When I was in middle school, maybe seventh or eighth grade, I took a sewing class as part of Home Economics. I really don't remember much about the class, but I know that I made two slightly cockeyed pink and blue pillows. I am pretty sure I gave them to my mother as a Mothers Day gift and that they sat on her bed for quite a few years. Interestingly, she has no memory of these masterpieces, which perhaps speaks to their beauty.
Anyway, after taking this class I thought that I could be a heckuva seamstress and I begged my mother to let me make an outfit. If memory serves, I chose a black, white and red print to make a one piece shorts jumper (I know, wth??). I also seem to recall getting as far as cutting out the pattern before I declared it a far too difficult endeavor and shoving the whole thing into some dark corner of the basement where it forever stayed, rotting.
Sewing was just not for me.
Then along came Addison.
When she was two I wanted to dress her up for Halloween as a bumblebee because she loved the
song "I'm bringing home a baby bumblebee..." and because I thought she'd look darn cute. This is where the sewing machine reentered my life. My mom convinced me that she and I could whip up a cute little bee outfit in no time. She was right and I was smitten with the sewing machine.
Fast forward to my 33rd birthday - Mom got me my own sewing machine. I made a curtain for the kitchen. I made pillows for the couch (and the bed, and the living room, and anywhere else I could shove a pillow). I made aprons as Christmas gifts. I bound baby blankets. I essentially had a love affair with my sewing machine.
In early Spring I decided to step it up a notch. When my mom came to visit I informed her that I was going to sew Addie's Easter dress with her help. And I did. It took hours of sitting in front of the sewing machine. Many stitches were ripped out and resown. The skirt was hemmed. The bodice was taken in. The dress was pressed to perfection. I had managed to make a dress not only in pink and purple, the only colors her highness approves of, but one that twirled and had a bow. She was excited, and I was, to say the very least, darn proud.