No-Sew Baby K'tan Wrap Style Carrier from Three Men's T-shirts

I saw this video on youtube for how to make a no-sew Baby K'tan wrap style carrier, but it seems to be the only one of its kind on the entire web.  And me having the kind of mind that likes to study things from many different angles before jumping in, and thinking some others might like to do that, too, I made a photo tutorial for some added perspective.  (Really I just wanted to show off the beautiful color combo I put together from Goodwill t-shirts I got for half price and 20% off with my coupon--and of course my little curly cutie, Dan.)

For those of you who may not have ever tried a Baby K'tan, it's almost just like a Moby, but you don't have to wrap it onto yourself and so it's a little easier to manage in a muddy field or parking lot.  I still love my wrap carriers for their versatility, but this is a must have for a few reasons:

1. It's as comfortable as a wrap and easier to put on--even the average man can do it all by himself.  (No offense to you daddy's who have mastered your Moby skills--you are way above average in my book!)
2. It's at least as pretty, if not prettier, depending on the color t-shirts you use, as any other carrier on the market.  You could even use the t-sirts to make a statement if the logo is placed in the right spot.  I'm keeping my eyes peeled for a couple of tie-dye t-shirts in size men's medium!  You could make loops and sashes in so many different colors you could coordinate with your entire wardrobe and the seasons and holidays--if you really wanted to go crazy with it.
3. You can make it for almost nothing--nothing if you can use t-shirts you already have, and almost nothing even if you have to go to the thrift store.
4. It's so easy to make even a child can do it.

 Here's what you need:

1. Three men's t-shirts in coordinating colors that fit a little loose on you.  I wear a women's large (bust size 38), and used a men's medium t-shirts for the two loops and an xlarge for the sash.  They should be t-shirts without a side seam--just one continuous loop.  Most men's t-shirts are of this kind.
2. A pair of sharp scissors.
3. A cute fat chubby little baby!

Cut two of the shirts across from armpit to armpit.

(The kids really loved the panda and didn't want me to cut it up, but the blue was too beautiful with the orange for me to pass it up.)

Cut the third shirt across from armpit to armpit and then cut diagonally through ONE layer of fabric from the armpit to the waist.

Put one loop inside the other.

 (I liked to have both raw edges on the bottom and both hemmed edges on the top so that when I put it on--with the hemmed edged on top--I get a nice v-neck across the chest--just plain pure senseless vanity.)


Gather one side of the loops and tie them together with a strip of t-shirt you cut from one of the shirts.  Don't tie it too tight--you want to be able to easily slide the tie up and down the loops for a comfortable fit.

I just kept looping the ends like I was tying them until I'd gotten all the way around.  Then I made a real tight square knot to secure everything.  

Voila!  Your all done!  Now to put it on:

Hold the bound loops in one hand.

Place them over your head like a necklace and separate the loops one to the left and one to the right.

Put your right arm through the loop on the right and your left arm through the loop on the left.

Now put another arm through one of the loops so it falls down around your waist (err, um--or around your baby bump, whatever the case may be).

Put one fat chubby little squishy baby leg through the loop still over your shoulder and spread the loop out across his bum and up over his shoulder if he doesn't mind.

 (Isn't he too cute!  He loves this carrier and he loves to pose for the camera!  He even dropped his sword--bottom left--to help me demonstrate!)


Now put another fat chubby little squishy baby leg and a fat chubby squishy mamma arm through the loop that's been around your waist and spread the loop over your shoulder and across baby's bum and shoulder.

Take a moment to spread the loops out smoothly around your back and shoulders and baby's back for the most comfortable fit.  You can also grab the little loop you used to tie the big loops together and pull down on it until you get the criss-cross section of the loops over your back bra strap, or wherever it feels most comfortable to you.

Take the sash you cut from the third t-shirt and center and spread it across the baby's back.

 (I picked this green just for you, Bonnie!)


Tie it nice and snug around your back.

Stretch it out smooth across baby's bum and back and around your waist (if you have one).

Smile for the camera!

If you check out the link to Baby K'tan you can watch numerous videos on how to put your baby in many different positions with this carrier.

Here's another one I made since first posting:

 It's hard to tell on the green but both it and the over-the-shoulder purple piece are tie-dyed!  I found another tie-dyed t-shirt to use in another wrap as soon as I find another coordinating t-shirt.  Goodwill is usually pretty accommodating when I'm looking for something in particular.  Must be the law of attraction!

I'd love to see your photos if you make this!

 

A Birthday Poem for Caroline from Mamina (and Paw Paw)

I know you don't remember
When you were only three,
And like a little cream puff,
You sat upon my knee.

All the day you sang a song
As different as could be,
And I wondered what was in your soul
That made you fly so free.

"What's in a name?" asked Juliet,
Her Romeo in mind.
I dreamed a dream and then I heard
The secret word for Caroline.

They say it's weird, and so it is,
Really quite insanely wacky,
And yet it's true, although absurd,
The name I heard was Cacchi Lacchi!

~~Mamina Hudson, April 2011

Befana the Housewife

Befana the Housewife, scrubbing her pane,
Saw three old sages ride down the lane,
Saw three gray travelers pass her door-
Gaspar, Balthazar, Melchior.

 
"Where journey you, sirs?" she asked of them.
Balthazar answered, "To Bethlehem,
For we have news of a marvelous thing
Born in a stable is Christ the King."

 
"Give Him my welcome!"
 
Then Gaspar smiled,
"Come with us, mistress, to greet the Child."
"Oh, happily, happily would I fare,
Were my dusting through and I'd polished the stair."
Old Melchior leaned on his saddle horn. 
"Then send but a gift to the small Newborn."

"Oh, gladly, gladly I'd send Him one,
I'll fetch Him a pillow for His head,
And a coverlet too," Befana said.
 "When the rooms are aired and the linen dry,
I'll look at the Babe."
But the Three rode by.

 
She worked for a day and a night and a day,
Then, gifts in her hands, took up her way.
But she never could find where the Christ Child lay.
 
And still she wanders at Christmastide,
Houseless, whose house was all her pride,
Whose heart was tardy, whose gifts were late,
Wanders, and knocks at every gate,
 
Crying, "Good people, the bells begin!
Put off your toiling and let love in!"

~~Phyllis McGinley

A Legend From Russia

Today is the anniversary of Caeli's First Holy Communion--the greatest gift of all!
Happy Epiphany!


A Legend From Russia


Babushka, the Grandmother, snug in her room
Sat nodding and nodding over her loom,

Sat suppered and snug with no desire
But a welcoming bed and an ample fire

When out of the winter’s rush and roar
Came shepherds knocking upon her door,

“Grandmother, Grandmother, old and wise,
In Bethlehem’s barn a princeling lies;

“Lies Mother and Child where oxen feed.
Hurry, Babushka, to nurse their need.”

Babushka listened, but made no stir.
She thought of the sheets turned down for her,

Of shutters latched and the larder dressed
And her bones that ached for rest.

“Tomorrow,” she muttered. “Wait till then.”
But sternly the shepherds knocked again.

“Grandmother, Grandmother, rich and skilled,
Then send but a kindly basket filled

“With comforting gifts, with meat or bread,
And we will carry it in your stead.”

Babushka listened, nodding anew.
“Tomorrow,” she murmured, “Tomorrow will do.


“I’ll bring the best from my cupboard’s store,
Tomorrow.”
The shepherds knocked no more.

Babushka slept though her dreams were troubled.
At dawn while the porridge bubbled,

She packed a basket brimming with sweet
Loaves and oranges, cakes and meat,

A shawl for the Lady, soft as June,
For the Child in the Crib a silver spoon,

Rattles and toys an ivory game,
But the Stable was empty when she came.

So now with provender weighted down
She wanders the world from town to town

At Christmas time, though the winds are shrill,
Through brier and brush, over heath and hill,
Seeking the Manger still.

And wheresoever a good child sleeps,
Dreaming of day, Babushka creeps

Silently, hopefully, up the stair
And leaves three gifts from her basket there—

One to marvel at, one to enjoy,
And one for the kingly Boy.

Crochet an Babushka for your Own Wreath of Christmas Legends! You can change the colors to make her look Russian.

Why The Owl Wakes At Night

Poor Owl! We have an owl in our woods and every once in a while I hear him calling, "Who? Who?" This one reminds me never to be lazy or procrastinate--a good one to start the new year off with.


Why the Owl Wakes at Night

The owl that hunts
A shadowy prey
Loved morning, once,
And honest day

Like his sun-striding
Brotherhood,
Till Wise Men riding
Through a wood

To bear the Word
Of Bethlehem,
Summoned each bird
To follow them

“You, feathery nations,
Quick, take wing.
Come greet Creation’s
Newborn King.”

From sleep, like arrows,
All arose—
Doves, linnets, sparrows,
Cackling crows.

Faithfully through
The holy dark
The heron flew,
Flew the meadowlark,

Chanting in wild
Ecstatic chorus,
“A kingly Child
Is waiting for us.”

Fled every fowl,
Forsaking rest.
Only the owl
On his warm nest,

Grudging to see
Finch pass, and swallow,
Croaked, “Who is He
That bids me follow?

“Who? Who?” he muttered,
Loath to fly.
“Who, who?” and shuttered
His round eye,

Nor left his bough
Nor way the glory.
And penitent now
(So runs the story),

Nightly must mourn,
“Who’ll guide me to
The small Newborn?
Who, who? Oh, who?”

Must for distress
Stay broad awake
And comfortless,
That would not break
His comfort for Love’s sake.

Crochet an Owl for your Own Wreath of Christmas Legends!

The Legend of the Cat

This one may give our cat-hateing husbands "paws"! Naaaaah, probably not.


The Legend of the Cat

At midnight’s stroke,
On the first Christmas, half the world awoke.
Then out of the nest and lair
Came thronging to Bethlehem the wordless folk;
Hurried the beasts of the forest, the birds of the air,
To pay the Lord their homage and His due.

And Cat came, too.
Minding on delicate feet to see the Child,
But being shy and wild,
Approached no nearer than the hearth; lay dumb
And distant there.
While the rest knelt in praise,
The Cat by too much glory overcome
Could not withdraw her gaze
From the Nativity; could only stare
Through slitted eyes as things of fur and feather
(The deer beside the lion, the pheasant, the hare
Safe in the fox’s paws) bent down together.
Although their anthems lifted all around,
She, in her throat, made only a trembling sound
And could not bow her head.

Yet as the morning dawned
And one by one the other creatures fled
Each to his habitat—
The eagle to his crag and to his pond
The otter—only Cat
Remained beside the dying fire, unable
To quit the place that was both Crib and Stable.

Then Mary spoke aloud.
“Dear Cat,” she said, “dear, stiff-necked, proud
And obstinate beast, I bless you. From this hour
Leave wilderness behind you.
Because you stayed, though none shall have the power
To call you servant, yet the hearth shall bind you
Forever to itself. Both fond and free,
Wherever Man is, you shall also be.
And many a family
Will smile to hear you singing (where you settle)
Household hosannahs like a pulsing kettle.”

Some winter night
Observe Cat now. Her eyes will suddenly gleam
Yellow against the light,
Her body shudder in a jungle dream,
Her claws unsheathe their sharpness. She remembers
Old times, old barbarous customs, old Decembers
Before she called the tribes of Man her friends.
But the dream ends.
Then, reassured, she curls herself along
The floor and hums her cool, domestic song.

Crochet a Cat for your own Wreath of Christmas Legends!

The Ballad of the Robin

This one's my favorite!


Ballad of the Robin

Long ago, long ago,
When the times were stranger,
Once a Lady and her Son
Rested in a manger,

In a manger on the straw.
The night was shrewd, the wind was raw,

And the dull fire, untended, kept
No comfort where the Infant slept.

Then she, too spent to mend its spark,
Spoke to the beast-enfolding dar,.

“Oxen, lest He should come to harm,
Rise up and blow these embers warm

“With your great breath, for mercy’s sake.”
But the rapt oxen did not wake.

“Ass, will you breathe upon the flame?”
But the ass, dozed nor heard his name,

While heavy the cart horse dreamed beside
His feeding box that Christmastide.

Then suddenly the midnight stirred,
In from the winter at her word
There flew a brown, South-seeking bird.

Bravest of all created things,
He made a bellows of his wings.

He puffed his feathers to a fan,
Singing, until the ash began

To kindle, glow, to burn its best.
The flame leaped out. It seared his breast,

But still the robin, loud with praise,
Beat his quick wings before the blaze

So all the stable was beguiled
To warmth. And softly slept the Child.

“Kind Robin,” then the Lady said,
“Wear from now on a breast of red.

“Where the fire was, let fire remain,
A blessed and perpetual stain

“Burnt on your heart that all may see
The signature of Charity.”

Long ago, long ago,
When the times were stranger,
Once a robin served the Lord
Who rested in a manger.

Crochet a Robin for your own Wreath of Christmas Legends!

The Ballad of the Nightingale

Listen to the nightingale's song! How lovely is the chorus of God's creation, singing lullabies to the baby King.


Ballad of the Nightingale

Hark! when on hill and dale
Hang the night-hushes,
Then sings the nightingale,
Sole among thrushes.

Sole among thrushes, she
Pours out of shadow
Torrents of melody
Over the meadow.

While lesser birds devote
Nighttimes to slumber
Ravishing from her throat
Note after joyful note
Flows without number.

Why does she shun the day
For dark and danger?
There was a Child that lay
Cold in a manger,

Cold in His narrow bed,
Wakeful and chilling.
Him once she comforted
With her sweet trilling;

Sad that a babe should lie
So undefended,
Sang Him a lullaby
Till the night ended,

Sang like a Seraphim.
Then spoke His mother,
“You brought your song to Him,
All the night long to Him,
You and no other.

“Lone on your leafy bough,
Brave though imperiled,
You shall forever now
Be the moon’s herald.”

When over hill and dale
Fall the night-hushes,
Then sings the nightingale
Queen among thrushes.

Crochet a Nightingale for your own Wreath of Christmas Legends! Just change the colors.

The Legend of the Holly

Happy New Year!


The Legend of the Holly

The holly berry that burns so red
(Raise high the holly!)
Once was whiter than wheaten bread
(As love is better than folly.)

Whiter than shells along the shore
It blooms on its tree by a stable door.

Villagers come there, half-afraid,
Gifts in their hands for Child and Maid.

And one has nothing of note, so he
Fetches a branch of the holly tree.

Alas, alas, the little Newborn
Has pricked His finger upon a thorn,

Has left His blood on the spiny leaves.
Heavy of heart the holly grieves,

Sees in a terrible vision how
A crown of holly shall bind His brow
When Child is man.

For sorrow and shame
The berries have blushed as red as flame,
Says Mary the Mother,
“Take no blame.

“But be of good cheer as ever you can.
Both foul and fair are the works of man,

‘Yet unto man has My Son been lent.
And you, dear tree, are the innocent

“Who weeps for pity what man might do.
So all your thorns are forgiven you.”

Now red, rejoicing, the berries shine
On jubilant doors as a Christmas sign

That desolation to joy makes way.
(Hang high the holly!)
Holly is the symbol of Christ’s Birthday.
(When love shall vanquish folly).

Crochet a Holly Sprig for your own Wreath of Christmas Legends! Crochet two together for a stuffed Holly Sprig.

The Night

Be of good cheer!


The Night

On the night that Christ was born
The rivers, one hears, ran fine
And sweetly between their banks,
Filled not with water but wine.

And any man who drank
Of that beneficent tide
(Though he had stooped in anger
To drink), grew pacified,
Loving even his foeman
As dearly as his bride;
Wholly at peace with himself,
The world and everything.

While the trees in the forest blossomed
As if the winter were spring.

Crochet a Bunch of Grapes for your own Wreath of Christmas Legends!