Sew What?

     I think I may have been abducted by aliens a few weeks ago.  This would explain why I haven't had a thought in my head to write for weeks now.  It would also explain why I suddenly felt an otherwise inexplicable urge to try my hand at sewing.  I have a friend who is an expert seamstress.  She sews all of her daughter's church dresses and they all end up looking like something one would pay $40 for at some trendy boutique.  She also sews skirts for herself which are always cute and flattering.  She made my daughter not one, but three adorable skirts for her birthday.  When Morgan and her best friend, who happens to be my sewing wizard friend's daughter, wore the matching pink ruffled skirts my friend had made to church, every single mom who saw them asked me where we had bought the skirts.  So, you get the picture.  My friend makes really really cute dresses and skirts.  I once tried to sew a pair of pajama pants for a church project when I was in high school.  About three minutes into my attempt, I was forcefully removed from the sewing machine by my instructor, who thoroughly examined the machine to see what damage I may have caused, removed the yard of stuck fabric, and instructed me to keep a good ten foot distance from both her and the machine as she finished making the pants herself.  I vowed I would never touch a sewing machine again.  About a week ago I broke that vow and renewed it all in one day.
     A little over a month ago, I expressed to my friend an interest in learning how to make skirts ( I am pretty sure the aliens had already started working on me by this point).  I suppose it wasn't so much that I actually wanted to learn how to sew as it was that I was sick and tired of shopping for a cute skirt and returning empty handed.  Trends these days are not kind to a mother of three.  What woman, besides Heidi Klum, who has had more than one child, is going to look good in a low rise, 4 inch long denim mini skirt?  Certainly not me!  So, I decided to stop being frustrated and to start being proactive instead.  If I couldn't find a skirt that didn't make me look like Lindsay Lohan after her latest DUI, I would make one.  After a somewhat less descriptive tirade to my friend, she agreed to accompany me to the fabric store.  As soon as we walked in I was dizzy.  Never had I beheld so many different colors, patterns and textures in one room.  I immediately gravitated toward the home fabric section where I proceeded to plan my entire future living and dining rooms around two to die for drapery fabrics.  My friend gently reminded me that I was nowhere near ready to build my dream house and that we were there to find cheap fabric for a couple of skirts.  As we walked through rows and rows of paisleys, plaids and polka dots in every pattern and palette plausible, I began to ponder possibilities.  There were light, playful florals perfect for a summer look and warm rich plaids for fall and winter.  There were silks, cottons, polys, wool blends.  This was a shopaholic's dream!  Somehow, out of the piles and piles of fabric, I was able to decide on two:  a stretchy poly blend tri-colored fabric that would be fun as a long late summer-fall skirt (sort of an earthy tie-die look), and a black and white sort of hounds tooth which would look dashing as a knee-length fall-winter skirt. I walked away with the materials for two skirts and spent only about $10.00.  I was beginning to see the beauty in this whole sewing your own clothes business.
     I must sadly report that my beautiful delusion came crashing down about a month later when it came time to sew the fabric.  Upon arriving at my friend's house, the first thing I saw was a giant square marked with lines and numbers covering the whole surface of the kitchen table.  In general, I try to stay away from anything involving straight lines and/or numbers.  Resting on top of the giant square ruler, was a pair of scissors.  I had thought this would all be done by machine.  And now I was finding out I had to cut something by hand, something which I was then supposed to wear......in public.  My history with cutting is not great.  Dirk can always tell when I was the last one to cut the cheese (no......not because of the lingering smell......get your mind out of the toilet) because the once square block looks more like a triangle.  I am very glad that wrapped gifts are meant expressly for the purpose of unwrapping.  If the recipient of my gifts were to look too closely at the wrapping job they would likely think that I had hired Edward Scissor Hands as my in house gift wrapper.  Yet, here I sat, Mrs. crooked cheese, Scissor Hand wrapper, preparing to cut into fabric which was intended for a piece of clothing.  My friend pulled out a straight edge.  I breathed a sigh of relief and began cutting, very slowly, as she held the straight edge.  "This might not be so bad", I began to think after the fabric was cut.  That's when she pulled out the serger.  She began weaving thread into an intricate pattern and hooking it onto little metal hooks.  When she had created a web of thread which would have impressed Charlotte herself, she set the fabric on the machine and told me to start serging.  She instructed me to push the pedal moderately, so the machine wouldn't go too slow nor too fast......just like driving, she said.  I think my friend must have forgotten how I drive.  The fabric began flying through the machine.  "Stop!", yelled my friend.  The machine was no longer even catching the fabric.  And thus began our sewing adventure.  I could make a very long story of it, but I value my dear reader's time far too much for that.  Suffice it to say, two hours later, I had a skirt as well as a splitting headache and a renewed determination to become a better bargain shopper.  The next day at the bus stop, my friend presented me with a Morgan sized skirt made out of the left over fabric from mine.  I am certain it took her ten minutes to make.  That Sunday at church, Morgan and I wore our matching skirts.  I assured everyone that my friend had made the skirt.  She assured everyone that I had.  I think after our skirt debacle, my friend was forever done giving sewing lessons.
     We all have our talents.  There are days when I am at a complete loss as to what mine may be.  But, we all have something we can do fairly efficiently and in a way that makes others take note.  Sewing is not among my talents.  Baking bread that is to be eaten and not used as a door stop is not among my talents.  Luckily, I happen to count shopping as one of my talents.  I am very adept at purchasing a nice fresh loaf of Wonder Bread from the store.  My favorite little black dress was a $7.00 find from a Target clearance rack.  I have worn it to funerals, weddings, church and showers.  I get by just fine despite my domestic ineptitude.  And yet, for years I have raked myself over the coals for not being domestic enough.  Don't all good moms sew, scrapbook and bake from scratch?  I know some excellent mothers who do those things.  My friend is one.  Do good mothers occasionally heat up a frozen pizza for dinner and have their kid's photos backed up online just waiting to be put into digital scrapbooks?  Do good mothers forget pajama day at school because they didn't mark it on their calendar?  Do good mothers feed their children sugared cereal and pop-tarts for breakfast?  If those mothers also read to their children every night, hug them plenty of times every day and serve up that frozen pizza with a smile and a listening ear, then, I think so.  Today, I am going to do myself a favor, and so should you.  Whether you are a mother or not, stop beating yourself up!  A week ago I renewed my vow to abstain from sewing.  Today I make another vow: A vow to celebrate small successes, a vow to realize my own talents, as well as my own limits. Motherhood and life are both hard enough.  Let's not make them even harder by trying to be someone we're not.  Today will be the first day of my recovery program as a self-doubter.  Hi.  My name is Shannon.  I don't sew.  I hardly bake.  I despise scrap booking.  And I'm a good mom.