A seamstress I am not. My mother always has been, and has had high hopes for me all my life. High enough that I own two very nice sewing machines, and a serger courtesy of her. I have dabbled in it a bit here and there, but it has never held for me what knitting does. I forget this every couple of years, and spend an afternoon remembering. Today is that afternoon.
Yesterday I decided that this baby is going to need a couple of blankets and some nightgowns. (Yes, nightgowns, for ease of bum access) I went to three fabric stores, and started to remember that fabric is expensive. I bought a few yards, some thread, and scissors. I also purchased a measuring tape, but that was for the knitting bag. I came home exhausted, with plans of sewing today.
This afternoon I brought out my favorite of the two sewing machines. I then spent four very long hours setteing it up, realising I had done it wrong, and setting it up again. Fifty times. I think I finally got it though. Maybe.
I grabbed the fabric, and remembered (because a friend reminded me) that I had to wash the fabric first. I had to wash it, and dry it. You know, because a family of 7 living on a farm doesn't already produce enough laundry.
So I washed it. Then I dryed it. Then it was wrinkled. Apparently seweing requires ironing as well. This just goes to show that sewing doesn't know me that well at all. I don't even iron my kids church clothes. The iron and I? We aren't close. However, I dragged out the good old iron, and spent an hour ironing. Then I remembered.
I don't actually like to sew because it involves such a small amount of sewing. I am not going to give up. I am going to make a couple of blankets. This baby deserves that. Then I will pay someone else to make nightgowns. That sounds fair.