So, way back in March, 10 days before my littlest guy turned 6, we were going over a wish list together. Ben said that what he would really like for his birthday was for me to make him a quilt...and some legos, of course.
In kindergarten they are introduced to the art of quiltmaking by a long-time dear family friend, Miss Chris. She, of course makes it look quite easy, and whips out quilts with skill and speed.
I explained to Ben that I couldn't make him a quilt, well, for lots of reasons, but the most obvious obstacle was that my sewing machine took a dive (probably out of fear for what I'd try next). I'm not a seamstress by any stretch, but back when I was 15 or so I managed to stitch a few things together for my American Girl doll that she seemed to think was quite snazzy. (And yes, I still played with that doll well into highschool. They were historical. It was for research. Seriously.)
Anyway, I was laughing about this ridiculous birthday request with my seamstress friends, and one of them said, "Oh sure you can do it. It's easy!" as she went on to show me one of her own masterpieces, hand quilted.
So, haha, I got it into my head that I might give it a try, using some of her quick and easy tips, and my sister's sewing machine. I'd like to mention that the thing I love about doing something technical like that in which I have zero confidence and even less skill, is that I can impress myself so easily!
"I successfully threaded the bobbin! Woohoo!!!" I update my facebook status, with smiley faces and photos.
I spent the week making teeny progresses while Ben was at school. There was no dilly-dallying, and very little food consumed. There were major hiccups, and I became intimately acquainted with that little thingy that pulls out stitches (and yet, we are still not on a first-name basis, apparently.)
The last afternoon I spent sewing in my bathroom. I was desperately worried that Ben would hear me or catch a glimpse of the sewing machine or a pile of misused thread. I put him in front of Netflix and locked myself in for the last lap.
Does it look like I'm doing this right??
When I was all finished I was so super-proud of myself it was actually shameful. You know the Holiday Inn commercials where people got such great rest that they are now sure they can perform a tracheotomy on a dying pedestrian? Yep, that was me.
But the very best part in the history of the world was when my son opened the quilt on his big day.
There was jumping and squealing and hugging of the quilt. I'll tell you what, if you ever want a pat on the back, do something for this kid. He will bowl you over with his enthusiasm.
Worth.every.minute.
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