It’s technically been two years in the making. Two years plus. But who’s counting? Certainly not one loudmouth eight year old who has reminded me very loudly that I have not finished her pink ocean quilt. Two years since we sat down together and chose the fabric and the pattern. Two years since we special ordered yards and yards of dark and light pink fabrics with teeny octopuses and seahorses.
Maybe it was three years. If this post were a hashtag, it would be #badpromisebreakinglousytoochickentoquiltmom.
If I ever see another teeny pink triangle (Hey there, unintentional Weezer reference!) again I’ll barf. Swear.
I busted my rear to finish it by Christmas this year. Many, many nights were spent with a good drink by the sewing machine until the wee hours…or in a few ill-fated evenings, until the sun came back up.
After those all-nighters I took some naproxen and rested my sewing hand. Those shears HURT, people. And I’m not twenty-one anymore.
I also feel like I need to add an asterisk to my quilt. Maybe two asterisks, since 1) It’s not a quilt, technically it’s a duvet. I had this idea that it would be more washable and easier than a real quilt. The joke’s on me there. 2) I did not do any of this by hand. Not one blasted stitch. Is it still a quilt if you don’t sew it by hand with one of those wooden circle frames? Is it still a quilt if you shove the pieces through a Brother sewing machine as fast as they will go? And is it still a quilt if you’ve stuffed inside a JC Penney down comforter and have rechristened it a duvet?
Whatever. I’m calling it a quilt anyway.
But I did not finish it by Christmas. And it broke my heart. So I wrapped up the patchwork top in an old Amazon.com shipping box and defended myself very loudly when she opened it Christmas morning.
She did not seem overjoyed, and I tried to be okay with that.
All of a sudden–after two years plus–this quilt suddenly became very important to me. It was important that I finish the promise, that I for once in my life complete something I started. And I did. A little late, but there it is. It’s on the bed, a little misshapen and with crooked stitches, but it’s there. Finished and fulfilled at 2:30 in the morning a week and a half after Christmas.
She better love the crap out of it.