Threading the Needle

Last week, Bethany wrote about a visit from her former self bringing back a creative endeavor she’s long forgotten. Thinking on her story, I reflected on all the ways in which I’ve tried to “create” throughout my life. Some good; some terrible. Some lasting; some fleeting. But a key consistency has been the drive to create.

For me, sewing has been a big part of creating. When we were kids, our mother always took the time to hand make our Halloween costumes. That left an impression on me. As busy as she was with four children, working as a nurse, and a husband who often traveled or worked long hours, she made time to create for her children at least once a year.

Come September or early October, the ‘80’s sewing machine would find its way out of the closet and onto our dining room table, where it would remain until every costume was complete. We children would marvel at the opportunity to pick our yearly selections—something we always got to do. Mom taught me the basics of sewing as she fought McCalls patterns that would magically transform tulle into Aladdin poof pants and metallics into Ariel mermaid tails. We taught her more patience as she fought us through multiple try ons and faux pin stabbings.

Mom’s lessons inspired me to take a home economics class in seventh grade, where I began my sewing resumé with the ability to make boxer shorts and pillows. From there, I dabbled in quilting. I think I only finished one. As I remember, it had a blue and mauve geometric pattern and overall, a very odd long rectangular shape. My parents kindly kept it around until I was living back with them during law school. When our childhood dog Patches had to be put down, my dad wrapped him in the quilt to go to the veterinarian’s office. We left the quilt with Patches after he passed, telling ourselves it would comfort him.

Between college and law school, I never found much time to create. But in my early 20’s, I felt the urge to try once more, so I asked my mom for a cheap sewing machine for Christmas. She obliged, purchasing a basic machine on which I could dabble. I still have that same machine twenty years later.

After Tyler and I bought our first house in 2009, I got to work sewing an unreasonable number of throw pillows for our room that promptly found their way into large storage buckets and hardly ever came back out. I sewed curtains and reupholstered an ottoman. I decorated the wall behind the bed with a diamond pattern that included wallpaper and molding. I went all out. Oh, the 20’s energy and unlimited free time.

Once the new home ran out of projects, I turned back to pillows. But this time, they were shaped like animals and sold on Etsy. “Sew Pookie” was the name of the side-hustle shop run by one of my best pals and me. She ran the business; I did the sewing. Collaboration at its finest. Because I have shiny object syndrome, I was constantly pitching new ideas for products. We sold ornaments and building blocks and reusable coffee sleeves and bag scarves (really?) and more.

My friends and family also received an unreasonable amount of hand made items during this phase of my life, and for this I am truly sorry.

Then came my first baby, and with her, the end of Sew Pookie. I still sewed through pregnancy, though, this time obsessing over bloomers and embroidering her soon-to-be initials on everything imaginable. Oh, the new mother perfection vibes.

Naturally, the transition to motherhood slowed down my sewing. Probably for the best—the world really doesn’t need anymore whale shaped, personalized pillows, and when my first child learned to read, she questioned why her initials were plastered over all of her clothing.

With mom’s costumes as inspiration, though, I’ve tried hard to make my kiddos’ costumes and DIY Halloween party decorations over the years. That’s usually the extent of my sewing these days. Just like mom’s, my machine comes out of retirement once a year and takes up the end of our family room dining table until costumes are complete.

But last month, something changed. It wasn’t the same as Bethany’s visit from her former self, but I felt a creative spark that had been dim for years.

We moved into a new (old) house about two and a half years ago, and it’s been a constant barrage of home improvement projects since. Basically, we’re renovating our 1980’s house, but purposely leaving in tact the Ferris Bueller style intercom system, because duh.

Lately, I’ve been focused on completing the primary bedroom. Thinking about window treatments and fabrics and all the finishing touches, I suddenly felt the urge to sew for fun, something I haven’t done outside of Halloween in probably a decade.

So, one summer weekend with no soccer games or birthday parties on the horizon, out came my machine, and with it, new window coverings. I also made some decorative headboard pieces for above the bed. And, wouldn’t you know it? I reupholstered that same old ottoman in fresh new fabric.

There’s nothing like a little creating to bring your spark back. But don’t worry, I won’t be distributing whale pillows anytime soon.

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