How to Make Barbie Skinny Jeans Out of Duct Tape

Don’t let the title discourage you from reading. Let me explain.

I always enjoy meeting and connecting with new readers. Sure it’s nice to know people are listening to what you have to say, but it’s wonderful to hear what others are talking about. Occasionally I’ll discuss a topic others are discussing as well, but mostly I share random thoughts in my head. Life just happens and no two stories are truly alike.

I always take notice of the search engine terms that bring people to Mommy Huh. Nearly every day it is the same terms; Hungry Caterpillar Party (which I highlighted in Mommy-DIY). But today (oh yes, today is obviously different) the top search engine term was ‘how to make barbie skinny jeans out of duct tape.’

Yes, indeed strange. However, the story is much deeper and personal than that. Barbie was a very important part of my childhood. Some people have inspirational teachers or kind neighbors, I had a plastic doll. A youthful obsession with Barbie.

If we had been more realistic about Barbie, we might have recognized how much women love shoes and clothes (neither of which we had a lot of). But Barbie’s wardrobe was weak and consisted of the clothes that came with our new Barbies or something crafty our mother or grandmother had made. We also had a few vintage outfits my mother had passed down to our Barbies.

I advise you to refrain from labeling my childhood as spoiled when I discuss how many Barbies we had. My sister and I always earned our new Barbie dolls by doing our chores or for good behavior and academic accomplishments. We NEVER acquired Barbies via tantrums or bribery (are you listening son?).

On one occasion, my sister and I stole some Barbie clothes from a playmate. Obviously this was not one of our better moments nor one we ever repeated. Instead we used creativity when Barbie needed a costume or special outfit. With permission mostly from our father (mom was more likely to say no), we took the clothes we had outgrown and used the fabric to make some new outfits. We’d cut out a basic shape like a rectangle, and use that to make a pencil skirt. Or cut a few small circles for the head and arms to make a shirt.

Scissors + Unused Fabric= Simple Barbie Clothes (unfortunately Pinterest did not exist in those days or else I would be happy to showcase our designs and creations)

I had learned to use scissors in Kindergarten, but one skill they didn’t teach was sewing. Without sewing, the clothes ceased to be clothes. Our solve? Yes my friends, DUCT TAPE. Our dad had taught us that duct tape could fix anything and could be used to make seams without a needle or thread. We could tape the clothes on and pull it off when Barbie was done. With our imaginations, a pile of unwanted fabric, and duct tape there was no limit to Barbie’s wardrobe.

If you are reading this and were the person who had searched for ‘how to make barbie skinny jeans out of duct tape,’ I intended no embarrassment! I’m merely highlighting the irony that strange as it may have been to search for ‘how to make barbie skinny jeans out of duct tape,’ you have actually come to the right place! Leave me a comment and I would be happy to help!

Bloggers, have you ever encountered some interesting search terms?

Blog-Baby-Book: Walking

For some time now, my son has been disinterested in sitting and laying. Although he would rather stand than sit when he plays, he hadn’t realized that you don’t have to be hold onto the wall to walk around. On Monday evening, he let go.

Why the sudden walking? Because my husband reached across the room and offered his cell phone to our son if he walked to get it. If you need to know anything about my son; if it DOESN’T look like a baby toy, he wants it. Really bad.

Within minutes our son was less interested in the cell phone than he was in all the cheers and attention he was getting. Amazing what positive reinforcement and encouragement can do for a child.

And to be clear, he IS walking like you and I although it does seem as if he is much less clumsy than I am. He’s not cheating in any way and I’m not exaggerating (I think we all know moms who stretch the truth).

Within 30 minutes, he was running in circles and shouting gleefully. My house hasn’t been this noisy since I had a newborn and a grumpy husband. Pretty sure this was what all the moms were warning me about when they said, ‘Oh, boy. Just you wait.’

As a working mom, one of my biggest fears is missing these moments in my son’s development. I am thankful to have witnessed and share this milestone with my son, husband, and mother. Quite obviously, I am very proud.

Blog-Baby-Book highlights baby’s firsts and developmental milestones.

Adventures in Grandparenting

Grandparents are special people;

  • There are lots of t-shirts complimenting their generosity (If daddy says no, grandpa says yes).
  • We have special days to honor them with house plants & neck ties.
  • They are presented with global awards for their outstanding service (World’s Best Grandparent).
  • They are the most cost-effective child care option and provide a low grandparent-grandchild ratio to provide special attention the needs of the children.

I compare my parenting with my parents, and yes, I am becoming them. Obviously, I have always looked like them, but now I sound and act like them too. Like me, my parents have changed too. But they aren’t just parents anymore; they are grandparents.

I remember the freedom my sister and I experienced when visiting our grandmothers. There were never any chores for us to do, their kitchen’s were always stocked with special treats, the answer was always yes, and discipline was nothing more than a brief threat with a wooden spoon. Freedom always seemed like a special secret between us and our grandmothers.

My grandmothers were and are (respectively) awesome! One grandmother routinely faked chest pains to quickly get a seat in a popular restaurant, the other uses Facebook. If your image of wrinkly, gray women in rocking chairs has been shattered, it should be.

Now my own parents have carried on the honored tradition of grandparenting. I suspect with time I will learn how to turn a blind eye to the spoiling and mischief that will ensue between said grandparents and grandchild.

When asked about being a grandparent, my mother had this to say:

Having a grandson has re-energized my outlook on everything and made me want to be a better, healthier grandmother. He is my special little fellow. He makes me proud and gives me a chance to shine when I talk about him.
Perhaps what I overlooked was that it is the grandchildren that make the grandparents so special.

Drugs, Theft, and Bad Things Little Girls Do

I’ve already confessed to forgery. But I’ve done other hard crimes too.

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me or reads this blog that Barbies were an important part of my childhood. Not in a BFF kind of way, but more in a drug addict kind of way.

During the summers, my sister and I (partners in crime related by blood) would spend the day at Mema’s house while our parents were at work. We were always armed with our Barbies. Mema was our grandmother and lived in a small neighborhood where everybody knew everybody and what color their poop was. The kind of place where everyone locks their doors and peers through the curtains when an unidentified vehicle goes rolling down the street and large masses of kids gathered each morning to play together until sunset.

There was a girl in the neighborhood who had a lot of Barbies. We always liked playing with her. It was so nice to dress our Barbies in different clothes and partner them up with different Ken dolls. But it was always heartbreaking to pack up our Barbie things and leave her cool things behind.

One day, we didn’t.

We had a travel case for our Barbies filled with a small portion of a wardrobe suitable for eleven and a half inches of plastic legs and boobs. In true heist fashion, my sister acted as a distraction while I stuffed our case with Barbie clothes that didn’t belong to us.

At our own home, we were proud of what we did. The girl in my grandmother’s neighborhood never noticed, and we had new outfits for our dolls.

Over time, we felt dirty.

We stopped playing with the items we had stolen, but occasionally we would find a tiny dress that had belonged to neighbor-girl. My sister and I would pretend not to notice and ignore the fact that we were both feeling guilty.

I should probably apologize now, some 20+years later; to my parents, Mema, and to the girl who probably thought the missing Barbie clothes were her brother’s wrong doing.

I’m sorry…

… and my sister made me do it!

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The Toy-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named

My son doesn’t have a Jack-in-the-box. Excuse me while I pause and breathe a sigh of relief.

But what does alarm me are the toys that play music, light up, or have some other battery operated function… especially at 3 am.

If you’re a mom it’s not hard to imagine that 3 am wake-up call from your child. You hear a small sound coming from the baby monitor and hope it doesn’t become a bigger more upset sound. But the moans and groans become a cry and you accept your fate (if you use the cry-it-out method, the rest needn’t apply to you). Without realizing you have already climbed out of bed and zombie-walked to your child’s room, you’re standing there.

You have enough brain power to make a small robotic-like assessment; scanning for pacifier, child is not wet, negative on the teething. Bad dream or else your child couldn’t get comfortable (and at this point, their head lying on your shoulder confirms it). A few minutes of snuggles and zombie-mom should be back in bed.

Sure enough, success!

Child is again sleeping. Next, you must carefully maneuver child back into their bed without disturbing them and alerting them. This is the time when the house makes an unexpected noise like the furnace kicking on or the floor inexplicably creaks.

Fortunately this time, child is unfazed.

You get them into bed and hold your breath as you back out of the room when ‘it’ happens.

You know that toy that lights up and plays those songs that you find yourself humming in the car or the grocery store? It was sitting behind you and now you’ve just knocked into it. But lights and music aren’t the only thing filling the room. You’re shouting a few words you don’t normally intend for your child to hear. But if that out of place toy didn’t wake them, your grumpy words have and now you can add crying to the many other noises you hear.

This story rarely ends well. If you’re like me, nothing wakes me up faster than anger, most especially when I have myself to blame. That stupid toy your child shows minimal interest in during the day now becomes the focus of all hatred you have ever felt. Besides, that toy plays songs that infect adult brains. It’s no good!

Is it acceptable to call off work the following day because a stupid toy startled you and you woke your child and your child wouldn’t go back to sleep and you were too angry to relax and your spouse was getting frustrated because the whole house became involved in senseless 3 am drama? <wipesbrow>

Even though that stupid toy doesn’t have eyes that follow you around the room, or a creepy voice, it does make sounds. Nothing is more evil than the Toy-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named playing music at 3 am.

Nothing… except maybe furnaces kicking on, creaky floors, or mommy cursing.