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Another Big Bite

Another Big Bite

Tag Archives: dolls

They See Me Strollin’. They Hatin’.

02 Friday Aug 2013

Posted by anotherbigbite in I'm a Crafty Mo' Fo', The "Joy" of Parenting

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

alice, before and after, crafts, diy, doll stroller, dolls, goodwill, kids, parenting, recycle, sewing, upcycle, upcycling

Another Big Bite - Doll Stroller Makeover

Oh, Alice and her babies.

She’s been enamored with baby dolls since she’s been able to sit up.  Finn suggested we get her a stroller for her first birthday, which turned out to be a stroke of genius.  We ordered a plastic Fisher Price walker-type one from Amazon, and she was on a roll. Once she realized that she had more than just the one baby, all hell broke loose because the other babies were too big.

That one has been banished to the basement for its tantrum-causing tendencies.  Don’t worry; it has the giant cardboard bricks, slot-cars and Hot Wheel track down there to keep it company.

Last week, after my I-should-get-rid-of-my-crappy-Old-Navy-clothes epiphany, I whittled down my closet by almost half and lugged two giant blue Ikea bags full of clothes to Goodwill.  I made the mistake of popping in.  And left $3.00 poorer with this icky bad boy in my trunk.

Another Big Bite - Doll Stroller Makeover before

I scrubbed the hell out of it with Clorox wipes.  Instead of being a regular person and plunking the cover in the wash, I made a new cover.  Just trying to make the world a little cuter, one beat-up doll stroller at a time.

It wasn’t rocket science; I used a seam ripper to tear it apart and then traced the pieces onto leftover fabric scraps.  Oh, yeah, canvas dropcloth to the rescue yet again!  I’m gonna milk that baby as long as I can.  Best twenty bucks I’ve ever spent.  Since the original stroller fabric was finished in bias tape (which tests my sewing skills and frustrates me to no end) and I was fresh out (shucky-darn, motherfucka), I opted to double up the canvas with some cute Amy Butler fabric I had lying around waiting for a project.  That meant adding a bit of seam allowance.

photo 1 (12)

Then traced my canvas on to the cute fabric...

Then traced my canvas on to the cute fabric…

I made sure to add elastic loops, static loops and velcro wherever the original had it.  The original had a pair of D-rings and webbing for the belt to hold the doll in.  Alice would have long outgrown this darn thing before she was able to manipulate those, so I improvised a velcro/fabric belt instead.

1stroller1

Now she’s happier than a brand-new momma with a Bugaboo…  (Probably because she gets more sleep).  And I’m happier because this one folds up and hides in the cabinets in the living room when she’s done.

Ohmygod!  She was so little in December!  And not even walking on her own.

Ohmygod! She was so little in December! And not even walking on her own.

1stroller4

1stroller3

“Back up, lady. That last Petite Vanilla Scone has my name written all over it.”

No stroller, but I couldn't resist.

No stroller, but I couldn’t resist.

This should stay relevant until she realizes they make DOUBLE strollers for dolls…  I’ll plead with her to reconsider putting it on her Christmas list.  (“Please, Alice, honey.  Your father and I thought we had to have a double stroller for the two of you kids…  And that thing is a bitch to get around.  And takes up too much real estate in the garage…  Even though it is AMAZING.”)  But she’ll be just like her mom – and won’t listen to her mother’s sage advice.

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The Slippery American-Girl-Doll Slope

15 Monday Jul 2013

Posted by anotherbigbite in Nerd Alert, The "Joy" of Parenting, The Good Ole Days

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

alice, American Girl Doll, american girl doll store, birthday, birthday experience, childhood, christmas present, daughter, diy, dolls, Emily, little girls, Molly, parenting, repairing dolls, restringing, tightening american girl doll limbs

Nathan surprised us at the zoo on my birthday.  I took the kids to see the new lion exhibit (Which was terrifyingly awesome, since the female lions are not getting along with the new male and have been attacking him.  I’ve never seen lions in a zoo do anything but lie around and pant – and as soon as they started leaping off the rocks, growling at the poor guy and giving him the evil eye, everyone was ushered away and curtains were drawn in front of the glass.).  I love me some zoo – and Nae let me indulge my whims without letting us know he was taking the afternoon off work to celebrate my birthday.  He showed up at the zoo restaurant for lunch, surprised Finny in the most spectacular way and then whisked us all off to Denver for a “special surprise.”

The stage was set for this wonderful 32nd birthday experience when I was about six…  Like many girls at the time, every time the American Girl catalogue would come in the mail, I would pour over it; studying every last detail, and wishing for the day when someone would miraculously fork over $85.00 for a doll for me to fawn over.  After patiently waiting for four or five years, I burst into bona fide tears of joy when I unwrapped my Christmas present from my grandparents.  I think the first thing I opened was Molly’s pajamas, and by the time I dug through the pile for the doll-sized box, I was shaking.  It was like hugging a pen pal you had spent (literally) half your life pouring over every detail of their life (from the books) and silently clutching their letters to your bosom hoping for one day to meet them in the flesh.

It was, without exaggeration, the happiest moment in my young life.  It was if I had met a celebrity and now she was destined to be the very best friend I had ever dreamed of.  For those of you good at math, yes… I was close to eleven at the time.

Start 'em young.

Starting ’em young.

And now, at the age of 32, Nathan was driving me to the American Girl store to buy Molly’s best friend Emily.  Once the catalog came (addressed to Alice these days) announcing Molly and Emily’s retirement, I was inexplicably heartbroken.  I could not find a single good reason to feel sad about a toy being discontinued…  I had Molly, she served me well in my adolescence, stood guard over my bedroom from her perch atop my dresser until I moved out of the house and now is safely tucked away into storage at my grandmother’s house.  No matter what the reason, I mourned just a smidge for Molly and her WWII world.

Though I’m not much for finding solace in retail therapy, the promise of Emily was a little exhilarating.  And there it was, that same feeling of twittery anticipation I felt when I was ten, pulling the lid off of Molly’s burgundy box as gently and quickly as I could without tearing it.

When we arrived, Alice was beside herself amidst the army of plastic faces smiling down on her.  While Nathan and Finn gracefully bowed out to take refuge in the Lego store, Alice and I spent the next hour studying all the tiny accessories, taking doll strollers for test drives and stroking all the dolls’ hair.  We gathered up Emily, her tiny little scrapbook and cardigan and headed to the register.  Sure, Emily was mine, but I’m not a heartless bastard.  We took her out of her box, and for the rest of the day, Alice carried her around the mall, hugged her the whole way home and almost lost it as I tucked her in without the company of sweet, little Emily.

My original plan was to strip Emily of her 1940’s-era outfit, make her a stand-in outfit for Alice to play with her in, and when Alice lost interest, redress her and tuck her away.  Once Alice was old enough to respect the fact that I could buy a week’s worth of groceries with the cash I spent on this doll, we would haul her out and she may become the friend to Alice that Molly was to me.

Ha.  Cue the moment when Alice starts ripping out her hair, and Emily was packed away early the next morning.

When my mom sent me money for my birthday (something she NEVER does, and told me she was not proud of herself for doing so), I whipped open Craigslist on my phone and set to work finding an American Girl Doll that Alice could love as much as Emily.  And rip her hair out without causing me to go into a holy conniption.  Before long, I was and negotiating prices, pouring over pictures and getting ready to break my number one rule about Craigslisting; NEVER GO PICK ANYTHING UP WITHOUT NATHAN.

photo 1 (6)

When we got her, she was a hot mess.  Her hair was a nest of tangles and her limbs wiggled sadly from their joints.  This is why you are getting her for a steal, Lisa… She needs work.  Her previous owners thought of her as a lost cause, but you can resurrect her!!  (Until Alice destroys her once again.)

I scrubbed her down with Clorox wipes and buffed her clean with a Magic Eraser.  While Alice impatiently grunted next to me, I meticulously alternated misting her hair with water and tediously combing out her snarls.  By the end of that ordeal, she didn’t look so bad.

Woah.  Those are some BANGS.

Woah. Those are some BANGS.  Fo reals.

We washed her clothes, dressed her in a new outfit, pulled her hair back, and Alice set about toting her little shadow around the house.  She kept calling her Emily, which is one of the most adorable things EVER for a little person to try to say “Emily,” but since we can’t go around having two dolls with the same name, we dubbed this one Natalie…  I tried Lily, Elizabeth and even Buttercup (as in the Princess Bride – awesomest Rob Reiner film EVER), but Finn thought Natalie was the best choice.  And so it is.

I watched a few YouTube videos on how to restring AG dolls (to make her limbs nice and tight) and was equal parts excited and horrified.  If you would have told my ten-year-old self that I would one day dismantle an American Girl doll, I would have punched you in the face.  The thought of taking apart Molly would have been akin to shaving my head.  But here I was, steeling my nerves and untying the strings that held Natalie’s head in place.

photo 3 (5)

It may not have been the best idea to do this while Alice was awake.  She watched on with a look of slight panic plastered to her face as I pulled out the doll’s stuffing.  The sewing nerd in me thought; hey, this is some NICE polyfill…  

Instead of opting to take her completely apart and reassemble her, I found a YouTube video that promised to fix doll’s limbs with just a handful of ponytail holders.  I decided to give that a try.

photo 2 (5)

And whadya know?  Worked like a charm.  By the time she was all stuffed again, Alice had gone upstairs, gotten another doll and plunked her on the dining room table next to me and my own operation.  As I tied Natalie’s head back on, Alice fiddled with the strings on the other doll.  Oh, no.  I may have just inadvertently created a doll-surgeon-monster.  As a tiny kid, I would sneak my mom’s manicure set into my room and perform surgery on my stuffed animals and dolls.  My mom would spend countless hours sewing them back up, and I got my share of sitting in the corner because of it.  Was Alice going to be the same way because I let her witness the beheading?

photo 4 (2)

TOTALLY worth it.

So, yes.  It was still a bunch of money to spend on a doll for a not-even-two-year-old, but like I told my mom, it is as much for me as it is for her.  She’ll never get to experience the years of anticipation and buildup that make a girl truly treasure a Christmas where you open the toy you have been dreaming about for years.  And my bet is she won’t have the same amount of respect or appreciation for American Girl dolls that she should.  But just as Nathan giggled like a little boy when we got Finn an obscene amount of Hot Wheel track for (a way-too-young) Finny, I’m reliving part of my own childhood through Alice.

photo 5 (2) If you think I’ll ever get her into acting, modeling or pageants, though..  THAT kind of living through your child is not something I’ll ever subject the kids to.  Suggest that, and I might actually punch you in the face.  Just sayin.

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Just like that, it is Christmas.

16 Friday Nov 2012

Posted by anotherbigbite in I'm a Crafty Mo' Fo', The "Joy" of Parenting

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

christmas gifts, crafts, diy, dolls, parenting, sewing

A few days ago, it totally sunk in how soon Christmas is.  Normally, I store up gifts for almost a year in preparation for my favorite holiday, but this year?  Nada.  The top shelf in my closet, the spot specifically for storing Christmas gifts for the coming year (I’m dead serious), is empty.  Well, there is a little sometin-sometin in the basement for Alice that is too big to fit in my closet, but that doesn’t count.

I just finished one of Alice’s presents yesterday…

The movers came this week to estimate the size and scope of our move.  Knowing that we will be living without most of our worldly possessions for a spell is nothing new to us.  Most of our stuff lived in storage for a good chunk of a year when we lived in Chicago before moving to Ohio two years ago.  But it was never around Christmas, and I cannot imagine being sans sewing machine before the big holiday season.

Yeeeaah, I’m one of those.  The person that makes your gift and you’re all like, “Oh.  Gee.  Thanks.  What I have always been wishing and hoping for: a handmade fabric grocery bag dispenser.”  True story.

We are scaling WAY back this year, since most of our cash is tied up in house buying/selling and I’m not about ready to rack up the credit card right before we close on a house.  Not that we have found one yet.  We say we are scaling back every year, and then we end up in exactly the same position on December 24th as we always do; scrambling around trying to find the perfect gift for our ex-roommate’s cousin.  Or something.

I guess what I am trying to say is this…  Please don’t feel bad if you don’t get a gift this year from me; no one else is, either.  I’m even thinking of putting a moratorium on gifts between Nathan and I, since the last thing either one of us needs is to spend cash on things we are perfectly good without.  I’d rather save my money for a vacation, anyway.  (What did I just say?  That a vacation to Disney World is more important to me than getting you a gift that is probably not what you wanted?  Yep.  I’m an asshole.)

For the kids, we are adhering strictly to this plan.  They are getting four gifts apiece from us: a want, need, wear, and a read.  I’m making one of each of their gifts, just because I can still indulge myself by making something for them and having them actually like it.  We’ve already cleared it with the Big Man at the North Pole that he will bring one big present and fill their stockings.  Since we’ll most likely be spending Christmas in Chicago, space will also be at a premium in the car back to Colorado.  In other words, no play kitchens this year.  (Though that was awesome last year!  Holla!)

For Alice’s homemade gift; she’s getting a doll.  I’m not sure if it is a want or need – she doesn’t need or want for anything at all, except maybe a receipt from Target to chew to a pulpy mess.  I saw these super cute dolls on Pinterest:

Gingermelon Felt Dolls, via Pinterest

I know, this plot line is getting old…  (Cute project on Pinterest – and here’s how it didn’t quite turn out like I had hoped.)  No matter; the best part of making gifts for a baby is they lack the vocabulary to tell you precisely how much it sucks and isn’t a tenth as awesome as what Suzie down the street got from her parents.

I made mine out of fleece instead of wool felt since it was what I had lying around and wool felt costs a fortune, yo! Her face is a little bit wonky; I am no match for Grandma Mary in the embroidery department.  I also made her two reversible outfits that are super easy to put on.  I know Alice isn’t dextrous enough to dress dolls yet.  When she is, these will be the easiest costume changes and they also fit some of the dolls she already has.  I made the doll a little overnight bag to pack her change of clothes in.  What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?

Just because, I put a little heart on her butt.  Then I realized she didn’t have shoes.  Alice would just eat them, so the little fleece lady is gonna feel the wind in her toe hair for the next year or two.

Next up, I get to tackle a new bathrobe for Finn.  Yeah, he’s dapper like that and wears bathrobes.  The last one I made him is getting so short that his little man-parts almost poke out the bottom.  Very Hugh Hefner, I’ll have you know.

Edit:  I’ve been told to never refer to man-parts as “little.”  In any circumstance.  Like, ever.

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