It's a New Year

I've never really felt moved by the "New Year." It seems so arbitrary -- why does the "New Year" start in the middle of winter, when we have months of cold and snow left lying in wait? It would make more sense for the New Year to begin at the onset of spring, when change (and newness) is in the air. Or even in Fall, when the cycle of life/death enters a new stage and the new school year begins. But January? What gives?

Still, I am full of promise for 2010. The first half of 2009 was tough. The second half, much better. Many things happened for our family to give us hope that things will get even better in this new year. And though I'm as sleepless as I was when we rung in 2009, I have some hope that things will get better soon.

That's my one resolution: to have a full night's sleep this year. Preferably more than one in a row. I need to be able to concentrate in my pattern-making nightclass at FIT!

Christmas was super fun this year, though it was quiet (as quiet as any day with a 17-month-old can be). Lucy loved her elephant I knit (see left). We ate tourtiere (see below) and enjoyed lots of family time -- including a trip on NYC's Nostalgia Train, an old-timey subway from, I think, the 1930s, complete with hanging lightbulbs, low-hanging ceiling fans that could slice hairs off the head of anyone over 6-foot-4, plus vintage ads (text from one ad: "Hit him again, lady! We don't like door blockers either.").

Tradition, shmadition

Sometimes the great thing about being an adult is that you don't have to follow the rules. For example, I just opened the chocolates my mom sent in a package of small gifts for my Christmas stocking. Don't judge me: They're Purdy's. And I love Purdy's. I won't open the soap, tea, lip balm, knit gloves or hot chocolate (my mom puts the exact same stuff in my stocking every year. Plus when you ship internationally you have to write on the customs slip what the contents are. No surprises there). I won't let Lucy open anything early, and I will continue to judge my husband's folks for opening the gifts we sent last year on the day they received them -- like, 5 days before Christmas. Don't they know that makes Baby Jesus cry, I asked my formerly Pentecostal partner.

The other great thing about being an adult is that you get to make your own traditions on Christmas. You get to choose how and when you open the gifts (I think slowly with a mimosa). You plan the menu and set the playlist. And you don't have to eat brussells sprouts (unless you make them with bacon and carmelized onions, like I did at Thanksgiving -- thank you, Mark Bittman).

Ever since my parents split three days before Christmas when I was 12, I've had negative associations with the holidays. Following that awful year (I didn't get my present — a bike — for a couple months following the split), Christmas was always super stressful; dividing time between mom and dad's houses, hoping the present from one didn't make the other jealous and angry (divorced parents really are as childish as Noah Baumbach depicted in the Squid and the Whale). As an adult living away from home, I've spent numerous Christmases with friends' families, and I would much rather take part in a new tradition (oxymoron?) than try to recreate the impossible: a time when my family was happy and Christmas was full of promise.

Now, however, with my own child and living far from my family, I make the rules. The first new family tradition we adopted this year was to make a Christmas music video -- my husband on guitar and vocals, little Lucy on harmonica, and me on the drums. For this, our second Recession Christmas , we sent DVDs of the video to our families in lieu of gifts. The praise has yet to roll in, but I'm sure it will be a hit. Also, inspired by my friend Dreae's "Made, Found or Handed-down" gift-giving rule, I bought Ryan's gift on eBay (we set a very low spending limit that pretty much demanded buying second-hand).

I'm still trying to figure out what to have for dinner. In the U.S. Thanksgiving is too close to Christmas for cooking turkeys on both occasions. I hate ham, so that's out. What would be wintry and flavourful? Or totally unorthodox but delicious?

Toddler Tee Dress

It feels wrong to covet your daughter's dress -- especially when your daughter is only 16 months old. But I'm a little jealous of this purple jersey Tee dress I made for Lucy from a pattern at Burdastyle.com, upcycling an old purple jersey skirt that I haven't worn since I was pregnant, and a scrap from a T-shirt that is unsuitably short for me now. (It's unseemly for a mom to rock a belly button-skimming shirt; also, more importantly, it's totes '90s!)

I need to figure out how to adapt the pattern to fit myself. Perhaps after I take the pattern-making program at FIT, which I plan to start in February! Whee! It's the first step in my plan to undertake a total mid-life career change (that's what members of our generation are supposed to do, right?)


But a neckline this loose only looks good on Khalid Sheikh Mohammed. I think I may undo it and insert some elastic, which admittedly will ruin the geometric '80s effect of this design by Arsonista. Still, it's more practical for a tall, skinny toddler who doesn't much like wearing clothes to begin with. I can always take it out when she grows a bit and her shoulders aren't so skinny.

"I wish I loved anything as much as my kids love bubbles"

New York is full of entrepreneurs like this guy here, making gigantic bubbles out of two sticks and a string and some dishsoap. We spotted him near Bethesda Fountain in Central Park a couple weeks ago when my friend was visiting. He was making money too. People snapped photos and put money in his bucket. They stood and stared because inside we are all still like the toddlers who squeal and mosh at storytime when the teacher brings out the "goodbye bubbles." (See Tuesday mornings, Inwood Library).

I'm in the middle of, um, five or six projects in various states of completion, and my baby is still recovering from a bout of croup last week that left me running a major sleep deficit. Also Christmas is coming, did you hear? I may only have time for one special handmade gift this year: a knitted elephant that has, I think, 16 pieces. I've so far knit four of them.

DIY "Bundleme"

When I'm able to figure out a way to make something for free or cheap instead of buying something new, I feel a little like I'm sticking it to the man. I get that from my dad. He was, at times, embarassing as a kid for his relentless commitment to making everything himself.

I remember one Christmas when our block decided on candles as the unifying theme for our street's holiday decorations (there was a competition of sorts, which we actually won. The prize was a barbecue party for all the families the following summer). Everyone else bought those jumbo plastic red and yellow candles that plug in and glow. Meanwhile my dad spraypainted blue a piece of plywood, used tinfoil to make a "candleholder" and drilled holes through which he strung white lights. He then attached it to the side of our house -- much to our family's horror.

His ethos was, "Why would I buy it when I can make it myself?"

I feel that way about those expensive, but brilliant Bundlemes, which are a nessesary evil of living in New York City: when it's Eastern-Seaboard-cold outside, how do you keep your kid warm in her stroller? Barely anyone I know has a car, and taking your baby out in sub-zero temps is unavoidable. (It's against the law, apparently, to just leave your kid at home while you go to the store for milk). Last winter we just carried her, which made it easy to keep our little bear warm. But now she's 25 pounds and much too tall to zip into my jacket with me. Wearing your one-year-old in winter is no easy feat.

Anyway, back to the Bundleme. They're amazing in their simplicity -- essentially a short sleeping bag that attaches to your stroller. You zip your baby in, keeping them toasty warm while they're shuttled about the city. They're totally awesome. They're over $100. And everyone has one. Someone out there is so rich. I hope it was a smartypants mom who had the idea.

While $100 is not an enormous sum to ask for keeping your darling baby snugly warm the whole winter through, we don't have $100 to burn. What we did have is a down-filled sleeping bag that has been used once in the past four years. Chopping it up for Lucy's sake seemed like a no-brainer.

So here's how I did it:

Materials:
-sleeping bag
-a few yards of seam binding

1. Lay the open sleeping bag along the length of your stroller, positioning the bottom end on the foot rest, and use a piece of chalk or some masking tape to mark the curve along the top of the seat, and the height of the front of the bag. I then pinned my seam binding tape along that line:

2. Straight-stitch along the bottom edge of the seam binding tape. You are sewing BEFORE you cut the sleeping bag to size to avoid an explosion of down in your home. There will be some down flying around no matter what you do, but to keep it to a minimum, straight-stitch ANOTHER line following the curve of your binding tape an inch higher. This will keep the down contained in both halves of the bag before you cut it.


3. Then grab your scissors and cut 1/2-inch seam allowance along your strip of binding tape. Reserve the other half of the bag for making a carrier cover or something else useful. Pull out any excess down that may have been exposed, and fold your seam binding tape over the cut edge and pin:

4. Straight-stitch down the seam binding tape, which will hide the cut edge and reinforce the seam:

5. Lay your sleeping bag along the length of your stroller again, and use pins or some masking tape to mark where the shoulder straps, waist straps and crotch strap will need to go. Essentially, you will make big buttonholes for the five-point harness to go through. That way you can use your new "Bundleme" while your child is safely strapped in.

6. Use the zig-zag stitch on your sewing machine to make 2-inch buttonholes, and cut the hole. Pull the straps through and fasten:
I think we could take Lucy out naked in this thing, it's so warm. Not that we would. I'm just sayin'...if we HAD to, we could.

Now if only I could get the girl's finger out of her nose: