It's the whirring of the machine, the sound of the fabric scissors cutting through fabric, the sight of the green quick unpick, the bright coloured pins, the multi-coloured bobbins and the bits of the fraying fabric lying all over the living room It all conjured up memories of being a teenager when my mum was busy making something magical.
I haven't used a sewing machine for nigh on 20 years, however it all came back in a matter of seconds. The senses become flooded with those stored away childhood moments, ones I hadn't accessed in years
I recall being encouraged to try things out, new material, new stitches, but always with the eagle eyes and clear direction from my mum. Fond memories. Shame I didn't realise how special it was at the time.
And today it was my turn to be that parent. Nuturing and teaching. Holding the space but ensuring safety and confidence.
My 8 year old has been begging to use the sewing machine so with the eldest out at a theme park, today was the day.
We got out all the tools, lots of thread and any old material. We started early.
Her ambition was scary. It was not about doing a pillow case or a scarf, she wanted to design and then make a handbag with a bottom and sides with applique shapes on the front.
I was torn between letting her make her own experience and giving her strong guidance on what works and what doesn't, yet I was keen not to quash any enthusiam through rules and frustration.
It was a wonderful day, with lots of excitement, enthusiam and suprisingly little frustration.
I was left in awe of her talent and ambition and very keen to see how this all transpires.
Thanks mum for all the teaching, I hope I have passed on the love of the craft to the next generation!
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