Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Glue Gun Gone Bad (or “Ba-a-a-hd”)
The Woolly Lamb Recital - December 12, 2006
Today, after resolving to conquer the pile of clutter that is my kitchen counter, I saw It, the piece of paper that reminded me yet again that I will never make Mom of the Year: the announcement heralding the highly awaited Annual Preschool Christmas Pageant… dated two weeks ago, for the gala event that was now 72 hours away. Holy crap! [I mean “holy crap” in the most biblical of senses]
“This year the children will come dressed as woolly lambs.” Since both of my kids are fluent in “Waahhhhh” I’m sure they can pull off a “Baahhhh”. (Last year it was a real stretch: thirteen three-year-olds had to be “angels” for an entire hour and a half).
I don’t scrapbook. I don’t cross-stitch. And I don’t bake. While I’d like to say it’s because I have better things to do, it’s actually because failed Home Ec. That and the fact that I’m inherently lazy. Unfortunately, lack of motivation and talent doesn’t make any mom craft-exempt.
Every month us moms are pitted against each other in a glue-gun show-down: quarterly bake sale; Halloween costume parade; and now… my Mount Everest – two woolly lamb costumes. I could do this. How hard could it be? Just the day before I left a Kleenex in the laundry and everything came out woolly.
What You Need:
One white or grey hooded sweatshirt and pair of matching sweatpants
Double-sided tape (available at craft stores)
Cotton batting (used to stuff pillows)
Face paint
Black socks or mittens to cover hands and feet [Where do I get mittens in south Florida? Put socks on their hands? Would the Department of Children and Family Services approve? If so, I’ll try the ole’ sock trick the next time my son won’t listen when I say, “Keep your hands to yourself.”]
To Make:
Affix double-sided tape up and down the sweatshirt. Stick cotton batting on tape.
Simple. With newfound hope, off to Tar-ghey I went. With goods in hand, I sat on the living room floor re-reading the instructions. Yes, they were simple. Yet deceivingly simple.
Where exactly do you put the batting? How thick--are these woolly lambs of Northern variety or do they have short coats? Do you go for downy clumps or clean lines? Should your lamb have unsightly back hair? I felt like I was undergoing a Giant Rorschach test. Fast-forward 15 years: I can just hear the therapist now, asking my children: “And vhy did ur modder say she vus putting de batting on like daht?”
In less than 72 hours, 12 woolly lambs would enter the auditorium and you’d instantly tell a LOT about their mothers: who was caring and nurturing and who was drunk with glue gun in hand; who did everything she could for her kids and who was the ultimate slacker. Even worse than this Mommy Dearest lineup was how my kids would look compared to the others. Will my kids be the WORST woolly lambs in history since Noah? [“The animals came in two by two…except for the lambs, because they looked…Well, let’s just say we’d like to reproduce without them.”]
In the end, I decided my kids would be minimalist lambs: I put some cotton in patches on the stomach and arms. (Really, have you ever seen a totally uniform lamb?) Both suits were finished in an hour.
The next morning I unveiled the suit, asking my daughter: “Does this look like a woolly lamb?” “No, it looks like a woolly monster.” SCORE! At least it’s woolly!
My husband came home and I showed the outfits to him. He—who has learned to respond without hesitation to the “Do I look fat in this?” question—was speechless in this foreign territory of crafting. “Don’t worry, the kids are young and won’t remember it anyway.”
Apparently I failed the test My kids will look like giant tampons! Should I rip off the tape and start again?! Add more batting? Take off some batting? Give the batting a trim? Despite my neurotic bad-Mom conscience that urged me to try again, my inherently lazy side won over, as it usually does. Who cares? It’s just a costume.
Tonight, as I hung the costumes in my kids’ rooms, I looked over and watched them sleep. Their stomachs rising and falling as they breathed in and out so peacefully. It was true: Even though no lamb can be absolutely perfect, every lamb is beautiful….that is, until 72 hours from now.
The Woolly Lamb Recital - December 12, 2006
Today, after resolving to conquer the pile of clutter that is my kitchen counter, I saw It, the piece of paper that reminded me yet again that I will never make Mom of the Year: the announcement heralding the highly awaited Annual Preschool Christmas Pageant… dated two weeks ago, for the gala event that was now 72 hours away. Holy crap! [I mean “holy crap” in the most biblical of senses]
“This year the children will come dressed as woolly lambs.” Since both of my kids are fluent in “Waahhhhh” I’m sure they can pull off a “Baahhhh”. (Last year it was a real stretch: thirteen three-year-olds had to be “angels” for an entire hour and a half).
I don’t scrapbook. I don’t cross-stitch. And I don’t bake. While I’d like to say it’s because I have better things to do, it’s actually because failed Home Ec. That and the fact that I’m inherently lazy. Unfortunately, lack of motivation and talent doesn’t make any mom craft-exempt.
Every month us moms are pitted against each other in a glue-gun show-down: quarterly bake sale; Halloween costume parade; and now… my Mount Everest – two woolly lamb costumes. I could do this. How hard could it be? Just the day before I left a Kleenex in the laundry and everything came out woolly.
What You Need:
One white or grey hooded sweatshirt and pair of matching sweatpants
Double-sided tape (available at craft stores)
Cotton batting (used to stuff pillows)
Face paint
Black socks or mittens to cover hands and feet [Where do I get mittens in south Florida? Put socks on their hands? Would the Department of Children and Family Services approve? If so, I’ll try the ole’ sock trick the next time my son won’t listen when I say, “Keep your hands to yourself.”]
To Make:
Affix double-sided tape up and down the sweatshirt. Stick cotton batting on tape.
Simple. With newfound hope, off to Tar-ghey I went. With goods in hand, I sat on the living room floor re-reading the instructions. Yes, they were simple. Yet deceivingly simple.
Where exactly do you put the batting? How thick--are these woolly lambs of Northern variety or do they have short coats? Do you go for downy clumps or clean lines? Should your lamb have unsightly back hair? I felt like I was undergoing a Giant Rorschach test. Fast-forward 15 years: I can just hear the therapist now, asking my children: “And vhy did ur modder say she vus putting de batting on like daht?”
In less than 72 hours, 12 woolly lambs would enter the auditorium and you’d instantly tell a LOT about their mothers: who was caring and nurturing and who was drunk with glue gun in hand; who did everything she could for her kids and who was the ultimate slacker. Even worse than this Mommy Dearest lineup was how my kids would look compared to the others. Will my kids be the WORST woolly lambs in history since Noah? [“The animals came in two by two…except for the lambs, because they looked…Well, let’s just say we’d like to reproduce without them.”]
In the end, I decided my kids would be minimalist lambs: I put some cotton in patches on the stomach and arms. (Really, have you ever seen a totally uniform lamb?) Both suits were finished in an hour.
The next morning I unveiled the suit, asking my daughter: “Does this look like a woolly lamb?” “No, it looks like a woolly monster.” SCORE! At least it’s woolly!
My husband came home and I showed the outfits to him. He—who has learned to respond without hesitation to the “Do I look fat in this?” question—was speechless in this foreign territory of crafting. “Don’t worry, the kids are young and won’t remember it anyway.”
Apparently I failed the test My kids will look like giant tampons! Should I rip off the tape and start again?! Add more batting? Take off some batting? Give the batting a trim? Despite my neurotic bad-Mom conscience that urged me to try again, my inherently lazy side won over, as it usually does. Who cares? It’s just a costume.
Tonight, as I hung the costumes in my kids’ rooms, I looked over and watched them sleep. Their stomachs rising and falling as they breathed in and out so peacefully. It was true: Even though no lamb can be absolutely perfect, every lamb is beautiful….that is, until 72 hours from now.
Labels: pageant, woolly lamb costume
