The other night, Sean and the boys went over to Sean’s brother’s house for a boy’s night out. That left me with the rare and coveted opportunity to go to the local fabric store by myself (taking three little boys who openly admit to hating the fabric store is nothing short of torture). Who would have thought that this would be such a sought-after thing for me?
You see, I have list of things I want to get sewn before this baby is born. I wanted to make spit-rags out of left-over terrycloth I had from something I made for Sean. I still need to make the blankies/comfort objects that I plan to give to N’s bio siblings. I want to make a nice blanket for the baby. And, since C~ has become jealous of his brothers’ microwaveable teddy bears, I want to make him a bear of his own to snuggle with at bedtime. Easy enough, right?
OK, so I accept that I probably won’t get it all done. Heck, I hope that I don’t get it all done from the standpoint that I want this kid out of me. Now. I don’t remember ever feeling this impatient to be done with pregnancy. I suppose that it could have a lot to do with the fact that I’ve been through this enough times now that I know that a lot of my aches and pains are going to just disappear as soon as this kid is on the outside. And I’m sick of aches and pains. I have definitely had more than my fair share of them this time around.
So, you can learn a lot when you are at a fabric store without small chattering ones to distract you. Like the fact that I apparently look much smaller than I feel this time around. I heard this several times when we went out to dinner with a group of friends last week, but I just put it off to people I know trying to be kind. But twice this weekend I had essentially the same conversations with women cutting fabric for me (at two different stores):
Fabric Lady: So, when are you due?
Me: Oh, in about two weeks.
FL: (Eyes bulging out of head) REALLY? You must be carrying a tiny baby in there!
Me: Not if history is any indication. I tend to have nine pound babies.
FL: Well, you’re all baby, then. You look great. (The second one even told me at this point that I must not have any fluid in with the kid.)
Honestly, even after hearing this a couple of times, I was skeptical. After all, Sean told me over a month ago that I was as big as I ever was at the end of my other pregnancies, so I should be done growing (right?). I certainly don’t feel small. So, I decided to go for a dose of reality.
I walked next door and told my mother (aka: Miss Mary Sunshine–the woman who, when I told her that the baby suddenly felt way lower and I was getting braxton hicks contractions, assured me that it meant nothing and I would still be overdue since that’s how it always turned out for her) about the conversations and asked if I really did look small. She told me I could pass for 7 1/2 months.
Of course, last night (less than 48 hours later) she made a comment about how I just suddenly look ready to pop, so who the heck really knows?
So, here I sit, fat and
unhappy, with a whole list of things to sew. I have already made the spit rags (admittedly, an easy one to knock off). I have bought my fabric for everything else, and just need to start cutting (my absolute least favorite part of the sewing process). C’s teddy bear is going to end up being striped, which isn’t what I was going for, but I just couldn’t find any other faux fur that even began to feel as soft as this stuff does. Plus, almost everything else I looked at was made of acrylic, and I don’t know how well acrylic would microwave (and I somehow doubt that the fabric store ladies could answer that one for me–they’d probably think I was a little loopy if I asked). And I love the fabrics I got for the baby’s blanket–fleece, flannel, chenille, satin, and two different patterns of Oh So Soft (I’m all about the textures) in yellow, green, blue, white, and tropical monkey print. It should be really cute. I just need to decide how I want to finish the edges–I love the look and feel of blanket binding but, boy, do I ever hate trying to sew it on.
Well, that’s the news from Lake Wobegone (or, if my sister is to be believed, Cooterville). They are calling for a massive winter storm here tonight–possibly up to eight inches of snow and ice. What do you think, is this my night?