My loving husband bought me a sewing machine for my first Mother’s Day two years ago. I had wanted one forever, constantly talking about the cute things I could make, seams I could fix, and pants I could hem if only, if ONLY I had a sewing machine. My husband, being a good listener when it comes to things I want for gifts, (though NOT a good listener when it comes to not pushing twenty-six loads of laundry into the washer at the same time) bought me one. It is perfect for what I want to use it for. Nothing too complicated, but a nice model for my skill level. Perfect.
But then something happened. My baby, who was five months old when I received the sewing machine, became an older, busier baby. Then he became a toddler. Then I got pregnant. Mother’s Day came around again. Michael had thrown a blanket over a big box, carried it to our bed and said, “Come open your Mother’s Day gift!” I was excited to see what awesome present he got for me and ripped the blanket off with enormous enthusiasm… and then I
punched my husband right in the eye glared at my husband. The smart ass that I married gave me a sewing machine for my second Mother’s Day. The same sewing machine that was still unopened in it’s box. He found himself quite hilarious. I put the sewing machine back in the spare bedroom and didn’t buy him a Father’s Day gift, because I know how to hold a grudge. Time went by. I had another baby. Life got exceedingly more complicated. Mother’s Day was last Sunday. Mike did not re-wrap my still unopened sewing machine.
Today, Time-Hop on Facebook reminded him of his gift and he shared the post I had written on that very first Mother’s Day. The beautiful picture of my sewing machine so shiny and full of promise, and my gushing praise of my thoughtful hubby. He wrote: Still in the box unopened. The comments that follow include me telling him to bite me and that I was going to start sewing all of his clothes. I honestly do feel a little bad about not using his thoughtful gift yet because I do love it. And I do appreciate him getting me something I wanted so much. I want to let him know why the machine has not been a-sewing, and hope that he understands.
Here are the reasons I haven’t started sewing Honey:
– I have zero free time. Work, babies, You, sleep… you know, you are with me pretty much constantly. You see what I do with my time.
– I need a comfortable set-up. A folding chair and the kitchen table just doesn’t cut it.
– I can’t afford another obsession. Need I point out the craft room?
– I like to crochet because I can do it while relaxing. I can’t sew while lounging on the couch watching Game of Thrones. I don’t want to not lounge when I get a chance to lounge, you know?
– I fear Truman’s reaction to seeing a sewing machine in action. You know how obsessed he is with the mixer… that’s why we have brownies around all the time. God only knows what he would find to stitch together!
One day, when I have three minutes of quiet and no one demanding that I wipe a butt, give milkies, find lost items, sing a song, or bounce a baby up and down; I will sew. I will sew anything and everything I can possibly sew. Yes, all of your clothes included. Please don’t give up on me yet!