Old skills, new drills

While going through stacks of pictures for Emily's birthday post, I found a lot of great memories.

Emily, Roseanne, and Christina on the front steps in their pajamas on a summer evening.

I was also struck by how many of them were in clothes I had made.  Back in the day, I sewed a lot of the kids' clothes.  These pj's above, were all Mom-made.  The toddler picture of  Emily was in a jumper I made, in fact I had one to match.  I was distressed that somehow the picture of the two of us wasn't there, I'm sure it's stuck in the wrong place somewhere.  (I still have both jumpers hanging in the back of my closet.)  My father-in-law gave me that checked stuff, and he gave me a lot of it.  When Roseanne fit that toddler jumper, I made a larger skirt to match for Emily, along with a navy blue velveteen vest.  Later, I had enough to make a  little boy Sunday vest out of it.

The outfit of Emily at the piano--I made that, the pattern was a size 3.  The pale orange jumper and blouse in her first grade picture--Hubby's sister made that for her.  The same year as the pajama picture above, I made Easter dresses for all three girls--no, not matching, they were all different-- and took their pictures outside.  One of those survives and was kept--Christina was a smaller size than Roseanne by that point, so only Carole wore it later.

I made a lot of the girls' clothes, and a few of the boys' later.  I learned to sew as a teenager, beginning with home arts class, which has pretty much gone out of existence, and that's a shame.  Then, my mother helped me.  Then, when I was in high school she put me on a clothing allowance, as part of a deliberate progression of teaching us how to make choices with our money.  Shoes, coats, and underwear didn't count, she covered those, but for everything else I had a flat amount to use as I found good...with one loophole.

Anything I wanted to sew, she would buy materials for me and it wouldn't count.  In other words, if I made it myself, it was 'free.'  And she had the skills to help me.  She had learned some good tricks in Relief Society, too, which she passed along, like an easy technique for set-in sleeves.  A few things didn't turn out well, but some things became my favorites.  When I was at the University, I even took a flat-pattern design class; though I didn't end up designing my own clothes, it gave me an understanding of how patterns and contours worked, so that I could alter necklines, collars, and the like before I cut something out.

I used to sew a lot, now I hardly do at all.  For one thing, it's not cheap anymore.  With the arrival of Ross and places like it, you can scrounge cheap a lot more easily.  I am a champion clearance scrounger.  Fabrics are expensive, and I'm not as sure of fit since I'm no longer the shape I used to be.  Cutting things out is hard, it's wearing, since my back went phtt! and bifocals make it harder to see right at the machine.  I bought stuff with keen excitement to sew for my first granddaughters, but one pretty cotton dress was made and the rest sits in a box.  Maybe I should look at it again....

But if I don't do the same things I was busy with before, in an earlier stage of my life, that's okay.  If I have more impairments and can't pursue the things I used to do, that's okay.  (All right, sometimes it's not, but mostly.)  I didn't have energy and free time to write, earlier in my life.  I didn't have the opportunity to teach as deeply as I do now with my Institute calling, which I love so much.  I am more prepared by life and experience to do many things that matter to me, and that's what's most important.

My mother used to talk about stages in life, how they change naturally.  She would teach us that you can do it all if you understand that you can't do it all at the same time.  Babies, small children, teenagers, launching time, empty nest time--all of it will come, and every time has its challenges and its joys.  Don't miss what's now for fretting about what's later, and don't give up now for wishing for what will come.  Wise counsel.