The sewing muse

I'm slowly but surely making progress on my medieval garb for this upcoming weekend. Oda was a huge help today in both fitting my sleeves (because I don't have four arms, thankfully) and helping me decipher my geometric pieces for the over gown. For once, I actually feel like I'm in a good place for finishing everything in a reasonable amount of time. No hemming in the car! Remember that crazy expensive wool I bought? It's officially driving me insane because it has a front and a back to it but it's extremely subtle, to the point that I second guess myself every time I think I have the right side.

I have always said that there is a sewing muse. And sometimes, if that muse is looking over my shoulder, I can accomplish great things. And other times, if the muse has wandered off, I make four left gores and no right gores.

Jeremy had this tunic that we affectionately called the Great Black Tunic. I believe it was the first piece of garb that he made, with the help of Theo and Mel way back in Anno Societatis Dirt. It was made of black twill and had no particular period to it other than poofy and comfy. Jeremy loved this tunic.

What you might not have noticed upon first glance, though, was that the tunic had pleats on the shoulder of one sleeve and pleats in the armpit of the other sleeve. He never fixed it and unless it was pointed out to you, it wasn't noticeable.

There was an event ages ago that His Majesty Cuan was at and somehow managed to not have any garb. We loaned him the Great Black Tunic and at the end of the day (perhaps after a few beers) he espoused at length about how great that tunic was. The Great Black Tunic went home with Cuan.

I'm doing a little fretting over my sewing right now. The muse has not left the building, but she seems to be spending a lot of time checking her Facebook versus looking over my shoulder. Oda commented too how she hates cutting other people's fabric because she dreads cutting it wrong. But we also geeked out about how the dresses they've dug up from bogs had some ... creative ... piecing as well. I figure that funky shaped gores are period. And I'm sure somewhere we'll dig up a tunic from a bog with pleats in the armpit (probably Spanish - those Spainards had wacky fashion sense).

Cancer vacation

I debated on going to Yale this week. First I was supposed to go on Sunday and Monday but little things like Hurricane Sandy changed those plans. I moved my flight to the end of the week but was unsure if I would follow through with it. As we get closer to the surgery date, the days seem to be a bit more full and I'm a little more tired. But I thought going might be a nice break from the office and the drag. I knew Tom would be understanding either way if I couldn't come, but he and all the other folks at Yale are so sweet, I knew it would be a pleasant trip. So I scrambled to find a hotel room (so many are without power still that a hotel can be hard to come by) and packed my bag.

And so far it's been a great trip. I had a very pleasant sushi dinner around the corner from my hotel and a great red wine later that evening. I set up camp in the hotel room and settled into the laptop to do some writing. I went to bed at 9pm and slept like the dead, hogging the entire bed.

Our meeting this morning was very productive and we had a lovely lunch of thin crust pizza (my fave!). I get home around 9:30 and my boy will be there to meet me at the airport. Rich is going to game with the guys this evening so we'll all have a bit of a break from cancer.

I have a few more lists to make and a few more things to pack (and some medieval gowns to finish for Investiture!) but we're in the home stretch. I did have my first bad dream last night, so apparently som part of me still wasn't taking a break. But I'm planning on coming home refreshed and ready to wave pompoms again.

In the meantime, it's gorgeous here.

Holding on for the ride

It took me 30 minutes to drop Ian off at school yesterday morning. More specifically, it took me 30 minutes to put him into his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume and peel him off of me so I could exit while he screamed "MOMMMMMYYYYYYY!" through sobs. When Rich asked how it went, my only explanation was it was a fucking disaster. Through a mixup at school, they told us to bring his costume versus arrive with it on him. As I tried to get his costume on him when we got there, Ian realized as soon as I got the costume on him, I was leaving. So it was back and forth for forever all amongst these tearful protests of "let's just go home, Mommy. I wanna go home with you Mommy and snuggle. I don't wanna go to school."

Meanwhile every little girl in the class - Jasmine and a black kitty and Belle and Little Red Riding Hood - all stood around us and asked with concern, "why don't you want to be a ninja turtle, Ian?" (Fascinatingly, Spiderman and Captain America and the Washington Redskin were not worried at all. Sometimes boys are dense.) So the kitty and I did our best to come up with ways to get Ian into his costume.

"Maybe we can ask the teacher, Ian's mommy?" "Maybe he will put on his shell." "Ian, we can't get candy if you don't put your costume on. I have my costume on."

It was equally frustrating and adorable.

I cried at work and lamented how my kid can be so stressed out and I can't seem to keep him from fretting any more than I can keep Rich from fretting. Part of Ian's anxiety about school drop off is just typical three year old stuff. But I think part of it is him picking up on the general angst level in the house. He doesn't want to let either of us out of his sight, particularly me. Rich is in a heightened state of distress these days so he's not able to handle the sobs of "don't go!" very well. So we're on this emotional roller coaster and I'm trying to cover people's eyes and sing happy songs to keep them from worrying about the big drop coming up ahead. But it's more like the log flume ride where we can all climb in together but I'm trying to calculate who should sit where so no one gets scared and no one gets soaked.

I waited breathlessly for Ian and Rich to come home so we could see how his day went and if we could enjoy some trick or treating. Ian bounced in the house, rambling about how great trick or treating was and how he loved his costume. He agreed to sit and eat dinner with us and complimented my corn bread as he crumbled it into his chili. As the first trick or treaters arrived at our door, he rushed up to see their costumes and process the routine.

And then we went out on the town. He was awesome. He raced up to doors and yelled "Happy Halloween!" at little old ladies who cooed over him. As we walked away from front porches he would call back "Bye bye! We'll see you later! Thanks for all the candy!" Before the end of our street, he had figured out the routine and was directing which house we should try next.

We made it home once Ian declared he was tired (a statement virtually unheard of in the three year old world) and his bucket of candy was too heavy. We picked out a few treats to eat while he watched an episode of WonderPets and then he voluntarily went upstairs. His only request was to sleep in his costume (including the shell) which we happily obliged. I don't think it's still considered SIDS anymore if your three year old strangles himself on his ninja turtle sash, but we managed to avoid any injury.

He was asleep within two minutes of his head hitting the pillow. It made me wish we could do Halloween every night!

In one short day I experienced some of the best and worst things about parenting a three year old. My heart goes out to him when he's upset and believe me, I'd love to spend all day snuggling versus going to work while he is at school, but that's not practical. Thankfully, my heart can fill up on all the joy he had last night seeing other kids in costume and chatting with neighbors and hauling a giant plastic pumpkin of loot home. And hopefully soon, we can move on to a different ride for a little while.