Unwrapolution (aka Cummins on Ice, the show)

We know it's seachange when I can use Facebook to mea culpa about not sending holiday cards this year. And get a roar of support. It's not that I don't enjoy sending out the annual missive. Or making them! But this year has been quite a ride in the Cummins household....now known as Cummins on Ice, the show. So I'll say it one more time and then not again: if you expected a holiday card from us and then didn't receive one, we're sorry and please just understand.

Our kids have been incredibly flexible with changes in our holiday traditions. We've tried to be greener. We've tried to be simpler. We no longer wrap presents but instead use one giant felt bag per child. It's almost more fun to "unwrap" because the bag is like a giant stocking. Put your hand in, guess what it is by touch, and then pull it out. I'm calling this our unwrapolution, a revolution in the way we do things. Not just change. Big change.

Our kids have also embraced the handmade gift as just-as-good or better than the things they put on their wish lists. My kids would never have thought to list custom hooded-snuggies, an owl hat or a crochet Club Penguin figurine to their lists, but I can rest tonight (because the gifts are done!) knowing that these will be their favorites. Not just when they're adults looking back on their childhood holiday memories, but in just a few days when they pull them out of the giant felt bags.

It's been hard work to make these shifts, and undoubtedly more so for previously-consumerist me than for our resilient and amazing kids. I no longer have to ask myself "how much is too much?" because I've developed a sixth sense that now knows better. I'll always love cashmere. And gift certificates to the spa. But the next massage I get will be guilt-free, a true reward and very relaxing. Here's to an amazing 2011.

Hostess-Mostess-Goddess

We were recently fortunate to be chosen as the venue for one of our frequent-flyer's daughter's birthday parties. I seem to remember learning that this party at Wishcraft would be the first birthday party that would have ever been hosted outside of their own home (they throw amazing parties for lots of other festive occasions.) The party finally came- the family and friends were delightful and the event felt truly effortless. The icing on this birthday cake though was the thank you note that we received a few days later: "amazing party", "project was adored by all", "exceeded the expectations of the (very picky) birthday girl", "leaving me nothing to do but revel in being the birthday girl's mom", "I couldn't have done better myself and I must also admit that my standards are ridiculously high", and "I'm at the very tip-top of the Wishcraft fan club." Wow. The mutual-admiration must have run high that evening as I recall making notes-to-self the entire evening about how special the Host-Mom made every child guest (and staff-member) feel and how much energy she put into greeting every parent as if they were a long-lost friend; a Hostess-Mostess-Godess. It reminded me of the immediate impact of being a good host and how lucky we are to be in the business of making memories.

Of course we want everyone to have a Wishcraft party- kids, grown-ups, moms-to-be, seniors. But until we're lucky enough to hear from you that it's time to start planning your first Wishcraft party, I share here some of details that are important to us and that we think make for a fabulous function.

• Consider every sense as you prepare the party space. Go further than decoration and food and consider the lighting and how the room smells. Our workshop is a colorful feast by its nature, but the scent draws people in completely.
• Include an activity that taps into every guest's individual creativity and point-of-view. Something magical happens when the right-brains are turned on; even the conversation seems to be easier.
• Plan the activities such that every guest has an opportunity to be readily successful and comfortable. And planning really does take planning. Think through every step and have everything that a guest would need within quick reach. Sewing by hand? Pre-thread the needles. Using messy stuff? Have (sensitive-skin) hand-wipes to save guests extra trips to the sink.
• If you plan on making a mess (fun!), also plan on using natural, gentle and fragrant cleaning supplies. And if using a spray cleaner, spray into the towel rather than onto the surface to avoid over-spray making its way into innocent nostrils.
• Know your guests' needs and sensitivities and take precautions that allow your guests to enjoy every part of the activities without worry. Offer allergen-free treats and if necessary, know the ingredients of every art material.
• If your guests are small, have an emergency contact number on hand for each guest. The excitement, noise, sugar....there's no way to know when a little tummy-ache is going to turn into something more.
• Treat your guests as guests the entire time. Welcome them in and help them get settled or to make a new friend. Near the end, help pack-up their belongings and send them on their way without a care.

We think our parties are just right and hosting them is as much fun as coming to them. Come together in a wonderful space, enjoy being creative and being with friends, and leave feeling like the artist you are.

The Invasion Of The Trust Snatchers

My colleague Kristina is one hearty soul. Hardy, too. Following an intense morning, Kristina and I ventured out on our weekly errands. I was in a so-so mood. I've spent the weekday mornings shuttling back and forth between Children's Memorial Hospital and have a lot on my mind. Kristina was all sunshine. Bouncy pigtails, rosy cheeks and a contagious smile. At every destination she used the name of the staff-person helping us in an affirming sentence about the positive impact they were making on her morning. Who was impacting whose morning? After leaving our third destination, I joked that a little bluebird was going to come land on her shoulder and whistle her a tune. Funny- a man wandered, meandered really, through the parking lot at just that moment whistling like Thelonious Monk was present in his head. We laughed - she thought that I was trying to tell her that the man whistling was going to land on her shoulder, which would squish her, but she really enjoyed the promise of perhaps becoming a Snow, Cinderella, Aurora or even Ariel.

For the rest of the day I let her morning influence my outlook on everything and everyone. It was a glorious day. I had an afternoon date planned with my adorably entertaining son. I picked him up and went to Trader Joe's for a few dinner necessities and was enthralled with his tales of his analysis of the age of the Joker in the last Batman film (which he has not seen) based on overhearing the Joker's voice. (For the curious: he assessed the Joker as being 36 years old and thinks that if he had been 40 like, gasp, me, his voice would have been significantly deeper. His words.) On the way out of the store, not quite through the exit, the woman in front of me abruptly bent over. Rapt with my son's big brown eyes and curious tales, I waited politely for her to pick up or do whatever it was that brought her to the ground. But then I was pinned from behind by a very tall and, let's say thick, male...while she simultaneously stumbled back toward me. Again, trying to set a good example, I sweetly explained to the man behind me that there was a log-jam at the exit and that I was sorry for blocking his way. Hmm. No expression. Funny too that, for being Chicago, this guy wasn't irritated at all that the woman in front of me was still fumbling around for who knows what.

The fumble was mine. Oldest scam in the book, says my husband. My wallet was gone, and thanks to email and text alerts from one of my banks, I was able to instantaneously begin the anguishing process of figuring out what exactly they had made away with and locking down the flood gates that were apparently flowing freely around the Target on Peterson Ave. within 30 minutes of the squeeze-play. Hindsight, right? I knew at my core that something was off about the entire moment at store's exit, but I didn't, couldn't, wouldn't, take my attention off of the little guy that needed it most.

So back to Princess Kristina. She shoulders every ounce of everything else that needed my attention that afternoon- including having take-out dinner delivered to my house- and leaves me to make a zillion phone calls and start begging Driver's Services to believe that I am me so that I could make my rounds of the local banks and set everything right again with my identity. Which I think is now secure once again. And all of this is in the last 25.3 hours.

I know our heroine whistled while she worked. I didn't. I'm mad and sad and glad. I'm mad at myself for being so lazy with the location of my wallet. I'm sad that my son was exposed to a violating experience in a place that has become so familiar. I'm glad that it's been just a day and it's just about behind me. And I would whistle but I might get more wrinkles. I bounce between a calm recognition that no one can steal my happiness by lifting my wallet, and a commando consideration of busting into Target and demanding to see the security camera footage of this couple spending thousands of dollars in the matter of minutes and, damn it, why wasn't identification requested or the signatures compared when the total of each transaction was over $300 a pop?

Sigh. I am home safe. My family is about the house having their own fun. My family further afar was there for me when I needed to cry in private (in my car, via cell phone.) I have friends on their way over. It's all good.

But Dear Thieves- I hope you slept well last night on the high of your score. And I hope you sleep well tonight absolved of any guilt you have over making my son feel nervous about criminals out among us (no honey, they don't all look like cartoon criminals with a 5 o'clock shadow and a bag of cash.) And I hope you dance joyously to the 3 songs you were able to buy online. And I hope the screen on the TV you bought is really big and that you can afford the cable bill to go with it. Maybe you have kids and you brought a smile to their faces. Have a good night, Thieves. I'd say I'll see you around but I suspect we may not be headed for the same place. I'll be over here doing the best work I can for my family, my friends and my community. Maybe I'll even be able to help you someday.

A Fall Toggle Switch- Do You Have One?

Do you have one? A toggle-switch that indicates the arrival of Fall? An internal radio button pushed gently by the sigh of a falling leaf?

For me the first sign is a shift in my coffee order. Goodbye to the sweetned iced-coffee and good morning to the warm cafe au lait. Or the morning breakfast- out with the cold cereal and in with the (gluten-free) oatmeal. This colorful season, like Spring, is for me one of the most significant hallmarks of the passing of time and always seems to bring with it the opportunity to recreate one's self, one's look, one's menu! Cover that grill and bring on the soup.

At the workshop we have a similar set of changes. Sewing projects for our classes move from breezy drawstring skirts to cozy lounge pants. Crochet and knitting classes, workshops and camps make their reappearance. The very fiber (content) of the space changes as we intuitively step in time with the swirling changes taking place outside of our workshop windows. And now with our second floor that peers into the treetops, it is almost as if the the artwork of the space, via the windows to the out-of-doors, has been changed.

We all have our rituals. After you've located the sweaters and boots in your home, here are a few quick projects to do with your kids that feel like Fall:

-Make a 'Words Take Flight" mobile by tying birds and other flying things (like tumbling leaves) cut from the pages of an old book to hang from a substantial twig. This can also be installed directly to a wall rather than hung as a mobile.

-Make a menagerie of favorite animals using only fallen and found natural materials (leaves, twigs, bark) and a little school-glue (allow them to dry flat.) Make the scavenging walk as much a part of the fun as the crafting.

-Make a sculpture with a few small twigs twisted into a small piece of recycled styrofoam to represent small trees. Paint the styrofoam and even the twigs an autumnal color or a contrasting color that would never be found in nature. Or coat the styrofoam with a thin coat of school-glue and press pieces of crushed/dried leaves into the glue to create a seasonal coating. Adorn the twigs with small animals made from pom-poms (like a cardinal) or animals and leaves cut from an old paper grocery bag or thin cardboard. Use colored markers to add detail.

For me: closet-changing today, apple-picking next week, and pie is in our future. What are your plans?

Bobbleheads of Negativity

Have you ever made another driver so dissatisfied with your skill, or kindness, that they shake their head in disgust? Wait- first comes the "what the?" hand, then comes the head bobble. I've admittedly been dumb-founded by a fellow driver before. In fact, it happened just last week on one of those narrow streets that allows parking on both sides and is marked by cars-of-the-wise that have their side-view mirrors tucked back like a little bird protecting its wing feathers. There is an etiquette to navigating such a street, a kindness that one shows the driver coming in the other direction. Kind of a first-come, first-served manner in which the second vehicle pulls a tad to the side to allow the first vehicle to make the first pass. This particular woman rolled through her stop signs and barreled down the street, forcing me into, ugh, someone's side-view mirror.

So how did I respond? Ooops. There are those drivers however that use a hand gesture and then follow it up with a head-bobble that doesn't stop. Sometimes the person will still be behind me so I can see the entropic wobble. I wonder though, for those drivers that I can't see, how long does this head thing go on? Does it perpetuate another incident, rippling through all of city traffic? It's like reviews of businesses. All of the wonderful things that people write, the kind of things that bring a tear to the eye and a catch to the breath, the kinds of things that remind you why you do what you do, seem to be erased, at least momentarily, when someone takes the time to write something mean. Maybe they think they are being helpful to an unsuspecting customer (which I suppose doesn't give that customer much credit, assuming that they need to be warned of some non-obvious peril.) Maybe they are just seeking revenge for a wrong-doing that was likely never intended. But once that ripple of negativity is started....how does it end? It takes only one person, be it in cyberspace or in a group of real people.

What would happen if each of us turned that negative thought into a constructive one? One motivated by kindness. Could it create a ripple of heads bobbing up and down, saying "yes!" to good things? Well, I'll start here.

Dear ___________ (any person at whom I have ever directed negative anything), I am sorry, and I promise to do better. I appreciate that at the moment of _________ (whatever it was that happened), I could not have possibly known all of the circumstances at play. If I have an opportunity to see/work/play with you again, I promise to do better. Love, Candice.

Clean Teeth or a Clean Sink?

You would think with all of the new miracle toothpastes, there would be one that could deliver clean teeth and a clean sink (and taste good, and have no HFCS, like Tom's or Burt's- thanks guys.) The thought came to me as I scrubbed away a little chunk of paste left by my son, as I was tempted to call him back to the sink to see the evidence and learn a little something. But I thought twice- pick your battles. Dare I layer on one more responsibility when getting the teeth brushed was already a big win? Not today.

It's funny how something as little as an encounter with toothpaste can skew your entire day. We have been working fast and lovingly to prepare our new space for our after-school program, and even with the best of project plans, the scope of planned work that can be squeezed into a tiny little timeframe shrinks as little surprises pop up (and if only the little surprises could have been as easy to erase as a little toothpaste.) But we pick our battles. All of the large work is done, and the first pieces of art are on the walls, but the closets.....oh. We are blessed with a ton of storage room in the new space- something we couldn't say for the first floor of the workshop- but they threaten to become little black-holes of craft and hardware. The closets, and all of the other now seemingly insignificant line-items on the project plan, will wait for another day as we throw all of our energy into creating the most incredible after-school experience we can for an amazing group of kids. Nothing is more important.

Falling Up The Stairs

The entire Summer has come and gone and now we prepare to Fall up the stairs. Wishcraft is expanding to include the top floor of our building as new space for our after-school program (aka Crafter-School) that has grown 500% since last year. As we paint the walls, lay new flooring and design the space, it brings back not-so-distant memories of preparing the original workshop space just a little over 1.5 years ago. For that project we allowed ourselves approximately 5 weeks from idea to launch. This time the idea has had plenty of time to percolate, and hence plenty of time to generate jitters, and even less time to execute. School for our after-school students begins in 8 days. We started painting 5 days ago. It's a family-affair, and what a cooperative and supportive family we have. The colors are cheery, the music is festive and amazing progress has been made. We have a big room for (home)work and play, a kitchen (hurray!) and a reading room with a wall of windows looking out into the treetops. What a fabulous tree-house surprise we have for our students from last year.

A woman peeked in our windows a few days ago, and was surprised to find my happy face peeking right back. I invited her in and we spoke for a few moments as she described the painting service that she has started. It was fun to talk to another mom-preneur who was as excited about what we are doing as she was to tell us about her work. It's seems so easy to sell a service that you believe in with all of your being. It never feels forced to share details about a project that resonates so easily with the mission of your human-endeavor. And to my surprise, it just might not be that hard to fall up the stairs*.

*Yes, a few of you have actually seen me do this before in my rush to get somewhere. I promise, I've become more thoughtful and present and have slowed down quite a bit.

Love In A Paper Towel

Finally. A resolution of many new year's past has been realized- the waste free lunch. Waste here is of course relative, as only the kids really know which foods get tossed or, the grail of goodies, traded. But the waste that I can control is now under control. It's not that much more difficult to send a packed lunch free of plastic baggies and aluminum foil. It is quite a bit more difficult to make sure that the reusable food storage makes its way back home to be cleaned and reused the following day. (Hint- invest in double the storage...just in case. Actually, I can just about guarantee the backup set will be employed by the third day of the new program.)

There is one disposable, yet still evergreen in its impact, item that I am unable to bury for good- the love note. Though it has improved in its efficiency, there are no plans for its ultimate demise. Once sent on a separate post-it, it has evolved into a two-fer on a paper towel: "wipe your face, sweetie and oh, how I love you". I've tried multiple writing utensils and had finally landed on the ultra fine-tip Sharpie for the job, but recently invented a three-fer approach that mitigates the risk of my youngest smearing his face with a juicy-wet ink, and saves me the effort of holding a wiggly-bumpy paper still in place under the pull of the pen's tip, all the while just still waiting patiently for the caffeine to do its own job. To accomplish this feat, I pull off two paper towels and lay them together. Then, create a crease one-third of the way from any of the edges. On this crease I cut a tear-drop, thereby rendering a heart shape in each paper towel, ready to safely convey my motherly love. The bonus (hence the third objective met): two little paper hearts that I deliver to the front-gate of my husband's coffee cup each morning. Silent and sweet, the last moment of its kind before a day full of ____________. Good morning.

Lego My Lego

We all have our obsessions, the thing that makes us go bonkers with desire. For my little guy it's Legos. He can spend an awful lot of screen-time time searching for collectable Lego sets, building Wish Lists with five-digit price-tags. He really isn't picky though- an equal-opportunity collector as excited by Atlantis or Space Police as he is his beloved Star Wars. And the mini-figures...he knows which square-people come with which brick set and will advise me excitedly when one is popular enough to be featured in various sets, facilitating multiple options for scoring a "min-fig" (as they are known by "brick masters".) Because the little building blocks seem to power his imagination with absolute jet-fuel, it's an obsession that is well supported by all of us.

Until recently, the only way to make him really happy was a new box of blocks. (Or a new box of rigid-edged foot-finders.) But we don't have a Lego Tree and it's a long wait for the holiday and birthday double-whammy that is December through February at our house. About a year ago I made light-sabers in the required colors (anyone that follows Star Wars knows the very significant difference between a green or red or purple saber.) I used old poster tubes, metallic paper and packing tape. He loved them and battled them to their death. He doesn't really seem to build with the blocks as much as he embodies them with personality and agenda, so could this approach not work with his drive to collect Lego sets? We tried it out by making a Star Wars carrier ship (the Republic Cruiser, to be exact) using empty toilet paper rolls, cut pieces of clear packaging and some plastic strapping. He loved it! It lives right next to the official Lego X-Wing that cost $60. But would this approach work with the.....the mini-fig?

Last week, in a hurry to satisfy his hunger, I printed out a few images of the mini-figures that he ached to acquire. I asked him to paste them to a piece of a used cardboard box, and then we helped him cut out around the more detailed perimeter of the image. They went into immediate service with not one size comparison nor mention of plastic inadequacy. Now he can search the internet for a new character for his collection, and minutes and zero dollars later, we have a full-size figure ready to rumble. As a fan of the Antoinette Portis books, I should have known it would work. One quick and almost thoughtless solution on my part and our guy has proven that his imagination is much larger than my wallet could ever be, feeding his obsession one free piece of trash* at a time.

*Another footnote about trash? My friend recently posted on Facebook that now she is a parent, unexpected visitors can plan on finding toys and food crumbs gone astray. Any visitor to my house, planned or otherwise, should brace themselves for the mound of craft supplies aka recycling perpetually growing in the corner of our kitchen. Of course the reality is that it isn't really free in any way, but this upcycling-waiting-to-happen strecthes our grocery dollar that much further. Not too trashy.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Holder

We are lucky to have a phone that rings often. Blessed with the Nickelodeon Parents' Pick Award as Best Kids Party Place in Chicago, many of these calls are about birthday parties. Our artsy, craftsy, super-duper-kooky parties. The kind of parties that kids don't want to leave. Or when they do, they are still walking on sunshine. Seriously. We've been called "angels in aprons." A relative remarked that perhaps we've been drinking highlighter fluid for breakfast...and it was a compliment. Our workshop is a like a little Willy-Wonkavator of creative fun.

I suppose it's a fair question: "So, what do the kids do at a craft party?" Maybe another way to ask the question would be, "What craft activities do kids do at your parties?" And the answer is simultaneously easy and complex. You ask us this question, and we will ask you three or more questions in return before supplying an answer. Why? Maybe once it was because the phone call was too early on a Monday morning, but it's usually because there is no one answer. There may be a finite number of art supplies and craft materials that immediately come to mind, but the combinations are infinite and when you throw trash* into the mix.....you never know what's going to come out on the other end. As easy as it would be to have a standard set of projects, a menu to choose from, we really prefer to know the guest-of-honor a bit before suggesting an activity to help celebrate a big day. And even when a project is perfectly planned and facilitated, you still never know what's going to come out on the other end. That's the beauty of it.

We wouldn't have it any other way. The visible self-esteem of a young artist that believes that they really are an artist. The beauty in the eye of the holder, as they proudly present their creation to a parent or caregiver. If it could be bottled... well that would be highlighter fluid. It's why we do what we do every day. It's why things so often erupt into spontaneous dance-parties of joy. It's the Everlasting Gobstopper of the work week that never ends. As tired as I might be this Sunday eve, I can't wait to get to work in the morning and cook up new ways to make fun.

*We don't make much of it. Keep an eye open for how every piece of packaging can be repurposed and the materials almost craft themselves.