school resfusal

She Who Can, Crafts. She Who Can’t Craft…Really Really Can’t

Chris Irvine, Parent CoachLeave a comment

Halloween is coming up and Maddie is prepared. Or preparing, anyway. For a kid who loves superheroes and animated characters more than anything, and who makes duct tape swords in her spare time, a special day designated to the imagination and dressing up is maybe better than Christmas.

I have to confess, I’m not sure what her costume is this year. It’s some character from Bleach, the complex anime show she knows in extraordinary detail (which she is happy to share with you whether you like it or not).

Last week she wanted to go to the Halloween spirit store, to which I reluctantly drove her one evening. I sat in the car and she went in with her debit card and bought some stuff, including, you guessed it, a couple of plastic swords. As if she doesn’t have enough.

She has also created a mask of some sort and asked my mom for some sewing help. She doesn’t even ask me anymore. That’s probably because of the costume incident of sixth grade. Suffice it to say sewing hates me as least as much as I hate it. Sewing, in this case, apparently includes using scissors.

The public middle school used to hire a lively, gifted, inspiring woman to lead the kids in an entertaining and educational event called “A Trip Through the Ancient World” or something like that. Kids spent weeks learning all about ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome. Each kid was assigned a historical figure, and they were to memorize a brief biography of that character and, on the day of the big event, dress as that character.

I can’t tell you how much my heart just sinks whenever a craft-related assignment comes home that requires parental help. I didn’t want to spend a fortune buying a costume, either. So I had to come up with something. And fast.

Luckily for me, her character was a Hebrew slave, so her clothes didn’t have to look particularly good or at all fancy. Still, I called my very creative friend in a panic, asking what to do.

“Just buy a piece of fabric, fold it over, cut a whole for the head and sew up the sides.”

“I don’t have a sewing machine. Anyway, I can’t sew.”

“Maybe you could just buy some kind of rope and tie it around her waist.”

Now that’s a project I can get behind, except for the part about going to the fabric/craft store. Nothing like stepping into JoAnn Fabrics to give me a panic attack. I hate it that much. But as a mom, you gotta do what you gotta do.

So I mustered up my courage and drove to the store, ready to get that brown fabric and a rope tie. That was literally all I had to buy. So I found the fabric that looked kind of right, some kind of brown muslin (my mom sewed a lot when I was a kid, so I do know a little about fabric). And for some reason I picked up a smaller piece of muslin in a natural color. I have no idea why I did that, but it ended up becoming integral to the success of the costume. (I use the term “success” loosely, as you will see.)

All I had to do was cut a hole in the middle of the brown fabric so Maddie could stick her head through. Then I would tie the rope around her waist to hold the fabric against her body. Right on! Ancient slave clothes are so easy!

Being the crafty genius that I am, I folded the fabric into quarters so I didn’t have to cut a whole circle. I would just have to cut a quarter circle, open the fabric, and voila! Circle! After I did that, I opened the fabric up to admire my work, and there it was: a GIGANTIC hole that would fit completely over Maddie’s little shoulders, and the whole thing would fall right to the ground. You have got to be kidding me, I said to myself. You can’t even cut a circle right!

It was the night before the event, so there was no time to get more fabric. Luckily I still had an option. That’s where the second piece of muslin came into play. I carefully cut a more appropriately-sized hole, but that fabric on its own was too small for a whole costume, so now I had to actually sew the brown fabric over the lighter fabric so it would both stay on her body and be long enough to work. I was pretty irritated at myself, but I got out my needle and thread (I have had the same sewing kit my entire adult life) and began to sew those pieces together. They stayed okay, but I would say an untrained monkey would have done a nicer job. There were random stitches placed haphazardly on both shoulders. Thank goodness for brown thread on brown fabric, is all I can say.

Fortunately, Maddie didn’t care at all. I am so grateful for that kid sometimes. She could have been irritated or disappointed or embarrassed, but she was not only fine with the final outcome, she was grateful! I sent her off to school with her pathetic excuse for a costume, and she was happy.

I showed up at school along with a few parents to watch this play/game show. Among the beautifully adorned princesses was my shabbily dressed Hebrew slave. Perfect, really, although I have no doubt that anybody from that period would have taken more pride in their craftsmanship than I had. Oh, well. I guess I have other gifts.

Fortunately, the costume wasn’t that meaningful in the end, except that somebody without any costume at all would have stood out. My crappy creation seemed to go unnoticed. I told my friend Laura my story and we both had a good laugh. I may not be crafty, but I can recognize the humor in almost any situation. I really thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Years later, when Maddie is concocting her complicated costumes–for Halloween or Comi-con or just everyday dress up–I am NOT the person she consults. She knows better. If there’s sewing involved, she most certainly doesn’t ask me. At best, I’ll say no. At worst, well…

So this year’s costume, the anime character, is almost done. Maddie came up with the plan and did most of the work. My mom did a little problem-solving and sewing. There is one small task left to do, but I don’t even know what it is because my mom bypassed me and went directly to my husband for this little tidbit. Sometimes being left out is a good thing. For us all.

I’m pretty sure that final job, whatever it is, will complete the costume. What I’ve seen so far is amazing. Maddie really took her time to conceive of and execute this thing. Apparently that gene skipped me.

What I love about Maddie (among a gazillion other things) is not only how much she enjoys the process of making things, but the pride she has once she’s done. She would gladly don her costume for anybody who happens to stop by. She will pose with full dramatic effect. You can take as many pictures of her as you like.

Tomorrow, the day before Halloween, some of her friends are wearing costumes to school. She’s probably leading the effort. I’m pretty sure that even if nobody else was participating, Maddie would still pack up her costume (swords included) and wear it all day long. And she would feel awesome.

So here are today’s life lessons:

I can’t sew, and that’s OK.

Be grateful for your grateful, fearless, creative kid.

Be willing and able to laugh at yourself. Life is so much better that way. 

One Step Forward, One Step Back, Then Maybe Sideways

Chris Irvine, Parent CoachLeave a comment

This Tuesday I wanted to give up.

Every weekday morning, when my alarm goes off, my initial reaction is dread. I never know how it’s going to go. How many times will I have to try to get Maddie out of bed? Will she finally get up? Will yelling be required? What if she decides she’s not going? How much patience and creativity will I have to conjure up? Will anything I say or do make a difference? Will this be the day when I finally crack?

And Tuesday my dread was fully justified. What a terrible morning we had. Sure, I finally got her off to school, but not until I’d just run out of gas. The rest of the day I felt deflated. Picture that literally: a flat tire, a deflated ball, a shriveled up balloon. I had nothing left. I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I couldn’t do housework. I didn’t even want to see Maddie when she got home from school. I guess I was depressed. It’s a challenging way to be, getting out of bed each day, knowing your efforts will likely be unsuccessful, but not knowing what to do differently to change the outcome.

It’s a frustrating experience. And it’s not as linear as parenting a neuro-typical child might be. There is no real direction. One day Maddie will step up, and then she may not the next day or the next week or the next month. Then she might be agreeable and motivated for a week. One day I might say something magical that seems to penetrate her often impregnable system. And that magical something may never have an impact again. It’s a constant struggle to be creative and patient, to maintain hope when I’ve run out of ideas and Maddie seems stuck.

So tomorrow is Friday. I’m pretty sure she’ll go to school because Fridays are her favorite days. All her favorite classes occur on Fridays. And, I just learned, she has chess club. I had no idea she was into chess until she mentioned it last week, explaining why she skipped a lunch time rally. I will try to start the day with optimism because Fridays tend to be more successful days overall.

But even on a successful day, there is a period of panic. Maddie just cannot get herself out of bed. So as I’m juggling breakfasts and lunches and helping my son with whatever he needs, I’m making multiple trips to her room. Often I think she has gotten up only to discover five minutes before the cab is to arrive that she is still in bed. Then, in a panic, I raise my voice a little say things like, “Pretend there’s a fire!” or even “Act like you’re in a hurry.”

Then she’ll say, “Don’t rush me.” That absolutely kills me. “Well, then give yourself more time in the morning,” I’ll reply. She doesn’t seem to get the connection. She can’t help that she moves slowly, she’ll say. And I’ll tell her that’s fine, but then she needs to give herself more time. She either needs to be faster or have more time. That’s just logic, isn’t it? But all she can think of is “Don’t rush me.” How I would love to not rush anybody! It makes for a stressful morning for both of us, and sometimes I have a hard time shaking that morning experience.

Today I haven’t felt well. I’m sleep-deprived and exhausted, probably a bit depressed. I’m definitely at the end of my rope. This evening I asked her about homework. She says she doesn’t have any. I don’t know if that’s true. Oh, well. I don’t even care right now.

Then I tell her she does need to shower. That’s the one single think I ask her to do. She says she’s busy but she’ll definitely do it. Later, I remind her, and it’s getting close to bed time so time is of the essence.

“Oh,” she says, “I’m not going to do that.” She has decided.

She smelled my defeat earlier, I think. She knew I didn’t have the fight in me. She has that ability, I’ve noticed. Whatever. I can’t even do this. I ask her to please brush her teeth and wash up before bed. I’m pretty sure she’s completed those things. I don’t know why she decided they mattered when nothing else I’ve said today has had much of an impact.

I also noticed this morning when I was absurdly applying deodorant to the appropriate place on Maddie’s body that she had shaved her underarms. That was a shocker. She never does anything like that unless I make her. And she had actually thought of it herself and then done it.

And yet, by contrast, there I was spraying deodorant on my 15-year-old daughter’s armpits.

She is full of surprises!

So before I go to bed, I am taking some deep breaths. I will try to be optimistic for tomorrow because it’ll be Friday. I’m so happy it’s Friday, even if I have about 28 loads of laundry to do. The next morning I get to sleep in! I don’t have to dread the day ahead. It’s like a vacation from frustration, aggravation, depression and sadness all wrapped up into two days!

Well, not really. There will be things to accomplish. We shall see how it goes. That’s just how it is every day over here: We shall see how it goes. We shall see.