A bunting fit for a kitten

Kat is one of my closest friends. We met through work back in '06 and have been close ever since. We don't get to see each other much these days - I left that workplace 2 years ago, we live a fair distance apart, and our lives are so different now - but I still adore her and think about her every day.

On Christmas Eve last year I was sullenly sitting alone on the sofa, the kids having gone to bed early lest they delay Santa's arrival by being up too late. I'd received our presents from Kat in the mail and wanted to save them for the following day, but curiosity got the better of me and I decided to open the card. Along with the usual wishes for Christmas and the New Year was the surprising news that she was five months pregnant with her second child, this one a girl (her son was born early 2012). It was news I was wholly unprepared for. 

I so want another baby. It's not just a desire in the way I think "I want another cat": every fibre of my being aches for another baby, and it's not likely I will get it. I know I have two beautiful children and I am grateful to have them, but it doesn't make that feeling any less intense. So when I suddenly found out my friend is having another baby, I did the only thing I could: I cried. Loudly and intensely, for hours. Not, you understand, because I don't want Kat to have another baby. Of course I do. For some reason her news made my situation - irreconcilably split from my husband, and unlikely to find another relationship before my ovaries shrivel and die - suddenly very real. The baby that I ache for will never be, and now I have to watch my friends bringing baby after baby into their full and happy lives and pretend that I'm really happy for them when in reality all I can feel is sorry for myself.

Now that I've had a few months (and a couple of hundred anti-depressant pills) to get used to the idea, I am excited for her and can't wait to meet her little Kitten. Honestly, with a name like Kat, what else am I going to call her foetus? And being a crazy cat lady myself (I have 6), everything I have bought for the Kitten is cat-related: a beautiful t-shirt, a knitted toy, a teether, plus a few other bits and pieces. Auntie Viv is going to make sure the Kitten lives up to her (nick)name! 

Kat knows of my new-found love of sewing and I promised to make the Kitten something special. I would describe my sewing skills as adequate at best, so it will have to be something simple. I intend to make a receiving blanket for her using some cute kitten fabric I found on Etsy, but I wanted to make something to help decorate her room.

{ Courtesy of MADE. }

One of the earliest tutorials I looked at online last year when I first caught the sewing bug was one for scalloped baby bunting, and it featured this photo >>>

Bunting are ridiculously easy to make - even I could see that - but what a beautiful addition it makes to that plain hospital bassinet. When I saw it the ever-hopeful little voice in the back of my mind said, "Oooh I can make that when/if I have Child 3!" but instead I decided to make one for the Kitten. 

Not having any creativity of my own, I agonised over what colours to make it. I asked Kat to give me some idea of the colours she would be using to decorate the bedroom but she wouldn't let on, merely saying that whatever I choose would be perfect.

Eventually I decided on three prints from Heather Bailey's FreshCut collection, some pink dots from Riley Blake, and a Pat Bravo solid (possibly Crystal Pink, but I can't be sure) and made a 10 scallop line of bunting.

{ The Kitten bunting on Child 1's wall. }

Now I just have to organise a time when we're both free so I can meet up with her and pass it on before the Kitten makes her way into the world.

{ Probably should have ironed it before I hung it... }

In the end I made two, as I stuffed the seam allowance on my first attempt and unpicking the thread left noticeable holes in one of the scallops. So Child 1 got to keep the 'practice' line, and the Kitten gets the purrfect one. I hope she loves it as much as I do.

If I were a Minibeast

Two weeks ago, Child 1 needed another costume for another class assembly performance. It's the first term of grade 1 and the theme is Minibeasts - the little creepy crawlies that live in your garden: spiders, ants, stick insects, beetles, butterflies, and many more. With a defeated sigh worthy of Kif from Futurama, I stressed over what Child 1 would be, and where the costume would come from.

I'm a single mother of two children. I work part time, but most of my income is from benefits. I don't have spare cash to spend on frivolous costumes that will be worn for half an hour. What would be easy without being expensive? I was tempted to wrap her in a brown sheet and say she was a caterpillar in a cocoon, or maybe a dodgy worm, but being a girl she naturally wanted to be something 'pretty'. I wanted to choose something I could sew, but I wasn't going to invest the hours I put into those damn wings, and if possible I wanted something I could alter easily to reuse later if needed. Not asking much, really.

Then it came to me: a Red Riding Hood..hood..with some black spots basted on for easy removal later. Paired with black leggings and a black top and - voilà! - a simple ladybird.

I used this free pattern courtesy of Fleece Fun, and over a couple of hours (distracted by the tv) I came up with this:

{ Yes, that's Tinker Bell peeking out from behind it. }

Made entirely of fleece (apart from the ribbon), and cost about $10 all up. Marvellous.

Considering I'm crap at sewing, it was pretty easy. The most difficult part was figuring out which way to attach the hood and getting it to sit properly when sewn. Needless to say, mine didn't sit quite right. And the ribbons were badly attached. But, like the wings, no one was going to look too closely, so who cares? I may just make that my motto: Who Cares?

And, of course, Child 1 was happy. Out of the 9(!) other ladybirds in her class, she was easily the best :P

Over in the jungle where I just caught a glance, of a pretty purple parrot doing a dance...

Back in September last year, Child 1 needed a costume for a school assembly. Her class were studying animals that term and were performing two songs, one about jungle animals and one about meadow animals, for the rest of the primary kids.

The teacher paired up all the kids and assigned them their animals. Other kids got to be snakes, cows, bees, chickens, spiders, frogs, and the like: all animals that are readily available in stores in costumes and onesie dress-ups. Child 1 was a purple parrot. A purple sodding parrot. So while all the other parents went to Kmart and Toys R Us, I had to put a little more thought into it.

Still high (i.e. deluded) from my curtain success, I searched Google for some costume ideas and found a tutorial on Llevo el Invierno for owl wings. A bit of a tweak in the sizing, a lot of cutting, pining (stabbing, bleeding, and swearing), and endless sewing of rows and rows of 'feathers'.....

{ Pin and sew...pin and sew...pin and sew... }

{ Almost there, just bias binding to go. }

{ Ready for showtime! }

...and we had some purple wings!

It was so dodgy, but Child 1 loved them. I even got a few positive comments from other parents, which was nice.

Not bad for a first try?

Intro

Last year I split from my husband. I took our kids and moved into a 25+ year old house that had hideous 80s pink curtains. Those curtains had to go, but curtains are expensive and my bank balance couldn't afford them. I ended up finding amazing curtains in Costco. They were just what I wanted - natural colours, 100% blockout, and a really good price. Of course they ended up being a nightmare. They hung with tiny hooks that kept falling off the rail, they were way too long, and I couldn't get the gathering even which drove me nuts. There was nothing for it but to find the sewing machine I'd bought back in '09 (which had only seen the light of day once when my mother borrow it) and fix the damn things. 

I had no idea how to sew, but those curtains weren't going to beat me. Maybe they'll hang better after they've been shortened? So I shortened them. Twice. I broke a needle (I didn't even know that could happen), and my cheap thread broke several times. They still didn't hang right. So I bought some pleating hook tape, attached it, and inserted all the new long hooks. I hung them again...and I swear I heard angels start to sing. It worked. They hung like real, well-behaved curtains. And I did it all by myself with my sewing machine.

As much of a pain in the arse as those curtains were, they were a blessing in disguise. I'd done a bit if sewing in high school but never liked it much, and only bought a machine a few years ago at my mother's bidding ("You'll be able to fix things yourself instead of waiting for me to do it."). But I never really had the confidence to use it. If the stitching isn't perfectly straight it will be crap. If I know I can't do things "perfectly" I'm reluctant to try. Fixing the curtains made me realise sewing wasn't that hard, and it didn't really matter if the stitching wasn't "perfect" because no one was going to look that close. And suddenly, I really wanted to sew.

I started reading online tutorials and saving all the wonderful things I wanted to make to Pinterest. I bought sewing paraphernalia - self-healing mat, rulers, rotary cutter, good-quality threads, quilt wadding, needles, ribbons, hoops, clips, scissors, stuffing, lots and lots of fabric - and embarked on the long journey of teaching myself to sew.

I don't get to sew very often: I have two young children (Child 1, who is in her second year of primary school, and Child 2, who is in his second year of life) and concentration can be hard when they are around. As I don't have a permanent sewing space, sewing involves taking over the dining table and much of the adjacent kitchen bench. I could do it at night when they are in bed, but all I tend to achieve after 7:30 at night is a lot of mistakes. So my fleeting moments of sewing are restricted to a couple of days a month - a Sunday here, a Saturday there; the kids stay with the dad on weekends, but I also go to work then, too. It's not a lot of time, but I love every minute of it (except when I'm jabbing myself with pins...that part sucks).

So that is why I decided to start a blog. To muse about what I would like to make, and to document what I do make. I read a few sewing blogs and the women who write them are just amazing; I want my work to be like their's. My work isn't amazing, my life isn't exciting or interesting, and I literally have no social life. I often have trouble stringing a simple sentence together and probably no one will ever read this. But maybe by writing this blog, I can help myself - intellectually, creatively, socially - to grow. Maybe.