A Labor of Love

Posted on January 3, 2023 by Molly

It starts in September. I begin trolling the fabric stores looking for just the right fleece. The holiday prints start appearing then, and I know I have to act fast when I find the right one. Something cute and Christmasy, with small enough prints to be recognizable on a baby yet still appeal to an almost-teenager. This year, the perfect fabric jumps out at me – I just have to have it.

But first I have to do my homework. Grandkids grow each year, so I need to solicit the moms for current sizes. Then there are adjustments. Extra length in the legs for this one, slimmer through the body for most, feet or no feet. The almost-teen has aged out of the one-piece model, and wants fleece jammie pants. A new pattern is introduced.

Then the guessing begins. Seven Grammy Jammies adds up to 11.5 yards of fleece fabric. But combining all those pieces on the fabric means I can fit them on a smaller yardage – the question is how much less? My search turns up only small quantities in each store, so I take a leap of faith and go online to order a whole bolt of fabric, 10 yards.

Soon my kitchen island turns into a conveyor line. I roll the fabric across its massive length over and over again, laying out all the pattern pieces, breathing a sigh when they all fit with room to spare. Taking a deep breath, I dive in with weights, scissors and ruler, cutting and collecting the pieces child by child, designated by post-it note names.

The best part is yet to come. With the necessary logistics behind me, I can finally thread my machine and commence sewing. I start with the largest ones first, as they take the most time and I can finish each set in less time. This year adding my new serger into the mix lets me zip through those long seams, assembling and binding in one pass.

One by one, the jammies come together and join their partners on the couch. They are usually completed within a week, and already I visualize them snuggling the little bodies of my grandchildren.

Grammy Jammies are always presented around Thanksgiving so they can be worn during the lead up to Christmas. And it has to be in person. By now, the contents of my fabric gift bags are no secret, and the kids dive in to reveal the newest model.

As the calendar turns to December, I begin the second round. Each grandchild has a special Friend who also wears jammies, which are gifted for Christmas. It all started long ago, and in some ways is my favorite part of this whole project. The first two Friends were uniquely shaped, and required quite a bit of ingenuity to develop a pattern. But after standardizing on cuddly JellyCats, I was able to replicate the same size across the remaining Friends.

That is until Isabel had an urgent need to clothe “tiny bear” as well. Measuring under 6″ tall, it was an exercise in miniaturization, but I took on the challenge.

This year we were able to assemble the whole family for a special New Years weekend together in Milwaukee. A chaotic photo op ensued, capturing 15 Grammy Jammies in all. And lots of love.

Back by Popular Demand

Posted on January 8, 2022 by Molly

“Did you make Grammy Jammies this year?”

The frequency of the question came as a surprise. Apparently my annual sewing spree has spawned a following. It’s nice to know that a simple, homespun and creative work of love can capture an audience. Amidst the stress and anxiety surrounding our Covid-laden lives, it’s heartwarming to be able to contribute some whimsy to the world.

The answer is “Of course!”

What started with a single pair of slipper jammies 11 years ago has blossomed into seven pairs of Grammie Jammies and six Grammie Jammies for special friends this year. Thinking that a newborn was a bit young to have adopted a favorite friend yet, I added a matching stuffed animal to the assembly for him.

With each passing year, the kids get older, the Jammies bigger and I hold my breath as I check with the oldest ones to see if they are still “in.” Now topping out at 11 and 9, I realize this ritual may be nearing the end of its lifespan for them. But this year they came up with their own creative solution. “Can we have them without feet?”

“Yes! I can certainly do that!” and the tradition lives on.

I admit that I let this venture consume my fall. Once the Jammies are all cut and ready to sew, my obsessive side comes out. I develop tunnel vision, waking only to ponder how many Jammies I can complete by the end of the day. I feed material through the machine, clip threads, insert zippers, zigzag seams, top stitch, stretch ribbing, wind the bobbin and start new spools of thread all the day long. Admittedly, I still do my share of ripping out stitches and do-overs as well. Practice doesn’t always make perfect.

To date, I’ve made 51 pairs of Grammy Jammies, out of 16 different patterns of fleece. Expanding into friend Jammies four years ago adds another 20 miniature Jammies. Taking the numbers game even farther, here’s what it took to produce this year’s Grammy Jammies:

13 zippers
9 yards of fleece fabric
5/8 yard ribbing fabric
Gripper foot fabric
1 snap
3 large spools of thread
3 old Kwik Sew patterns, sizes newborn to kids XL
1 44 year old sewing machine

By now the kids all know what comes in fabric bags, and I’m always as excited as they are when the latest creations are unveiled. And the best part is snuggling in together, surrounded by soft fleece clad bodies and a whole lot of love. Just like what went into the Jammies.

I can only hope that they will be back by popular demand again next year!

Just Say Yes

Posted on April 22, 2021 by Molly

Emotions don’t have to be logical.

“I miss our kids. And our grandkids.” It had been weighing on me all day. I just had to say it out loud.

“You just saw them. We were in Milwaukee a few weeks ago, then we went to the Cities. You’ve had lots of time with family.” Rich tried to reason with me.

“That’s not the point. I miss them NOW.”

The isolation of COVID, the forced inactivity of post-surgery recovery and life had gotten me down. I went to bed thinking Rich didn’t get it. He didn’t understand my feelings. He was made of different stuff, didn’t need family like I did.

I tossed and turned, and in the early morning hours Rich snuggled up and said, “I think you should get up and go to Karen’s.”

“No. That would never work.” I already had my day mapped out. Writing assignments to finish. Clothes to wash. Church. A bike ride. Karen and family were probably busy.

“Call her,” he insisted. I dragged myself out of bed, brushed my teeth. Texted with no response. Washed my face, looked in my closet for something to wear. Took a deep breath and called.

“That would be great, Mom! We have no big plans for the day. When can you be here?” Karen’s voice was all I needed.

I’m not very good at being spontaneous. At changing course on a dime. But that morning I was out the door in record time, and rolled into Karen’s driveway by 10am.

Michael ran into my arms as soon as I came in the door. Isabel and Mya took me on tours of their Minecraft houses. Ben lurked somewhere, it was enough that he was close by. They had already made my day. That’s just what I came for.

As promised, the day was loose and unstructured. Having left all my to-do’s at home, I was happy to go with the flow. It was a day for just being. Being together. Being with family.

I was home by 10am the following morning. Refreshed, fulfilled, happy. My heart overflowing with the hugs and the time spent together. My to-do list still awaited, no worse off for delaying a day. Rich did get it. I’m so glad he pushed me to go. And that I just said yes.

Youthful Inspiration

Posted on January 20, 2021 by Molly

The words that flow across the screen reveal an endless source of imagination. Mya’s fingers fly around the keyboard as she composes, intent on her work. She stops only to ask questions: “How do you spell shriek?” “What should I call the planet? How about Nimo? Wait, I think Nimeo is better.” Her eight-year-old brain is on overdrive. Her enthusiasm infectious.

Soon her ten-year-old brother follows suit. Opening his own Google Doc, Ben begins typing.

Ancient

Long ago there was a myth that there was a temple that was told to behold many treasures. And only one person can wield its power.

I am there to help them with their distance learning, and in their spare time I expect them to run off and play, or look for a snack. Instead, they are fixated on writing stories. Grandchildren after my own heart. I find Mya nestled on the couch before breakfast, cradling her chromebook, her face intent with concentration.

As their tales grow they are eager to share them with me. “Grammy, listen to this.” Ben reads his story out loud, always starting from the beginning, title and all. “Grammy, I’m on chapter two,” Mya chimes in. “Here’s what’s happening now.”

I am all ears. That’s what Grammys do. But it is more than that. I’ve been on this writing journey for almost nine years now. I’ve taken classes. Attended conferences. Read books. Done workshops. And worked with a writing coach. I’m still honing my craft, continually learning. And I just found a new source of tutelage.

As Mya reads aloud, and reaches the end of chapter one, she leaves me hanging. It ends with a twist. I am eager to know more, to turn the page. It is a technique that took me a long time to master.

“Oh, I learned that from reading Harry Potter,” Mya explains.

Isn’t that what we are told to do? If you want to be a good writer, then you must read, read, read. Find good authors, grow your vocabulary, notice and absorb their techniques.

Ben likes to fill his story with dialog. His characters trade quips back and forth. On the page I find rapid fire quotes with narry a “he said” then “she said” between them. Even so, I know just who said what.

Not only did I shy away from dialog in my early work, but once I began to dabble in it, I insisted on attributing each line to its owner. An editor broke me of that habit, but I’m still working on it. Somehow, Ben got it from the get-go.

Mya’s story abounds in mystical creatures with fantastic names. She talks out loud as she types, speaking her creativity, trying out the sounds on her tongue.

… a girl named Rayla Minnesota lives on the edge of the city. She has a pet called Moono. Moono is a Bisha. A Bisha looks like a lion, except Bishas are blue with white diamonds. Moono was so big that Rayla is able to ride him! … Monshias are wolves but they have wings and come in many different colors. People say they roam the sky at night. Monshias are rare.

I am in awe. My genre is memoir and creative non-fiction. I have yet to dabble in fiction. I shy away from the imagination it requires. But Mya dives in with abandon in “The Wings of Galaxy.”

Once upon a time, there was a world named Nimeo. Nimeo is a bit bigger than a faraway planet called Earth. Nimeo has two blue suns and two moons. Even though Nimeo has two suns, it usually is dark. The planet’s oceans are purple, and like Earth, the land is green. The suns are far from Nimeo, but since the blue suns give off so much heat, Nimeo has enough warmth that the people can live.

She decides that in the world she is creating that characters take state names for their surnames, and cities are named for our planets. Where does she come up with this stuff? I have a hard enough time finding substitute names for my real-life characters whose identity I want to protect.

Ben’s story features James and Louis, two miscreant school boys. How do I know that?

When James and Louis got back into the classroom they picked their chairs in the back as they always do.

After school, they boys meet at an abandoned outpost. James proposes returning home to get something, leaving Louis there on his own. Louis delivers his response: “Leaving me at a spooky outpost for an hour, uh he he sure.” Louis said, quivering. Ben doesn’t say Louis is scared. He doesn’t call the boys mischievous. He shows me. Did someone teach him that? I certainly had to be taught.

Louis sat looking at the beautiful sleek white furred creature. It had a long glimmering tail, and two turquoise eyes. “Wait a minute, I know what kind you are, you’re an ancient wolf!” “Oh, I forgot, you glow in the dark, just realized that because you’re glowing right now.”

I recently attended a webinar about developing characters. I was told that because I know my mother so well, I unwittingly assume my readers can picture her, understand her background and recognize her habits. It made me realize I need to bring her – and all my characters – to life for them. Ben didn’t need any encouragement to breathe life into his ancient wolf. I can see it vividly!

I can’t begin to approach the depth of their imagination, their thirst for fantasy. I have to admire their desire to invoke it in their writing. I’m thrilled to see their passion funneled into words and stories at such a young age. And with apparent effortlessness.

As the week progresses, the kids make rapid progress on their stories. My own writing languishes as I lavish attention on them instead. As a Grammy should. But my enthusiasm for the craft is renewed and I return home eager to follow Ben and Mya’s examples. I attack my book once more, intent on my story, working with youthful inspiration.

Grammy Jammies by the Dozen

Posted on December 28, 2020 by Molly

The annual tradition starts soon after Labor Day. I hunt down yards and yards of cheery Christmas fleece and commence sewing Grammy Jammies. What started with one set of jammies has blossomed to 12 pair and counting.

I have six grandchildren and they get one pair each. They know the drill by now. I try to finish them by Thanksgiving so that they can wear them for the season leading up to Christmas (and beyond, of course). Each is wrapped in a cloth bag, and as soon as I bring out the stack, I hear “I know what’s in there!”

But that is no longer enough. It started with Ben’s Bear, who he claimed was cold. That led to jammies for Mya’s Puppy, Isabel’s Bunny, and Michael’s Puppy. Each year now, they too get new Grammy Jammies.

Maren and Crosby didn’t have jammie-friendly friends, so that had to be rectified. They each have a room with a woodland theme – foxes for Maren, deer for Crosby. Favoring the soft and cuddly JellyCat animals, I hunted down one of each. And now they get Grammy Jammies too. (And a seamstress secret – JellyCats all have the same body shape. One size jammies fits all, with modifications for tails!)

Over time, I’ve gotten to know these little friends pretty well. Through multiple measurements, try-on sessions, alterations and fittings. We’ve had some good times together. But I didn’t realize how attached one in particular had become.

As Karen and family departed after Christmas I waved from the deck until they were out of sight. It was only half an hour later that I discovered that Bunny had defected. She had jumped out of Isabel’s arms on the way to the van and hidden on the walkway by the garage as they drove away. Bunny was ours for the weekend, until the post office would re-open Monday morning.

I texted a picture of Bunny to Isabel, to reassure her that Bunny would be in good hands.

But that was only the beginning of Bunny’s adventures. Bunny accompanied us every where we went for the next two days. She joined us for dinner and watched our favorite TV series before I tucked her into bed. Bunny went birding with Rich in the morning and attended virtual church with us. She even helped me with the laundry.

I’m going to miss the little gal when we send her home to Isabel. She’s getting a First Class passage through the mail. With tracking. After all, she’s still wearing her new Grammy Jammies.

Sewing up the Pandemic

Posted on May 12, 2020 by Molly

I had a reliable source, and the news was alarming. I heard that Bunny and Giraffie were trying to share the same set of slipper jammies. And it wasn’t going well.

It started with making Grammy Jammies for my grandchildren each Christmas, their numbers now climbing to six. My oldest grandson, Ben, talked me into making jammies for his Bear. And it took off from there. Next was Mya’s Puppy. Last Christmas Isabel’s Bunny joined the jammie parade, and Maren’s baby doll.

“Jammies for Giraffie might be a good birthday present for Isabel,” my daughter advised. But what better project to tackle during my coronavirus sheltering time? The key was that both “friends” were JellyCat animals and shared the same shape – soft pear-shaped bodies, scrawny arms and big fluffy feet. It took several tries to get it right for Bunny, but I finally perfected the pattern. After 10 years of making slipper jammies, I had bags full of fleece scraps and I even scrounged up a few unused zippers. I was in business.

With extra time on my hands, it felt good to pull out my sewing machine, thread it up and make something from nothing. Sewing opens so many creative opportunities – designing the garment, choosing the fabric, picking coordinating ribbing, placing the print on each pattern piece. As my machine hummed, so did I.

My thoughts turned to the book I recently finished reading. I picked up The Murmur of Bees quite by accident in the early days of the invasion of COVID-19. When the spread of the virus was still news, I was surprised and fascinated to find that the book was set in Mexico in 1918, in the heart of the devastation wrought by the Spanish flu. It was history I did not know well, but it had an eerily familiar strain.

The family in the book fled from their home near town and relocated to another hacienda further away, where they rode out the worst of the pandemic. Mom couldn’t settle herself, and it was her young son who figured out why she was so distraught. He convinced his dad to return to their home, pack up her sewing machine, material and tools and bring them to her. She was puzzled and angry at their curious actions. Until she threaded her machine and began sewing. With each garment she sewed, a sliver of peace was restored. She was grounded at last, in the productive and creative endeavor of sewing.

I felt the same way. When Giraffie’s jammies were done, I needed another project. I decided little brother Michael needed a stuffed animal friend. Obsessed with the idea, I scoured the internet for a free pattern for a fleece animal. More scraps to cut up, excess stuffing that needed a home, and a load of fun later I had a soft little puppy for Michael. It was such a hit, that I couldn’t stop there. Five grandchildren later, I had a whole litter of pups and kitties!

There’s something inherently rewarding about using only what I have on hand. Taking bits and pieces and ending up with a little critter that will delight a child. There are many ways this pandemic has forced us to simplify life. To do without. To make do with what we have and forego what now feels like frivolous shopping.

Sewing returns me to my roots. My mom taught me to sew long before I took Home Ec classes in junior high. She made all my clothes until I took over, then sewed for my own children. By now when I sit down in front of my machine, innate skills take over. My hands know how to guide the fabric, my eyes gauge the seam, my foot regulates the speed. I reap the rewards of familiarity, of falling back on something soothing and rewarding. I feel Mom’s presence as I follow in her footsteps. I imagine she too would sew her way through this pandemic.

I hear that Bunny and Giraffie are friends again. And my daughter’s whispers, “Michael has taken to a Jellycat puppy recently.” I can already hear the whir of my sewing machine.

Grammy, would you please?

Posted on May 24, 2018 by Molly

Beware of brainstorms. It seemed like a fun idea at the time. Little did I know where it would lead.

After my annual sewing spree making slipper jammies for my four grandchildren last Christmas, I decided to make a matching pair for Isabel’s baby doll. With a little ingenuity, I was able to create a miniature version which delighted little Isabel. End of story. Or so I thought.“Grammy, Bear is really cold.” This was Ben, Isabel’s older brother. “He has to stay under the covers in my bed all the time. Do you think you could make some slipper jammies for him?”

How could I refuse? I have to admit, my heart soared. Here was something I – and probably only I – could do for Ben. And for Bear. “Of course!” was the only answer. Complete with a ribbed collar and tail-hole, Bear was soon warm and cozy.

By that time, I knew it would not end there. I had already bought another zipper. “Grammy, what about Kitty? Could he have slipper jammies?” Big sister Mya. I was unfazed but after several hours of wrangling with tracing paper and pins, Kitty proved to exceed my design capabilities.

“Mya, we have to talk.” This was serious face-to-face conversation. “Kitty isn’t so sure about slipper jammies. I tried really hard, but she asked me if I could make them for Puppy instead.” Uncertainty crossed her face, but to my relief she agreed. “I think Puppy needs four slipper feet, don’t you?” I suggested. “Oh yes!” I was saved.

At eight weeks old, I doubt Michael has expectations just yet. But if cousin Maren gets wind of these developments, I see another creative slipper jammy session in my future.

Which all leads to the next logical question. Will they expect new matching slipper jammies for their friends next Christmas, just like theirs? I’ve saved the patterns just in case…

Move over Laptop

Posted on November 15, 2017 by Molly

Sometimes the writer has to take a backseat to being a Grammy. My office space allotment has ample room for my laptop and was designed with plenty of surface area for spreading out notes and research materials. It just does not accommodate a sewing machine and yards of material without a bit of compromise. So when my inner Grammy takes over, the laptop gets shoved aside.

It’s well known in this space that I have an annual appointment with the sewing machine and piles of fuzzy fleece. What started as a single pair of slipper jammies, also known as Grammy jammies, has multiplied into four such outfits fitting little bodies from 10 months to 7 years. And next year already promises to push the total to five. No matter what the number, I press on and rue the day when the older grandchildren start opting out of such cozy comforts.

It feels a bit like an assembly line. Cut, cut, cut. Sew, sew, sew. A zipper here, a cuff there. Gripper feet for all. The outside world hardly exists. All I see is red fleece, goofy reindeer faces and a needle bouncing up and down in rapid motion. I cannot rest until the last piece is in place. The final stitch sewn. It is a labor of love. When I am finished, they come to life – four little visitors inhabiting my couch.I am lucky this year. I found Christmas fleece, which has become a rare commodity. That means an early delivery so that the kiddos can wear them for the run up to the holiday season. When I produced the customary cloth gift bags last weekend, the older ones already knew what must be inside. Kids sure learn fast.

I had to entrust the final pair to the US Mail. Through the marvels of FaceTime I was able to watch Maren rip through the packaging to reveal her very own Grammy jammies. A style show ensued.

My task complete for now, the laptop has been restored to its place of honor. With this little interlude behind me, my writing resumes. Bits of fuzz and pins linger in my workspace. I smile, looking forward to Christmas when all four grandchildren will pile into our house – in their matching togs.

The Quiet House

Posted on June 25, 2017 by Molly

It happens every time. The house feels waaaay too quiet. I hear the ticking of the clock. The hum of the washing machine oozes in from the laundry room. My heart feels full yet empty. I have just waved goodbye to the kids and grandkids.

This time it was quite a blitz. For starters, it was 5-year-old Mya’s turn for “Grammy Camp” and she spent four days with us in Duluth. There is something very special about having grandchildren here on their own. It invites getting to know them better. It means they get my complete attention, without competition from siblings or parents. It encourages doing fun activities together. Mya’s visit was no exception.

Some things we repeated from big brother Ben’s visit. A trip around the harbor on the Vista Star was a highlight, and Mya was especially taken with the whole cruise aspect. “When will we go faster?” was her favorite question. Mya’s social side came out, and she quickly made friends wherever we went Arriving in the driveway, she immediately asked to go play with the girls next door. A trip to the playground quickly morphed into a game of hide and seek. And a play date with my friend and her grandkids at Playfront Park was a big hit.

My favorite times were snuggling up to read, Mya pressed into my side eager to hear the same books night after night. Kids all grow out of that stage eventually, but I never do.

Mya was joined by the rest of her family for an overnight stay at the end of the week. The noise level increased more than three-fold with the addition of her two siblings, and the inevitable rivalries quickly resumed. We packed in as much time outdoors as we could and even managed to see the steam train before they headed off to the cabin.

It was a quick changeover, then we welcomed Carl and Chelsea with baby Maren for the weekend. In comparison to three active youngsters, Maren’s happy chirping and babbling were mere background sounds. We easily slipped into the schedule of a 5-month-old which naturally afforded plenty of downtime – welcomed by her parents and this Grammy after my recent camp gig. Playing with Maren on her quilt was plenty of entertainment.

Still very portable, we took Maren on several hikes and to the Park Point Art Fair. As we crossed the Aerial Bridge, bells began clanging, the gate went down and we discovered we were the second to last car to get across. Quickly ditching the car, we scurried to the canal to watch a classic ore boat come through the bridge – a first for not only Maren but Chelsea as well! There is no Duluth experience better than being up close to a passing ore boat.

By now, these are all memories. The house is our own again. It’s a grandparent’s prerogative to enjoy the young ones, spoil them, love them to bits then send them home with their parents. But the echoes of laughter, squabbles, babble and imaginative play still linger in these rooms, leaving this house much too quiet.

The Grammy Gift

Posted on April 20, 2017 by Molly

The request was for help, but the gift was all mine. Seeking to extend the time before they sent their first born to day care, my son Carl and his wife Chelsea asked if I would be interested in watching her for a week or more. I will admit to hesitating. How would I feel in a city where I knew no one, cooped up with a baby all day? Fortunately, I put my selfish reservations aside and agreed to a week.

At three months old, baby Maren was a compact bundle of smiles. Still small enough to be held and carried with ease yet old enough to have developed a personality, she captured my heart immediately. She still slept a lot, but when awake she had a lot to say and took in all that was going on around her. I melted each time she looked right at me and smiled or “talked” to me.

Settling in with Carl and Chelsea for that week reinforced what it means to be a Grammy. Freed of all responsibilities save caring for Maren, I had the luxury of embracing that single focus. No job to juggle, no parenting anguish, no chores to do, no outside commitments to meet. Just love, cuddle, play, feed and change. And it easily filled each day. I went to bed each night looking forward to more. That experience is one we just can't have as parents.

There is a lot to be said for having extended solo time with a grandchild. Each day was ours to navigate together. There was a certain ease in managing on our own. And I only had to share with Grandpa. For the most part Maren was all mine for the day.

Did I feel cooped up? Hardly. Maren was all the entertainment I needed. Besides, we went out for a walk with the stroller almost every day. We walked to Brueggers for bagels, a tradition harking back to my own kids. We visited a park and hiked its trails.

It's not like this is my first grandchild. I've had plenty of practice with my daughter Karen's three children. But I never had this total immersion before. Now I wonder why. Now I know better.

I've already signed up to watch the next one. It's the Grammy gift that gives so much more in return.

Superior Footprints

Life and the Outdoors in the Northland

Tag Archives: Grandchildren

A Labor of Love

Back by Popular Demand

Just Say Yes

Youthful Inspiration

Grammy Jammies by the Dozen

Sewing up the Pandemic

Grammy, would you please?

Move over Laptop

The Quiet House

The Grammy Gift

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