Frustration, Thy Name Is Sewing

Once upon a time I was an accomplished seamstress. When I was a teen, sewing was very popular and I made many of my clothes. I enjoyed it and it was economical. I did it for years. Sewing for my girls, especially when they were small, was fun. Someone gave my first a little sundress that was so cute I took it apart and used it as a pattern. I must have made a dozen of them. If it was sewable, I sewed it: holiday decorations, drapes, hair scrunchies. I even made a prom gown for one of my daughters without a pattern. She had an idea of what she wanted and there were no patterns that matched that idea. I just jumped in and did it. Years down the road I realized that I hadn't sewn for quite a while ... and really didn't want to. I was tired of it. Very, very tired. The machine sat, getting used only if absolutely necessary. I packed it away, kept the fabrics and trims that I thought I might possibly someday use and gave away the rest. I didn't miss it at all. Then comes COVID-19 and we're all supposed to wear masks. I looked at patterns online and decided they weren't too difficult. I dug out a small box of brightly patterned fabrics I had used for crafts. They would have to do since I wasn't going to the store. I asked my husband if he wanted the teddy bear or watermelon print. Then I found I didn't have any elastic. Not surprisingly, neither did any of the places I would normally buy it. Through the miracle of the internet, someone I don't know mailed me some. I had visions of whipping up those babies the way I heard about people churning them out by the hundreds to give away. I spent several days getting the first two made. I had other things on my To Do list, but I had a deadline--we had to go out on Wednesday. I made dozens of mistakes, most of them stupid ones, purely from not having sewn for so long. A lot of the little tricks of the trade had gone into deep hiding in my brain. And the machine kept jamming. I fumbled along and had the two done just in time. They were so much trouble, that we decided two for each of us was enough. If your math is good, you'll know I still had to make two more. Saturday afternoon I was determined to get it done. After all, the machine had been out over a week for a job I expected to take two days. A mere three hours later, minus a fifteen minute break for a drink (not that kind) and to convince myself not to open the window and toss the balky machine out, I'd finished. I made more dumb mistakes and the machine continued to be difficult, but I'd finished. Obviously, like giving birth and doing cartwheels, this part of my life is over.