If I had to name the one thing most I miss about my life post baby, it would be the time I used to spend cross stitching. My Sunday morning routine used to consist of a pot of coffee, news shows, and sewing for a few hours. Now I'm lucky to finish a single cup of coffee before it gets cold, cartoons have trumped my news shows, and cross stitching is a feat comparable to climbing Mount Everest.
It really is the oddest of hobbies for me. Sometimes I still can't believe how much I truly enjoy it. I never expected to, not in a million years.
Cross stitching involves a needle and thread. That simple fact should've been enough to deter me. Sewing is not my cup of tea. The first day of eighth grade, when I realized protocol automatically signed me up for home economics, I marched right to the principal's office (along with three other girls) and switched classes. Metal shop for half the year; wood shop for the other. How dare they assume that we would want to learn to cook and sew just because we're girls...
Cross stitching is crafty. As in artsy-crafty. As in not me at all. I'm not the crafty, creative type. Also in eighth grade (damn, that was a rough year for me) my art teacher bluntly told me that my salt ceramic bunny was the ugliest rabbit she'd ever seen. I can't draw. I hate anything that involves glue, tape, or cutting straight. Hell, at thirty-seven years old, I still don't stay in the lines when I color with Punky.
Cross stitching takes time and patience. Let's just say patience never made my top ten list of shining qualities. I'm not sure it even made the list at any number. Normally I have none. Not an ounce. And cross stitching requires a great deal. Maybe it helped prepare me for life with Punky because I've also been able to muster up the patience required to be a mama. Most of the time...
About fifteen years ago, someone I worked with suggested I try cross stitching as a way to relax and de-stress. I just laughed. Apparently it was something she really enjoyed and she was one of those people who wouldn't let it go until I tried it. So, I tried it...fully prepared to report how much I hated it and get her off my back.
Strange thing happened. I didn't hate it. I actually kind of enjoyed it myself. It was tedious. Monotonous. Frustrating at times. Finishing a single project would take forever. Yet it was weirdly relaxing. Almost trance inducing. It seemed to provide a steady beat...like a rhythm pulsing in the background...that actually helped me sort out my thoughts. Put life in order. Restore a balance in the chaos. Incredibly odd indeed. I still haven't figured it out exactly.
Anyway, through the years I got used to spending a few hours a week, usually Sunday mornings, de-stressing with my cross stitch. And I even managed to finish several projects and felt a sense of pride and accomplishment with each one.
When my nephew was born almost five years ago, I made him a cross stitch birth record. A personal gift for my godson that he'd have forever. Then my sister got pregnant again. And I was going to have a beautiful goddaughter as well. Can't play favorites...I needed to get stitching.
A few months would’ve been enough time to finish one under normal circumstances. But I had one new factor in my life: Punky. I finished my last cross stitch project about a month before Punky was born and hadn’t touched it since. I did miss it and was really looking forward to getting back into the habit. Making a birth record for my niece was the perfect opportunity.
Sitting and sewing for hours on end is no longer an option. Even during her naptime on the weekends, I have other stuff to do. Stuff that needs to be done. And by the time she gets to sleep at night, my eyes are too tired to focus on those tiny little stitches.
I started my niece’s birth record in December, before we even knew it was a girl. I took it to the hospital with me so I could work on it in peace while my sister was in labor. Anyone who read that story knows how that went. I only got to work on it about an hour.
I tried to step it up after her birth. I had visions of finishing it about the time she entered junior high if I kept at the previous pace. I snuck every free minute I could and set my sights on finishing it in time for her christening.
These last two weeks were rough. I was hell bent and determined to finish in time. I relied on Elmo videos to amuse Punky for a bit in the evening so I could work on it. I stayed up late every night. I even took it to work to sneak in forty-five minutes of stitching on my lunch hour.
The christening is tomorrow. I finished about an hour ago. Of course I still need to iron it, buy a frame, and get it in there straight. I have that feat penciled in for the two hours between the ceremony at the church and the party in the afternoon. But the stitching is done. It counts.
Although it felt more like work than relaxation as I raced to finish these last few weeks, I’m anxious to start another project. On my time though. My very, very limited time. But the opportunity to de-stress is one I really shouldn’t pass up if I can help it. It may take a few years to finish another one, but it’ll be worth it.
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