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    Giveaway Day 8 — How the Babysitter Named Our Baby

    ByHeather Bailey

    Day08_GiveawayBanner

    I'm super excited about today's giveaway. Erin from The Vintage Pearl is donating a $50 Gift Certificate to TheVintagePearl.com where
    you can find all manner of gorgeous custom silver jewelry and gifts,
    including necklaces, bracelets, rings, baby spoons, boxes, earrings—so
    many cool pieces. The sports-jersey concept is fantastic too. You must
    go take a look.

    Blog_VintagePearl_HeatherBailey

    I featured The Vintage Pearl once before when Erin sent me a mommy necklace with Charlotte and Elijah charms. It is my daily, go-to necklace and I absolutely love it. Of course, since then, I had another child. I needed to add his name onto my mama necklace.

    But what was I going to name him?

    Okay, okay. I know! My baby will be two-years old this month
    and I have never announced his name on my blog. It turns out I could
    only call him "my little bub" or "the baby" or "my youngest" so many
    times without getting caught. And you guys have noticed. Boy, have you
    noticed. You are totally onto me. I'm sorry for leaving you out in the
    dark on that. I'm going to attempt to explain myself today. I know there
    are a number of you who have faithfully watched for this news!

    Evan_HeatherBailey_470

    Choose Your Own Adventure

    If you want the juicy details of my rampant indecision and how the
    babysitter named our son, read on. For the punchline and a fabulous
    giveaway, skip to The Punchline at the bottom. (Know that through all of
    this, on top of having a new baby to care for, I was still healing from that Trash Ties situation and I was under the pressure of an enormous number of design deadlines.)

     

    The Details

    For starters, we listed baby names over and over all through my
    pregnancy and never found a clear winner before the birth. I'm sure this
    is common enough. We wanted a name that was interesting and unique but
    not contrived or trendy. Once a name gets trendy, I can't do it.

    I have always loved my grandfather's name: Imri Joseph (rhymes with "Jim Rye"). I never knew
    him. I have a solitary memory of him giving me a piece of gum. But,
    family heritage is very important to me. I never had extended family as
    a kid and I want my children to have that in their lives. Imri was a
    responsible, interesting and intelligent man. He was the Head Food
    Chemist at Heinz for decades and was pivotal in developing the
    technology that gives Heinz ketchup its signature flavor—making it
    still the best ketchup there is. When he died—I was four—he
    willed me a small amount of Heinz stock that grew a little as I grew and
    helped me pay for college. He was a family man and a hobby
    photographer—long before most families owned a camera. I don't know,
    I've always just felt close to
    him even though I don't know him.

    Blog_TornPhotos_HeatherBailey_470
    I
    wanted to name the baby Imri. I really wanted to, but it made me
    anxious. It's such an uncommon name that we really had no gauge on how
    that name would function for him in his life. How would people pronounce
    it? How much explaining would he need to do every time he gave his
    name? How would it look on a resume?

    ImriBerniceWedding300eI
    didn't feel particularly passionate about any of the other names that
    remained on our short list. It was either go hog-wild and name him
    something creatively strong like Imri (I liked Wilder too)—and let him
    figure out how to wield such a name, or keep to the classics and name
    him Henry, James, Evan or Graham. Isaac and I are artists. A larger part
    of us wanted to indulge in a creative name, but part of us didn't want
    to presume this would work for our little baby's destined personality.

    Of those classic names, Henry was my favorite. But the guidance
    counselor from my high school's name was Henry Bailey and I knew my
    siblings and mom would have a hard time with that. (My mom worked at our
    high school.) If I had given Elijah the name Henry back in 1997, it
    would have been more comfortably unsusual for me. In the meanwhile,
    Henry has become quite popular. So that was two gentle dings against
    Henry.

    Evan_Bath

    So what other classic names could we add to the list? Not many. You see, Isaac is one of ten children. His siblings mostly
    have boys and they have employed many of the strong, classic boy names that I like: Thomas, William, Luke, etc. But—Isaac
    wouldn't allow us to consider any names that have been used in his
    family already. Even when the naming situation grew more desperate.

    Evan_SleepingBy the time we were at the hospital, holding our sweet new baby,
    all that our list included was Imri, Levi, Evan and Graham. I liked Imri and I
    felt that Levi, Evan and Graham were okay, safe names. Evan being more
    romantic; Levi and Graham being more interesting. But, I wasn't attached to
    them. You would think this would land me on Imri, but I couldn't pull
    the trigger without a test run.

    We went home from the hospital unsure. We thought we would resolve it
    that week at home, but we had company and a new baby to take care of.
    We didn't figure it out, so we had to file his name as Unnamed.

    This gave us several more months to figure things out, months we
    never wanted to take, but we took nonetheless. Most people don't know
    this, but you have quite a long time to officially pronounce a name. We
    began calling our baby Graham, Evan and Imri interchangeably in order to
    resolve our feelings, sure we would keep Imri Joseph as the middle name
    if we didn't use Imri as the first name. Graham made it's way off the
    list pretty soon, once I started hearing "Grumbly" when I would say
    "Graham Bailey." I know. That was silly. I was tired.

    Blog_EvanCollage

    The names Evan and Imri stuck around. We called him both. If a
    stranger asked his name, we would say that it's Evan—in order to avoid
    the explanation. If we had more time for a conversation, we would test
    out Imri. We never felt sure what to do. We gradually became comfortable
    with the idea of giving him both names and letting it work itself out
    over time. His name would be Evan Imri Joseph Bailey.
    If we ended up calling him Evan, then he would have two middle names
    just like my other children. And if we only ever called him Imri, then
    he could choose to either keep Evan for sport or we'd take him down to
    the court and let him remove it officially.

    This is where we landed. When we introduced the baby to his
    babysitter, Marilyn, we told her she could call him either name. She
    chose to call him Evan. He was on the verge of walking at the time and
    this was a big event at Marilyn's. Marilyn would stand the baby at the
    center of the room and the children would form a circle around him, clap
    and chant, "Evan! Evan! Evan!" trying to get him to walk.

    When Marilyn told us this story, we tried it at home that night with
    our older kids. And when we chanted his name, "Evan! Evan! Evan!" he lit
    up like a light bulb. He not only was the center of our enthusiastic
    attention, but we were calling his name! The name he was hearing at
    Marilyn's all day. That twinkle in his eyes brought me some peace. He
    could be Evan and that was okay. It isn't a name I would have ever
    predicted my using. I would have thought we would arrive at something
    more unique. But it is lovely to say and he is a lovely boy.  

    "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

    Blog_VintagePearl_HeatherBailey2VP

    And he is still Imri too. And if he ever decides that Imri is the
    name he wants to go by, then I'm cool with that. For now, Imri serves as
    a nickname. (Apple is his other, self-elected nickname—from
    his first attempts to say Evan. He called himself Apple for months.) We
    call him Evan for the most part. I have never had clarity about it, but
    I'm moving on. I have never had an easy time naming my children. It's an
    honor I don't feel equal to. I always wish that I could consult them on
    it and give them the name they want, let them be who they will be.

     

    The Punchline

    The short version is that we really weren't sure what to name him so
    we
    had to test a few names out. And when it came to choosing from the final
    two names, we had disected our options to the bone and I just wasn't
    sure I liked either name any more. Our baby went around with two
    different names for a year. I didn't announce this because I didn't want
    to hear more opinions. I just kept hoping I would feel inspired about
    it. Clear inspiration never came. In the end, we gave him both names and
    figured it would sort itself out over time. Our baby's official name is Evan Imri Joseph Bailey.
    Evan, simply because it stayed on the list and Imri Joseph after my
    grandfather. He goes by Evan. Though I still call him Imri at times.

    Blog_VintagePearl_HeatherBailey3

    My new "Evan" charm from The Vintage Pearl
    arrived this week and my mama necklace is now finally complete. I
    thought about ordering a silver charm with Evan on one side and Imri on
    the other, but I resisted. I'm going to wear just one name around for a
    while, one name officially stamped in silver.

    Comment to enter today's contest. Be sure to include your email address
    so we can contact you if you win. It took me a while to get this story all written out! Therefore, today's giveaway will extend into tomorrow and end at noon PST on Friday 8/9/13. Watch for the winner to be announced within a day or
    two at the bottom
    of the post. Follow The Vintage Pearl on their blog and on Facebook. For more info on my August giveaway madness, click here. Please
    share the word. Check back every day.

    Good luck!

    xo—Heather


    Read More “Giveaway Day 8 — How the Babysitter Named Our Baby”

  • Rose Bowl Treasure

    ByHeather Bailey

    RoseBowlFleaMarket

    The Rose Bowl Flea Market makes me gitty. Wendy and I were like two
    magpies, combing the aisles for sparkly treasure. She has a great,
    vintage-20s, flapper-deco aesthetic. It was fun to see what trinkets
    called her name—definitely a great way to get to know each other on a new level.

    I highly suggest it.

    PsandQs

    One vendor offered metal letters of every size and color, including
    polkadots. I sorted through his alphabets for a good 20 minutes—they
    were comically hot in the bright sun. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a
    website or even a business card. If someone’s looking for at Etsy
    opportunity, track this guy down. He’s a Rose Bowl Flea Market regular.
    And we all need his letters. 

    FleaMarketFinds

    With our car trouble, we had to leave the trailer behind, so my
    blinders were on when it came to furniture. That was a bit painful.
    However, a hunt for small treasures brought an interesting challenge. In
    the end, my eclectic loot included: plastic chicks, pink buttons, a
    rhinestone buckle, embroidered ribbons and silks, a green vase, a red
    scarf, and a sequined gold and black vintage circle skirt. If you're a
    treasure hunter too, The Rose Bowl Flea Market marks the spot. In
    charming ol' Pasadena, CA.

  • Are You Kidding? Of Course I Want a Sticker!

    ByHeather Bailey

    Eight years ago, on election day, I was six-months pregnant with Charlotte. I remember that day very well.
    I waited in line to vote for about 5 hours—on my feet. I got so
    dehydrated that I began to shake and cramp when I was about five people
    from the front of the line. I stuck it out the extra 10 minutes, voted,
    then headed to the emergency room once I discovered I was bleeding a
    little as well. I was in miserable shape. It was NOT a fun day.

    Vote2012_470A

    Now, I always pack water, food, and a folding chair—just in case.
    Today there was no line though. Somehow, I hit the timing just right. I
    missed the enormous lines from this morning and beat the rush hour lines
    sure to come later on. It was a 10-minute excursion.

    Tonight, we are heading to my brother's house to watch the results.
    Of course, it may take weeks to resolve now that the parties have
    discovered they can ring the voter-fraud alarm and buy more time. Ug.

    How to focus then for the rest of my day? We have a big magazine
    shoot at the studio today and I have a print from my new quilting
    collection that needs an adjustment to its repeat as well. And then
    there are the other 88 to-dos on the list. Oh my.

    BUT—the most important to-do on my list today is done—I voted.

    You should too. Bring water.

    Update: You must see this Election 2012 Bad Lip-Reading video above — too stinking funny. "It's like the whole world's a surfer dude and they're all chewing pencils."

  • Teensy Little Bird

    ByHeather Bailey

    110927_BabyBoyBailey_01a

    When the hospital called on August 17th to schedule a C-section for September 3rd, I got off my computer, and walked and walked and walked. Every day, for days. My best shot at avoiding surgery was to go into labor naturally. (My oldest was born by C-section, so the doctor didn’t want me to go full-term at the risk of uterine rupture.) It was over 110º each of those days, so I would head out at 8pm after the sun went down and make laps around the neighborhood in my fluorescent-orange shirt — the Great Pumpkin.

    110927_BabyBoyBailey_02b

    I did it! With four blisters on my left foot and three on my right, our new little bub was born at 1:59pm on Thursday, August 25th. No C-section required — phew. My feet only stopped aching this week.

    I had never gone into labor before on my own, so I stayed in bed that morning longer than some might have, timing my contractions on my iPhone (standard clock app, lap function – awesome). Once I could no longer sleep, I started posting my progress on Twitter; it was a fantastic distraction. We got the kids ready for school and called in my mom to make the rounds, then headed out to the hospital. Of course, we had to make a stop at the store for an SD card for our camera. (I wanted photos!) At that point, my contractions were a minute long and three minutes apart, from start to start.

    110927_BabyBoyBailey_03b

    At the hospital, when I walked from triage to the delivery room, my doctor announced that I was at a 7 or 8 and everyone at the nursing station stood and clapped, saying “Wow, you’re still walking!?” I wonder if that’s such a big deal or if they stand and clap for everyone. “You’re dilated to a 1? And you’re still walking!?” “You’re dilated to a 3? And you’re still walking!?” Might be a good protocol.

    I had a big, goofy smile on my face — between contractions. The staff was baffled by me. Sure, it hurt. Of course! I was just ecstatic that I beat the scheduled surgery and that I’d get to meet my new kiddo. Good thing I was in an excited stupor too, because my doctor had to attend to three emergency situations in the course of my labor. She held off on me a little bit so she could help the other mothers get through their ordeals. After she broke my water, everything went very quickly and the baby was born within the hour.

    110927_BabyBoyBailey_04b

    And here he is! The inventory is complete. He’s all here, with all his teensy parts. And everything appears to work as it should: cooing, gooing, squeaking, squawking, spitting, squirting, grinning, grunting. He’s so new and tiny that all of these functions still have us mesmerized.

    I’m saving his name for another post — as that’s it’s own story. When it comes to names, I’m a waffler. Why can’t we all go by three for four different names — that would be so much easier! (Well, maybe not.)

    Two days after the baby was born, Isaac and our talented friend, Jared Platt, met up to take pictures. These lovely shots were snapped by Jared. Jared is a professional photographer who travels the U.S. teaching photography workflow and file management to other professionals.

    110927_BabyBoyBailey_05

    Isaac has typed up his thoughts on little bub’s birthday as well — more revealing perhaps than my polite assessment. Here’s his take…


    Read More “Teensy Little Bird”

  • Bead It, Kid

    ByHeather Bailey

    Necklace1new3
    Beadingnew So, guess who made these necklaces?

    Four-year-old Charlotte did this all by herself.  I thought I was
    embracing disaster by allowing her free access to several bins of beads
    while I worked on the computer today.  I was entirely wrong.

    Not
    only did Miss C patiently string together all of these designs without
    my oversight, but she made them all symmetrical.  Even her most
    eclectic necklace doesn't miss a beat
    bead.  Hours and hours of necklace-making.  All I did was add the
    clasps.  And I bent a loop at the top of her one pendant.  That's it.

    Necklace3new2

    Necklace4new2
    When I was four years old, my bottom dresser drawer was stocked with
    white paper, a stapler and staples.  I made all sorts of wild
    inventions with white paper that year.  And here I thought I had been
    tricky-stuff at four, with my paper robots and elephants.  Looks like
    Charlotte has 4-year-old me mightily whooped.

    The moral: 
    Moms, Grandmas, Aunts and Alligators, let your kids have access to some
    of your precious supplies.  They may surprise you with tidiness and
    ingenuity!  I can only imagine what I would have done with real art
    supplies at that age.

    Of course, they may surprise you with a royal disaster instead.  I've been there too — many times.

  • Black, White, and Read All Over

    ByHeather Bailey

    June 25, 2009 Arizona Republic I always forget to post these things, but not today.

    Check out the big ol' cover story
    in today's Arizona Republic newspaper — on me.  In the article photos,
    I'm talking it up in my studio, one of those mid-sentence
    shots.  They wanted pictures of me working in my authentic environment. 
    However, the studio was clean when they came.  Yes, I insisted on
    messing up my desk — authentically.

    HeatherandMom Another big article I never mentioned was a feature on me and my mother
    over at Creating Keepsakes last month – for mother's day.  My mom is a
    funny writer.  You should at least read her interview if not both of
    ours.  Click the 'next' button to read through each page of the
    combined interviews (there are 5 pp. total).

    Sending out the June newsletter
    momentarily.  Any minute now.  It's like 5 blog-posts worth of good
    stuff.  That's right.  Then back to the sewing pattern I'm designing — and
    loving.

    (Sign up for the newsletter here if you like.  But hurry.)

  • New ‘Do

    ByHeather Bailey

    I asked Charlotte how she wanted her hair done today.  I fully expected a ponytail request, or pigtails, or braids.  Instead, Miss Salty replied, "Make a hair do that nobody has ever seen before."  Well, en garde!  Challenge accepted.

    AllNewDoTrashTies

    And
    don't get too boggled studying the photo.  I've put together a Hair-Do
    How-To pdf to untwist the mystery.  Click on the image below to
    download the pdf instruction sheet. 

    Trash Ties

    This hairdo reminds me of a celtic knot
    — and is a real cart-stopper I should warn you.  Three different
    people stopped us on our milk-run to the grocery store to ask how
    Charlotte's hair was put together.  I figured a pdf would make the
    explaining much easier.

    If downloadable hairdos work for
    you, let me know and we'll put together some more Trash Ties
    tutorials.  In fact, send us photos of your own Trash Ties hairdo
    creations and perhaps we'll design a pdf to show off your twisted
    ingenuity.

    (Learn more about patented Trash Ties at www.TrashTies.com or visit www.HeatherBaileyStore.com to pick up a set or three.)

  • Wormhole

    ByHeather Bailey

    EarlyTTHBa

    I sorted through old pictures today from before we had digital cameras, from before we had Charlotte.  For hours, on my entryway floor, I flipped through picture after picture of Elijah as a small child, then left to pick him up from school.  When he opened the car door to sit next to me, I swear my peripheral vision blurred into quick streaks of bright colors and I fell forward into one of Wheeler’s ‘wormholes.’  When did my son become a young man, all angular and grouchy?  When did my hair grow long?  And have a full ten years really gone by since I invented Trash Ties?   GoGilbertCoverJan2009

    There’s a great article in this month’s Go Gilbert! magazine outlining my personal history with my children’s hat company, Noggins, the invention of my Trash Ties hair accessories, and later finding my passion for art and surface design.  If you’re in the Gilbert, AZ area, pick up a free copy at a nearby salon, office, or restaurant, or click here to browse through the issue online. 

    Interviewing for this article really took me back to the sweetness and the struggle of my life ten years ago.  To the tiny city apartment we shared in Hollywood where Elijah and I spent all of our time together and often did not get outside for days on end. 

    NewYears2000n3t3
    After living in that apartment for a few months, I began to feel unexplicably uneasy about it and to feel strongly that we needed to move.  I loved living in Hollywood, but there was something wrong that I couldn’t pinpoint.  Drumming up money for a new apartment fell to me and I had meager resources.  Isaac worked till late into the night and took with him our only car.  I had toddler Elijah with me at all times and the internet was pretty useless back then. 

    As time went on, the prompting to get out of that apartment grew steadily stronger.  It was a problem I tried to fix alone, but could not.  It was a difficult, dark time.  One night, after sitting about in a stupor for weeks, I knelt in desperate prayer for help and within half an hour of that prayer, was handed Trash Ties.  It wasn’t a literal handing-over, but spiritually, that’s what it felt like.  Like a gift tied in silk ribbon, with a note saying, “You are loved.  Everything will be okay.”  At 23, that was my first hugely spiritual experience.

    With a little experimentation, Trash Ties were invented in the late evening of January 25th, ten years ago last week.  In the months following, I worked around the clock, squeezing every ounce of hope and will power into patenting Trash Ties and preparing it for market.  It was a raw, tender time, but man am I grateful for the adventures we had back then and for all that we learned!

    TrashTiesContactSheetHBb
    In digging through old photos today and in reading over this new Go Gilbert! article, I realized that I have yet to tell that early story.  The struggles I went through and the help I received along the way are an integral part of my personal journey and I need to keep that history. 

    Yes, Trash Ties enabled us to move from our Hollywood apartment.  It wasn’t till a year after we left that I learned why I had felt so strongly about moving.  It’s a crazy story, involving one horrifically sick little boy.  I’d like to continue telling that story here and there in future posts if you can go easy on me for getting emotional at times.  The reflection does me well.  Some old memories seem like forever ago and some seem like yesterday.  I have learned a lot and I have a lot to be grateful for.