Monday, April 23, 2012
On where I get my mad sewing skills from, and why I take them for granted
My mom is an amazingly talented, meticulous, patient, detailed, precise and incredible seamstress. This is the gorgeous quilt she made for me. And because growing up, it was my Mom, I thought that all mom's came built in with that skill and precision. Yeah, they don't. This is hand quilted people. Hand appliquéd where the triangles go over the border. Every corner matches. All the stitches are even. She is amazing. And this is not her first. Its her fourth big one, with two more in the works. That is actually not counting all of the little ones she's made for grandkids in between all of the full size quilted works of art she makes for her daughters. Not a single quilt for herself, not even a simple tied one. (I will contest that my mother is the most unselfish person alive).
My mother is the one who taught me to sew. First by hand (at a pretty young age.. maybe I was 5 or so? 6?) And then when I was old enough to be entrusted with her sewing machine (10 or 11?) she patiently taught me, and together we worked through the tears and frustration that sewing can sometimes bring. I only thought it was hard because I was a kid, and she made it look so easy. I didn't know that everybody goes through that. (Right? the wanting to pull your hair out when it just. doesn't. make. any. sense! and the unpicking, and the broken needles, and on and on..)