Just Do It (Or Make It, As The Case May Be)

How many times has someone said to you, "I've always wanted to learn to sew," and what is your reply?

a) You should! It's so rewarding.

b) I know a great class at _________.

c) I can teach you.

d) Forget it, you don't have the patience.

(Sorta kidding on that last one).

And how many times has someone told you about the (usually better than yours) sewing machine they have stashed away in a closet (and that they have never used)?

If you're like me, I'm guessing many.

My mom once said to me, "I've always wanted to learn how to canoe." My mom lives on an island in the Pacific Ocean — where the weather is pretty temperate most of the year. Oh, and in Canada, where Parks and Recreation programming is so cheap it's a sin not to sign up for something. She could probably go canoeing seven days a week for about 10 months of the year. So why hasn't she?

And why haven't those people we all know just dropped a damn bobbin into their (better than ours!) sewing machines and started stitching?

Lack of time is a reasonable excuse for only so long. So is access to knowledge: I can tell you where to get free patterns and online tutorials, and that there's no shame in practicing on old bedsheets.

It's the same reason I put off learning an instrument, taking up a sport, or attempting to make bread again: fear of failure.

When it comes to sewing, there's the fear that whatever you make will be so horribly botched, it will resemble Denise Huxtable's "Gordon Gartrell" shirt. Or for canoeing, that you will fall into the water, embarrassing yourself in front of your (really, no more advanced than you) classmates (or drowning, I guess?).

In the past few years I've become pretty risk-averse — a side-effect, I think, of becoming a parent, as well as some minor PTSD following an attack in the park, and the fact I haven't had health insurance. But fear of losing life and limb — those are OK to cling to, in my mind. However, if the only danger of taking up a new task is bruising your ego a little, there's never going to be a better time than now to just go for it.

Over the holiday break while my husband was home, I should have been sewing. But I don't have any good fabric in my stash and our personal fiscal cliff is still on the horizon for the moment, so I took up a different project — something that I'd been thinking of for some time, but had put off out of fear of failure. It did involve some sewing — freestyle machine embroidery — as well as painting. And, because I'm prudent like that, I used an old bedsheet as my canvas.

Here's the photo that inspired me. I took this last summer while we were visiting my dad at his ultra-remote West Coast British Columbia home. It's probably the best photo I have ever shot. I love the colors, composition and pure joy on my kid's face. I've been wanting to do something with it since then:

 
This is not a humble brag, though I know it may look like it. I'm not actually that thrilled with my execution of this art project. But I hung it up anyway, and I'm sharing it here to show you that nothing bad actually happened when I attempted something new. I'm down one ripped bedsheet, a quarter-spool of thread, and a few small bottles of fabric paint. And the only person who has criticized my effort can't wipe her own butt (not naming names).

This is both my pep talk for today, and the crux of my New Year's resolution: don't let fear of failure get in the way of anything this year. If you've been wanting to start stitching, grab an old bedsheet and fire up the Google box to search for "how to thread a sewing machine." If you want to make art, turn off that part of your brain that says you can't draw. If you want to play guitar, don't worry about your roommates' judgement of your feeble strumming. Nobody is Jimi Hendrix (or Sandra Betzina) at first. You'll get better eventually.

Can you tell the outline is stitching?

This resolution is borne out of being a parent of a currently 4.5-year-old kid. At age 3 and 4, I witnessed her joyfully experimenting in all manner of hobby and activity — and with so much self-confidence. In her mind, she was an artist, an athlete and a musician (also, she mistakenly believes she can speak Spanish. Again: so much self-confidence1). It hadn't yet occurred to her that she would only excel in one field. I'm guessing most of us (aside from natural-born pessimists) start out this way — enjoying pretty much everything we try.

But already I can see the fear of failure creeping in. She'll walk away from a game if she's not winning, crumple up a drawing and have a tantrum if it's not exactly as she'd hoped it would be. And sometimes, she'll avoid an activity altogether if she suspects she won't be the best at it — even when her dad cheerfully says, "Everyone won, because everyone had fun!"

I don't think anyone or anything is to blame for this. It's natural; success feels so good, that we can begin to fear its opposite, even though the anticipation of failure is usually far worse than the actual act of losing. It's an exceptional person who can try something new without any fear of failure. It can be debilitating if we let it. I know it's something I'm still trying to shake (and the reason I never played sports or wear white after Labor Day).

One way to help my kid channel her fear of failure into something positive, I've decided, is to let her see me fail. More specifically: let her see me fail and NOT freak out about it. So that's my resolution this year: try more — and fail gracefully.

Any sewing (or other) new things you've been avoiding out of fear of failure? Name it and claim it! (Did I make that up? Or Oprah?)

What We've Been Up To This Holiday

The Wisconsin string art I made for my husband, in its new home on top of a bookcase

I hope you all enjoyed your Christmas/White Anglo Saxon Winter Privilege Night (anyone else on here a Schmidt fan?). We really did. My husband has had the entire week off and we've been making the most of this time together; he starts his new job Jan. 2, and it will be back to rare sightings as he works hard to prove himself. 

In the days before Christmas I was hurrying to finish illustrating this book that I wrote for my daughter. It's about a raccoon who's unfairly accused of stealing an egg. In order to clear his name, he has find the real culprit with the help of his friends: fox and squirrel. Lucy was pretty delighted with the book, though she solved the mystery much earlier than I thought:

I also once again made a Yule Log for our Christmas Eve celebration with friends. It's made with chocolate cake, chocolate mousses, and chocolate ganache. The mushrooms you see are made of meringue and cocoa. It's an amazing dessert, worth writing about. But there's always a point in making it when I scream, "I'm NEVER doing this again!" and everybody in my family runs away as fast as they can. It requires so many steps — like a whole day of prep, baking, whisking and assembling, and the crucial rolling of the mousse-topped cake is a difficult task I always mess up. I'll probably make it again next year. That's how good it is.

On the eve of Christmas Eve, we went to our friends' apartment for a little party. It was a little late to bring along a kid, but I campaigned hard for us all to brave the bus ride to Washington Heights. And it was an amazing night thanks to our friends, performers both, who are so generous with their talents. My four-year-old was ready to join the circus after a night spent spinning plates, juggling, and watching our friends perform their hilarious faux hypnotism act. Matt also made everyone pipe cleaner mustaches: 

It's so worth breaking routine for making memories with friends.

On Christmas Eve we went to our good friends'  apartment in Inwood, where we ate some traditionally American dishes as well as Dominican food, and — of course — the Buche de Noel (Yule Log) cake. We sang carols, cuddled their baby, and tried to keep the excited energy to a manageable level for these two:

Soul sisters

 My kid was the most gracious gift-getter this Christmas. Everything was amazing. All of it was her favorite. She was all smiles for the entire day, no tantrums, no whining. A Christmas miracle:

Yesterday we went skating at Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. It was definitely weird for this Canadian to ice-skate in the shadow of the elevated 1 train. There were more people hanging on the boards than I have ever seen. But at $13/person I can understand why our neighbors here in the Bronx aren't making skating a regular winter activity. It was more than we could afford, but we did it anyway, and it was so worth it. Lucy took to it like a true (half) Canadian. 

I haven't sewn a thing these past few weeks, which causes me a little guilt, but there's an alleged blizzard coming our way today, so I may take a few hours to get deep into the new Craftsy.com class I started before the holidays hit. It's Kenneth King's "Jeanius" class, which is all about how to reverse-engineer your fave jeans/pants. 

I've been watching the videos, trying to figure out what jeans to use for this project. I don't actually have a pair that I like, which is definitely a requisite for finding an item to copy. Fortunately, before Christmas I shopped for some new clothes, and found this perfect pair of tuxedo-style cropped cigarette pants (I don't yet have a pic, or else I would show you what I mean by that description). 

They're by W118 Walter Baker, which is not a brand I have ever heard of, but they are divine. I'm pear-shaped but they magically balance out my frame a great deal. I feel really good in them. They're not jeans, obviously, but the method Kenneth King teaches in the Jeanius class can be employed in copying pretty much anything, I think.   

That's the update from here. I hope your holidays have been just as fun!

Introducing our Semi-Annual Family Christmas Music Video!

Hey Blog buddies! I have a special gift for you today: The semi-annual Paulson-Beaubien Family Christmas music video! (That's me and my crew, just in case that's not clear). I'll spare you the details until after you watch it (but knitters and embroiderers should watch for some handmade offerings):




Our family got the best early Christmas present earlier this month: a full-time job for my husband, thus completing his career change and ending our year of self-sacrifice. (Can I get a "WOOHOO!"?)

That said, it doesn't start until January, so we'll be enjoying another lean Christmas this year. But I didn't want to forgo giving completely (I know what you're thinking: make stuff, dummy! But the cost of shipping adds up to more than we can afford; we both live far from our families and closest friends, and I've learned that even a nice batch of homemade caramels can end up costing you a fair amount when they all have to travel 2,000 miles).

A video seemed like something we could share widely to bring joy to our family and friends, without spending any money. And I knew grandparents especially would love to see Lucy. (We did it once before, in 2009, when Lucy was just one. I still love watching that video, even if my drumming was pretty poor.)

The concept was mine, but Ryan and I wrote the song together (a super fun thing to do with a bottle of wine on a Saturday night). I did nearly everything else, including video editing, making embroidered titles AND a knitting project gone wrong (purposefully, I swear). Lucy was quite obliging, though somehow she manages to yawn in the middle of a good take, making it look like she's just so over it. Four-year-olds. What are you gonna do?

I hope you enjoy the video. Feel free to share if you do (like the song says, it's easy to re-gift this Christmas song!).

Merry Christmas!

Sneak Peeks Aplenty

Sometimes it's the little things. (Actually, for me I find it's ALWAYS the littles things). Little things like beautiful vintage buttons (bought from Button Odyssey's Etsy store for just $3.99):

My four-year-old had serious button-envy after the package arrived yesterday. There were seven in the set and I only needed three for this Lauren Moffat knockoff I'm making, so I generously gave her one. She's been carrying it around ever since. She even asked me if I could make her wedding ring with it, so she also obviously appreciates the little things in life. (Also: I think a ring made from one of these buttons WOULD be awesome. My kid clearly inherited the re-make, re-use, re-do gene).

I'm also working on a cool Christmas project that has kindled my love of tiny things. Especially tiny things with unexpected details.

And below you'll see a sneak peek at another BIG project I am SO excited about. Yes, that's my embroidery. I don't have a hoop and next-to-no skills, so it's pretty shoddy. But as my husband always says, don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. (OK, I think Voltaire said that first, but Ryan repeats it often enough, I'm giving him credit for reminding me not to fixate on mistakes to the point that I cannot accomplish a goal.) And anyway, this is just a minor part in the larger whole — which will be revealed eventually.



Other little things that have me happy today:

• The perfect cup of coffee
• Two hours of silence while my kid is at preschool
• Sunshine (oh wait, that's a big thing?)

What little thing is bringing you joy today?

Best Thing/Worst Thing

This year has been a challenging one for our family. While not awful/horrible/no good/very bad like 2011 was, 2012 has forced us to dig ever deeper, drawing on reserves of endurance, patience, thrift and faith (not in a God, but each other).

My husband went back to school, and has been gone all day and night throughout most of the last 10 months. The burden of child care falls on me, and I also work from home. That we don't have family nearby who can help out (or the money to spend on a babysitter) is exhausting. I never, ever get a break. And even when I sleep, I am worrying. After all, we've spent thousands we don't even have on the hope that his talent will lead us to a more prosperous place. 

But the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel is within view. He's now interning, which is wonderful because he loves the work and is hopeful it will lead to an actual job one day soon. But for right now, life can feel grueling. I cry every other day just worrying about Christmas. The election keeps my husband up at night.

Also, four-year-olds are not the most understanding individuals; just when you are bearing the biggest load you've had to shoulder in your lifetime, they will hand you one more thing to carry — literally and metaphorically. Like, you're carrying five bags of groceries, a backpack and her scooter, and then she'll try to hand you a booger. This has actually happened. (Also, just when you're feeling terrible about yourself, that your hair needs a new cut because it's starting to look like a sheitel, that's when your kid will decide to start calling your upper arms your "chubbies." This has also happened.) 

Aside from all the work, no play and ceaseless whining, the challenge for me is being happy with what we've got for just a little bit longer. It's a difficult thing to do, though I sometimes feel like I've mastered getting by with nothing new. But then I look at Pinterest, or the well-lit blogs of those more affluent than I, and I'm down in the dumps that I have big ideas that must all wait until another day. I struggle all the time with wanting to do more, write more, sew more, create more. But all that demands resources we just don't have. 

So I'm trying to focus this week on being grateful for what I've got — and learning to enjoy the things I can do now, rather than lamenting all the stuff I want to do but can't. 

When we're feeling stressed about paying the rent or job prospects or our future in the uncertain run-up to the U.S. election, we try to calm ourselves by taking stock daily of the good things we've got going for us. It's now a nightly game to play "best thing/worst thing." We ask each other over dinner what was the best thing that happened that day (often it's just Lucy and I because Ryan works so late on weekdays), and the worst thing too. It forces us to acknowledge that even if we're feeling shitty and stressed (or are just coming down from a tantrum, as the case may be), there was something good that happened in the day, even if small. And acknowledging the worst thing of the day gives us a chance to talk it over, enjoy a little empathy, maybe find a solution, and not feel so alone in our worry over it. 

(It's also funny as hell to hear what our four-year-old will say. She's so much like me, often her "worst thing" is something that she didn't get to do — as in, "I didn't get to watch three episodes of My Little Pony. I didn't get to play with my best friend. I didn't get to eat a whole bag of Halloween candy.") 

One longer-term project I have planned for my family is a jar like this one I saw pinned on Pinterest (the source seems to have disappeared, but you can get the idea from the description below):

But instead of waiting until New Year's Eve to take stock of all the good things that have happened to us, we'll allow ourselves to read a few whenever we need to come down from an anxiety high. It will take some follow-through to remember to add items to our "good things" jar, but the benefit of perspective will hopefully be enough encouragement for me to stick with it. It's a little Oprah-iffic, I know. But it turns out I'm not all that positive a person at times. I need to work on it. 

Likewise, instead of rueing all the projects on the backburner right now because fabric is not in our budget, I've decided to take on a few meditative projects — stuff that's satisfying, but doesn't endanger my ego if it doesn't pan out. Like knitting, which I used to do (I must have; I have a large plastic container full of yarn!).

Check out this cool cuff I saw on Pinterest (which is not all "thinspiration" and hair tutorials, after all!): 

How cute is that? I used this tutorial on tying a Turkish knot (though I did two fewer twists than the tutorial suggest because I wanted it to look like the one in the above photo). It took about an hour and a half of knitting I Cord to make this. I think it could make a decent Christmas gift for friends and sisters-in-law. 

 It's warm and cozy, and chunky too — just like my chubbies (damn kids).

So how do you maintain perspective when hard times have you down?

My husband on One Life to Live!

Our daughter was running around for a week yelling "Gigi Morasco!!" after my husband shot this small part on yesterday's episode of One Life to Live.

Follow this link if you want to see it:
http://youtu.be/9O4OB8bHpAc?t=4m35s

I got mugged and then made a dress. It sucks of course

 So what did you do while the hurricane passed? We bought a few jugs of water, some batteries, and I sewed this navy dress from McCall's 1207:

But, blargh, it's not really working for me. The fit is all off, probably because it's a "Misses" pattern, and cut to fit someone much younger than me, with a fat back and a tiny waist and a butt that starts at the base of her spine. It's just weird. And kind of uncomfortable. It's all big in the back, yet I can't really raise my arms (and I really like high-fives, so that's an issue for me). And I just don't think I have it in me to make the appropriate changes.

It has been a rough week, and I don't know any other way to say it than this: I was mugged by a crackhead in a park a block from my home. He punched me in the face in front of my three-year-old daughter, and ran off with my bag. (This is what journalism types call "burying the lede"). The police caught him within a half-hour and he's in jail now. Naturally, he was out on parole (most men who punch ladies in the face in front of small children probably are). I had to drink milkshakes for days because my jaw hurt so bad. I have a purple moustache and goatee. And my three-year-old knows the meaning of the word "mugged" now. Worst. Week. Ever.

And then, of course, a couple days later, a Category Mindfuck Hurricane blew through New York. So the past seven days have been damn near apocalyptic for our family.  I thought staying in all day and sewing this dress would be therapeutic, but mostly it just frustrated me and reminded me why I started drafting my own patterns in the first place.

It looks cute on the dress form though (and isn't that print awesome?):

 

Except the booty is all off. In fact, I think my butt would have to be about six inches higher to look good in this. And if I lift my arms, it does very strange things. Maybe if I stand still with my back against the wall, I could get away with wearing it.

 It looks pretty terrible on me. It stinks actually. And there are too many issues in too many directions for me to bother with fixing it, I think. If I wasn't working on my last nerve, maybe. Perhaps a huge belt would cover up enough to make it better? I need a dress fairy to pay me a visit.

Anyway, now I don't think I'll use this pattern for the peacock-print dress I was planning. I'm just going to buy something at H&M. (There. I said it.) Also, I finished my pink pegboard (which you can see in the background of the above photos) the day before I was mugged. But in the week since we have decided to move out of this neighbourhood, which means all my hard work measuring, drilling and mounting is a total fucking waste because I will be taking this down again in a month. The police officers told me the park where I was attacked is not safe and I shouldn't go there, but the parks are the best thing about this 'hood (the crackheads are obviously the worst). We feel so stupid for not moving sooner: we see tiny ziploc bags littered on the ground within a block of our building (and yet an apartment in my building is on the market for $650,000! Only in New York City). So where does that leave us?

I don't know. I don't want to leave my home. I can't even handle anyone walking behind me. And now we're moving, which is a goddamn arduous task in New York City. Someone please tell me to take the bodice off this mess, take it in at center back, and just draft a new skirt. It's not so hard. Also, moving can't be that bad if I've done it 15 times in my adult life, right? 

People keep telling me, "Well, now you've been mugged, which means you can't be mugged again, so that's good!!" If only the universe worked that way -- with a non-transferrable hole-punch card for the all the bad things that could possibly happen to you.

Am I taking out my anger over this assault on my dress? Maybe a little. But what else can I do?