A Christening Ensemble for a Living Doll

Just a warning: this is going to be a photo-rich post. I'm writing it mostly for myself, to have scrapbook-style memories that I can keep forever.  Because I'm about to give away a beloved item that I've been hanging onto for three decades; and although it is going to the very recipient for whom I was saving it all these years, I will miss seeing it hanging in one of the guest room closets of our house.

This guest room of which I speak is one that I always thought of as our youngest son's room, because when we moved into this house in VA almost seven years ago, he was the only one of our five boys who wasn't married yet.  So I wanted him to have a room that was "his" whenever he came to visit us here.  He was in the Army, stationed in Germany, when we sold his childhood home and moved south, and I always felt a little guilty about that.  He loved our NH house; it was the only one he'd ever known.  Our other boys had all started families and had homes of their own, so they didn't need to have bedrooms here; but our baby did.

A dresser-top tribute to my baby boy.
 (BTW: who is that old lady in the mirror?!)

Well, that baby of ours is 30 now.  And he's about to have a baby of his very own.  His wife is due with child #1, a girl, in about a week.  And we are ready to head to Nashville as soon as we get the word that she's in labor.

When we pack up the car to get on the road, we will be bringing with us the christening gown I made for my youngest son 30 years ago.  Our four older boys had worn a Pearl family heirloom made by my mother-in-law; but our nephew, who was born four days before son #5, was being baptized on the same day as he was, and that nephew was going to be wearing the family gown.  (The cousins were baptized together at the church in upstate NY where Pearls had been attending Mass for generations--and where my husband and I were married in 1980.)

So in 1993, I made this christening gown.

The fabric wasn't the best--just a very pedestrian cotton blend.  When I made christening gowns for our four oldest boys' babies starting in 2011, I used lovely linen-and-lace fabrics that I found in my late mother-in-law's attic.  A talented seamstress, she had quite a vast collection of fabrics and sewing notions stored up there. But back in 1993 when I set out to sew my first christening gown, she was still alive and I didn't dare ask her if I could have something from the attic.  I knew she had lots of plans for the things she was going to make with all those bolts of material and piles of white linen pillow shams.  So the fabric I used for my creation wasn't top-notch; but I put pin-tucks in the bodice and hand-embroidered shamrocks on both the bodice and skirt.  I poured lots of love into that gown, and my boy looked like an angel in it.  (I would include a picture, but I have somehow misplaced the photo album that has the photos from his Baptism!)

For this new granddaughter we can’t wait to meet, I added that pearl cluster button embellishment. (Originally, if memory serves me, there was a long white satin ribbon there, tied in a bow, fastened in place with a safety pin.) To tell you the truth, I can't believe I never thought to sew any seed pearls onto that gown back when I made it!  (Opportunity missed!)

Our boy didn't have any sort of hat for his Baptism, but I thought I'd use a piece of fabric from my mother-in-law's attic to make a bonnet for his baby girl.  

This was a pillow sham that I took apart.  I love how there are shamrock shapes in the embroidery.
I thought that would make the bonnet match the gown!

I can think of few things that give me more joy than taking a flat piece of fabric and turning it into some garment that can be worn by my grandchildren.  This bonnet was so much fun to make!

Sorry for the photo dump, but as I said: this is a memory-keeping post for me.  Bear with me now...Here are some pictures of one of my porcelain dolls, who is not quite as big as a real newborn baby, modeling the gown and bonnet ensemble.

Well, these precious items are all packed up in a pretty storage box now, ready to load in the car as soon as we get the call that says it's go time.  Please keep our daughter-in-law and her baby in your prayers, for a safe (and relatively easy!) labor and delivery.

A Poignant Lesson about Dealing with Loss

Those of you who've been following along here for a long time (hi, my handful of faithful readers!), or those who might have only stumbled upon this humble little blog in the last few years or so, know that my husband and I made a big move south in March of 2017.  (It's a recurring topic here at String o' Pearls; but old folks like me tend to repeat their stories, as you might have heard.)  We left our longtime home in NH, where we'd lived in the same house for 26 years, and moved to a small town in Northern VA.  Three of our five sons had moved to the same area (two of them are practically next door neighbors, and the third lives less than two hours north of them), and they appeared to be putting down permanent roots; so after much soul searching (and much encouragement from the most loving peanut gallery imaginable), we decided to relocate.  We realized that if no one was going to be moving back to the Northeast, our home in NH didn't make much sense anymore...and we found a perfect little town as close to midway as possible between the two places where our VA boys lived and bought a house there.  At the time, we had ten grandchildren with a couple more on the way, and six of them were in VA.  With 3/5 of our sons and more than half of our grandchildren in the same vicinity, it appeared to be as perfect a situation as we could hope to expect.

Our oldest son and his wife and four little girls were living in the Midwest, near her parents.  We figured they would end up settling down out there.  Our youngest son was still single and in the Army, stationed in Germany, and we didn't know where he would end up when all was said and done.  But still, three out of five ain't bad, right?  The decision to move seemed like a no-brainer.

We had a few months in VA getting our new nest feathered, and then we went up to NY, where we spent the summer escaping the VA heat, enjoying Lake Champlain, and managing our Oyster Haven VRBO rental property.  And what do you know: during that time, our firstborn decided to make a radical career change that would have him working out of DC before too long...and living a stone's throw from us.  So when we returned from NY in early September, his wife and four daughters moved in with us while he finished his training.  Within a few months, they'd found a sweet old farmhouse to rent, and it was less than 20 minutes from our house!

A quick aside here: our fourth son's triplets were born right about the time our oldest son's family came to VA. Things got really busy really fast, I'll tell you!

I believe that there was some divine intervention at play with our move, I really do.  We sold our NH house for the full asking price without ever having to put it on the market and found the perfect cozy house in our new VA town, where we could become a central meeting place for our ever-growing family. We didn't initially win the bidding war for this house, but then got it because the other buyer's deal fell through.  Everything just fell into place.  I believe that God arranged things so that we could have not just three but all four of our sons who were married at the time and all of our grandchildren living so close to us that we could be a part of their daily lives.  It's been almost too good to be true.

In the almost five years that we've lived in VA, seven more grandchildren have been added to our string of Pearls, and two more will make an appearance in the coming months.  Our youngest son has gotten out of the Army and is married now.  It's just been an amazing time for our family.

Cue the deep sigh here...because life throws you curve balls, and change is inevitable. Our oldest son has switched companies and is going to be based in Iowa now, so just after the New Year he and his wife had to pack up and move back out to the Midwest.  They bought a charming farmhouse with more than four acres of land--and they are our aspiring homesteaders, so they plan to get chickens and sheep (which they had here in VA) and maybe even a cow! For our son, as far as job satisfaction and quality of life (time at home with his family!), this is just the best move ever. But when he and Regina and their five kids took off in their packed-to-the-gills minivan last Saturday, we felt a bit bereft. That, my friends, was a tough goodbye.

This feels like an enormous loss for my husband and me.  I get weepy-eyed often, trying to adjust to the reality that they won't be a stone's throw from us anymore, that when we say goodbye to them now and they ask "When will we see you again?" it might not be for months.  (Every single time they left our house when they lived near us here, they would ask that.  And it was never more than a few days until we saw them again--a week at most.)  We are going to miss them all so much...but I guess I should dry my tears, since we are planning to drive out to Iowa pretty soon, to help out in the week or two leading up to the birth of baby #6, who's due in early February.

ANYWAY--

I've been way too long-winded with my lead-up here.  I wanted to share something amazing that happened today, but I wanted to make sure you knew just how timely this occurrence was, given my current emotional state.

Our oldest son's four girls (aged 6-10) are doll fanatics. They have American Girl dolls, baby dolls, and porcelain dolls, and they are all played with regularly. Recently I was making a drop-off at Goodwill and I decided to pop in and see what they had.  There was a shelf piled high with porcelain dolls, so I combed through them and found three really pretty ones that were in great shape, priced between $5 and $8, and I decided that I would get them; as long as I could find a fourth, I thought I would bring them out with me when we go to Iowa, as housewarming presents for my favorite doll enthusiasts.

I went to another thrift store (one that I used to frequent with Regina...sniff!), and my search paid off.  I found a never-played-with Little Dutch Girl doll, still in the box with a Royalton Collection brand tag, with her arms and legs still protected by bubble wrap.  Her white garments had some brown mildew or age stains on them, but I spot-cleaned them and she looked terrific.

Today I was about to throw away the box that the Little Dutch Girl doll had come in, but as I turned it over, I saw that there was an exceedingly poignant hand-written message on it.

In case you have trouble reading it, here's what it says:

9/20/98

This is Autum's [sic] Birth Day Doll from Nana--

I will love you baby until my eyes close in death, 

and will always be reminded of the little girl I was

robbed of--

God love you, watch over and keep you 

is my heart's cry to God--

My love

Nana

Oh. my. goodness!  This is so sad...but if there was ever a time that I needed to see what real loss would be like, this is it.  

Did Nana buy this doll for her granddaughter's birthday, even though the little one had already died? Is that why it was like new in the box?  My heart aches for the poor woman who wrote this note!

I will miss my babies terribly.  But I will be able to see them--maybe not as often as I'd like, but I will... unlike this poor grieving grandmother!  If this Nana is still alive, I pray that God has given her solace and peace! And if she's not, I hope she's been reunited with her beloved little darling in Heaven.

Even though five (soon to be six) of our grandchildren will be living a two-day drive away from us, Papa and Grammy still have a very full, very grandchild-rich life in VA.  Just this past week, we had dinner at son #2's house one night, with his four little guys (I forgot to take any pictures). 

Another night, we watched son #3's sweet five-year-old daughter overcome her initial shyness to cheer with her squad on the sidelines at her Christian school's varsity girls' basketball game.

One morning, we babysat for the cheerleader’s two younger sisters while her mom had a 28-week sonogram to check on her baby brother.

We had son #4's four little ones over for two daytime playdates.

"Santa!"

All that in just one week.  How extraordinarily fortunate am I?

I know that I can't even begin to imagine what true suffering, the kind described in that heart-breaking note on the box, is like.  Nevertheless, I reserve the right to feel sad about what we've lost.  Lucky for me, though, there are still plenty of adorable little folks nearby who can help Grammy to remember how very blessed she is!

Just Because: An American Girls Dinner, Granddaughters, and Living Dolls

A few weeks ago, one of our oldest son's daughters (an almost 8-year-old little lady whom I've dubbed "Little Gal" on this blog) handed me a handwritten invitation addressed "To Papa and Grammy."  A few days prior, her mom had asked me if there were any nights that weekend that we would be available to come for a "special dinner."  I figured this invitation had something to do with that, and as a matter of fact it did: we were being invited to join their family on either Friday or Sunday night for dinner, to enjoy drinks and dishes that the four girls (aged 5-9) were planning to prepare themselves--with a little help from their parents--using recipes from their American Girl cookbooks.

Since we all try to avoid eating meat on Fridays, we decided that we would come over on the following Sunday (January 24).

I tell you, this meal lovingly prepared by my very favorite American Girl enthusiasts was truly delicious, with each granddaughter picking out two items to prepare (from scratch!) from their Felicity, Molly, Kit, and Samantha cookbooks.  There was pretty china to eat on.  And there were even place cards hand-lettered by the 9-year-old twin known here at the blog as "Cutie Pie."

We started with deviled eggs for an appetizer and fruit tea to drink; for the main course there was a green salad and homemade bread, and beef hash with green beans on the side; and for dessert, applesauce cupcakes (and also lemon ice, but it had not frozen fully in time to have it that night).  I could do a real photo dump here, because I was so impressed by the spread that I took pictures of everything.  But instead, I made a little collage that would take up less space on this post.

Each serving dish had a little sign nearby telling what that recipe was called.  There was more 
information about all the dishes and their historical origins on the backs of the signs--but I only took pictures of the fronts.

Speaking of granddaughters: they are delightful creatures!  Living dolls.  I raised only boys (five of them), but those boys have given me nine little girls to love (so far!), and I am enjoying things I never got to do before I became a Grammy, among them sewing special occasion dresses and giving baby dolls as gifts.  Not to mention getting invited to American Girl dinners.   There's a lot more pink and purple in my life these days, a lot more hair bows and painted fingernails.  And it's a whole new kind of fun for me.

Here are my five youngest granddaughters--from two different families--wearing the matching dresses their Grammy gave them to wear this past Christmas (bought at an after-Christmas sale a year earlier, and thank goodness they fit!). CAN.  YOU.  EVEN?!

I can't.

On the subject of things that my boys didn't care about but my granddaughters do, let's talk DOLLS.

In the mid-'90's, when our youngest son was a toddler, I spent a couple of years enjoying a weekly porcelain doll-making class, attending when my airline pilot husband was not on a trip and could be home with our boys.  At the time, I thought that if I was blessed with a daughter in the future, the dolls I made would be for her  Alas, I did not have any more babies after our fifth boy was born; so then the plan became saving my porcelain beauties for my future granddaughters.  (Enter future granddaughters!  But more about that in a minute.)

The first doll I made was from a mold by modern doll artist Boots Tyner, and it was called Sugar Britches. It was the size of a real newborn infant (you could put a newborn diaper and outfit on it, and they fit perfectly!), with a porcelain head and hands and a weighted cloth body.  After I made a blond one for me, I made a dark-haired one as a gift for my mother-in-law, who was as crazy about dolls as I am.  After my mother-in-law died, my husband's sisters said that I should take the Sugar Britches I'd given Mom back, in case I wanted to eventually hand it down to a granddaughter.  

This past year, I decided that our oldest son's girls (the American Girl-girls I told you about above) were mature enough to play with the porcelain babies, on a limited basis: when they were the only ones at our house, and when we could keep their rambunctious 2-year-old brother elsewhere occupied!  Since I only had two of the Sugar Britches models, I let the other two girls "adopt" a couple of other porcelain babies I'd made back in the day.

As Christmas approached, I decided that maybe it was time to pass these heirlooms on to these sweet girls who would treasure them.  Sure, they have breakable parts; and sure, they're supposed to be decorative collectibles rather than playthings.  But as my mother-in-law used to say, "A doll's purpose is to be loved."

In order to make it "fair," however, I decided that I needed four of the same doll...but where was I going to find another Sugar Britches, not to mention two of them?  Was I going to have to find a doll-making class here in VA and make them myself?   Not to worry, it was eBay to the rescue!  I found two reasonably priced dolls on that site: one with no wig and badly in need of a whole new cloth body; and the other in great shape, other than needing to have new eyelashes applied.  

I got the eBay dolls refurbished, I made all four babies matching velveteen bonnets and bought them some adorable newborn sleepers.  Once I saw them all grouped together, looking for all the world like living, breathing babies, Christmas couldn't come fast enough.  I could hardly wait to pass them on to their new "mamas."

You know when you're really excited to give a gift, knowing that it's going to be absolutely perfect, but then the receiver doesn't seem all that thrilled with it? Well...THAT DID NOT HAPPEN!  Those darling girls were beside themselves with joy.  And of course, seeing their reaction was the best Christmas gift they could ever give their Grammy, who'd been holding onto those two original dolls for years, imagining the future granddaughters who might play with them one day.  

Okay, that's it for me today.  I just love this link-up, don't you?  It makes me feel like blogging is back, baby! For more blog goodness, just because... head on over to Rosie's.

Not Quite Living Dolls

I used to attend a porcelain doll-making class on Wednesday nights, many years ago.  This isn't the first time I've talked about dolls here at String of Pearls, and I'm sure it won't be the last time, either.  Perhaps my extreme love of dolls stems from that fact that I raised all boys and never had the joy of finding new baby dolls from Santa under the tree on Christmas morning!

It's been about 20 years or so since I carefully cleaned my last greenware (hardened clay) head and limbs, had them fired in the kiln, painstakingly painted them, and then had them fired again.  It's been about 20 years since I chose the perfect wig for a sweet little doll face, constructed a body out of wire, stuffing, and cloth, and sewed together the perfect miniature outfit. Even though I gave most of the dolls I made away (as gifts or special orders filled for family and friends), I still have a number of porcelain beauties on the built-in shelves my husband crafted for them on either side of the fireplace in our living room.

My favorites are the antique reproductions of early 20th-century German "character dolls," which were meant to look like real human children--unlike the wide-eyed, bow-lipped, idealized dolls produced in the 19th century.  (If you'd like more information on character dolls, this old post is helpful.)  For example, this rather pensive looking, chubby-cheeked German lass, a Kammer & Rhindehardt creation, is known as "Gretchen."

I made Gretchen's Bavarian costume using a combination of new and vintage materials.  The ivory blouse and apron are scraps of antique fabrics that my neighbor's mom (a fellow doll/antiques enthusiast) gave to me.  This same woman gave me Gretchen's very old black leather doll shoes.  As you might know (if you've stopped by lately), I recently returned from a lengthy stay in Germany.  While I was there, I picked up a little souvenir plate at the airport in Frankfurt, thinking it would fit very nicely into this little fräulein's hands.  And I'm happy to say that it does.

When this same K & R mold is used to make a boy doll, he is referred to as "Hans."  I made my Hans a towhead, since most of my boys were very blond when they were youngsters; and I fashioned an early 1900's outfit of knickers and flat cap for him.  The vest is an antique doll garment gifted to me.  And notice that Hans carries a Rosary in his pocket (how thrilled I was to find a perfect doll-sized set of plastic beads!).

Another favorite German character doll from that same era is called "Hilda," by J. D. Kestner.  I decided to dress my Hilda as a boy, however, and made him a replica of the sailor suit in which all of my sons were photographed between the ages of one and two.

At one point, after making a set of small dolls that were supposed to represent our five sons (check them out here), I decided to make a pair that looked like my husband and me when we were children.  Both of the molds I used are German.  The little girl (dressed the way I was in a photo taken on Easter in 1961, when I was almost three) is Kestner's "Century Baby," circa 1920's.  I chose this mold because of the round cheeks and tiny eyes, two facial features yours truly shares with this doll.

The nameless little boy I used for my husband's doll is by Johan Huebach, also circa 1920's.  I thought he was the ticket because he has a rather high forehead, a trait that my husband inherited from his Irish grandfather, and one which is shared by several of his siblings.  I gave this doll his dreamy light blue eyes, his thick eyebrows, and the freckles he had on his nose as a boy.  (I regret now that I didn't try to paint front teeth with a nice big space between them, to make the resemblance stronger!)  I dressed this little guy in a plaid flannel shirt and Chuck Taylor-style black sneakers, two wardrobe staples of my husband's.

These sweet German character dolls are all the more beautiful to me because of their not-quite-perfect, very realistic features.  Each has his or her own unique look, just like real children do.  I think the doll artists who sculpted these exquisite doll heads over a century ago were incredibly talented people.  And I'm so thrilled that some the original dolls survived long enough so that molds could be made from them, making it possible for modern doll-makers (and doll-lovers!) like me to create replicas of these pieces of history to love and pass on to future generations.

I Love Being a Grammy!

I just have to tell you, readers, that I love being a grandmother.  A "Grammy," that is.  It is quite simply the best job on earth.

I always thought I was born to be a mother.  Motherhood was the only career I ever really wanted--the job I dreamed about having from the time I was a young girl, tenderly caring for my 8-inch vinyl baby doll--a sweet [now]vintage cutie with painted-on hair and blue eyes that opened and closed.  A high-tech drink-and-wet number, this doll had one little hole in the center of her rosebud mouth, so that she could be fed with a bottle, and another in her nether regions.  It was just like taking care of a real baby!  Right?

The doll of which I speak was a gift from my maternal grandmother on the occasion of my birth (the birth of her first granddaughter).  It came with a pint-sized wooden crib, painted white and decoupaged with pastel animals.  More than half a century later, I still have that doll--none the worse for wear, except for a few ink marks on her skin, and faded lips that were brought back to life with the help of some pink nail polish.  I still have that crib, too--although the paint has begun to chip away in spots.  If I was at home right now, instead of at the house in VA where my little G-Man lives, I would take a picture of my childhood doll and her little crib and show it to you.  (Remind me to do that someday down the road, won't you?)

Yes, motherhood was the stuff of dreams for me; and God is so good to me, when I grew up and married my Prince Charming, He gave me exactly what I'd always wished for: a house filled with children.  He gave me five sons, who grew from chubby, rosy-cheeked, bright, funny, utterly endearing little fellas into tall, strong, handsome, bright, funny, utterly endearing young men.  Now, incredibly, four of those former little fellas are married, and two of them are fathers themselves.

And those children they've brought into the world, those three precious little girls and that one precious little boy (so far, wink wink)...oh my, no one told me how much I would adore my grandchildren!  Well, actually, my dear late father-in-law did: he used to say, "If I'd known how fun grandchildren were, I'd have had them first."  And this was a man--trust me when I tell you this--whose life had always revolved around his children.  He never identified himself by any career he held.  (Well, okay--maybe he liked to remember his Naval Aviator days, with a heavy dose of pride and nostalgia, but...)  My father-in-law was always first and foremost a family man, a dad.  Lucky for me, the apple didn't fall far from the tree, because his son is no different.  So it is gratifying to see our boys following in the footsteps of the generations of Pearl men who came before them, transitioning into the roles of husband and father with joy and enthusiasm, and with a seriousness of purpose that proves they realize the importance of both of those sacred vocations.  My husband and I couldn't be prouder of them for the way they've embraced family life, and for bringing sweet, faith-filled women of character into our family, giving us the daughters we never had before.

I adore my grandchildren, plain and simple.  They melt me completely.  Just recently, we were Skype-ing with our oldest son's family, and Cutie Pie (one of the 3-and-a-half-year-old twins) leaned very close to the camera, so that all we could see on our computer screen was the top of her head and her honey-colored bangs, and said quietly, "Grammy, I want to be just like you."  Oh my goodness, I can't describe what hearing those words, in that innocent voice, did to me.  I don't know if she'll still feel that way ten years from now...but wow, to say that I felt on top of the world when she murmured them that day is quite an understatement.

Cutie Pie's mom also told me recently that she insists on wearing the dressy wool button-up coat that her aunt and uncle gave her for Christmas, all the time, instead of the pink hooded parka that she normally wears.  Apparently, it reminds her of one of my winter coats, because she tells her mother the reason she wants to wear it is that she wants to be "just like Grammy."  My heart constricts with love when I hear this, and my eyes "get hot" (as her daddy used to say when he was a small boy, struggling mightily to be a little man as tears threatened).

I don't think I'll ever be able to button up my winter coat again without thinking of Cutie Pie and smiling.

And speaking of smiling: check out my happy little G-Man, having a ball in his uber-awesome rubber ducky bathtub the other night.  Oh my goodness, this little boy has me wrapped around his chubby little finger.  I am in love. (You are, too, aren't you?  You know you are!  I mean, look at that face!)

Look at that infectious smile! (It sure reminds me of his daddy's.)

I think I might need to work on finding some new adjectives to use, because I just read this post over and realized I used "little" about a hundred times.  Some writer!  (But little is such a cute little word, isn't it?)

Well, time to sign off.  The little guy will be up any time now (there I go again), and Papa and Grammy's daycare will be open for business.  I hope I'll be back soon.  (I'll try...but you know, these days I'm a Grammy first, a blogger second!)

The Heirloom Doll with the Sticky-Up Hair

When my oldest son was fourteen months old, my mother-in-law gave him a doll for Christmas.  She had this stuffed doll custom-made by a woman who specialized in creating dolls that looked like real children (as much as any stuffed doll can look like a real child...which is to say, not very much).  My son's doppelganger doll did have his round cheeks, his bright blue eyes, and his shock of Billy Idol-style white-blond hair.  By the time my son got this doll from his grandma, his fine, straight, blond hair had finally grown long enough to flatten out and hang normally; but for the longest time, it stuck straight up on his head, and that was the unique feature my mother-in-law wanted to make sure the doll-maker got right.  (We got lots of comments about our firstborn baby's hair.  The most hilarious was from a sweet old lady, a stranger who stopped to admire our little towhead in the mall: she pointed out that his signature zero-gravity hair-do made him look "very alert.")

I'm not quite sure why my mother-in-law--who was far from being one of those progressive types who believe that boys should play with dolls and girls should play with trucks, so that they aren't pigeonholed according to their gender--gave my boy a doll that Christmas.  I suspect that she did it more for me than for my son.  He did give the doll several "awwwww"-inspiring hugs during that Christmas season, but then the doll was banished to the bottom of the toy basket in favor of cars, trucks, trains, and blocks.  Eventually, I accepted the reality that the doll was more of an heirloom item--a decoration--rather than a toy; so I sat it up on the dresser in the nursery, where it would stay clean and unharmed and I could enjoy looking at it.

As the years went by, and God blessed us with three more sons in quick succession, this stuffed doll began to be subjected to all kinds of abuse.  It became the "rope" in games of tug-of-war, the "ball" in games of dodge ball, and in general, something to fling, pull at, undress and laugh at.  The crazy sticky-up hair didn't help the poor thing--after all, children can be so cruel!  (And little boys, I have found, are not born with natural maternal instincts, the way little girls are.  Mine, at least, had no urge whatsoever to nurture this bullied and beleaguered doll.)   When my little hooligans ripped the doll under the armpit and the stuffing started to come out, I mended it and then did the only thing I could do: I stored the doll away until the day I had a daughter or until my boys were grown, whichever came first.  I eventually had another son, my fifth and last child...so alas, the heirloom doll Grandma gifted to my oldest son with such love and hope never had a doting "mommy" in our house, aside from myself.

Imagine how thrilled I was to be able to pass this heirloom on to the very son it rightfully belongs to when his wife gave birth to my first grandchildren, identical twin girls, in June of 2011.  Finally, I thought, here are two little mothers who will care for this neglected doll!  So far, the twins seem to be more into stuffed animals than dolls, but I assume that at the very least, they will treat it in a more gentle manner than their daddy and his brothers did.

This morning, I took this picture of my granddaughter Bonny (the older of the twins by two minutes), who is only a month older than her daddy was when her great-grandma gave it to him that long-ago Christmas, checking out the doll.

Not surprisingly, she seems to be very intrigued...by its wild and crazy hair!

Hiya, Dollface!

Just so you know, with that title I did not mean to sound like a politically incorrect gangster from a 1930's or 40's black and white Hollywood movie.  I just wanted to say hello--and introduce you--to a petite amie of mine, a beauty I created in my porcelain doll-making class back in the mid-1990's.  I chose a mold from an antique doll that was created by a French company called Bru (or Bru Jne & Cie)* to make her exquisite face and arms; then I constructed her soft body out of faux leather, muslin cloth, and stuffing (although a true 19th century Bru doll's body would have been made of real leather, with nothing faux about it).  I added glass eyes and a wig, and then I proceeded to garb this little sweetie in a dress fashioned with a collar made from a scrap of antique lace-embellished cotton.  Isn't she just tres, tres belle?

I'm a little weird about dolls.  I love, love, love them.  It's ironic, isn't it, that someone like myself would give birth to only male children?  That I would have no one with whom to share this obsession?  But fear not, there are others out there like me, adult women who have never outgrown their childhood fascination with dolls.  My doll-making class was populated with such women.  My across-the-street neighbor had a mother who was similarly afflicted, and she is the one who gave me the black straw hat that my Bru doll is sporting here (as well as the antique doll purse in her hand, another old maroon lace-trimmed velvet doll hat, two other little purses, some old leather doll shoes...this trunk is filled with treasures that this kind woman passed on to me).

What's so wonderful is that now, I have been blessed with not one, but two little girls with whom I might one day share this passion for dolls--my identical twin granddaughters, who turned one in June.  I no longer have to be embarrassed by the fact that I have five all-grown-up, tall, strapping sons (and no daughters), and yet my living room shelves are filled with dollfaces such as this one.  Hey, they aren't just for me anymore; they're for my granddaughters, too!


*If you are interested in learning more about Bru dolls, you can go to: http://dollreference.com/jne_bru_cie.html.

Guys and Dolls

I am the mother of five sons (no daughters).  They are all grown now, ranging in age from 19 to 28, and they are an absolute delight to me in every way.  My husband always promised, when they were young whippersnappers and resembled a litter of very energetic and noisy puppies, that one day I would be surrounded by strapping young men who treated their mother like a queen.  That day has come, my friends, and I am the luckiest woman who ever walked the earth.

When my boys were little, I spent a few years taking a weekly porcelain doll-making class. The first step was to pick out--among the many antique reproductions and modern dolls that my teacher had in her shop--the head, hands, and legs that I would use.  Then I would smooth and clean these fragile green ware pieces to prepare them to be fired in the kiln. Next, I would paint the hardened pieces to prepare them for the second firing.  And finally, I would construct a body for them out of wire, cloth, stuffing, and glue.  The process of completing one doll took weeks, and by the time I was done I had fallen in love with each and every one of them.  They were like my babies.  I found doll-making to be a very satisfying craft, particularly because I've always loved dolls so much myself but had no one to buy or make them for.  So I made them for family members and friends...and I made them for me!

One of the first projects I worked on was making a porcelain image of each of my boys, ostensibly as something for them, something to take one day when they got married and had houses of their own.  (Now, I'm afraid I love them too much to see the set of five get split up; so they may not get them until after I'm gone!)  Here are my guys, as dolls:

That's son #1 in the back row, left.  The mold I used is from an antique German "Character Doll" made by Simon & Halbig in the early 1900's.  I chose it for this son's doll because it resembled him a little.  It has a rather long face and eyes that turn down a bit at the corners--features that run in my husband's family and have been passed down to my firstborn.  I dressed my oldest boy's doll in gray pants and a white button-down shirt, because that was the uniform they all wore at their Catholic grade school.  I cut up an old shirt and pants that my guys had actually worn to school to make these tiny clothes. Since he's dressed like a schoolboy, I gave him a tiny backpack (with a tiny lunch bag in it!) and a math book to hold.

In the middle of the back row is son #2's likeness.  This doll is also an antique German "Character Doll," but I don't know the name of the company that produced it.  I chose this mold for my second son's doll because it reminded me a bit of him--especially because it had his round cheeks, a feature that runs in my family. He is dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a baseball cap (which began its life as a key chain), since that is the uniform this son wore when he wasn't in school.  The jeans and sweatshirt were crafted from old clothes that my boys had worn.  He holds a football in one hand and a paint palette in the other, because he was really into both sports and drawing.

Son #3 is in the back row, right.  I used the same mold for his face that I used for son #1, because the two of them have similar Pearl features.  I dressed him in the maroon sweatshirt and sweatpants that was the gym uniform at their Catholic grade school (and again, I cut up an old uniform they'd worn to make a tiny replica of this ensemble--which I found adorable, but by junior high the boys unanimously viewed as hideous).  There is a backpack over the doll's shoulder, since he's wearing a school uniform.  And he's holding a basketball and a baseball bat, because this middle son of mine was/is an ESPN-watching sports nut of the highest order.

In the front row on the left is son #4.  I chose this mold for his doll because the face reminded me of his, right down to the deep dimples in its cheeks.  This German doll was originally made in the 1920's or 30's, and my teacher always referred to it as "Laughing Child."  My fourth son is dressed in a tiny handmade sailor suit, because when all of my boys were little, I had their photo taken in the same sailor suit...and I just like how little boys look in sailor suits!  This son went through a nutcracker-collecting phase, so I gave him a little nutcracker to hold.  He's also holding a sneaker, because by the time this boy went off to college, he had amassed an impressive collection of funky, brightly-colored athletic shoes.

And finally, that's my baby in the front row, right.  I used the same antique German mold for his doll that I used for son #2, because he, too, had very round cheeks when he was a little munchkin and the two brothers had a definite resemblance.  I dressed him in a tiny sweatsuit with Simba on the front of the hoodie and lion's ears on the hood, trying to replicate a favorite Lion King outfit from his toddler years.  He holds a dinosaur, a soda fountain drink, and a pail filled with legos and a miniature King Mufasa figurine--and now you know what his great loves were when he was a little guy.  You also know which classic Disney animated movie was his favorite.

In truth, all five of my sons were so crazy about many of the same things growing up--dinos, Jurassic Park, drawing, Disney movies, football, and lacrosse--that I could have given them all similar accessories to hold. But with these dolls, I tried to capture their unique personalities.  So that's it, then; these are all my guys, as dolls.

(And lest you think that I never made a porcelain likeness of my #1 guy, my husband, guess again.  But that's a subject for another post.) 

The Doll Whisperer

Sometimes when my husband is out of town on a trip and I'm here in my big old house all by my lonesome (I'd accompany him every time, but that's not always possible!), I find myself yearning for a little human companionship--especially after the sun goes down. Knowing that I'm the only one sleeping in the house--that there are dark empty bedrooms with cold empty beds in them all around me--can make me feel really lonely at times. Thank goodness for the twin porcelain baby dolls who have taken up residence in what we've always called the "guest room."

You know how they say that some people talk to plants? Well, I'm embarrassed to admit that I've found myself talking to these dolls! They are newborn-sized, with wobbly heads and weighted bottoms, and they look amazingly life-like, lying there asleep together, wearing their matching christening gowns (which would fit real newborn babies). I experiment with posing these wee ones a number of ways, so that they are nestled into one another or their arms become intertwined. "Hello, you cute little things," I'll say.

Holy mackerel, I sound like a nut job! I'm...the Doll Whisperer. It would be more normal to be one of those crazy old cat ladies; at least they talk to living, breathing creatures!

I do love these darling baby dolls, though. I made them years ago, when I was taking a weekly porcelain doll-making class. The mold for the head and hands is the work of a doll artist named Boots Tyner, and she called her creation "Sugar Britches." The first doll I ever made in my class was the blond Sugar Britches on the left, who came home with me in 1994. My dear late mother-in-law, a fellow doll enthusiast, was very interested in the whole doll-making business (she had a kiln of her own and produced beautiful ceramic angels, which now grace the homes of her children), so I made the brunette one on the right for her in 1995. I recently brought that sweet dark-haired beauty home to join her fraternal twin sister, in order to help my siblings-in-law with the task of clearing out some of the excess bric-a-brac in the family homestead.

Obviously, I like real babies a whole lot better than these porcelain imposters. Lucky for me, I get to see my eight-month-old identical twin granddaughters--living dolls if you ever saw them--in about a week!

Twin Porcelain Dolls

I have twin porcelain dolls that are just waiting for my twin seven-month-old granddaughters to get old enough to love them. I made these little beauties (named "Jenny" by the doll artist who created the molds) years ago, in the mid-nineties, when I was taking a weekly porcelain dollmaking class. I was young enough at the time that having a daughter was still a possibility, but that wasn't the reason I took that class; I love dolls so much that I really just did it for me! It was a nice, feminine activity for a mom who was surrounded by five dinosaur-loving, video game-playing, sweet little ruffians. At the time, the idea of having grandchildren seemed so far-off and unreal that, while I made dolls for many family members and friends, I never made any specifically thinking they would be for my future granddaughters. Well, time does fly, as they say...and now I have two grandddaughters with whom I hope to share my passion for dolls.

The Jenny on the right, dressed as a little Irish lass in green, is one that I made for myself in 1996. My mother-in-law loved it so much that I decided to give it to her as a birthday gift that year. The next year, I made the one dressed in Christmas finery for myself, but this time instead of glass eyes, I decided to do painted eyes. So these two Jenny's aren't quite identical twins, like my granddaughters--but they're darn close.

In 1997, my mother-in-law's Jenny was nearly destroyed when my in-laws' house had a first floor fire that caused so much smoke and water damage, they had to gut the house and rebuild it. Mom's Jenny's eyes and wig had melted, her porcelain skin had turned black, and her soft cloth body smelled of smoke. I swapped Jenny's with my mother-in-law; I gave her my Jenny with the painted eyes and took her ailing one home to see if I could clean her up and repair her. I was able to put her pretty much back together, but she still has a crack along one arm, a badge of honor earned by surviving that awful event.

Since my mother-in-law's death, my husband's siblings have been encouraging everyone to take back any items that were gifts they'd given to Mom (in an effort to clear out some of the bric-a- brac that is cluttering up the house). I have been hesitant to do so; but fnally this Christmas I did bring home the Jenny with painted eyes that I'd given my mother-in-law when her Jenny got damaged in the fire. If it wasn't for those two precious granddaughters of mine, I think I would have left that doll there indefinitely. But I believe Mom would be happy to see it loved by one of her great-granddaughters rather than gathering dust on a shelf.

My daughter-in-law has commented that her girls are going to get all the "good stuff," because I keep finding things that I want to pass on to them. I guess I will have to try to control my first-time-grandma enthusiasm and save some things for the children my other boys may have someday. But these two Jenny's are definitely earmarked for the twins!

(By the way, the oil painting in the background was done by my maternal grandmother. Isn't it wonderful?)

Oh, You Beautiful (Paper) Doll!

My daughter-in-law and her sister like to periodically go on what they call "shonding" expeditions (a decidedly "girls only" type of activity that uses shopping as a vehicle for female bonding). Having raised only boys, I can tell you that this was not an activity that was ever popular in our household. If there's one activity that boys hate--and one that's sure to accomplish the exact opposite of bonding--it's shopping (unless it's at the video game store, but if there's one thing I hate, it's the video game store!).

Anyway, this morning after a feeding we bundled the twins into their carseats and took them for a little ride, and their mommy hit some garage/thrift/estate sales. It was a great opportunity for my daughter-in-law and me to do a little female bonding of our own. And I can only imagine how much fun it will be for her when the babies get older and the three of them can sift through all the thrift sale goodies together. There will probably be a lot of "shonding" in their future!

My daughter-in-law found some great deals on clothes, children's books, and fabric in our travels today; but I think the neatest thing she brought home with her was a large collection of paper dolls, most of them quite old. Paper dolls were extremely popular playthings for little girls of my generation, but you just don't see them that much these days. Looking through this collection was like taking a trip back in time: there were "Brady Bunch" paper dolls; there was a "Mrs. Beasley" paper doll set (remember Buffy's doll, Mrs. Beasley, from that old T.V. show "Family Affair"?); there were bridal party paper dolls, and Barbies, too; but best of all, there were some vintage babies and children which were just too cute for words.

My very favorite is this vintage little boy (surprise, surprise; the mother of five boys fell in love with the little boy paper doll!). I think it's so funny that "I am a good boy" is emblazoned on the front of one of his little paper outfits. There is a vintage little girl paper doll, apparently the sister to this one, and I noticed that none of her little paper dresses has "I am a good girl" written on them. Hmmm...I suppose this is because it's little boys who have the rep for naughtiness, while everyone knows that little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. I guess this little boy just wanted to make it clear that, his Y chromosome notwithstanding, he's a perfect angel. But you know, my father-in-law always used to tell his kids that they shouldn't brag; he'd say, "If you're good, you don't have to tell anyone; they'll tell you." So...methinks this little paper guy doth protest too much, perhaps. But isn't he just beautiful? What a doll!

Hans and Gretchen: They're a Couple of Characters

Okay, I need to start this off by apologizing to the menfolk in my family, because this is going to be a super-girly post about one of my favorite subjects: dolls. I know I put up a post about dolls not that long ago, "just the other day," as my mother is wont to say (May 14, "Thinking About Twins!"), so I should have gotten it out of my system with that one. But it wasn't enough, guys; it just wasn't enough. And I should get credit for my man-pleasing post about sports two days ago ("The Origins of Lacrosse"), shouldn't I? So I'm sorry, but you'll just have to bear with me on this one.

When I was taking doll classes years ago, I became very interested in antique German dolls known as "character dolls," which made their first appearance in 1908 at a doll exhibition in Munich. At the time they caused quite a stir, because they weren't like the "pretty" porcelain-headed dolls that had been produced in France and Germany during the 19th century. Those idealized doll faces, though beautiful, were more mask-like and stylized, with small mouths and enormous glass eyes; they all looked about the same, and were meant to illustrate the ultimate in feminine beauty. The dolls that shocked the world at the Munich exhibition presented human faces with more truth and realism. Their facial features more closely resembled those of real humans (warts and all, if you will). At first, these newfangled dolls were called "art dolls," but eventually they came to be known as "character dolls."

My dollmaking teacher had hundreds of molds for us to choose from, and she had many of the character doll molds. Real antique doll heads were used to create the molds from which reproductions can be made, which makes reproduction heads slightly larger than the originals. Even though a doll expert would be able to tell the difference between a copy and the real deal, when using an antique reproduction mold a modern dollmaker is required to carve her initials into the greenware of the doll's head before it is fired into porcelain; that way, she is unable to to try to pass off her doll as an original antique and sell it for much more than it is worth.

I have two favorites among the German character dolls: one is J. D. Kestner's "Hilda" (she can be seen modeling christening dresses in my April 7 post, "Making Christening Dresses, Part 2"); and the other is Kammer & Rhinehardt's "Hans/Gretchen" (using the same mold, the doll can be made as either a boy or a girl).

I have posted a picture of true antique versions of Hans and Gretchen, from a book called Rare Character Dolls by Maree Tarnowska. I have also posted a picture of the reproductions of Hans and Gretchen that I made in my doll class (the pair of blonds dressed in red and black). I tried to dress my little sweeties in antique fashion; some of the fabrics used to make Gretchen's dress are indeed vintage, as are her genuine leather shoes. Her wig is made of mohair, which is what the old dolls had, rather than synthetic fibers. I think my little doll couple looks very sweet, and I love them both; but I also think there's nothing like the real thing. There's just something about truly old dolls, ones that have been around for 100 years or more and have been passed down from generation to generation, that can't be duplicated. But since authentic antique dolls are prohibitively expensive (at least for this doll enthusiast), making reproductions is a great way to enjoy the beauty of such dolls without the cost.

Thinking About Twins!

My daughter-in-law has almost reached the 34-week benchmark, and it is dawning on my husband and me that it won't be long before we become grandparents to twin babies!! We are so excited and thrilled, and dying to know a few things: whether they're two boys or two girls; whether they're fraternal or identical; what their names are going to be; if they have my daughter-in-law's dark hair and large hazel eyes or my son's blond hair and smaller blue eyes--or some wonderful blending of their parents' features. I can tell you this: even in the sonogram pictures, they have the cutest noses and mouths! We can hardly wait to meet them.

So I've got twins on the brain these days, and I thought I'd show you my darling pair of newborn porcelain baby dolls. I suppose you'd have to say they're fraternal twins, because they look nothing alike. I made these dolls about 15 years ago, when I was taking a weekly porcelain dollmaking class with a small group of women. The teacher had a whole room filled with molds for making both antique reproductions and modern dolls, and we could choose whichever ones we wanted. She would pour the liquid clay into the molds, then we would carefully clean and smooth the dried and hardened, but still delicate and breakable, doll parts. The parts were fired in a kiln and turned to porcelain; we would paint the porcelain pieces and then they would be fired again to make the painting we'd done permanent. After that, we constructed the soft bodies and attached our heads, hands, and legs to them. Then came wigs and eyes, unless the eyes were hand-painted. And finally, we dressed our little darlings. This class was so much fun for me, because I adore dolls. And yes, I have 5 sons and no daughters; so needless to say, if those twin grandbabies are girls, Grandma is going to give them dolls for Christmas!

The doll on the left is the first doll I ever made. She's called "Sugar Britches" and she was modeled by modern doll artist Boots Tyner. (Don't look at me--I didn't name her! And I'm not sure which name is more bizarre: Sugar Britches or Boots Tyner.) She probably has a bit too much hair for a newborn, but her features are very realistic; and the way her body is weighted, when you hold her, you feel like you're holding a real newborn--floppy head and all.

The one on the right is a reproduction of an antique doll called "Bye-Lo Baby." This doll was designed in 1925 by an American woman named Grace Storey Putnam; she visited a hospital and modeled the face after a three-day-old infant she saw in the nursery. At the time, most baby dolls had a very idealized look, so the Bye-Lo Baby caused quite a sensation because of how realistic-looking it was. When it was introduced, it was an instant best-seller and became one of the most popular dolls ever made. Bye-Lo Babies were made of both composition and porcelain bisque, and they had either painted or glass eyes. (I wish I'd hand-painted the eyes on mine, because I'm not that crazy about how it looks with glass eyes.)

Both babies are dressed in antique baby dresses, which were given to me by my neighbor's mother (a fellow doll and antiques enthusiast).

I think my two babies, my little twin newborns, look awfully sweet together. Looking at them just makes me that much more anxious for the real thing--a pair of living dolls. Please pray for my daughter-in-law and her two little angels as the big day approaches.