You know what they say: “Those who can’t do
teach have friends who can”.
I’m not sure who the wise “they” are , but upon moving to a new city with a newborn I followed this advice whole heartedly. I made a list of qualities my new friends in this new place would need to possess to compensate for my shortcomings and lack-of-doings. After twenty minutes of brainstorming and trying to perform elementary addition using my fingers, the numbers weren’t so much in my favor. I need friends who can cook, jog, diet, clean, iron, knit. Another set of friends would need to cover timely bill payment, yard work, and diaper-changing-sans-dry-heaving. More friends still would need to be found, of course, to handle the really important stuff like breast-feeding my kid and decorating my new-to-me/old-to-everyone-else house. Granted numbers aren’t my strong suit (note: find friend who adds AND subtracts. Bonus points for knowledge of long division), but the figures came out as follows.
1,984,324 things I can’t do = 1,984,324.5 friends I need in a town whose population consists of mostly cows.
So I burnt dinner, didn’t jog, caved and fed my massive baby powdered formula. I tried to train my dog to lick dust bunnies from the base boards, and made sure I always had a calculator handy. I would have to navigate this strange world of at-home-mommying alone and lacking most necessary skills. I would have to not do and not teach.
And then I met her.
She blogs. She homeschools four kids. She gardens. She goes to church. She bakes in bulk. She sews things. She leaps tall buildings in a single bound, and (a suspicion not yet proven) probably has a rockin’ Bat Mobile parked in a mysterious cavernous hole beneath her quaint, tidy home. She most likely has a spectacular cape she wears in lieu of an apron, and she most definitely would hand-stitch and embroider that cape herself. Some call her Jessica. I decided Super J would do just fine.
Two years later, I still can’t do but graciously she picks up the slack. Finally, just a few days ago, my friend- the domestic diva and overall champion of all things- asked me to help her. I panicked a bit, unsure of what I might bring to the table. Did she need someone to teach her kids bad words? Was chargrilled Pop Tart on her menu this week? What on earth could I do?
Ever the humble one, she flattered me with words about my blog and its being not altogether awful. “I can blog! I can blog!,” I rejoiced in this discovery. Turns out (in addition to bakingschoolingcleaningcookingcouponingorganizingvolunteeringcraftingplantingentertaining) Super J (da-da-da-dummmmmm! Shazzam! Pow!) has taken to hand making brilliantly cute little monsters called Pajama Eaters.
“I want one, ” I tell her enthusiastically.
“Oh, fun! What color would Thomas like?,” she asked.
“What? No. For me. Obviously,” I state…what to me seems obvious.
“Oh, um. Ok. They are, you know, like for children.”
“Exactly. Why are they called Pajama Eaters?,” I investigate.
“Well, kids typically throw their pajamas all over their room when they change in the morning. The next night you can’t find them. The kids use it as a stuffed animal, but a special stuffed animal that likes to “eat” their pajamas for breakfast,” she is more convincing that the man who sells blankets-with-sleeves on infomercials.
“So, essentially, in theory, and henceforth, hitherto, it’s a really cute way to get your kids to stop being slobs,” I jot down “Scientific Thesis Maker” beneath blogger on my Things I’m Not Awful At list.
We chatted on about a variety of thrilling topics:
Pajama Eaters can be created in your choice of custom fabrics: Order to match your child’s bedding or room decor
Their hungry little backs can be embroidered with your child’s name or initials.
Where is your secret bat cave and why won’t you just show me already?
I considered it a success when Super J relented and agreed ( more or less… mostly less) that it was perfectly acceptable for me to have my very own Pajama Eater. I think I changed her mind when I, again, referred to the all-knowing “they” and said “You know what they say, don’t go through life without a Little Spoon”. That “they”, after all, led me to her.
So, here I am, using my one “can do” for a friend with little she can’t do. I’d love for you to check out her funky Etsy shop, Nom Nom Cookies and see what you think! I have a feeling you’ll see those PJ Eaters’ sweet, little eyes and fall in love. Super J makes precious handmade items. Captain T writes silly things. Together, we write silly things about handmade items! And you, dear readers, reap the reward. Jessica is offering a 10% discount especially for you. Just use code RAMBLEON at checkout. To sweeten the already super sweet, one of you will win your very own (ok, whatever. You can give it to your kid) Pajama Eater. I, for one, am shamelessly not giving mine to my boy.
Tell us what else your Pajama Eater would eat.
EXAMPLE: Considering my abundance of size and fondness for baggy man pajamas, I’ve decided my Pajama Eater can’t possibly be big enough to devour my XXX HuskyL knickers. To keep the handmade cutie smaller than a sedan, I’d have to let him get his munch and crunch on with various other items: books about weight loss (informative & ironic), snacks, snacks, and- if I need a midnight bite- more snacks.
Winner will be announced Friday during a very special Very Bloggy Wedding, Very Much About Wedding Dress post.
*You can spot Super J
(goes by Jessica Carter when she’s feeling all Bruce Wayne about things)