Sewing Without a Cat and Other Struggles

Although I try to keep this blog strongly focused on knitting and sewing, I've been struggling with a few things recently that I wanted to share, from least to most challenging.

#1: Life Without a Cat.

Above is a recent photo of my sweet cat Ronnie (on right), snuggled up with with his best friend Squeaky. But that's not my chair, and that's not my apartment.

A few weeks ago we were devastated to learn in Z's latest round of allergy tests that she had become SEVERELY allergic to cats (after previously testing negative)... which likely explained her constant runny nose and the horrible flare-ups she'd been having in her eczema, which her dermatologist told us were probably related to newly developed environmental allergies, not her existing severe food allergies.

As painful as it was, we had no choice—we sent Ronnie to live with my parents, washed EVERYTHING in the apartment, scrubbed and vacuumed and scrubbed again... the allergist says it will take SIX years to remove all the cat dander completely because it's so sticky, but we have hopefully reduced the allergen load by a big amount.

The good news is, little Z's eczema has improved significantly. She still scratches constantly (waking herself up at night), and still has some patches on her face, arms and legs, and we still have to give her Zyrtec every day and COVER her in layers of ointments and cream twice a day... but for the first time in MONTHS, her face is no longer covered with oozing open sores and a bumpy red rash—probably because she was so fond of hugging Ronnie and rubbing her face against him.

Still, living without a cat is such a bummer. We had already lost one cat when my sweet (but very sickly) little Riley died last year, and it's just WEIRD coming home to an apartment without a cat to greet me and wind around my legs, or sit on the floor next to the sewing table or... you get the idea. (Also: I'll never qualify for the Sewing With Cats Blog Award! Even though I've had to replace my presser foot cable TWICE due to feline destruction!)

Little Z really misses him, so she's been playing a lot with a stuffed kitty doll that she has named "Ronnie." But I have to say he probably doesn't miss her—she was always a little too generous with her affection! And both Ronnie and Squeaky are happier not to be solo cats anymore.

#2: Sending My Food-Allergic Toddler Off to Preschool

So #1 sucks. But #2... is beyond terrifying. Z has life-threatening allergies to sesame, mustard, eggs, tree nuts and cow's milk. Even a small amount of these foods—as we learned the first time she had a tiny bite of hummus and we had to call an ambulance to rush her to the ER—could be extremely dangerous for her. And because sesame and mustard aren't "Top 8" allergens in the U.S. (though they are in Canada and Australia), U.S. food labels aren't required to mention them, and can even include them in vague terms like "spices" or "natural flavorings."

So there aren't ANY restaurants we can safely take her to these days (she's just way too grabby and mobile), and all the constant label-reading and cooking EVERYTHING special and from scratch and calling companies to make sure they don't process sesame or mustard in the same factory as her bread or cereal is a bit exhausting. We bake her special allergen-free cupcakes if she gets invited to a birthday party, and we ALWAYS carry safe snacks for her everywhere.

Since she was born, Z has always been taken care of by family—at first by me, and then when I went back to work, by my mom, and for the past year-and-a-half, by my husband. We've never even hired a babysitter for her, since we don't feel safe trusting an outsider to manage her severe food allergies. The few date nights we get, she's been watched by family members or by generous friends who came to our sesame and nut-free apartment.

Out on the playground, we probably look like so-called "helicopter parents", because we have to constantly be hovering to make sure she doesn't put anything dangerous in her mouth (like a dropped nut, say) or go too near to a child eating hummus or a sesame snack or goldfish crackers.

But as much as I would like to keep her in a magic allergy-free bubble, little Z is old enough that she needs to be around more kids. So we've enrolled her fulltime in a wonderful little preschool near our apartment where she'll get to play, learn, grow and make new friends.

We're meeting with everyone at the school to work out a plan for keeping her safe whenever kids are eating or snacking, for having safe foods available for her for snacktimes—and of course for having an Epi-pen available and everyone trained to use it in case of a reaction.

They are super responsive and understanding, and have managed severe allergies before (though maybe not as many in one child as Z has?!), but I will admit the whole thing is giving me nightmares.

Z, on the other hand, is totally psyched. She had her first two "assimilation" (is it just me, or does that remind you of the Borg?) classes this week and keeps talking about how much she loves school and her teacher.

#3: Etcetera.

So yeah. Add in the complete lack of sleep or free time I've had in the evenings since Z learned to climb out of her crib and we tried to put her in a "big girl" bed... and the tighter-than-tight budget regime we've instituted to make preschool possible (we've completely eliminated takeout or buying lunches out, groceries for each meal must cost less than $2.50/person, no buying books or DVDs or sewing supplies or music, thrift-store clothes only, etc.)...

... and I'm a bit frazzled, to say the least. I'm trying to stay positive, though—I have a wonderful daughter, a loving husband, an amazing family and a cool job and I live in a fabulous city! The school is being great about Z's food allergies and my kitty is in a happy new home.

And there are upsides, of course! For example, our strict budget has led to us trying lots of tasty new recipes—and Z has been loving coming with me to the farmer's market every Saturday to pick out her favorite fruits and veggies. She even helps me cook—last night she mixed up the guacamolé herself and helped me make pizza dough for tonight's dinner, and the other day she tore the kale leaves from the stems to make kale soup.

Thanks for listening! Phew!

The Sewing Happiness Quotient (featuring the "Kit Cat Cute" Cords)

10 out of 10 for Sewing Happiness Quotient, 10 out of 10 for Mangled Buttonhole Quotient.

When planning your sewing, there are many factors to consider—fabric, fit, finishing, cleaning methods, how a garment will fit into your wardrobe and lifestyle...

But what about the sheer unbridled HAPPINESS factor? What about the fun details, exciting colors and passion-inspiring prints that just make you THRILLED and DELIGHTED and BURSTING WITH JOY every time you wear them?

Let's call this the Sewing Happiness Quotient. It may not be a very scientific or elegant way to evaluate your sewing projects (and could result in embellishment overload), but well, shouldn't sewing be FUN?

And these overalls--while still way too large, and somewhat imperfect in their finishing--are just PACKED with fun details that (a) made them a pleasure for me to sew and (b) make them exciting for my daughter to wear. She may look stoic in the top photo, but that's because I asked her to pose--her general reaction to these overalls is better represented here:

Anyway, for these overalls, here were the main Sewing Happiness Factors:

Mikhaela Happiness Factor: The Fabric

The overalls lining.

Have you ever loved a fabric beyond all reason, so much so that even thinking about said fabric made you ridiculously happy? Well, that's how I feel about a certain Maggy London abstract print lawn I got from Emma One Sock a few years ago.

I first used it in a reversible shirred skirt I made while hugely pregnant--but which is happily so stretchy that I wear it frequently today. And I was so excited to use the leftovers here for the overalls lining, piping, and appliqué. I think I still have enough to make a scarf...

Toddler Happiness Factor: The Cat Appliqué

I never used to understand why almost so much toddler clothing is covered in cutesy appliqués--I thought it was because adults felt an unnecessary urge to embellish their children in frou-frou nonsense. Not so! Those appliqués are for the kids! Z loves to point at the pictures on her clothes and identify them: "Butterfly!" "Cupcake!" "Hammer!" And on nights when she doesn't want to get ready for bed, my best parenting trick is a pair of appliqued pajamas:

Me: It's time to put on your pajamas!

Z: (laughs in defiance, runs around apartment squealing in diaper)

Me: They've got kitty cats on the toes!

Z: (comes to screeching halt, runs over) Kitty! Kitty!

So yeah, she loves them.

Here's an appliqué closeup (please ignore those mangled buttonholes):

The sketch:

More views:

The pattern: Ottobre Design Magazine 4/2010 #4. Lined "Pupu" Overalls in baby and toddler sizes:

Pattern Sizing: I cut the largest size, 92 cm (similar in size to American 3T) as I wanted these to be quite a bit too large for her to grow into. They are super big, but not so huge as to be unwearable. And she grows FAST. So I'm happy.

Were the instructions easy to follow? Better than Burda magazine, but not as detailed and helpful as pattern envelope type instructions--they don't have illustrations or anything, it's just a lot of small print. The trickiest bit was attaching the lining to the shell and turning inside out through a small gap in the lining seam--be careful to read closely here.

What did you particularly like or dislike about the pattern? I love that these are a really special garment in a simple silhouette with lots of details that can be played with and changed. Because of the details and lining they took ages to make-- but it was worth it.

Fabric:

• Shell: Soft magenta baby cord from the stash, originally purchased at Jo-Ann's for $9/yard. I barely had enough with the one yard, so I had to piece the back bib and cut small seam allowances (1/4").
• Lining/Piping/Appliqué: Awesome Maggy London printed lawn from stash, originally $10.50/yard from Emma One Sock (plus some corduroy scraps from my trousers for cat facial features).

Notions + whatnot: Buttons from Pacific Trimming, embroidery floss (for cat whiskers).

Pattern alterations or any design changes you made:

• I didn't bother with the velcro front closing, as Z has no problem pulling pants on and off the ordinary way--I just cut two sets of the regular leg pieces. But I would have if making these for a baby.
• Replaced the heart-shaped back pockets with flat-piped self-drafted pockets that mimic the geometric shapes of the lining print. (My husband hated the hearts on the butt of the original).
• Replaced the bunny appliqué with a cat appliqué of my own design.

Successes:

• First time making my own bias tape. I used Sarai's awesome method from the Colette Sewing Handbook.
• First time (flat) piping anything. Can't wait to do this on something for me now!
• First time applying an appliqué on a garment. I used Lite Steam-a-Seam 2 to fuse it to the bib front, which made it super easy--and meant I could just stitch down with a straight stitch and not worry about frayed edges.
• First time hand-embroidering on a garment (the whiskers). I used a split stitch and it was really fun and easy. I shouldn't have tried to hoop the corduroy, though--it left marks.
• First time fully-lining something like this (I've done free-hanging full dress linings, but this was trickier).
• First time doing decorative topstitching (on some seams and for the faux knee patches). I didn't have the right color in topstitching thread, so I used the triple reinforced stitch with mixed results (it worked well on straight lines, not so much on on the curved knee patch lines).

Room for improvement:

• Buttonhole sadness. I have the worst luck with my Viking's sensor buttonhole foot. I always interface the button area and make practice buttonholes, but something funny happened here and I had to restitch the buttonhole over itself twice... it's a mess.
• Tab weirdness. In fact, the tabs and straps just don't look right in general to me (they don't seem to quite line up) but whatever. They're toddler overalls!

Would you sew it again? Would you recommend it to others?

Maybe and yes. It's getting warmer, so I'll probably switch to sewing dresses for her now.

Wear to: Park. Sandbox. Playdate. Art-making. Wherever!

Conclusion: She loves them! I love them! Meow!

So--what sewing is making you happy lately?

Meet the Boys, Pt. 2: Ronnie

Ronnie adorned with crown of unpicked serger thread

In the first part of this two-part series, you met Riley, my sniffly, foot-pedal-cord-chewing life-threatening-illness-prone runt of a cat. In this second and final part: Life With Ronnie!

This gray-and-white lapdog of a cat meowed his way into our home in November 2007, a few months after our wedding. We both work full-time and had started to worry that Riley, playful guy that he is, was lonely and bored during the day. Clearly he needed a friend!

Some friends of ours had just bought a house in Bushwick, and discovered they had three cats and a litter of kittens living in their backyard--extremely domestic cats that seemed to think they belonged inside said house. Big heavy metal fans that they are, our friends named the cats Ronnie, James and Dio and gave them food and water, but with three dogs and a cat of their own, there was no room in the house for more pets.

We initially thought we'd bring home two of the kittens--so cute and tiny!--but they wanted nothing to do with us and hid behind the lawn furniture. Ronnie, on the other hand, was aggressively friendly--within seconds he was in our laps purring and talking to us, and we just couldn't resist. He was a bit scrawny when we brought him home:

... but he beefed up in no time. It turned out he was already neutered and our vet was fairly certain of what we already suspected--Ronnie and his brother and sister were abandoned housepets, possibly left behind by the previous owners of the house when they moved away. (GRRR! For SHAME!)

And let's just say he has abandonment issues. When not being held or picked up or petted by us or played with by Riley, he just wanders around the apartment yowling forlornly (good practice for having a baby, maybe?). We can't let him in our bedroom at night for litter box access reasons, and he STILL doesn't understand--some nights he sits outside and cries until the wee hours. Within seconds of either of us (especially Masheka) sitting down, he makes a running jump for our laps. Dislodging him is nigh impossible--he has a magical technique of going limp and tripling his weight when we try to push him off.

Good thing he has Riley to keep him company. They mostly get along great, but do their fair share of wrestling and play fighting--mostly over who gets to groom who. They have a gross but hilarious fixation on licking the ear wax out of each others ears and our vet always comments on how clean their ears are. But when Riley was deathly ill last year, Ronnie just did NOT understand why his buddy didn't want to play, and we had to keep running interference so Riley could get some sleep.

Also--the dude really likes catnip. Riley could care less, but put a little bit on the floor and Ronnie starts rolling around and dancing and who knows what until he's covered in it:

And that concludes this extremely brief series that has nothing to do with sewing, and everything to do with the fact that I am a crazy cat lady.

Meet the boys, Pt. 1: Riley!

You've (digitally) met me and Masheka, and you'll meet Cartoonist Baby soon enough. But there are two more members of our little Brooklyn family who deserve your attention!

First up, there's Riley (shown here in 2006 sneezing all over Masheka, and in 2007 participating in a book publicity photo shoot):

Riley first sniffled his way into my life in May of 2004, mere days before I met Masheka. I had just moved to my first pet-friendly Brooklyn apartment, and there was a cat-shaped hole in my life. My parents had tried to lend me one of theirs, but she retaliated for this abandonment by scratching at my legs and peeing on my bed EVERY DAY (plastic tarps were no barrier to her mad urination skills).

So Mombi returned to Massachusetts, and I paid a visit to a cat rescue group. This time I wanted to adopt a sweet, loving lap kitty without vengeful urination habits. Finally, I just asked "who is your friendliest cat?"

That would be Riley. As soon as they opened his carrier, this little orange-and-white guy leapt into my arms and began purring like a steam engine. Instant cat love! His shelter name was actually "Reilly", but I changed the spelling in tribute to the Boondocks comic strip character.

But hours after I got him home, I began to worry. He just huddled on my bed, totally uninterested in food or water. Turns out he had a major respiratory illness, the equivalent of kitty pneumonia. So my first phone conversation with Masheka (before our first date) found me sitting on the kitchen floor with Riley wrapped in a towel as I tried--and mostly failed--to administer chicken-flavored baby food via syringe.

After two weeks at the vet hooked up to an IV and feeding tube (paid for by the apologetic rescue group), Riley recovered. And for the past six years he has brought a ridiculous level of joy to our lives. He's sweet, cuddly and playful, with a loud asthma-enhanced vaccuum-cleaner purr and a penchant for streaking madly around the apartment for no apparent reason.

Still, life with Riley can be a bit of a trial. There is nothing he will not bite, chew, scratch, cough (again, the asthma), sneeze or vomit on. Despite our obsessive use of cord-protection devices, he has twice managed to completely eat through the presser-foot cable on my Viking Platinum 730, occasioning expensive emergency trips to the repair shop. I have to watch him like a hawk around yarn, thread and elastic. I'm just glad he's never electrocuted himself!

And then there is his insistence on developing terrifying life-threatening illnesses on a regular basis. A seriously infected broken tooth (likely due to his unconventional choice of food materials) nearly killed him last spring; by the time he came home from his dental surgery he was a skeletal 3.9 pounds:

He made a miraculous recovery and weighs nearly 8 pounds now... but not so long ago terrified us again by scratching a tiny scab on his neck into a giant gaping bloody wound. I had no choice but to serge him up a rib-knit T-shirt to keep his claws off it while it healed (he had destroyed the vet-provided version in minutes):

Masheka remarked that Riley looked ready to play jazz flute in this little turtleneck... but kitty was just relieved when we finally let him wiggle out of it. So: aside from medical necessity, sewing for cats = not recommended.

Next up in this extremely short series: Life With Ronnie!