Confessions of a Fabric Hoarder

I like to sew.

I LOVE fabric.

Really.

Here's a little song about it.  It must be sung to cadence rhythm:
"I got a lotta fabric under my bed / Might not be quite right in the head."

If she who has the most wins, I may be in the running for grand prize.  I need to revamp my approach to buying--"Oh, this is pretty.  I'll take two yards."  I need to go with pattern in hand, size and style selected, and buy only the specified ingredients.  Where's the fun in that. 

Of course I do pick out fabrics for slings intentionally, but then there are the scraps.  Ah, yes, the scraps...

Sorry, I drifted off thinking of what I could cobble together, put elastic in, hot glue to a barrette, add a ruffle to, cut out to quilt (and never piece together), and it goes on and on.

Back on track.  I do love making slings.  Everybody can enjoy wearing a baby--especially the baby.  Those I sew to sell.  Then, the small bit of remaining scraps are all mine--that few inches of width not used or the top from a generous snip at the cutting table.

There is something thrilling about the creative possibilities of a pile of fabric.  Even if I'm not making something really neat and unique, I know I could.  It's the "could" that gets me.  My head starts spinning when I pull it all out.  Ruffle pants and placemats and coffee cup cozies, oh my!

So you'd think that my whole house is sewn and my kids wear nothing but fun and funky stuff I make, right?  Erm, no.  Not yet at least.  It's fun to dabble and play, but it's hard to pull out a lot of "pretties" with kiddos running around and expect to get a lot done.  Kids and cats love to help.  All I have to do is pull out the ironing board, and boom, there are two cats asleep on it by the time I'm back with the iron.

For my crafty friends--you know it's not always bunnies, butterflies, and baskets of roses.  Sometimes, you are breaking needles left and right no matter how you adjust your stitch or thread tension.  Sometimes you forget to eat, drink, and go to the bathroom because you're unhealthily "into" it.  Sometimes it's a miracle you don't drive to the nearest bridge or cliff and throw your machine over the edge.  Sometimes you snark at your children or your husband because you don't want to be interrupted.  Not a good plan (remind me I said this)!  That's when you need to put it away, have a glass of wine, and let it go.  There's something to the intention with which something is made.  That said, I'm pretty sure the person who made the clothes I'm wearing wasn't sending me happy thoughts as they whirred it through their industrial machine.  I'm talking about our handmade, one-of-a kinds.  Put love into it, and it means that much more when gifted or worn/used by your family.

If I suddenly become a night owl, I'll be posting lots of photos of things I sew.  That wasn't a wish for insomnia.  I like my kids being content, and I like sleeping.  I'll happily sew in the in-between times for us.  It's instant gratification.  Until then, I'll keep on smiling and pretending to be normal, but now you know that my crazy is all boxed up under the bed.

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