate spray paint. Meanwhile, the women use construction paper, Sharpie marker,felt, fabric, ribbon, and tinsel.

One year, the men managed to turn our Radio Flyer into a tall ship complete with cannons, after our then three year old said she wanted the float to be a pirate ship. Kari and Cody, who couldn't make it, still contributed by christening her "The Balboa Buccaneer" over the phone. My contribution was the Jolly Roger made red, white and blue, with flags in place of crossbones.

Our second award-winning float, also our daughter's idea, was a cityscape of the Big Apple, in honor of Aunt April's two-year stint in New York. Grammy sewed our eldest a Statue of Liberty costume; I made a Styrofoam torch. Aunt April made all the taxis with little American flag toothpicks coming out their windows.

Next year, we've got big fish to fry. In all previous entries, only one granddaughter has been old enough to ride. By next year,my in-laws will have four granddaughters. Wouldn't it be cool if they all could ride? I'm thinking patriotic mermaids on papier mache rocks? Or maybe they could all wear Daughters of the Revolution costumes sewing one big flag like Betsy Ross. These might not work as baby number four will be about 8 months old. I better keep thinking. In the meantime, we'll continue to enjoy past glories.