The Fall of My Domestic Goddesshood

The lowest grade I ever got in my entire life wasn't in Physical Science or American Heritage, but rather in a Sewing 101 class at BYU.  I had signed up for the class thinking it was going to be an easy "A", but instead it ended up being a GPA killing "C-" that I had to work my tail off for.

Lest you think I had a cruel teacher that was on a mission to make sure that there were no free "A"s coming from her class, I am ashamed to admit that every single one of my friends who took the class with me got the easy "A" they were looking for.  My crooked seamed outfit proved to be a GPA killer and the maker of a domestic dud named Lara.   I happen to know for a fact that the reason why I'm such a poor interior decorator today stems directly from my crushed confidence post-Sewing 101.  

Fast forward five years from that disastrous foray into domesticity when I'd just given birth to Cami Rose.  My second child.  My first baby girl.

Something about the introduction of pink and frills into our home gave me the inexplicable urge to try my hand at sewing once again.  Not surprisingly my stitching skills hadn't improved much in the ensuing years and it took me weeks and weeks of sewing, seam ripping, and sewing some more before I finished my first project.   The buttons were uneven and the hem puckered, but how Cami (and later Emma and Ellie) loved having a dress that matched with her baby. 

Over the years I've bumbled my way through a few more projects, mostly having to do with dresses with matching doll clothes...

But now it's been a few years since I've sewn at all and my younger kids don't even remember what my sewing machine looked like. 

So imagine my surprise on Sunday morning when Emma, my 9-year-old daughter, randomly decided she was going to make a new dress for Ellie to wear to church that afternoon.

She set down a dress onto a folded piece of fabric, traced around it with a marker, and started cutting...

Then got a needle and thread and started stitching...

After about an hour of meticulous stitching the dress was complete....

And ready for Ellie (with the lovely fake smile) to wear to church...

Ellie was thrilled with her one-of-a-kind marker stained, raw edged fashion statement and loved telling everyone how her big sister had made it for her....

Now if I could just figure out how to get some of that developing domesticity to rub off on me.

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