Ruffles and responsibility.

Recently I completed my first knitted garment for a swap.

Kelly made my daughter a gorgeous elf coat as a swap for an Oriental Lily tunic for her daughter.

In my life BC (before children), I was a perfectionist and a worrier.

(Yes, you can read that as me saying that I was anal)

I have learnt to let a lot of things go since becoming a mum.

Nothing like the pain of childbirth and its after effects,

permanent banana and milk vomit stains on seemingly every item of clothing in the house
and a chronic lack of personal time and sleep to put most things into perspective.

I still am fussy with regard to some things.

One is my sewing standards

and, as I get better, my knitting.

I have many years of sewing experience

and happily sew for myself, my family and close friends.

But those gifted seams are damn well straight
and those ruffles headed off to a new home are very, very even.

Yet while I might happily sign up for swaps

and every other day think about selling,

I then stress no end about producing something decent.
Well, perfect.

I have certainly lurked in the darker corners of market stalls

to check out the standard of products made

and I am honestly surprised as to what some people will put up for sale.

But perhaps we crafty people are our own worse critics.

A dear friend whose daughters are always gifted clothing that I have custom made
openly admits that she has no crafty bones in her body

and that she would have no idea about the quality of the fabric used
or the standard of my sewing.

I always joke a little that I decided not to do medicine at university

because I couldn't handle the responsibility of people's lives.

(Heck knows that the pressure of being responsible for people's dear pets' lives
was more than enough for me)

Given that I can lie awake at night worrying
that maybe there was a teensy pucker in a flared skirt destined as a present,
it was probably a wise decision.