L is for........a link to my mother

The sewing machine sits, quiet and dusty, in my basement, one last part of my mom that I hold on to. She was a wiz with it, creating clothing, blankets, doll clothes, and even draperies. There was nothing she couldn't whip up and she was truly a master with it. I on the other hand, failed at every attempt. When I was in junior high, back when it was part of the curriculum, I had Home Economics. We learned to make copy-cat Orange Julius smoothies, bake a cake, and sew an apron. I was not new to any of this, after all I had the Amazing Rose in the house, and I already knew how to do basic things in the kitchen. I had helped make cakes and knew how to read a recipe. I even knew how to read a pattern and to cut out fabric, something she taught me when she was learning herself about making drapes for our house. But I struggled with the sewing machine. Every. Single. Time.

I was convinced it hated me (still am). It purposely added drag to the bobbin so that my thread would snap. My fabric would get caught up and bunch, making a holy mess. I cursed it (under my breath, of course) and eventually melted into tears. "Making an apron shouldn't be this hard, and I'm being graded!" I cried, hoping she would come to my rescue. And she did. I told my teacher that Mom did most of the sewing (it was so obvious!), and that I would take a lower grade. I ended getting a B. Well, Mom ended up with a B. I also got a B on the lined book bag we were required to make the following semester. I still have both the apron and the book bag, as a reminder or testament to the fact that I had some talent and ability, even if it didn't include a sewing machine.

I think I will call the repairman and see about getting that sewing machine looked at - maybe it isn't me after all....

Crochet Me a Heart

I never had the chance to ask the questions of my mom, like why her handwriting was so beautiful, or what really happened when she met my dad. As my life progresses and I feel the weight of growing older, I think of so many things that she also lived through, dealt with, or wished never happened. I know she loved to dance (but married a man who didn't) and she never finished high school. But I often wonder where she learned to crochet.


She seemed to turn out doilies and tablecloths in a flash, and if ever there was a baby coming she would whip up a snuggly soft blanket just for the baby shower, and of course a pair of booties. She crocheted flowers and hats and slippers. Much of her creations were off a pattern that she purchased at Woolco along with the multiple skeins of yarn and were given as gifts. She made several bedspreads and throws, pillow covers and a few rugs. One day she found a slipper pattern that she made over and over, altering it to fit better each time. I have one pair stashed away that I can't bear to wear - I want to preserve them like a talisman to the past.

Mom's doll baby 

She crocheted me several dresses when I was a kid, and I remember them being both hot to wear and breezy, with all the gaps in the pattern and the weight of the yarn. I was surprised that she kept them, and for a moment I thought about putting one on Erica. She didn't agree to that (and I totally understood why). She created a Barbie wedding dress, and several other dresses and tops that I know took mere minutes to make but added a lot of fun to playing with my dolls. She made baby doll clothes, but the baby dolls were hers! She got a kick out of making the fun stuff, and I remember a crochet Easter bunny pin, Halloween pumpkin, toaster cozy, and even a pair of crochet earrings. Everything that mom made by hand is a treasure to me, and I can't fathom letting them go.

Pinterest would have kept her busy, with a new project every day. My cousin Jeri is keeping the tradition going, and I love that she wants to do something that many think is "old fashioned." there is something wonderful about making something that is creative, unique, and lasting. I think about learning to crochet, and my mother-in-law has shown me how to get started making a pot holder. I have at least two rows done (one row a year!).  I know I will never be as good as mom, and I know I won't have the lifelong interest, but at least her creations live on.