Stitch Rabbit

All The Pretty Dresses.

30 Dresses in 30 Days is settling into it's last week. I have to say I've impressed myself. I really didn't think I could hack the thirty days.... and with one  week left I've worn a dress every single day... and have even been inspired enough to buy a few of my own. ( More on that later this week) For now, here are a few of my favorite standout dresses I've been frolicking in this week and last!

 

Laundry is so pretty these days...

 

Biking is hard in the dress. There are a few that I feel comfortable in but most are too long, too flowery or too silly to wear while sweating and hauling 90 pounds of trailer and children. I'm looking forward to returning to a good pair of black jeans my new Chrome biking shoes! This one was easy, because it was so short and casual. In fact, it was this dress that gave me the confidence to get back to feeling comfortable in short dresses! 

 

Yes. I am wearing a tropical holiday-themed dress. When I pulled it out of the box my girlfriend sent to me at the beginning of the month I almost hurt an organ or two howling so hard. Never in a million years, would I frolic in a tropical holiday-themed anything, let alone a vintage dress that twirls and dons the words: "Bermuda! Island in The Sun!"

But one day the sun was so hot, and the park and the sangaria were on my mind and I was feeling a little like a holiday... so I tried it on. Turns out it's actually one of my favorites.

 

Probably the hardest time to put on a dress is to garden. It simply isn't functional. To mow the lawn and weedwack is some serious business and I don't want to feel like I'm from Little House on The Prairie. I want to feel like I can bend and kneel and haul crap around and then wipe my filthy hands on my jeans, shove my gloves into my back pockets and go in for some lunch. Fortunetly I have this dress to wear so even though I'm not working as hard as I ought to out there, I look like a garden myself which distracts from the weeds.

 

Finally, I've discovered that the dresses I like the best are made of more natural fibres like linen and cotton. This one was a perfect example of a dress I could wear again and again. I'm getting very comfortable in all these dresses. I'll be sad to let a few of them go!

 

 

I Love You.

I love you. You are my daughter, my first born child. I grew you in my belly and loved you every minute you have been here with me.

You astound me. Astonish me. Take my breath away. Make my heart swell. Bring laughter from my belly and draw tears from my eyes. You are the most magical creature I have ever met.

I do everything for you, and I would again and again. I love you, daughter of mine.

You're six.

Firsts.

For six years I've cut my daughter's hair. I think she's had a cut once or twice but someone else willing to wield the scissors, but mostly the blame is on me. You don't even want to know the shape of the scissors I use. When she wanted bangs I graduated to a pair of sewing scissors for the special job of framing her beautiful face with my handiwork.

So... as we near the 6th milestone for my baby girl this week, I thought - you know, she really ought to get a real haircut. One that makes her look a little less like one of the orphans in Annie.

She was so proud of herself. Climbing up onto the booster seat in the chair, reading her sparkly fairy book and answering our friend and hair lady Chenoa's questions... I realized, quite quickly how old she really is. With her glitter tights and her cute new bangs and book tucked under her arm. I'm so proud of my little girl.

And you won't believe who climbed into the chair after....

Unbelievable. Couldn't believe he sat for the whole thing. With an ultra serious look on his face. At the very end the pressure of sitting absolutely still and having women dot on him and snap photos got to him. He looked at me, his eyes filled and he burst into tears.

Possibly the cutest thing he's ever done.

A lollipop in hand and everything was fine. And now my kids don't look like hobos.

Film Wife.

It's that time of year again. The peonies in my garden are about to burst into the most beautiful deep red flowers. I wait for them every year, they take ages to open and it marks the beginning of the busiest season for our family. As a seasoned film wife I can feel the peak season ramping up, as the calender gets filled and husband/Daddy sightings get fewer and fewer. Film is a balancing act, one that works well sometimes with evenly spread out jobs, time enough in between for solid family hangouts, and jobs booked ahead. In the winter film life can be as bare and cold as the northern tundra without a day's work in sight. And there's time like the now, the summer heating up, when the work just goes on and on and on and on.

And so it always takes a minute to get into it.

The film summers used to rock my world, as a new mom who needed all the support and hands on deck she could find. The idea of not knowing when your husband will be home to take the screaming infant from your tired breast is enough to send most new moms into fits of tears, complete with crumpled tissues and the biggest "Why Me?" complex you can grow.

And then life goes on and the winter comes and the work gets less and you wonder why you ever made such a fuss and wish your husband would get back to work already so you can go on with your idyllic little life at home, folding towels and planting flowers, and sewing in the evenings, waiting for him to come home.

And then you grow even more, and gain the status of the experienced film wife. You stop asking when he will be coming home, stop praying he will swoop in right at the end of dinner to help with the whining bath and crying bedtime and the mountain of dishes you've ignored all day. You stop feeling sorry for yourself and you begin to take pride in all that you can accomplish without the help of a spouse. And they take pride in you. You begin to understand just how powerful and competent you really are, that you and the children can survive three weeks four weeks two months of mowing lawns and oil changes and extremely large grocery shops and cleaning all of it - all of the house, all of the yard, all of the clothes, all of the time. You become a team, you and the kids, making the house work and your lives work while such an essential part of your family is away.... and your husband cheers you on from his own post, on set making a living so we can do exactly that... live. Happily, confidently, and with a sense that as a family, together or apart, you can get it done. It's all for the greater good. It's for our future. One day soon we will spend our days working together rather than apart, for ourselves and for our family.

So here I am, at the beginning of the summer. The calendar is filling and the days are longer and the back door stays open later, waiting for his return. I am getting into it. There hasn't been time to sew, time to knit, time to sit. The laundry and the dishes are multiplying and my freshly planted garden needs most of my evening time. But the momentum is waking me up to the speed of the summer months, and so here we go. We are blooming again.

 

Her Newest Muse

I've become her favorite subject. If anyone knows my daughter they know her in a dress. If not a dress than a skirt. I dare you to try and get her in a pair of jeans. It's like pulling teeth, and trust me, we're going through that now too and it's not easy. **In fact, on a total side note, how long does a child really need to wiggle their tooth till it comes out? We've been waiting on this thing for a month.**

But back to the topic at hand... ever since I donned the first dress on the first day of 30 Dresses my daughter has been my very own entourage, oohing and aahing me as I twirl somewhat ungraciously around the kitchen in my frock of the day. Apparently I've impressed her so much that she has told her classmates what I am up to, and now my entourage has grown to a group of smiley chattering five and six year old girls on the playground.

And now I'm getting my portrait done.

This is me in my pink platform heels, toes in of course, in true hipster "I have to pee or I am posing for a photo, I don't know I'm confused" look. I'm wearing my golden yellow crown (of course) and check out how long my hair is these days. Babe.

She's been drawing me a lot lately and they're pretty awesome, which reminded me of this really cool idea I'd read about before, making dolls out of your children's drawings. Such a fantastic idea! There are a number of companies out there doing this, and I think I'm going to give it a shot with one of her drawings. If you'd like to check out a bunch of them, take a look at Child's Own Flickr pages!

What a great childhood keepsake!

 

 

 

 

 

Grown.

I've spent six Mother's Days in my thirty years recieving slobbering kisses sticky with pancake syrup and handmade cards squished by the tiny hands thrusting them at me as I peek out from under the covers, milking the automatic turn to sleep in for as long as I possibly can. At some point a lovingly made cappacino is handed to me from the lovely father of the sweet little babes who've honored me with the title "Mom".

It's been six Mother's Days of pure heaven.

There's no book on Motherhood, although there are many who try to write the rules. We all end up doing what we should - going with our guts and with our hearts. I've spent six years watching my children grow from tiny seven pound kittens into walking, running, dancing beings who astound me more and more every day, as I watch them become exactly who they are supposed to be. They just know how to grow, how to learn, how to shape and master.

I've spent six years watching myself, in the mirror and in the world. There are parts of me that have changed, have aged, have fallen away, have left. I look different than I did when this all began. I feel different. I've grown. My children have taught me to walk away from what doesn't fit me anymore. They've inspired me to start new things, to take what I'm interested in and run with it, full tilt. The enthusiasm they have, I want to have too. My kids.... they are teaching me all the time.

As I'm sitting here on the eve of the Sunday I am crowned Queen Mommy for a day, I'm tired and sore and sun-kissed from a weekend of riding bikes, going on dates, hanging out with friends, and digging in the garden with my kids. It's been wonderful so far. This Mother's Day, under the covers, covered in sticky kisses, I am going to celebrate all the ways I have grown as a mother and as a person. And I'm going to thank my kids for that.

Happy Mother's Day to all the women who have held hands and wiped tears and kissed tiny cheeks and let their children show them exactly what love is.

 

 

 

Learning To Be.

There's something really nice about a dress. I don't if it's the way that people react to a woman in a dress or if it's the way a woman carries herself in one, but a dress creates a certain kind of feeling that brings out a niceness in people. It's like saying "Today is a really nice day and I'm going to dress for it." People react to that, smile more, find a woman in a dress approachable and friendly.

My freshman week in nicer attire didn't start out feeling so nice. In fact it was anything but. The terrible weather attributed to my unease, but frankly the biggest wall was my own attitude towards the dress. I'd forgotten how to carry myself in a dress. I felt like wearing one was too exposing, not tough enough for me. I wasn't sure I could be myself. I had forgotten completely about the power of the dress.

Putting on a dress has encouraged me to care a little more about the way I looked head to toe. I don't think in a vain way, I think, more in a very loving way. I feel like I want to present myself differently, like someone who took the time to look nice, because I value myself enough to care.

Peope interact differently with a woman in a dress. I think it comes back to the power of the dress. When wearing a dress, a woman feels pretty, she feel confident. She carries herself differently and people feel that. There's a contagious kind of happy that can happen around a woman who feels good in her clothes.

So I'm a week in... and I think I've reined in some of my biggest fears around wearing a dress. I think I'm gaining confidence and feeling more and more comfortable. I think I can still be me and be in a dress. It's kind of nice.

What are you wearing when you feel the most like you?

Weekend Frocks

 

What I have learned this weekend:

 

Most dresses have no pockets. I started wearing all those vintage aprons I've been collecting.

 

Biking and dresses aren't the easiest combo for me. It would be different if I was riding a cruiser to the market for kale, but I prefer to pretend I'm a racer on my bike and the dress just doesn't cut it. Also, low cut and v-neck dresses are fairly risque.

I made it work anyway. A girl's gotta ride her bike.

 

Any dresses that have come from a house with a doggie family member gets full assault inspection, complete with entire wagging body and intense sniffing by Lucy every morning. It's super weird and I just have to stand there till it's over.

 

I'm quickly running out of accessories and cute shoes to go with all the dresses. I think it's time to go shopping. What are you wearing these days??

Let's Kick It Up a Notch.

Okay, so far 30 Dresses in 30 Days has been pretty good, but I'll be the first to admit that it's also been pretty tame. I can't help but feel a little too safe in the dresses I've chosen so far. T-shirt materials, cozy and uncomplicated. Basic shades of blacks and greys and deep maroons. I've been choosing all the dresses I would've already worn.

Lingering in my closet are the brighter, more spectacular numbers I've been cooly ignoring. Partly becuase of the cool weather. I defientely have the habit of dressing darker on darker days. It feels almost inhuman to wear white on cloudy day. Gotta shake this.

So when an armful of dresses came into my hands last night I decided I would pick the one from the group that I was least likely to wear - no matter what it was.

Oh man. I haven't stopped laughing.

Now, this is a really cute dress, I'm sure. And I bet it looks absolutely awesome on the friend who lent it to me. But I am entirely uncomfortable in this dress. Reason number one is it's leopard print. I used to wear a lot of leopard print - purple leopard print, when I was a teen-aged punk rocker. I had this tiny, tiny short skirt that I would wear with three or four studded belts and keys hanging off my hip, complete with shredded black tights and combat boots with red laces. I haven't worn leopard print since.

 

Reason number two is that it has built in shoulder pads. I feel like you should call me Coach.

I've never been okay with shoulder pads. Some ladies can totally rock them. I feel like body-checking people and scoring touchdowns. Friday Night Lights!

 

And finally, Reason number three is probably my favorite. It's a little secret I'm going to share with you... you may consider it cheating, but consider that I have to wear this for the entire day!!

It's really shorts!!!

So give me a break on the fact that this little number has legs and I'll let you sit there and giggle at my skinny pale legs in what is endearingly named "The Skort".

 

Today I Am...

Reading more about the syphon coffee process after finding this gem while thrifting.

 

Winding the last of the denim colored Anzula yarn I got on my trip to Toronto. It's their For Better or Worsted hand-dyed yarn and it's unbelievably beautiful.

 

Working away at mustard colored socks and flipping through Ravelry patterns for ideas for my newest yarn.

 

Considering a tamer version of the Master Cleanse... or at least just juicing all these lemons and drinking the hell out of them.

 

Wondering how much longer I'm going to have to wear a jacket over all these pretty dresses. Come on May, work your magic.

Reincarnation.

I haven't worn this dress for exactly six years. Probably because the last time I wore this dress I looked like this:

Like a fat pregnant lady with a bad haircut eating blue cake. I was about to explode a baby out of me and the cake turned my whole mouth blue. Towards the end of the afternoon someone snapped a photo of me sitting in a chair, the dress hiking up my thighs and giving everyone my version of pregnant indecent exposure. Who knows how long I was sitting like that. No-body's going to tell a pregnant lady you're getting a full viewing of underwear. You just deal with it, she's pregnant. She can't really do anything about that kind of stuff.

I have never been able to get past that image in my head. So the dress gets shoved back in the closet. Until today...

 

Turns out I totally love this dress. It's black with flowers, it's light and easy. I think I origianlly got it in a trade with my girlfriend Jenny Lee, back when we lived in apartments above the breakfast place we worked at. Back before we ever knew we'd push our kids out one day apart. Seriously, she pushed out hers and then I pushed out mine.

 

I can't believe I used to house babies in there.

 

Alright, so day two and it's official. I kind of like wearing a dress today. Am super glad I don't look like a house eating cake in it anymore. Dress reincarnated.

Day One - 30 Dresses In 30 Days.

Of course, I woke up today with a terrible, terrible cold.

Today is the worst day to begin my adventure in bringing back the pretty. Today, I don't feel like wearing a dress. I don't feel like wearing anything other than my blankets and a hot water bottle. Today I would like to call in sick. Today, I would like to call in No. I wonder how much of my cold is a cold and how much of it is my utter lack of motivation to crawl out of bed and pick out a frilly frock. No, it's definitely a cold. It could even be classified as a man-cold. The worst of the worst.

But, promises are promises and so I decided the next best thing to do was to take the dramatics to the next level and dress in the fanciest, poofiest dress I have, put on some red lipstick and lay in bed for the entire day. If I had to be uncomfortable in a dress on a day that I don't want to wear one, I was going to do it my way.

It lasted all of ten minutes before Frankie got hungry and Charlie fell off the couch.

So with a sigh I poured a mug of tea, ran a brush through my hair and picked another, perhaps more suitable dress for a day like today. I bought it a year ago and I've never worn it. It's cute and soft and I may feel like shit on the inside, but I could almost pass for put together on the outside. That's a win to me.

 

Day One. A burgundy dress from Free People that is actually really cozy and has possibly encouraged me to leave the house, even with a terrible cold and the desire to stay under my blankets the whole day.

 

About A Dress.

 

This is me. From the waist down.

Most days you will find me in a pair of jeans with dirt smears down the sides, and boots fit for a farmer. My idea of dressing up is a t-shirt made from something other than t-shirt material. You know exactly what I mean.

I'm not a tomboy, I'm not shy or self conscious of my body at all. I own dresses, I own skirts, I even own some pretty killer heels. I used to dress up all the time, in fact one of my husbands favorite stories is about "the red skirt." It goes like this:

"Remember that red skirt? That red skirt is what got me into this mess."

So, I'm not new to this, to dressing up, to being more feminine. I really actually like it. I know exactly how a dress can make a girl feel. Pretty, beautiful, sexy, feminine, fun. A Dress is a special thing to a woman. It can be a very powerful thing. It can change a mood, create a memory. It's romantic. It can make your night. We dance in a dress, we kiss, we might fall in love in a dress. We look at our dresses and remember beautiful moments.

But somewhere a long the way, I just lost the love and lost my confidence and got really, really....really comfortable in a pair of levis and some converse hi tops. I stopped feeling like I could do anything in a dress, like a dress was debilitating. I embraced the jeans. I would slip into my hip skinnies and not brush my hair, believing that I was emulating this look:

 

Which I'm not. At all.

So I got this idea to sort of jump start my sense of style, a kind of firestarter that would perhaps lead me into a wider, prettier and less dirty selection of clothes. I would wear a dress a day, for thirty days. No jeans, no tights, no pants of any kind. Perhaps I might then remember what it was like to wear a dress and feel feminine and want to continue feeling that way after the 30 days were over. Perhaps it would inspire me to get out of the blacks and the greys and look towards other colors on the wheel. Perhaps it would be the only way I would stop wearing the following footwear every single day.

Come on. All three are permanently muddy.

 

So 30 Dresses was born and already I was screwed because I simply don't have thirty dresses. I have three. Well, four maybe that are daytime appropriate and the rest are just a little too short and a little too sparkly for the playground. So I asked my friends to help me out.

Now the best part about asking my friends is this. I have a very widely different group of friends, style-speaking... who all have a very strong sense of (their own) style. And they all have an opinion on just what I ought to be wearing. So as the dresses came in, so did my breath... almost every dress is something I would have never, ever picked for myself. They are all very lovely dresses, some of them vintage, some of them casual, some of them dressy... in fact every dress is amazing. I just wouldn't have worn them. Too colorful, too bouncy, to frilly and frocky. I like a good utilitarian dress and I certainly don't wear red.

So what I asked for is exactly what I need. I have no other choice but to wear these dresses and experience how I'm going to feel in them. Some of them I might like. Some of them I probably won't at all. But the point of it all is to experience something outside of the norm. To try something new, or get back something I've lost. The confidence in a dress.

 Or to at least start wearing the rest of the shoes in my closet.

 

So let's lay it out here.

Each morning I can only choose from the 30 dresses that I have acquired for the next 30 days, in hopes that I will un-stick myself from the farmer girl rut I have put myself in. In hopes that I may see that color is not something to be afraid of. In hopes that I will rid myself once and for all of the fear of anything without two legs and pockets.

 I will blog about my dress of the day. I will take photos. I will let you know exactly how stoked I am to wake up on a rainy May morning to take my daughter to school and to force myself into pretty leggings, petite shoes and a frilly frock. I may later in the day retract any cursing, and replace it with the thoughts I have after morning coffee regarding the dress I thought I'd never like.

At the end of the 30 days I'm going to recap my feelings and fears towards the pretty dresses, and tell you what I've learned from this ridiculous predicament I've put myself into by openly brainstorming ideas with my husband who is, by the way absolutely STOKED on the next 30 days.

Wish me luck!

30 Dresses In 30 Days.

 

Beginning Tuesday, May 1st! A month-long series about prying off the jeans and bringing back the pretty.

All By Myself.

I'm so nervous I threw up this morning. I've never been away from my kids for more than a night, two nights once and I've certainly never been a plane ride away. I'm not used to being alone. Six years of raising children and I haven't been alone like this in all that time. I'm excited and I'm terrified.

I'm visiting friends for a week in the east, a trip I have been looking forward to for a long time. I can't wait to see them. I can't believe I have the time to do what I'd like. Read a book on the plane, knit and sip tea. Go out for breakfast. Shop. I feel like I've earned this.

In the same breath, I miss my family already. I can't believe how much they are a part of me. I feel as though I am leaving behind my arms. I'm so proud of them for being so brave and so eager to support me in what I want in my life. I know they'll do just fine. Please, a week with Daddy? Sounds like non stop party.

I'm about to board a plane. I feel better now... Wish me luck! I'll wave and blow kisses from the sky.