Give it up already!
Okay. I think it's time to be honest with myself. Before Brooklyn was born, I managed, by some miracle, to make a darling quilt for her. So, I figured, hey- I did it once, I can do it again for my new baby. Every good mother knows that you can't play favorites - Maddie needs a quilt made by her mother just for her like Brooklyn has.
There are two things wrong with that line of thinking. Number one, I can't sew and, let's be honest, I never could. But I lucked out once and that made me over-confident and foolish enough to believe I had some skill. Number two, I can't and don't have to do the exact same special things for my kids. Just because one has something different than the other doesn't mean I'm playing favorites. Actually, it isn't quite as special if somebody else has one too, is it? Besides, at this point, that quilt is being made with anything but love. I've never been so frustrated in all my life.
I actually am mostly finished with the quilt and it does look pretty good. After just two broken needles, countless re-do's, weird, mysterious problems with the machine, neglected children, and an office strewn with bits of thread and fabric, a quilt was born. But I washed it and now there are several holes where the thread slipped out. I had intended to fix it but was a bit afraid to tackle that machine again. I did some repairs by hand but then just set it aside to accomplish other things in life. That was in January. Since then, the quilt has been draped over the back of our synthetic leather office chair. Sean has found it handy to keep his skin from sticking to the back of the chair. You are welcome, Sean. Sorry, Maddie.
I decided today that I'd finish that little project. After all, how hard could it be to simply re-sew a few sections? It's only a straight line, for Pete's sake. Yeah. Now the quilt has never looked worse and I've spent twice as much time ripping seams out than I have making a nice, straight line. Actually, I haven't spent any time at all making a nice, strait line...
There are times in life when one must just give it up. I am not a skilled seamstress or even a beginner with aspirations of future success. I am a girl who will proudly put away my last and final disastrous attempt at domestic accomplishment. There is a certain dignity in accepting defeat - especially when you do it before going completely insane.
The quilt will come out again someday...and maybe my mother will repair it for me. And Maddie will always treasure a somewhat lopsided, overly worked and reworked quilt that her mother began and her grandmother fixed. Or, someday she'll read this and ask "How come I never saw that quilt?" At that point, I'll pull it out, dust the mothballs off and say, "Your turn." Talk about a legacy!
There are two things wrong with that line of thinking. Number one, I can't sew and, let's be honest, I never could. But I lucked out once and that made me over-confident and foolish enough to believe I had some skill. Number two, I can't and don't have to do the exact same special things for my kids. Just because one has something different than the other doesn't mean I'm playing favorites. Actually, it isn't quite as special if somebody else has one too, is it? Besides, at this point, that quilt is being made with anything but love. I've never been so frustrated in all my life.
I actually am mostly finished with the quilt and it does look pretty good. After just two broken needles, countless re-do's, weird, mysterious problems with the machine, neglected children, and an office strewn with bits of thread and fabric, a quilt was born. But I washed it and now there are several holes where the thread slipped out. I had intended to fix it but was a bit afraid to tackle that machine again. I did some repairs by hand but then just set it aside to accomplish other things in life. That was in January. Since then, the quilt has been draped over the back of our synthetic leather office chair. Sean has found it handy to keep his skin from sticking to the back of the chair. You are welcome, Sean. Sorry, Maddie.
I decided today that I'd finish that little project. After all, how hard could it be to simply re-sew a few sections? It's only a straight line, for Pete's sake. Yeah. Now the quilt has never looked worse and I've spent twice as much time ripping seams out than I have making a nice, straight line. Actually, I haven't spent any time at all making a nice, strait line...
There are times in life when one must just give it up. I am not a skilled seamstress or even a beginner with aspirations of future success. I am a girl who will proudly put away my last and final disastrous attempt at domestic accomplishment. There is a certain dignity in accepting defeat - especially when you do it before going completely insane.
The quilt will come out again someday...and maybe my mother will repair it for me. And Maddie will always treasure a somewhat lopsided, overly worked and reworked quilt that her mother began and her grandmother fixed. Or, someday she'll read this and ask "How come I never saw that quilt?" At that point, I'll pull it out, dust the mothballs off and say, "Your turn." Talk about a legacy!
Smart girl, Becca! You learned that lesson LONG before I did! Ha ha! You're an awesome mommy!
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