Prompt for December 17: Make: What did you make this year that you're proud of? Was it a success or did it flop and you learned something about how to make it better next time? Do you have any special handmade projects planned for next year?
One of my earliest memories is of weaving baskets with my mother.
As a child I thought that everyone's mother sewed them elaborate First Eucharist dresses of tulle and taffeta or historically accurate Laura Ingalls outfits (complete with a sunbonnet!). I didn't understand that other parents bough things like playdough and Christmas ornaments.
My mother passed these skills on to me. I made my first queen-sized quilt in the fifth grade. In high school I sewed a red satin flapper costume for a Roaring 20's themed dance. I made my own bridesmaid dress for my favorite cousin's hippie wedding. I cooked dinner for my siblings and I every night after my mother went back to work when I was 13. As I grew older I realized that not everyone has this same skill set, it blew my mind when friends couldn't sew on a button or hem their own pants.
I realize now that this skill set, these "domestic arts" are important, something to be proud of even. There was a time when I was made to feel that these skills, "women's work", wasn't useful or valuable. For a few years I stopped sewing and baking and "making" in general.
This year, I decided to change that. I started making again. And I did. I let my creative juices flow.
This is the creation of which I'm most proud:
Obviously, I did not make LittleMiss. I did, however, make the super awesome tutu she is wearing. The materials for the tutu cost me about $17, and the construction time was about an hour to an hour and a half. It wasn't difficult or inconvenient to make-I made it sitting on the floor in front of a Say Yes to the Dress marathon. The biggest challenge was probably choosing the colors of tulle. But it wasn't about the money or the time. It was about creating a birthday present for Little Miss. She was super excited about her birthday present and insisted on donning it immediately.
Seriously, isn't she the cutest thing?... I'm at that creepy stage in my twenties in which I covet other people's children but don't actually want any of my own.
As a child I thought that everyone's mother sewed them elaborate First Eucharist dresses of tulle and taffeta or historically accurate Laura Ingalls outfits (complete with a sunbonnet!). I didn't understand that other parents bough things like playdough and Christmas ornaments.
My mother passed these skills on to me. I made my first queen-sized quilt in the fifth grade. In high school I sewed a red satin flapper costume for a Roaring 20's themed dance. I made my own bridesmaid dress for my favorite cousin's hippie wedding. I cooked dinner for my siblings and I every night after my mother went back to work when I was 13. As I grew older I realized that not everyone has this same skill set, it blew my mind when friends couldn't sew on a button or hem their own pants.
I realize now that this skill set, these "domestic arts" are important, something to be proud of even. There was a time when I was made to feel that these skills, "women's work", wasn't useful or valuable. For a few years I stopped sewing and baking and "making" in general.
This year, I decided to change that. I started making again. And I did. I let my creative juices flow.
This is the creation of which I'm most proud:
Obviously, I did not make LittleMiss. I did, however, make the super awesome tutu she is wearing. The materials for the tutu cost me about $17, and the construction time was about an hour to an hour and a half. It wasn't difficult or inconvenient to make-I made it sitting on the floor in front of a Say Yes to the Dress marathon. The biggest challenge was probably choosing the colors of tulle. But it wasn't about the money or the time. It was about creating a birthday present for Little Miss. She was super excited about her birthday present and insisted on donning it immediately.
Seriously, isn't she the cutest thing?... I'm at that creepy stage in my twenties in which I covet other people's children but don't actually want any of my own.
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