My first big girl sewing project began today!
I’ve sewn before, but it’s always been under the eye of my ever-watchful, sew-tastic mom. The woman is a machine. She made a mermaid outfit once. I can’t vouch for its’ user-friendliness or even attractiveness, as I wasn’t even a gleam in her eye or a song in her heart at that point. I don’t know that I’ve ever been a song in her heart. Maybe a dirge. In any case, my mom is a very good seamstress.
So today began the big experiment. My friends Scott and Fiona are expecting a wee bairn (provided “bairns” can also be girls, but historical Scotland-based romance novels written by very American authors have given me only enough information about Scottish culture to be completely offensive). As with most pregnancies, Fiona is doing most of the heavy lifting, and Scott kind of gets to hold her hand during the messy bits. Anyway, they’re great, and their baby girl will also be great, and hopefully I’ll be in their neighborhood come March, so I thought it would be just dandy if I were able to arrive with a homemade gift in hand.
The pattern was taken from the Sew Everything Workshop, which I highly recommend if you’re kind of a newborn yourself with regards to this sewing business.
After much deliberation and three trips to the fabric store, I chose a pink gingham for the elephant’s main body, and a white flannel to line the ears. Just watch–this girl will be born a confirmed tomboy who, as soon as she is cognizant of the fact that she has a pink (horrors, PINK!) elephant, will shred it to bits and feed it to the dog. Oh well. I tried.
Yesterday I began cutting out pattern pieces, beginning with the elephant body:
Geez, Lauren. . .pinned much? I don’t recall having experienced any childhood traumas with elephants. . .in fact, what I remember of my young life was surprisingly elephant-trauma free. But any angst I’ve ever felt toward that particular phylum has been successfully worked out, dontcha think?
If I had been making a garment, I would have been more careful with the grainline. . .no, I’m going to pull a George-Washington-and-his-cherry-tree here. If I had been making a garment, I would have forgotten to line the grainline on the pattern up with the edge of the fabric, exactly the same way I forgot to here. Live and learn. I’m starting to wonder if giving a first project to an infant is an act of cruelty.
Quick confession: I am the worst person I know with a pair of scissors. I mean, I would quake in first grade when we had to do those little crafts, because my scissors would only bend the paper, not cut it. It was a relief when I found out that my deficit in this area was genetic: I was a left-hander cutting with right-handed scissors. But it left quite a scar on me, and I’ve spent many years conquering this scissor aversion. So I am very, very proud of the picture below, which represents. . .um. . .hours of cutting effort.
I actually didn’t even finish cutting it out, because after all that emotional strain I was a wreck and my hands were shaking like I had just met Tim Tebow, so calling it a night seemed to be the kindest thing to myself, to the elephant, and to Tim Tebow.