Moonfly Kids

This was the sight that greeted me this morning.

The most beautiful mesquite tree in our yard was split in two…rent down the middle with an ugly gash.

 

 

OH NO! I frantically dialed DH, tears falling, approaching the verge of hysteria. I am very good at approaching the verge of hysteria. DH needs to talk me back down.  This is DH’s most dearest job.

BUT HE DOESN”T ANSWER!! gasp! Can’t he sense disaster…right here in our backyard?

I hang up and dial his office, get put on hold for a fucking ETERNITY until he answers.

“The mesquite tree in our backyard fell over.” I sob without preamble.

Pause. DH is evaluating the extent of my hysteria and treading lightly.  He is a very smart man. The wrong words can cause sudden death.

“It’s OK, honey.  I’ll come home early and clean it up.” DH is brilliant for understanding how much I hate messes.  But he is missing the point and needs more prompting.

“But it was my favorite tree, you know, my favorite, the really pretty one that shades the yard.” 

Pause again, but not a long one. He gets that my very sacred special place in the backyard has been violated and I feel the loss deeply.

“Honey, don’t worry, it’s a young tree and it will grow back, maybe better and stronger than before. I will be home soon to take care of it.” He has a soft and sweet voice, full of sympathy.  He loves my tree too.

My husband is the best husband in the world.

 

Any mom knows that 2 year olds are fickle eaters.  One day they like their sandwich this way (crusts cut off, cut diagonally) the next day they will only eat hot dogs drenched in ketchup.  Sometimes dinner at my house looks like rush hour at Al’s Diner with mom standing at attention in front of the stove (ok, microwave) whipping up multiple little dishes for picky eaters (chicken nuggets, Boboli pizzas, ravioli -all at once!), barking orders at the husband, shooing away roving dogs and piling dishes sky high in the sink.

The obsession this week is PEANUT BUTTER.  Oh yes, this delicious staple is a favorite in our house for both humans and canines. My son will eat it on apples, celery, bread or preferably, straight off the spoon.  He even went so far as to paint his fingernails with the creamy goodness-and a few of mine too-while I was nursing my first cup of coffee this morning.  Good thing the dogs were nearby and were able to lick him clean before he left for school.

 

  

oooey goodness

Oh, and if my son could live out the rest of his days on the Island of Sodor, he would be eternally happy. NO, I DID NOT buy him that shirt.  Thank Grandma Bubbles for that monstrosity. 

 

 

My afternoon ritual includes driving halfway across town to fetch the Tiny Man from his preschool and bring him back to the nest.  My favorite part of this ritual (besides my sweet baby running into my arms as soon as he catches sight of me in his classroom) involves the arrival of PACKAGES! on my doorstep. The PACKAGES! magically appear whenever I am out of the house. When one shops as much as I do, this is a near daily occurrence. Much of my shopping is business related, but that fact does nothing to quell my enthusiasm for finding a PACKAGE! on my doorstep every afternoon.

What is it about brown paper PACKAGES! tied up with string that makes my heart thump?

 

 

oooh, there it is!

 

 

In addition to the sweet anticipation, there is also the challenge of bringing the PACKAGE! into the house. Now, this would seem a pretty straightforward task for a normal person, but my world is not normal. I am surrounded by maniacs, both human and canine, and thus accomplishing even the most mundane task requires a Sisyphean effort.

1. Sneak stealthy look at PACKAGE! resting innocently on doorstep.(if only you knew the havoc you wreak, PACKAGE!)

2. Divert toddler with toys on other side of room.

3. Open back door and let crazy canines into backyard.

4. Tiptoe over to front door, get another look at the PACKAGE! and slide deadbolt open.

 safely in my studio
 

Today, the coveted PACKAGE! brought me three fabric samples from a recent fabric show I attended.  Take a peek.

prints galore
 

Those of you who are familiar with Moonfly will be surprised to see such colorful, bright fabric on my cutting table. Moonfly is usually all garment dye, using solid color earth tones, right?  Yeah, well, it would be boring and predictable to do the same thing every season. So I’m doing some experimenting.
 

In all honesty, I don’t think I’ll be using the middle print since I have seen it somewhere else already.  And this is my issue with prints.  Especially children’s prints.  There are limited designs out there available to a small manufacturer like myself.  So, God forbid, this print might appear in another designer’s line, or worse, on the shelves at JoAnn Fabrics.  My line won’t look that special after all, n. Eeeck.  Say it isn’t so. This is where creativity reigns supreme.  There has to be someway to make this work. And I will find a way, bygod I will!!
 

I’m just beginning to plan my fall ‘09 line, so stay tuned as I document the painful, humbling creative process of producing a line.

 

 

 

 

And what a nutty world it is…rife with chaos and contradiction.

I have two divergent passions: fashion design & mountaineering

The two come together to form my aesthetic for Moonfly, my line of clothing for boys, size 2-7. I hope to chronicle the meeting collision of my two worlds on this blog.

I have a keen eye for the absurd and offbeat. In fact, I married a man who is the embodiment of those two adjectives. He has a penchant for dutch oven cooking and Dr. Seuss.  He is, admittedly, odd.  And I love him. To death. He is a saint for a marrying a pain in the ass willful redhead like me. 

              

Naughty, naughty boy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The culmination of our odd togetherness created a son, Nicholas, now 28 months.  Nick (aka the Two Foot Tyrant, Monkey, Nekkid Boy, Tiny Man, Bum Bum, Nicholatus, Epi) was the inspiration for Moonfly.  

  

the sowers of discourse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He is also somewhat of an exhibitionist.

Follow me on my journeys through the wilds of Nevada, and the wilderness of garment manufacturing.  Both worlds are full of pitfalls, booby traps, petty tyrants and sycophants. But, hey, isn’t that what makes life so delicious?