Tooth Fairy Pillowcase

Let me just say that I hate the person who came up with the Tooth Fairy. I try not to do that, hate a whole entire person like that, but this one deserves it.

I mean, Santa Claus has it bad enough, having to sneak around after the kids have gone to sleep and set up pleasing displays of presents in the living room very, very quietly, but the Tooth Fairy! Good grief, the Tooth Fairy has to actually enter the sleeping child's bedroom, lift the sleeping child's head and trade a tiny, eensy, weensy, little tooth for money. And if the Tooth Fairy is caught in the middle of the trade, then that's it, game over, all childhood fantasies are ruined forever and child will probably have to have years of therapy to get over the fact that their parents lied!

Stress. Ful.

Plus, my kids always make sure to lose a tooth on days when I have done something really dramatic, like vacuum, and am completely exhausted and just want to go to bed at nine o'clock at night for the love of God! What will happen is, they will wiggle the tooth at 8:55 and wiggle it at 8:57 and wiggle it at 8:59 and then as soon as I pull the covers up to my chin, they will run into my room, triumphant, tooth in hand.

I will feign excitement over the lost tooth while secretly cursing my ruined early bedtime. Now, I have to stay up, wait for the kid to get over their excitement of loosing a tooth, wait for the kid to finally lay back on his pillow with the tooth underneath, wait for the kid to get up three more times to show me how he can now stick his tongue in the empty space between his teeth, wait for the kid to get up three more times to tell me how he can no longer say, "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," wait for the kid to get up three more times to tell me that he has another loose tooth . . . and then once child has finally gotten to sleep, I will forget all about my role and go to sleep too only to awaken in a panic at three a.m., run to my wallet to discover that I have no cash, take cash out of my kid's wallet, stumble all over my kid's bedroom, search for fifteen minutes under the kid's pillow for the tooth, find it, lose it, find it, make the switch, and return to my bed, now too flustered to go back to sleep.

To help with this (somewhat) I made a handy tooth fairy pillowcase for my kids and it has been a godsend. It has a Velcro removable pocket for the tooth and a pocket sewn onto the pillowcase to put the Velcro pocket in. Each pillowcase is also treated with fairy dust that makes the kid go straight to sleep so that the Tooth Fairy can come.

My nephew's birthday was coming up so I made one for him because what does a four-year-old want more than anything in this world? That's right--a pillowcase!

Since this was for a boy, I had some difficulty finding material that he would like for several years. As usual, I found tons of fabrics that would have been so cute for a girl, but boys are tricky, so I went with blue and green because it's bright and fun and I was sick of walking around the fabric store with my shopping cart with the squeaky wheel.

A pillowcase has to be the easiest thing in the world to sew. It was the first thing that I learned how to make, but whenever I go to make one, I always forget how to do it and have to drag out a pillowcase, turn it inside out, measure it, sniff it, and take out a few seams to figure it out. I mean, seriously, I made this lovely dress for my daughter with layers and layers of tulle and chiffon, but I struggled with how to make a pillowcase. And I've made TONS of pillowcases!

I was going to do this whole cool tutorial on how to make a pillowcase, but I tried and I quickly discovered that I suck at tutorials. So, go here to figure out how to make a pillowcase, 'kay. Since this is my blog, I must make one small modification--between steps one and two insert the instructions, "Pour a glass of wine." When  you're done with the pillowcase, cut a piece of fabric 7"x8" and turn under the ends and sew onto the pillowcase and then cut a piece of fabric 11"x5", turn under ends on each narrow side and sew Velcro strips to each narrow end, then pin wrong sides together, sew the seams, and turn inside out.

See. I told you I suck at tutorials.

And here's what you get!

Fun! Yay! Now we can all find the tooth! If someone can help me find some cash to give to the kid (because my kids don't accept debit card payments from the Tooth Fairy yet) and a way to stop banging my head on the top bunk, I'm open for suggestions.

Snuggie as a Buggie in a Ruggie

Some of the most embarrassing words that I have ever uttered: "Excuse me, but do you carry Snuggie patterns?"

A few years ago when the Snuggie came out, I had great fun mocking the strange little thing. A blanket with arms indeed! Oh, and I will just be dying to wear this contraption to sporting events? Yes, I would love to walk around looking like a Jedi knight while cheering on my team. Thank you for the marvelous invention!

However, much to my surprise, the pesky little things caught on and this year First Son requested one for Christmas. Well, I sloughed off the idea until it occurred to me that this could be one of those "opportunities" to use my sewing machine (Hollie bites nails in excitement)!

So, fleece was on sale, McCall patterns were on sale, and all other sorts of stars lined up for me to create a Snuggie for First Son in camo because he is dead set on being an Army fighter pilot when he grows up and . . . it just so happens that he would quite love to walk around looking like a Jedi knight while cheering on his team. Hmm.

Well, I finished with my project (btw, McCall's claims that it takes one hour, but it took me four sessions of two hours each and we all remember our times tables, four times two equals, not one, but EIGHT!) and then something ghastly occurred to me—I want a Snuggie too!

It really is the perfect thing for our house, which is a two-story construction with only one thermostat on the first floor. If anyone has ever lived in such a construction then they know exactly what I'm getting at. It's quite true what they say about hot air and its desire to rise to higher ground.

While downstairs on a cold day, one will have teeth chattering and find oneself drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate, hot tea, and coffee, all jacketed and covered in blankets. However, as soon as one ascends the staircase, removal of all but the most essential clothing is imminent.

Yet another reason why this would be the perfect frat house: [Frat boy to girl at party: Oh, indeed this downstairs bathroom appears to be occupied, why don't you accompany me upstairs to use that one (wink wink to frat brothers). Yes it is rather warm up here. You could remove that bulky sweater and place it in my room, just down this hallway.]

I shouldn't be left alone with my thoughts for too long.

So, in conclusion, the Snuggie has gone from totally fool to totally cool all because of a few chilly Virginia days and a really poorly designed house. What other surprises lie in store for me?

Sew Good

So, I really like Halloween.

Forget what the kid who lives next door told me about how it's the devil's holiday, 'cause I don't buy into that. It's just costumes, candy, and cacophony (sorry, I needed another "c" word) to me. Of course, the way that some of these young girls dress like they just want to have an excuse to look like a prostitute—well . . . maybe the kid is on to something.

But I don't love it for the inappropriate costumes or even the gooey treats. I love it because it gives me an excuse to sew something that doesn't have to look perfect, because it's only a costume for crying out loud!

It's possible that sewing isn't the best hobby for someone like me to have. That is . . . someone who comes from the school of It's-Good-Enough. We're taking applications for spring semester, by the way. But, even if I'm not great at it, I still love sewing. Just don't ask me to hem your pants unless you really hate those pants and only want to wear them to the Headbanger's Ball.

Unfortunately, as my kids get older, it gets harder and harder to get their "permission" to sew a costume for them. How mean would it be for me to say to my seven-year-old that I don't care that he wants to go as Jango Fett from Star Wars, I have a great pattern for a scarecrow that I'm dying to try out and he needs to suck it up and just be the dorky kid in school for once!

Lucky for me, I still have a three-year-old and though she is headstrong, she is still quite impressionable and a few slight of hand tricks on my part, like ordering Wizard of Oz and making her watch it over and over and telling her that we might get a dog that looks like Toto (I meant stuffed, but she doesn't have to know that) and voila! I have my Dorothy.

Once she saw reason and decided that Sleeping Beauty was ooh so stupid and Dorothy was ooh so glam, I headed to the fabric store to pick up my Dorothy pattern and gingham and broadcloth. I took my goodies home and started perusing the pattern (Simplicity #4139 for those of you who want to try it) and only then remembered—I am a terrible seamstress!!!! How will I make this lovely pleated frock????

Honestly, truthfully, I didn't understand the first five instructions. In fact, I barely understood the instructions on how to cut out the material. I freaked a bit, because even though sewing may seem economical, it's actually quite expensive. I spent almost $40 on supplies for the Dorothy costume.

So, I took a deep breath, I took a step back, I relaxed, maybe I had a glass of wine, and I started from the beginning and did everything that they told me to do, even if I didn't understand it. And I ended up with a pretty good imitation of a Dorothy costume if I may say so myself! I was quite pleased. Just don't walk behind my daughter on Halloween because it's possible that there may be some defects in the back where everything didn't quite meet up the way that it should have. Not that there are . . . it's just possible.

Good life lesson to be had—taking a step back, a sip of wine, following the directions, and just trying something new, can somehow, sometimes work out okay.