Children's Fashion Workshop

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I'm Erin.  Gardening addict, incurable maker, insatiable reader, closet author, chronicler of childhood, wanderer, wonderer.  I'm glad you've come to sit a while with me.

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Offhand comments:

9.y.o.-"I have three ant bites.  Can I use this stuff I found in the first aid kit on them?  It's called ant-acid." 

9.y.o.-"It would be awesome if we had a 3-d printer because then we could print anything.  Like...like a tiny little model of Angkor Wat!"

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Monday
Jul132009

a minor heartbreak

I was cruising along, working on the dress that goes with this sleeve, and I reached out to get the sleeve to put in the armhole, and *gasp*....someone had found a pair of scissors and done some "alterations" on my finished puffed sleeve.  I know that this is one of the risks of sewing in a house brimming with little children.  I put the scissors as high as I can, I put my sewing away when I'm done, but somehow they still find ways to do things like this. 

Do you know this kind of heartbreak?  I know that in the scheme of things, this is the kind of disaster that doesn't even rate, but it's the kind of thing that makes me close my eyes, take deep breaths, and move myself far away from my little boys for a few minutes. 

It reminds me of when I went into the local Bernina shop (not the same place where I humiliated myself) to buy a new bobbin case for my machine.  I explained to the shop lady that my children had stripped my machine.  New needles, new thread, new bobbins I could get locally, but the one bit I couldn't get was that darned bobbin case.  So I packed them up and drove the half an hour to get a new bobbin case.  As she handed me the $65 piece of metal, she said sagely, "Cover your machine."

I had to keep myself from gaping at her.  Did she have children? Are everyone else's children so different than mine, really, that "covering your machine" works on them??

I glanced over my shoulder at the four children who were reducing her shop to parts and stopped a rolling spool of fancy expensive thread with my toe.  

"Thanks for the advice," I said, and we left her store.

So if you have a heartbreak like this, would you tell me about it and make me feel better?  Have you had your precious handmade clothes ruined just after, or even before, they were finished?  How did you cope?  Tell me your story down there in the comments, and I'll go make up a new sleeve, and we'll both take a good, deep breath together.  Deal?

Reader Comments (2)

Hi. Yes, I can feel your pain very deeply. Nowadays all my sewing heartbreaks are very much self-inflicted, but I do have an instance that our family has laughed about through the years that wasn't all that funny at the time. This was in about 1977, actually in Georgia, when I was pregnant with our third child and was getting the second one ready for the big-girl bed. I had made a (very pink) gingham coverlet and cross-stitched strawberries all the way around 3 sides. As I picked it up to put it away after working on it one night, I discovered a very cute little urchin sitting at my feet under the coverlet. But what was horrifying was that she had a nice sharp pair of scissors in her hands. She sat there looking up at me and said, "I helped." Sinking feeling. The entire middle of the piece had jagged cuts nearly the length of it. Talk about a broken heart. But lucky for our memories, I did like you and removed myself from the scene. I ended up cutting the middle portion out (thank goodness for gingham and straight lines to go by) and making a new central panel. It actually made it hang better! So step back and just love them because one day they will be all grown up and this will be a funny story. Not now, I know. Funny would be asking too much.

I have so enjoyed reading your blog since I discovered it and admire your sense of humor and your love of life. How I would love to have ever had goats!

Becky

July 13, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterBecky

Oh, Becky, thank you for that story. I do feel better now, knowing that my "helper" only damaged a sleeve! Yes, someday we'll laugh. (I tell myself as I count to ten and take deeeeep deep breaths.) Someday we'll laugh...

July 13, 2009 | Unregistered Commentermotherbird

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