Category Archives: eliot

sewing angry bird costumes

What’s that you say? Halloween was a week ago?
So it was! But I had a sick child, an eternal doctor’s visit, and a small assortment of other hassles last week that intervened with this writing, so you get it today!

We present Red Angry Bird and Blue Angry Bird, with courtesies to a friend for the photographs:
Red Angry Bird Birdie

Blue Angry Bird Eliot

The costumes were Eliot’s idea. We had to herd him into committing, though, as he was inclined to invent about a hundred other costume ideas between mid-September and Halloween. I liked this, though, because I felt they would be fairly easy to sew (unlike last year’s Buzz Lightyear), and although Angry Birds are very popular, I didn’t think they would be super prevalent on the darkened streets.

I used Simplicity 2070, a toddler chick or pumpkin costume pattern, which I thought would be easy to alter to a bird situation. Red and blue fleece, and I didn’t make legs, because the angry birds don’t seem to have legs, and I didn’t need additional work. The pattern was ridiculously easy, both to cut and to assemble. I probably spent about five hours total on both costumes, plus an additional hour reminding Eliot that he didn’t get to change his mind once I’d purchased the materials to make his initial choice.

my angry birds!

They both seem to really like their costumes and they were adorable, in my personal opinion. Half of the houses we visited knew what they were, and the rest thought that they had something to do with Phineas and Ferb: something about a platypus?


30 verys

Poor Eliot. I think we wrapped things up on an okay note, if the squeeze he gave my neck is any indication. Minutes earlier, though, bedtime looked more like wartime. It was my fault. I take full responsibility. I’ve already apologized, and he’s already forgiven me. Fortunately.

Because he was VERY VERY VERY MAD at me. He crawled far across his bed, away from me. “I’m never going to listen to you again!”

And it really was my fault. My throat hurts. I’m very tired. I just wanted to tuck everyone in and carry on with my evening, which HAS to include the completion of at least one Angry Bird costume, if not both of them. So, we finished our story-reading (Birdie already made because I told her I was reading the book she wanted to read), and I flipped off the light in the middle of Eliot reeling off the colors on the cover of the same book. Maybe I should blame Dr. Suess and his book, right? But, really, credit is all me. I turned off the light, turned on the cd, and took the book. Eliot was mad, and fairly, but then he punched me as we all snuggled in Bird’s bed. And we don’t do punching.

“If you punch me again, you will have to go to your own bed.”

Five seconds later, the polar bear punched me. “Using a tool to do your hitting is still hitting. Go.” I unceremoniously dumped him in his bed, returned to Birdie, snuggled her for the two songs we snuggle, and went back to his room, where his sorrow remained in full force. I told him how sorry I was, how I knew I was wrong.

“You were being mean to me. That’s why I hit you!”

“Do you hit your friend at school when he does something you don’t like?”

No. Apparently, everyone in the entire world does what Eliot wants. Except me.

I lost count the other day, as he hollered at me from the back seat, but I’m pretty sure he prefaced “mad” with thirty “very”s. That’s pretty mad.

I’m not sure how we’ll find our way out of this not getting your way means people (ME) are mean phase, but I’m sure it will come along eventually. In the meantime, I’ll keep apologizing when I am actually officially wrong. And I’ll keep hugging a teary boy.

moving on.

We came to the end of an era today. I try to use my dusting time as purging time as well: usually, I’m just collecting waywards papers and shoes or the bits and bobs of child detritus (how many rubber bands can one stash on a baby doll crib, anyway?). Sometimes, though, I find larger things to move along. Today, I actually removed two: a lamp we don’t use or like and the baby monitor.

That’s right. Eliot is nearly four years old, and we each had an end of a monitor. The hardest cord to sever, I think. To me, this marks a greater step forward than the tiny dinosaur underpants I fold and he puts away. He has been sleeping through the night for more than a year now, since he was nearly three, but I liked having that touch to his space, to hear him breathing heavily or just tossing under his blankets. He didn’t give up having me retrieve him from his bed until this summer, so I also needed a way to hear his “Mama? Mama! MAMA!” before he woke Birdie.

Now, though? Almost four. He sleeps all night. He doesn’t require me actually IN his room to fall asleep. He counts down from ten snuggles. And he gets up and stealthily sneaks into our room, past Daddy’s side of the bed, to lay on the floor by my bed or to stare at me until I peek back at him from under my bundle of duvet. He sometimes even comes in, sees us sleeping, and goes back out. No longer can we hear him quietly playing cars or reading books as we drift in and out of early morning sleep, but he has proven himself capable of playing quietly and safely, so I think we’re good.

He hated that little red light on the monitor perched on his bed. I dropped it off on the floor, then I stopped turning my end on. If it’s not close enough for his breathing, why bother?

So, good night, sweet boy. Time to quit whispering. Time to kiss your doggies good-night and snuggle under your blanket. I’ll hear you in the morning.

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