So some friends of mine just had a baby. Actually a lot of my friends are having babies, and this is sort of scary to me, but! this is not a blog about my fear of pregnancy, it’s a blog about my fear of sewing!
These friends of mine had their baby baptized on Sunday. My grandma, upon finding this out, insisted on going shopping with me so we could find a little gift for their son. After some time scouring the nearest Christian Bookstore, we found this little guy:
Yes, it’s a bear in a christening/baptism gown. I fell in love with this bear just as promptly as I christened him Bartholomew. We purchased said bear and took it home, and the story might have ended there if not for my penchant for Extreme Creativity(TM)! In a moment of insanity, I thought to myself “Wouldn’t it be so cute to make little boxing gloves for this guy?” Oh, did I mention that the father of said baby is a boxer? Well, he is. Anyway, the answer to the question “Wouldn’t it be so cute?” is “Yes, yes it would.”With that in mind, I got home and immediately* got out my sewing supplies. I don’t have any blue fabric, so I cannibalized a Rocky costume and came up with about a half a yard of blue ribbon.
I began by picking out the seams that were holding his little arms together. Then I stared at Bartholomew, fear and doubt warring for dominion over my soul as I realized I had no idea how to make boxing gloves for anyone, let alone a tiny stuffed bear. Bartholomew stared back at me, expression full of mocking.
What follows are some pictures of my work on this particular project (and also my fabulous nail polish, which is now chipped and cracking but was at the time still pretty spectacular):
Not pictured is the lake of tears I wept, nor the garments I rent in frustration.
Finally, FINALLY, I finished:
You might have to squint a little, but I think that with the proper application of imagination you can see that they are in fact boxing gloves. Anyway, it’s the thought that counts.
The parents should have been given this yesterday. I hope they like it. If not, I hope they pretend to like it. Hey, I’m not proud. Pity is better than nothing.
*by which I mean “after three or four hours spent browsing the interwebs