Confessions

As a newly-minted Catholic, I'm expected to go to Confession.  My first one (before my confirmation) probably left a little to be desired.  If God has a list of my sins, I'm guessing I only covered the first handful.  It is incredibly difficult to call to mind (while eyeball to eyeball with a priest) all sins big and small over the entirety of your life.  But I soldiered through and listed the ones I could remember while silently promising to think long and hard about the ones I have surely forgotten.

All kinds of confession are hard for me.  I'm a pretty private person (which probably begs the question why I have a blog to share my thoughts with who-knows-who).  My mother has tried to break me of this habit by attempting to shove her way into countless dressing rooms and prodding me for the minute details of my days (these questions typically garnered a response of "fine" - my entire teenage life was apparently just made up of days that were "fine").  But, alas, her efforts have gone unrewarded.  I still keep more than my fair share of secrets and don't let anyone in my dressing room. 

But, in order to update you on what I've been up to this week (which I am sure you have been dying to know), I have to first make a confession.  I like to sew (that's not really the confession and should come as no surprise to those few precious souls who read this blog and saw the earlier pillow post).  Here's the kicker:  my favorite thing to sew is children's clothes.  [Not quite the shocker you had in mind, huh?]  A few of the people who actually follow this blog already know this deep-dark secret, but for my legion of fans, now you are in the loop as well.  I like to think it stems from my grandmother's love of sewing.  Here is a picture of little me in one of her french hand-sewn frocks at Easter.  Gotta love a bonnet (it is clear from my expression that I don't necessarily love a bonnet).

Regardless of its source, I don't share this love of children's clothes openly.  Frankly because I think it is a touch weird.  I'm a (relatively) young professional with no children and no children on the horizon.  The fact that I sew children's clothes - and love it - reminds me slightly of the crazy lady in Great Expectations.  Don't ask me why.  It just does.  And who wants to be known as that crazy lady? 

To make my (slight) obsession a little more palatable, I find unsuspecting children to foist my creations onto.  My friends' kids, like The Queen, become little guinea pigs for my designs.  To turn a phrase of MLQ's, half the time these sweet babes probably look like who-shot-shorty when sporting my creations.  Regardless, I persist and continue to churn out "gifts."  And that has been my side project this week.  While Marc has been restoring furniture, I've been sewing baby clothes.  Add in M's occasional jamming, and our house is essentially an episode of Little House on the Prairie. 

Here are my latest creations:

Matching bubbles for two sweet cousins.  Maybe if I toss in some cookies, they'll actually wear the things.  I'm currently finishing up another matching one for a sweet little girl in Arizona so she can join the party. 

Now that I've spilled the beans, there will probably be more posts about sewing projects and little outfits.  I know you are all holding your breath for those, especially "Sweet baby Mo."  Now, if I could just convince a few more friends to start having babies (hint, hint), we'd be in business.