I can make the simplest things difficult

My Grandma Gard (whom I believe is 95 or 96 years old now) had the time, energy, and patience to teach an 11 year old punk how to sew. I have to tell you, I hated every minute of it. However, I have never been so grateful to have this skill. I never knew how handy it would become in my adult life.

However, it's been years since I touched a sewing machine and I have forgotten a lot of what she taught me. This became very evident when I decided to make the girls pillowcase dresses. How easy! Perfect for diaper changes and they don't inhibit their crawling attempts. All I needed to do was hem it, bind the sleeves, and add some elastic at the collar. Simple enough, eh? Sure, shoulda been.

Until you try to think logically at 2am. I spent way too long trying to make the pattern match at the seam, I redid the sleeves at least 10 times, and I lost the elastic inside the collar seam twice and had to rip it out to resew. I have never been so frustrated with something so simple. The longer it took me, the more agitated I got. I also can't measure without an accurate tool because I guessed on the amount of fabric I needed. Either I'm way off or my girls are super short.

In the end, I had a perfectly stitched, ankle-length moo-moo that took me 5 hours to complete. I can either hem it or just let them wear it next year. I still have to make another one to match. Oh, I can't wait.

My gosh, I'm so embarrassed and hope my Grandma never finds out.


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