… when you think you’ve learned all you’re capable of learning, and then, something wonderful happens?
Today, me, the non-sewer, finished my granddaughter’s dress. The seams are wonky, it’s a little too big (falls off the shoulder), the back hem is longer than the front ….
Since it was in sewing language, I must have watched the tutorial fifty times. But I did it! The next one will be FLAWED TO a new level of PERFECTION! 🙂
You want to learn something new? If I can, so can you. Onward you go!
before I Unraveled him. Literally.
I don’t sew. Really. But man, do I love fabrics. So, I got my mother’s 1970’s Singer fixed. I’m terrified of the thing.
I started the first of my grandchildren’s Easter Bunnies. The ears came out extremely wonky, the face almost distorted. I unraveled the thread and started over. And started over. And, started over, my patience unravelling with the orange thread.
But now, I’m done. I know it’s not perfect but, as I like to say, if it was perfect, nobody would believe I’d created it.
Okay, back to working on my latest manuscript….
We all have our time. I used to be a one-year-old. Not anymore. Now, it’s my granddaughter’s turn to experience that year.
At her birthday party, I had a wonderful conversation with a friend I rarely get to see. First, we talked about her aging mother. Then we talked about our kids. Her’s are 13 and 11. Mine are 23 and 27.
Kristin’s already missing her aging and ill mother. She talks about what will happen when her growing boys leave the nest. Her eyes puddle with tears.
And then I told her what I tell myself when I feel like so much of my life is formed of memories, of cycles of life that have concluded.
“I have been a one-year-old,” I say. “Now it’s my granddaughter’s turn. I have been a two-year-old. Now it’s my grandson’s turn. I have been a mother of young children, fortunate to have watched them grow and thrive. Now, it is my children’s turn to experience parenthood. But, I have never been sixty before. This, too, is a new cycle. And who knows what will happen.”
We all have our time.
So recently, my one-year-old granddaughter came to watch me box (see picture below). As many of you know, I love boxing. Not competitively, of course. I do it for fitness. We hit pads and bags, practice defensive, etc. We kick, too, but being a good kicker is not in my DNA. Let me explain.
My paternal grandfather was a carnival boxer in the early 1930’s. That meant he would seek out the carnivals and would box the “main” contender. If he won, which he usually did, he earned 5 buckeroos.
In the later 1940’s, my Dad boxed for the Army as Kid Dennis. I still have his boxing bag, gloves, and trunks that read “Kid.” (The story of Dad’s boxing retaliation against my grandfather is a major plot thread in my novel, No Hill for a Stepper.)
Dad quit boxing when he married my mother but continued the sport by becoming a referee. When my sister was born, he gave her little blue boxing glove rattles. After my parents died, and when my sister and I had to sort through the house, I found them! I told my sister, “I’m keeping these!” (she didn’t fight me for them). Now, I keep the little rattles in my boxing bag for inspiration.
Here’s my granddaughter holding one of the little rattles.
Baby and Me
Do I think my granddaughter should continue the tradition? It matters not. What does matter is that she learns to defend and stand up for herself. And, as Dad often reminded me, “pay attention to your surroundings at all times.” Sound advice.
Thanks, Daddy.
We must count on children to remind us.
my sweet grandson
If you saw one of my previous posts “What am I getting myself into,” you’ll know that I think of projects at the last minute and push myself into a deadline. Well, the deadline is today and last night, I finished my V-Day presents for my grandkids. Hand-stitched since I don’t own or know how to use a sewing machine. This one’s for my grandson:
This is my granddaughter’s:
Definitely a bunch of mistakes but, I did it! And, blurry-eyed, on time! Whew!
My ideas always come at the last moment. I’m trying to make stuffed animal snakes as a valentine’s present for my grand kids and I barely know how to sew! EESH!
I painted this two years ago while waiting for my grandson to be born. When the joyous bundle arrived, all I had to do was fill in the name.
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 