03 May 2012

BAD PUPPET

BAD PUPPET: the story of one young man's heartbreaking struggle to bring the joy of reading to life through art. Unable to forge the creation himself, he must overcome language barriers to gather the necessary materials and direct a disabled seamstress in a race against time.


The New York Times says:


"BAD PUPPET captures the universal struggle all artists face in bringing their creations to life. Not for the faint of heart, but necessary reading for anyone who has ever lost their muse while on deadline."

Sadly, BAD PUPPET is not fiction. It's the true tale of Five, a project, and procrastination. The usual suspects.

At the beginning of April, Five came home with instructions for his book report, which was due April 30. I had to read the sheet, sign it, and help Five choose his complementary project, because it's not enough work for the eight year-olds to just write a report. He chose to make a puppet of the main character. I signed the paper and promptly lost it. A week later we had to ask the teacher for another one, because he was the only kid in his class who hadn't already started reading for the report! This didn't alarm me, because April 30 was weeks away. His report wasn't even a blip on the outer ring of my priority radar.

Five read Henry and Mudge and Annie's Good Move in one sitting at the kitchen table. On April 14 he reminded me that the rough draft was due  April 18, and we hadn't even started it! On April 15, he sat at the kitchen table and wrote the rough draft. He handed it in to his teacher on the due date, and I put his final copy out of my mind because April 30 was still really far away.

In the meantime, I helped Four with his book report project which was due April 20. This month, he created a "Book in a Bag," by putting visual representations of the characters and important plot points in a container of some sort. We chose a computer bag, because the main character was trying to win the computer prize at the science fair. Clip, clip, clip, throw in some science stuff, done.

On April 24, I realized I was leaving at the end of the week to attend the New England Conference. There was no fucking way Five and I were going to get that project done before I left. I was still shopping at that point for an outfit to wear to my interview, which absolutely took preference over a puppet.

How hard can it be, anyway? I thought. It's a paper bag and some markers. Pish.

I mentally slotted Sunday as the day to type the final draft and create the puppet. Five and I made the necessary revisions to his draft, although there was one sticky situation. ("Dear Ms. Teacher: I believe present tense is correct in this paragraph.") We'll see how that turns out for us. After dinner, I made my paper bag prototypes, cutting out the shapes to see if they would fit Five's hand. 

And then...

"Mom, Thomas made Mudge out of a sock and an old washcloth for ears, which looked surprisingly realistic. Then he stuffed it, put it on a stick, and used that as his puppet. I want to do something like that. Something creative."

It was Sunday night. I considered my options. I could not run to the craft store to purchase felt, my preferred medium. I didn't have any rods to use as mounting sticks, no yarn for hair, no googly eyes. Nothing. What I did have was an old cotton t-shirt, some stuffing from another "Make Your Own Whatever" kit, and my sewing machine, which has been in my mother's possession for so long I've forgotten how to make the needle go in reverse.

I got to work.

When I was done sewing, I had a square-headed, long-legged, understuffed, armless cotton sack, which became half beanie-baby when we filled the legs with barley. I told Five we'd add the arms later. I gave him a marker and told him to draw eyes and a mouth. He started to cry.

"This is horrible! This is the worst puppet ever! It doesn't look anything like Henry. You just want to color everything in. I can't show this to my class. It's embarassing. You stink at crafts!"

At that point, Three walked through the kitchen, looked at the maimed beanie puppet and said, "Where are its arms?" I glared and asked if he was being helpful, to which he replied, "Uh... I like its mouth. It's very Joker-ish."

Five sobbed loudly. "It's an epic fail!"

The Captain called for him from the living room and tried all his best moves, reminding him he'd get a good grade just for trying. But Five just kept saying, "You have to see it, Dad. It's horrible. If you saw it, you'd understand."

He was right. It was spectacular in its deformity, unparalleled in its ugliness, epic in its failure.



We made a poster instead.

The next day, Five got off the bus and told me the morning had been terrible.

"One of the phonics words was 'puppet,' and it brought back all the bad memories of that square-headed puppet, Mom. I wish we weren't so bad at crafts. "

Me too, dude.

26 comments:

  1. I'm sitting here trying to come up with something helpful to say, but the only thing I can think of is that's a much better puppet than I can make. I say the craft gods are inhibited by all the testosterone flying around in both our houses.

    You are an awesome mom.

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    1. The problem is all the penii underestimate the difficulty of their fanciful projects, and overestimate my skill. But accurate measuring is not a male strong suit. Ask any man to show you "six inches" with his hands.

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    2. I am so framing that and putting it on my refrigerator.

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  2. Anonymous3.5.12

    Ummmmm, it's very ugly. But it's not really all that bad. With arms and something to wear, I think it would be pretty good. Much better than I could have done. But I would never attempt a freehand craft. I need detailed instructions, preferably an actual blueprint. And mine would still look like that. If Five thinks you are bad a crafts, it's only because he hasn't walked a mile in the moccasins of my hypothetical offspring.

    Sadly, this Thomas character demolished the curve and Five couldn't readjust. Besides, I bet Five's written report was one of the best.

    You are a superb mom. Five is fortunate in the extreme.*

    Janet

    *Same goes for One through Four

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    1. I had actual clothes, stolen from a mini bear! But then I thought we could just draw them on there, which was ridiculous!

      I know I can always count on you to keep your eye on the curve. I'll have to devise ways to "adjust" it. (Did you see the L&O Community episode?)

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  3. *snort* The phonics word puppet brought back all the bad memories. Heehee. *wipes eyes*

    Please tell me that puppet is supposed to be Henry.

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    1. That puppet would have been the spitting image of Henry! If it had arms. And clothes. Didn't you see his reddish-brown hair? How can you not see the resemblance?

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  4. This is where I could hypothetically be all smug and self satisfied because I just created a cow costume off the top of my head that rocked the "Into the Woods" production at our high school.

    Except I can't. Because when called upon to make a puppet at the very last minute I produced something very like the one you produced. So I must sweep my smug self satisfied attitude under the rug.

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    1. While we do discourage being smug, we at The Diaries encourage bragging. One should always toot their own horn! (And believe me, we know tooting in this house.)

      You are cleared to pull the rug back and release your self-satisfied attitude. It was a cow costume! I mean, holy....cow!

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  5. Anonymous3.5.12

    I have just learned two good lessons: 1) I need to take out my sewing machine that has been packed in a box for 20 yrs and see if I still know how to use it. 2) Keep a supply of glue, paper plates, googly eyes, felt and stuffing around at all times. I will learn from your mistake--thank you!!! XOXO J. Kolis

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    1. We consider The Diaries to be a series of public service announcements, so we are happy to be useful! I will also suggest you begin saving large shoeboxes. Dioramas are in your future, and I can confidently say yours will have the most beautifully painted backgrounds ever! I've seen your work.

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    2. Too True, I can't wait to see the type of art projects that Jessica will help produce. The school will probably keep them to sell at fundraising events.

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  6. Only Five could claim ptsd flashbacks over the phonics word "puppet".

    FYI I teach second grade and think your puppet rendering of henry is adorable. I am lucky if I can get them to write vocab definitions on Monday nights. A puppet might make me faint due to the effort and creativity involved.

    Also, you have FIVE children. If he wanted long blocks of uninterrupted innovative brainstorming on art projects he should have been born FIRST.

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    1. I have relinquished all creative control on future projects and have informed him I will serve only in an advisory capacity.

      And I'm telling you--I was going to draw an outstanding striped shirt that would have brought Henry to life!

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  7. Okay, let me start by saying that this whole post was so funny, I'm lucky I didn't pee my pants.

    And you can probably take Five's future therapy as a research expense.

    If I'd had to come up with a last-minute puppet, I assure you, it would have been a sock with a mouth drawn on. Probably in lipstick, because I couldn't find the red marker. Five doesn't know how lucky he is :-)

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    1. Today he told me we should have just gone with a sock puppet, because everyone else's were sock puppets and they looked great. I told him all future puppets would be two-dimensional.

      "Research expense." I like the sound of that. Of course, I'm going into therapy first...

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  8. I am with Deborah... I guffawed! Blurted out a HAH! and smiled ay lot!!! Good try super woman; really!

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    1. I am mentally filing away the fact that my Wonder Woman bracelet will make an awesome puppet crown someday...

      We're always trying to improve the quality of our products here at Casa de Penii.

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  9. Oh the drama. I'm not very good at crafts either. I think your puppet could have spruced up okay.
    I love your telling of the tragic story, though. Poor 5.

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    1. Considering the trauma, I think he bounced back pretty quickly. He was relatively compliant about making the poster, which already makes him light-years ahead Two, who was very nervous at that age.

      I think of him as my personal treasure trove of stories. He's a bottomless well of tragicomedy.

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  10. Oh, I laughed so hard. That poor armless puppet. What were you thinking? Okay, sorry, that is very, very, bad of me. You are a great Mom and you jumped in there at the last moment and created...well...something. And at least he could sit. But no arms? No freakin arms?
    Anyway, I'm sure Five will get over it. Send him to me for sock puppets. I have a PhD in sock puppetry. ; )

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    1. Here's what I was thinking:

      Shit. I've already sewn this rectangle part. Okay, I think I make legs. I'll just add arms later. Wait! I can just draw the arms, and a whole outfit, and it'll be like a Weeble-you know, a 3-D hand-drawn puppet-like thing on a stick.

      Fuck it. Let's make a poster.

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  11. Oh oh oh deargawd that kid is PRICELESS!

    But yeah, those three I gave birth to have their own huge, towering pile of pathetic stories, all balanced precariously on top of my negligence and massive suckitude. Poor things, all eight of 'em.

    You and I, on the other hand, are just doin' the best we can.

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    1. The Captain suggested I save Bad Puppet in the memory box, and drag it out fifteen years from now for a laugh.

      But I know Five. Fifteen years would not be enough time. So Bad Puppet was removed from our home to prevent accidental re-exposure to this black moment.

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  12. BWA HA HA HA!!! It's awesome, I love it! If only he had read a book about the Ugly Dolls.

    I was waiting for the part where the Captain walks into the kitchen and recoils in horror and suggests you do a poster instead.

    I am so sad that Ugly Henry wasn't saved for posterity. Well... we'll always have this photo.

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    1. I once bought an oil painting of a little girl. I hung it in my room, but it so creeped out the little boys I had to give it away. My sister the feng shuist told me I shouldn't have anything in my house that I hated. I applied this rule to Ugly Henry. I knew he would haunt us from the memory box in the cellar, and no one wants a possessed Bad Puppet.

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