ikat bag

Gifts for Teachers - Saying Goodbye

2013-05-17T07:00:00.000-05:00

'Tis the season for teacher appreciation gifts! Unfortunately, 'tis also the season for saying goodbye to some of the teachers we will not meet again in the next school year. Our family has finally graduated from preschool and this has been Kate's last year with the wonderful teachers who have taught all our girls since Emily first began her journey down the hallowed hallways of formal education. A journey without a break, incidentally. Our girls are so close in age that not only was every year since 2008 a preschool year for someone, there was even a year in which two someones were simultaneously in preschool - one in the morning and one in the afternoon (manic driving schedule that year, I remember). We really packed those preschool years in!

But, suddenly, it's all over. No more standing in line, visiting with other moms and dads, while waiting to pick up a kid (or two). No more clock-watching between errands to navigate the complicated drop-kid-off-meet-other-kid-at-bus-stop-pack-everyone-in-car-to-pick-up-first-kid timetable of efficiency and madness that was my life for the past five years. Of course I won't miss some parts of it (like the 15-minute lunches whose success I credit totally to the Delay Start Preheat function of my oven). But other parts, yes.

The girls have had some incredible teachers at their preschool. One of them, who was also their principal for a time, had a wealth of knowledge from having been in every conceivable job previously. You could ask her anything (which we did) and she'd know the answer. Like why school buses had no seat belts. She knew the answer to that (of course), because she'd been a school bus driver before. And she sewed. She'd bring photos of her daughter's prom dress which she made and we'd have a chat about sewing and patterns while Jenna packed up her backpack for the day and bid goodbye to her classmates.

When Emily was in her second year of preschool, we lost one of her teachers to a long illness. It was a hard year for everyone - so much sadness and adjustment and everyone standing in for everyone else at the last minute. It was also a wonderful testimony to the strength and fortitude of this preschool staff - they brought the kids (and themselves) through the grief process, transitioned smoothly through the resulting staff reorganization and let us, the parents, take care of them and the family of the teacher we'd lost. They made us feel like we weren't outsiders in our children's education and learning. And at the end of every school year, I always feel as if I don't quite know how to thank them. It's not only because they are skilled and patient instructors - they're also proud and protective mothers, tactful intervention specialists and wise counselors. I am so grateful that they are the ones with whom I've trusted my children's early education.

So this year - as we officially say goodbye and thank you, I couldn't possibly make them yet another tote bag. I've done the tote-bag thing to death, really - reversible kid-art tote, morphing wallet kid-art tote, market basket kid-art tote, lunch bucket kid-art tote, drawstring pouch tote ... I mean, is there a tote I haven't made and kid-arted for these amazing ladies?

No totes, then.

Superhero accoutrements instead. For that is what preschool teachers are, right? I saw these hats here last year and saved the idea for when the day came for us to pay our own tribute.

No Silhouette images, though. We're a bit old school at our house -

freezer paper stencil

and hand-painted details.

Those are their superhero initials, in their favorite colors.

Incidentally, when I was a teacher, I didn't deserve these hats because teaching high school physics was not a superhero job. Sure, I could teach the relationship between diffraction and interference in my sleep. But training preschoolers to sit still and raise their hands politely during circle time? Or to share the last plastic T-Rex in the toy box? See - now that's a superhero job.

Hold Them

2013-05-16T13:50:00.002-05:00

I just found out today that Kathreen Ricketson, founder and author of Whipup, was in a tragic accident while on vacation with her family. You can read a little more about it here. I am still in shock and very sad. I have never met Kathreen in person but we've worked together remotely on projects. Her work as a crafter and seamstress is extraordinarily diverse and rich. She is unfairly talented and skilled. But above that, I am impressed by her authenticity, generosity and thoughtfulness and her advocacy of the value of collaboration within the community. That's a lot of fancy words for saying that, once upon a time, out of the blue, she wrote to me to invite me to contribute to a book she was writing. If you're a sort of nobody (as I am) in the publishing world, this is a big thing. Long story short, the project didn't make the final cut but the fact remained that she reached out to someone who was new in the field and encouraged them. And then she kept in touch with me and I enjoyed the privilege of working with her on later projects. Kathreen is, as many others have described her, an inspiration to and cornerstone of the crafting community. But she is also a gatekeeper. She gave many of us our first nudges in the form of features, shoutouts and invitations to come on board her platform. And she selflessly helped us tell our stories. I still have her email, with all its kind words, in my inbox. Never had having my hand held felt so good.

On our side of the world, we will continue to cook dinner and sew clothes and make quilts and knit socks and work in our gardens and do all manner of other normal, life-things. Such is the paradox of loss. I will grieve and miss her but I will think hopeful thoughts for her children and family. I will continue to write blog posts on my side of the world but I will mourn the quiet space that was once her voice in the community. I will remember her and her creativity. And I will pray for her precious little ones to be held and kept safe by strong arms and gentle hands.

There is indication that an education fund may be set up for Kathreen's and Rob's children. When I know more, I will share it here.

Pizza

2013-05-14T19:09:00.006-05:00

It's funny, the power in email.

A couple of weeks ago, I got a generic email from the good folks at Domino's Pizza. Usually, I dismiss such email as spam or consumer advertising, but this one said that for one month, anyone could watch their staff make pizzas via live video feed at one of their Utah stores. My kids love finding out how things are made and were thrilled to see pizzas being made in real time. Whenever we popped in around the lunch and dinner hours, we got to see a lot of action in that pizza kitchen! In some ways, it was even better than a documentary.

All that live action made us feel like we needed our own pizzeria, of course.

When my girls were like toddler-little, they loved playing kitchen and cooking and making meals for their dolls. As they got older, they gravitated towards the commercial aspect of the food-and-beverage pretend play scenarios - it was all restaurants and cafes and delis and shops and online orders and delivery services. It had to involve money, packaging, marketing, advertising, order chits, inventory, special promotions and customers. And display windows. Oh, the displays were the most important. They had to be pretty so the customers would come, they said.

A pizzeria, therefore, was perfect.

I made them some felt pizzas - not the slice-apart kind, but the bulk-risen lumps-of-dough kind. Ours were 12".

Incidentally, these pizzas make perfect indoor frisbees. Actually, outdoors, too. I know because the girls tried them as such.

Instead of a brand-new pizza dough tutorial, I'm reposting photos from an earlier cookie tutorial here. Different size, but identical method.

The only additional feature is a row of topstitching about an inch from the edge, to create a crust rim.

The sauce was just blood red felt circles.

We cut cardboard circles for trays.

Then came the toppings.

All felt. All hand-cut. Took less time than it looks.

Especially the cheese -

see? Just run the rotary cutter over it in narrow lines.

The kids were incredulous when I asked them if they preferred shredded cheese or one big circle of melted cheese. Mom! Obviously! As if there were any doubt as to the answer!

Veggies - peppers, mushrooms, olives, pineapple:

Meats: pepperoni, sausage, Canadian bacon (we just call it ham):

I'm still in conference with the kids over whether or not to treat the felt toppings (except the cheese) with Stiffy. I think that Stiffy would prolong their play-life but the girls like them soft and floppy.

Here's the Deluxe aka Supreme aka The Works, made by Emily:

And here's a fun slideshow of it being put together:

Ah, felt food. Nothing better, right?

Unless it's felt food with cardboard.

Cardboard, as we all know, makes everything better.

Do you remember the Good Cardboard I got in this post?

It became nine pizza boxes.

Plain,

so the girls could design their own brand and logo (welcome to The Magic Pizza Cafe):

All those toppings were a lot to write down each time a customer called, so we made order forms for checking off:

Totally, unrelated, I bought a pack of 10 plastic ramekin-type containers at the dollar store the other day,

and the girls hijacked them for dipping sauce freebies:

Here are some pizza variations the girls created -

Edible mandala:

Christmas:

Face

Squid

Fish

and their interpretation of gluten-free aka crustless.

And just as proof that it wasn't just me, a boring adult, directing, here is a picture drawn by Kate. It's a Small Pizza For Bunny. She even found a small pizza box to put it in. Apparently, 12" pizzas are no good for lovies because they're too huge.

I got the point.

So yes, Magic Pizza Cafe pizzas now come in two sizes- human and lovie:

"We need an oven," the kids then told me.

Okay. I have spare cardboard, anyway.

Here's a short section of pool noodle, wrapped with flannel

with a random plastic stick shoved in the bore.

And here's a cardboard box with a hole cut out of one end

for that pool-noodle thing to rest in.

Then a second pool-noodle thing is installed within an identical hole at the other end of a row of cardboard boxes.

Then some more flannel - a long strip of it, is looped around those two pool noodle things (which, if you've guessed by now, are rollers) to make a conveyer belt. Note that the flannel- both on the rollers and as the belt itself - is essential for good traction. You could use any fabric that has a slight pile to it, so it "catches" as it moves over the rollers.

Here's the crank - it's just cardboard shoved in the hollow of the axle of the forward roller.

and you put your pizza on one end and convey it to the other.

But that's just the conveyer belt. I'd always wanted to make one because it's such a versatile toy for the kids. I mean, it can be a library chute, a baggage carousel, a treadmill or travelator for dolls, a supermarket checkout ...

and an oven:

All it needed was a hood. We made ours detachable so the conveyer belt can be used on its own.

The hood slides in and out of a big slot at the back of the conveyer belt.

We stuck a string of battery-operated LEDs in it and lined it with foil for better reflectivity.

Indoors, it's quite realistic.

Here's the pizza in the oven, trundling along the belt, getting all hot and cooked.

Want to see the oven in action?

Here it is without the hood:

It was a very windy day on the deck yesterday!

And here it is with the hood on

and Emily turning the back roller

(check out the crank spookily moving all by itself).

Loads of fun.

The girls have been playing pizzeria every day since we made it.

And to think it all started with an email that I almost deleted without even reading.

I guess you never know where inspiration lurks, huh?