Heath and Stella did me a huge favor and slept until 8:20 this morning. Then they did me an even bigger favor and amicably sat in our bed eating Kix cereal while I puttered about trying to get us ready for our mountain trip. They even shared bites of their breakfast for Pete's sake.
Of course niceties were tapped out by the time we were midway through our morning run. It began as an innocent game of foot tag. Then someone left their talon-streaked marker on the other one's leg. And it wasn't the usual suspect, either. But that was a lone incident, and I even managed to convince them that going a different=longer way was an exciting idea.
I have had a slight hankering to learn to sew for some time now. My mom has been sewing since she was 8 years old, and while she taught me some basics, I definitely needed a refresher course. And it has stunned me a bit to have this desire. My childhood memories are full of going to Mary Jo's in Gastonia, and I can't say that they are fond. Yes, it is the fabric mecca. For a 3, 4, 5, 6 year old, the wall-to-wall fabrics of all colors and varying degrees of shininess beckon you to touch them. The batiks, plaid, flannel, knits wrapped round and round the fabric spools, color coordinated row after row, scream for you to play a game of hide-and-seek in. The racks of zippers in every shade of red, blue, yellow, and green beg to be unzipped and zipped again. And unzipped. And zipped again. The spools of thread. Oh, the endless rows of roly-poly thread. The must be rearranged and pushed and rolled and, if you are so brave, unraveled.
Until some woman in a red Mary Jo's vest comes over and yells at you for messing up the display, then you're banished to the pattern books tables, and you are left with nothing to do but flip through the pages of Butterick Simple, pick out your wedding dress pattern and Halloween outfit, eat Lance Peanut Butter crackers out of the machine, and hope your mom is going to be finished very, very, very soon.
But here I am, wanting to make my kids some clothes, and really wanting to go to Mary Jo's. My friend and I were going this past weekend, but our plan was foiled due to the dreaded gut problem I experienced. So we settled for a different plan the following day. Hancock's on South Boulevard. It's no JoAnn's (as the husbands insisted on calling it), but I found a variety of fabrics to make Heath and Stella some pants and a nightgown.
I made my first pair on Tuesday. Spider-Man clam diggers for Heath. My mom helped me on her machine. I was surprised by how much came back to me from my few experiences as a child. I was also surprised by how relaxing it was. And to have made some little britches with my own hands. It was quite a thrill.
And talk about thrilled. Heath was absolutely enthralled at the process of making his pants. He had to put them on as soon as they were finished, and he's only taken them off for baths and going to the pool. I can't blame him, though. They are comfortable. They are bright. And they were made with a whole lotta love.
Of course niceties were tapped out by the time we were midway through our morning run. It began as an innocent game of foot tag. Then someone left their talon-streaked marker on the other one's leg. And it wasn't the usual suspect, either. But that was a lone incident, and I even managed to convince them that going a different=longer way was an exciting idea.
I have had a slight hankering to learn to sew for some time now. My mom has been sewing since she was 8 years old, and while she taught me some basics, I definitely needed a refresher course. And it has stunned me a bit to have this desire. My childhood memories are full of going to Mary Jo's in Gastonia, and I can't say that they are fond. Yes, it is the fabric mecca. For a 3, 4, 5, 6 year old, the wall-to-wall fabrics of all colors and varying degrees of shininess beckon you to touch them. The batiks, plaid, flannel, knits wrapped round and round the fabric spools, color coordinated row after row, scream for you to play a game of hide-and-seek in. The racks of zippers in every shade of red, blue, yellow, and green beg to be unzipped and zipped again. And unzipped. And zipped again. The spools of thread. Oh, the endless rows of roly-poly thread. The must be rearranged and pushed and rolled and, if you are so brave, unraveled.
Until some woman in a red Mary Jo's vest comes over and yells at you for messing up the display, then you're banished to the pattern books tables, and you are left with nothing to do but flip through the pages of Butterick Simple, pick out your wedding dress pattern and Halloween outfit, eat Lance Peanut Butter crackers out of the machine, and hope your mom is going to be finished very, very, very soon.
But here I am, wanting to make my kids some clothes, and really wanting to go to Mary Jo's. My friend and I were going this past weekend, but our plan was foiled due to the dreaded gut problem I experienced. So we settled for a different plan the following day. Hancock's on South Boulevard. It's no JoAnn's (as the husbands insisted on calling it), but I found a variety of fabrics to make Heath and Stella some pants and a nightgown.
I made my first pair on Tuesday. Spider-Man clam diggers for Heath. My mom helped me on her machine. I was surprised by how much came back to me from my few experiences as a child. I was also surprised by how relaxing it was. And to have made some little britches with my own hands. It was quite a thrill.
And talk about thrilled. Heath was absolutely enthralled at the process of making his pants. He had to put them on as soon as they were finished, and he's only taken them off for baths and going to the pool. I can't blame him, though. They are comfortable. They are bright. And they were made with a whole lotta love.
Good grief! Did you come across a stray TARDIS and can now travel in space and time or something? I made it to Mary Jo's in April 2009, yes two thousand and NINE, and have STILL to find the time, required quiet moment, not to mention clean space in which to haul out the sewing machine, to make anything with my purchase. I bought some turquoise and black polka dot swimsuit fabric to make a cossie for the baby Bea. I suspect by now I'll be needing a whole lot more fabric. Hmm, unless I just give her a couple of triangles and a thong!
ReplyDeleteGood work.