new baby means new projects
I had a revelation today. Baby #3 means a lot of things. One more mouth to feed, another car seat, another round of breast feeding, sleepless nights, irritated Mommy, tons and tons of pictures, bragging, moving Luca to his new room, and lots and lots of laundry.
I can deal with all that. No problem.
What does baby #3 really mean? I have to make another Christmas Stocking.
If you guys need a refresher: it involved lots of teeny-tiny sequins, beads and blood. I spent many a night hunched over the dining room table, swearing at my ill-conceived project idea.
See, my Grandma had made our stockings out of felt and sequins. Our stockings are the freaking coolest. And when I say ‘ours’ I mean mine, my sister’s, my two Aunt’s, my Mom’s, my step-dad #2’s and possibly #3’s, Carly’s dad, my three uncle’s, my two cousin’s (she stopped before the last two were born) and hers and Grandpa’s. I’m sure I’m leaving someone out. Final story – she made a butt load. I have made three. And I’m complaining?
Well, Grandma said mine were ‘fancier’ because I used the beads. I think ‘fancier’ is translated from ‘crazy.’ Because crazy I am.
See, I don’t believe one should stop short and simple. I never believed in the phrase K.I.S.S. (keep it simple, stupid.) I just use the last S – Stupid. I mean, if you’re going to go through all the effort, why not make it awesome? Amazing? Fantastic? Ridiculous?
Yup, that’s me.
The worst part? I can never understand the instructions. So I just sort of start sewing. I look at the front picture as my guide and sew and stab and complain. I’m pretty sure I’ve turned it into a fine art. I should write a book titled, “Make a Christmas Stocking and Swear.”
Apparently, the stocking brand I use calls for some pieces to be stuffed with batting. Um, really? I hang these things up for like 2 weeks. And that would require me to go all balls to the wall? OK, so I’m crazy, but I never said I followed the rules. That’s just insane. Last time I checked, my name wasn’t Martha Stewart.
My current project, however, is really fun. I’m making a quilt for Claire’s birthday by taking her favorite shirts through the years (yah, I can say years…she’s going to be THREE! Tear.) and sewing them together. It looks pretty cool so far, I won’t lie, however, that’s the fun part. Putting the squares together. Then comes the boring, mundane parts. Ie: the finishing touches. Batting, backing, border. The three b’s I hate the most. Interesting, I hate the most important part. I’ll just blame it on my Dad’s side.
(See, my theory is, all my bad traits and faults are obviously from my Dad’s side of the family.)
I’ll post pictures when it’s done. If my sanity is still intact.
Until then, I’m dreading making a stocking. The saddest part of that statement? I won’t have to make it until next year. However, if I know myself like I think I do, I’ll procrastinate until November, like I did with Luca and then continue to procrastinate until December 20th.
I’m such a bad mother.
(DISCLAIMER: I simply meant bad as in I’m so bad to the bone. Rebel. Nothing more.)