It goes too fast

This is K when she was just a little over 18 months back in 2008. Last night, we had dinner at a friend’s house and I watched K and her two buddies play and eat and argue and reconcile and laugh hysterically. She’s known them since birth and nearly 10 years later, they’re still the best of friends. They used to be so small, they all fit snugly in a basket:

I had mentioned in a post a while back that I wish I had a photo of the very first top that I sewed for her, and I found it while I was browsing through my forgotten Flickr account this weekend:

I called it the “Girl, Interrupted” top because it bears a striking resemblance to a hospital gown, of the sort worn in a psychiatric ward. It was, to be quite frank, an eyesore.

I self-drafted the whole thing but couldn’t figure out how to sew the back, so I fudged a sort of tie-back design. The concept of coordinating thread was foreign to me and none of the seam allowances were finished — you probably can’t see them very well, but the stitches are helter-skelter.

I loved making it, though. I miss that daring sense of adventure I had, that bring-it-on attitude. I even gathered the sleeves! Now that my sewing skills have improved, I repeatedly find that I’m a lot harder on myself or have this self-imposed need to deliver more complicated or higher quality garments. This need stymies me and I’m tempted to avoid sewing altogether.

And it turns out I’ve been lying about not knitting, because I have evidence of having made K several sweaters. Like this droopy hooded one up there. And this burgundy kimono sweater. How did I forget?

Clearly, she wasn’t all that excited about that burgundy one.

As I observed the pre-teen kids last night, showing early signs of awkward adolescence, I wanted to grab time by the shoulders and command it to stop. Stop. You’re going too fast. 

I don’t see my 9-year-old guffaw with abandon as much; she’s so much more aware of how others are perceiving her.

I often bypass capturing hilarious moments of sweetness now that I get so caught up in my to-do lists (or even worse: checking how other people are capturing hilariously sweet moments on social media).

It’s not just time I need to tell to stop. I want to pause, to pay attention. I want to take in the good, the bad, the ugly, the miraculous. Because 10 years — it’s a blip. I went through hundreds of baby photos in my Flickr account and the memories! Carting her around in every baby carrier known to man all over Seattle, teaching her the alphabet, scrubbing her bottom in that behemoth plastic contraption I fitted into our tub each night. If I’m not careful, I’ll forget to be curious, to be willing to experiment, to savor the fleetingness of it all. Note to self: be careful.

P.S. The Indigo prints giveaway winners are Manda, Eva and Katharina. Congrats! I ordered quite a few of the teas recommended, and I’m excited the try them out!