I’m almost finished a sewing project and I’m happy to report that in spite of an imperfect zipper, and a hem that refuses to cooperate, it has been going quite well.
In spite of the minor glitches, and the fact that I haven’t sewn for a year (and had to reintroduce myself to Mr. Singer) I have managed to limit my frustration to a bit of teeth gnashing and subdued muttering. In other words, I have coped with these challenges like a grown up.
It was not always so, and my husband was the one who pointed it out. He came into the dining room where I had colonized the table top with my sewing supplies, and asked “How come you’re not swearing? Aren’t you supposed to be throwing scissors right about now?” He knows me as an “emotional” sewer. He remembers his pregnant wife, the sewing induced temper tantrum, and the subsequent drive to the maternity hospital.
But not today.
Is this competent, adult behaviour the result of my having time to proceed slowly and deliberately, and even take a break when the sewing gets tough? Perhaps I am becoming a bit more sanguine and more forgiving of myself as an older seamstress? (This is all sounding like a page from Jane Fonda if she wrote about sewing.)
I think it also helps to have a really easy pattern.