Friday, February 24, 2017

All Things New


I'm interrupting our regular Harry Potter programming to share a snippet of my crazy life.

You guys probably know that construction stuff has been going on at home and most days I get zero work done. It's hard, not being able to do work. If I were still a classroom teacher, I think I'd have been able to do most teacher tasks even while, say, living in the back of my car. I mean, I could grade lab reports while the world spun madly by outside. I could also still social-media my students to the moon and back. And I could write out lesson plans, proposals for a new pitching machine for the softball team, solicit cost estimates for costumes for the competition choir, and draft letters of recommendation for college applications on my laptop.

Motherhood + design work, though . . . not so much.

It still blows my mind how much unstructured creative space I need for designing and making. Unfortunately, there isn't much creative space in my life right now; all I have are discrete 15-minute-quanta of time-between-other-unpredictable-demands. Enough for a quick trip to the supermarket, a reply to someone's email about a sleeve drafting problem, or a fiddle with the loose screw in some kid's sunglasses (it takes me that long to find the screwdriver now that I don't know where the kitchen junk drawer is since, you know, there's no kitchen).

But nowhere near enough to conceptualize, incubate, or evolve an idea, let alone a working prototype.

I think I've finally come to terms with not actually being productive. Or, at least, productive in the way I think productive should look. Grand announcement: I have officially adjusted my expectations. Microwaving a meal in the bathroom is phenomenal! Getting all the laundry from one floor to the next without smearing paint or wood stain on anything is awesome! Lining up one thousand (okay, 15) Harry Potter party projects to auto-post is Nobel-prize-worthy! Even if I had to correct an average of one thousand (okay, 4) typos per post the second after they went live. Still Olympian-standard. Still productive.

And even if I haven't hand-made anything new in about a century (okay, 3 months) it's still okay.

Although not because my schedules and routines are currently bonkers.

Instead because "productive" as a classroom teacher is not the same as "productive" as an office worker is not the same as "productive" as a full-time mother is not the same as "productive" as a work-at-home parent who didn't manage to actually get any of that work done at the end of any given day.

I hereby cut myself some slack to redefine "productive".
And "hand-make".
And "new".

Let me show you something important now:

You all know this little sweetheart.

Her name is Bunny, and she is Kate's alter ego.

Almost four years ago, Kate asked for her for her birthday.
Almost four years ago, Bunny looked like this:

She looks a little different now.

We've all noticed it. 

But none more than Kate, who has been growing increasingly alarmed that Bunny's fur is a bit mangy, that her nose is sparse-ing out, that her neck has got a bit of a tragic kink. 

Although personally, that head tilt just about knocks me out every time.

And between you and me, for all the ways she is no longer pristine and cloud-fluffy, Bunny has a fabulous personality.

Especially when she and Kate Get Up To No Good together. They are a hoot. They make the best partners in crime. They inspire the most rip-roaring adventures and stories and skits.

She is, hands-down, the most productive bit of hand-made work I have ever performed.

But the fact remains: Bunny is not what she used to be.

A couple of years back, when the decline first became evident, Kate began making end-of-life plans for her favorite companion.

"You'd better start sewing a new Bunny, Mom," she warned me. "Bunny's fur is falling out."

Last week, she had a bit of a crisis. All at once, it hit her that Bunny was old. 
Old = Death, and Death = Loss, and Loss = well, let's not even go there.

Do not laugh. This is important to everyone, especially kids.

We tried euphemisms.

"Bunny is well-loved," we reframed.
True, but it was beside the point.

"Bunny hasn't got a single seam-hole," I pointed out, ever the perfectionist seamstress hell-bent on quality control.
True, but it was beside the point.

We offered fixes.

"We can bleach Bunny," we suggested. "Maybe light grey isn't the new white the media made it out to be."
Practical, but it was beside the point.

"We can sew Bunny a New-Fur suit," we said. 
Less practical, and still beside the point.

"I can make you a new bunny," I promised at last. After all, I'd done it once; I could do it again. (And this time I'm using the superior, ultra-expensive fur). 

Oh dear. Not only was that beside the point, it was also a travesty to even think it.

You see, Kate wanted Old Bunny with New Fur That Doesn't Scream Grief and Loss. Not New Bunny, or Cosmetically-Enhanced Bunny or even High Fashion Fur Coat Bunny. All ye with children-and-lovies will understand this.  

The negotiations went on for two days. 
Finally, we had a treatment plan: surgery - organ transplants and a nose job.

I gave Kate a little pill cutter and she shaved Bunny (and saved all the precious little grey fuzz balls in a bag).

And then I took the scalpel to her. It was surprisingly emotional.

Out came all the old, ineffectual stuffing, and in went brand new fluffy polyfill. And I re-stitched her nose and mouth.

Kate is pretty relieved by the outcome although it did take her a while to get used to Reinvented Old-Bunny. Understandably, Bunny post-op didn't look at all like comfortable old pre-op Bunny. For one, she gained a lot of weight and now sits without slouching. When it was all done, Kate took her to school to share the story of her surgery with her class. It was all deeply charming and happily-ever-after but right there in the middle of all that awwwww-ness was the tiniest bit of something melancholic: I missed her old floppiness and attitude; she's suddenly become proper and earnest, like a kid who's been told he must behave himself because he's old enough to know now what he didn't when the world was young and kind. 



Or maybe that's motherhood whispering about children instead, and innocence, and how quickly the universe demands they be ready to let theirs go. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

We will be grafting on new foot pads next. But not just yet - too much all at once might feel like an overhaul. We don't want to accidentally lose Old Bunny, you see. And we're going to coax out her old spunk and personality once again. Already, Bunny is asserting herself with a hint of her trademark sass, declaring that she's off carrots for the indefinite future because she maybe she ate too much too fast and needs a brand new wardrobe and whoa, she can totally hold her head high now and laugh at the days to come.

And that is my life snippet. When designing and creating, I've always preferred to make something new from scratch over restoring something old, because that's the way to challenge dime-a-dozen and push the frontiers of amazingness. I've never been gladder to be wrong.



37 comments:

  1. I needed to hear this today. My son turned 13 today and I am still grappling with the fact. How? When? Where did the time go? Is there a time Turner in the real world so that I can go back and change things, perhaps just a wee lil bit.....

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    1. I want a Time Turner, too. But I suspect I'll always be sneaking trips back to when my girls were 7-month olds because that was such a fun age. How quickly they grow up. I don't think my heart could take it if I let myself ponder the magnitude of it all. One day at a time, then, and enjoy the blessings therein. Happy weekend!

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  2. What a sweet story... it made me think about the book "The Velveteen Rabbit " which is one of my favorite children's books. Do you know it? Here is a digital copy of the story:
    http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/williams/rabbit/rabbit.html
    Here is a video clip of Meryl Streep reading the beginning of the book:
    https://youtu.be/M_m054tLKvs

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    1. Thank you for the links, Alison! Yes, I've heard of it and see it all over our library in various forms but I don't know that I've actually read it. Or that Kate has read it. We need to get a copy of it, although I might have to prep her beforehand for the bit where the toys get burned. Sniff.

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  3. I love your bunny surgery. We have a "well loved" Teddy Panda at our house that is having similar end of life issues. Teddy Panda is 9. My son is almost 12 and still loves his Teddy Panda.

    I also love your redefinition of productive. I remember the newborn phase when "productive" meant I got a shower.

    Good luck with the microwave in the bathroom.

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    1. Thanks, Alison! Oh, the newborn phase. Especially when paired with already-existent toddlers in potty-training. I remember that. Yes, it was a challenge to feel like we accomplished anything at the end of the day. And then in a blink those years are gone. And sometimes I wish I could have them back, even for just a day.
      Okay, maybe just an hour.

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  4. We have the same problem with a unicorn over here, still thinking about the possible 'solutions'... I feel with you - and Kate, and Bunny!

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  5. Yep, there it is. My 13 year old is still sleeping with the blanket that she 'attached' to when she was just a couple weeks old. My 15 year old still sleeps with Lovey, the formerly white bear she received for her first Valentine's Day from her grandparents. No replacements have ever been accepted. They even hate to have them laundered. I tell myself I'll be glad when they finally give them up, but I know it means they'll be leaving their childhood behind.

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    1. Kris Quilts: I'd love to see Kate and Bunny when they are the age your kids are. My Jenna (who's 10) has a white bear, too!

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  6. Love the story. Seeing the bunny grow "old" is also seeing the child growing up and that is most difficult. My son is almost 30 and I am still not used to it. Don't think I will ever be.

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    1. Juanita: yes, exactly. And don't you some days feel as if you couldn't possibly be a day over 25 yourself? I feel that all the time.

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  7. Oh this post spoke to ME! I had to improve upon my DD's "Bunny Bow", actually removing the eyes, creating a new head-cover, then re-installing the eyes, and adding stuffing, among a few other procedures. My daughter was a little taken-aback by her bunny's new appearance, but did adjust. The 'ol bunny is now off at college with my daughter!

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    1. So glad your daughter's bunny got a reinvention, too, AND that she's still got it with her as an adult. Yay!

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  8. what a lovely post. i love reading "where are they now" and this is a good one.

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    1. Thanks, Rae! Posts like these are hard to write because they make me laugh at how children see their world, but then suddenly I want to bottle time because the half-lifes are so incredibly short.

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  9. Awwww.... those photos!! ❤❤❤

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  10. Great post! The legacy you are building with your children is the type that will save this world.

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  11. <3 this is beautiful.

    I really struggle with not having large stretches of time to work in, but having the kids is a pretty incredible trade.

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    1. Amen. Would swop kids for work any day, twice on Sunday, and a million times in any lifetime.

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  12. sometimes being wrong is the best outcome!

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  13. This story really speaks to me. My oldest (8) daughter has a "Kitty" that most people don't even recognize as the floppy bobcat she used to be, and Kitty has undergone a few surgeries. I did find a replacement, we call her "Dupla-Kitty", but my daughter wants nothing to do with her. My youngest (4) daughter's "Leon" the lion just had his first surgery after the dog chewed his ear. Those two stuffties are as much a part of our family as the girls.

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    1. LynxGrrl: I secretly feel that ours is a family of six, not five: two parents, three human children, and Bunny. Hope Leo stays safe from the dog in future. Kate was initially terrified about bringing Bunny to the neighbor's house because they have a dog and the dog sniffed Bunny and all she could think of was "CHEW TOY" and freaked out. The dog, we are happy to report, has thereafter been friendly and disinterested, so everyone's happy.

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  14. Oh gosh, so many memories!
    I've had a special teddy bear called Nounours (with all the originatity of a French-speaking child), and it, too, grew old and shabby-ish. Luckily for my mum, it was one of thos teddies that seem to be wearing pajamas, and only the head, feet and hands are fur, so she grafted a new pj/skin on him! And Restuffed him. And strenghtened his wobbly ear-seams.
    Gosh, I feel old!
    I think I'll go hug my Nounours, now!

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    1. We considered skin grafting for Bunny, too! Kate wouldn't have it, but I bet she would've if Bunny had been a clothes-bodied animal, too. Yes, go hug Nounours!

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  15. I can totally relate. I made a knitted blanket for each of my kids, only the youngest kept it beyond the toddler years. It got really ratty, patched up a few times, so I made her a new one. Exact same pattern and yarn. She refused to use it, still (at 11 now!), preferring "rotten blankie" :)

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    1. TracyKM: self disclosure: I still have my knit blanket from when I was a toddler. It does not look like a blanket, and I have stashed it away with the other relics from my childhood, but it's irreplaceable and unthrow-away-able.

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  16. My son now 31 had a teddy bear I received from my mom at my shower who became very well loved. Most traumatic was the time he put Bear down in a very large furniture store when he was 4, fortunately Bear was located but there were no more shopping trips for him! My daughter 26 has still a baby pillow that was a gift from great grandma. We have made many cases for it as one after another wore out. Cherish those memories.

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    1. I am SO glad Bear was found! It reminds me of the story of Corduroy the bear, lost in a store.

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  17. I was headed over to suggest (and warn against) The Velveteen Rabbit. Bunny is *real* if ever a stuffed animal was. But I'm not sure I can recommend a book where all of the toys get burned because the little boy was sick. That idea scared me SO bad as a child!

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    1. Michelle: we've never actually read the Velveteen Rabbit. I should, and so should Kate, but with some preparation beforehand. Because yes, burning toys is devastating!!

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  18. I love all your post.... but the better ones are always the ones that come from your heart.... beautiful writing.
    I have a friend who is 42 and still has her teddy bear...... he is so part of her life, that once she and her husband had a very scary car accident that entails car-off route-down the cliff-kind. They miraculously got out of the car, safe and sound. And then the husband went down to the car to save Teddy that was still in the car.....
    Teddy is still part of her family, worn out, without any recognizable color and way way way under stuffed. Not because it gets old (and wrinkled) it deserve to get throw it away... same with people, right?

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    1. Anonymous: so glad your friend and her husband were okay in that accident. What a good catch he is - to remember to save her bear! Bravo!

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  19. Loved this post :) It's my first time seeing a soft toy go through "surgery" haha. Kudos to you for attempting "surgery" on Bunny, and thanks for sharing your thoughts (the part that's something melancholic) on it. I too, have a soft toy rabbit that's been with me since I was born; it came as part of a hamper for my mom when I was born. That's about 20 years ago. My rabbit now has a broken arm, tattered ears, and a little opening on her head *ouch*, but I wouldn't give it up for any other new rabbit soft toy haha :)

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    1. Surgery was hard! Some of the little polybeads spilled out and never made it back in again. Ooops. And you must save your rabbit and never throw it away - there is no other like it!

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  20. I loved this post! The original bunny sat on the chair so lifelike, and hid her eyes and folded her arms, I loved it.
    My oldest child, a girl soon to celebrate her 40th birthday, still sleeps with her first blanket. It is hanging together by shreds of fabric, but she won't give it up. Her husband insisted she show it to us the last time we visited. I had no idea she loved it so much.

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    1. Thanks, Ruth! I still have my first blanket, too. Completely ratty and shred-y, and smells, but I love it.

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