Where I Get My Crafting Mojo!

For as long as I can remember, my mom made everything she could for us.  Not only did she cook from scratch, but she sewed all of my clothes when I was little.  She made all of our curtains and bedspreads.  My mom would stay up late at night to make doll clothes and other items for me for Christmas. She used to sew them or knit them! This picture was from October 1969 taken in our house in Baldwinville, Massachusetts.  Her record player can be seen over her right shoulder. In my quest to be just like my mom, I received my very first sewing machine in December of 1969.  I am 8 years old here. Try as I might, I never could master sewing like my mom! Of course all of her sewing caused her to have Carpal Tunnel issues and subsequent surgies over the years in both wrists.  I never heard her complain though that the sewing and crafting was not worth it.

With AD, one can look backwards and pinpoint some flags that maybe were signs that something was amiss. When my mom could not longer thread her sewing machine, have the patience to sew her plastic canvas crafts, or follow her crochet patterns, it may have been the disease starting to appear.  Easy to say now but as I think back I wonder. She and I used to sit for hours and either crochet, knit, or make plastic canvas projects.  When she no longer could do that, I really started to think something was not quite right but having had no experience with AD at that time, I thought that it was just a phase.

At the time of my First Communion, I was less than happy that my mom made my dress AND my coat! We didn't have the money to buy new items and sewing was much cheaper.

Today I realize how much love she had for me to make these for me so that I would have beautiful clothes.  I hope she knows how much I really do appreciate all she has done over the years for me.

My mom now doesn't really interact with me much when I visit. I would often leave and cry all the way home in my car.  Then 'suck it up' once I got home and continue on with my day.  However, recently I started packing my crocheting in my car to bring with me when I visit.  I get a cup of coffee from the lobby and take it wiht me and sit with my mom at a table and pretend we are in her kitchen.  I crochet and drink my coffee and talk to my mom, whether or not she seems to know what I am saying or not.  I tell her about my kids and grandkids and David.  I show her my crocheting.  I drink my coffee.

I do still cry in my car on the way home but it seems like it isn't as much or for as long.