It is no secret that I love my sewing machine and overlocker. My first ever blog here was about my love affair with my sewing machine. The poor thing gets an absolute hammering and never lets me down.
Well.....until now.
It has been making a weird noise that I know is just because it needs a little tinkering and a bit of a break from me. Every couple needs some time apart sometimes, right?
So it was with a heavy heart that I packed it lovingly back in to its original box (I am one of those sad people that keeps all of the foam packing and packs it back exactly the same way it came to take it anywhere. Yet, there are a pair of dirty shorts on the floor of my laundry that I have managed to ignore and step over every single time I need to use the loo for the last week. I am the weirdest mix of fastidious and slovenly....but that's a story for another day.
I also packed up my overlocker. I don't know why, but I don't feel as maternal towards my overlocker. It seems so capable - like it doesn't need me to look after it as much. Maybe it's the blade? It's got it's own weapon - it's fine! They were loaded in the back of the car and driven to their maker - the Janome shop.
I handed them over and was told by the lady they would be ready in 7-10 days. My son was with me and has cottoned on to the fact that there is a Toy World in the same row of shops so I was being dragged there by a persistant 2 year old.
It wasn't until I got in the car to drive home that I really thought about what she said.
S-E-V-E-N to T-E-N DAYS!?!?!?!
Is she mental?!?
Didn't she see the way she had to prise the boxes from my hands?
Seven to 10 DAYS???????? Not minutes? Even hours I could manage but DAYS?!?!
WHY had I agreed to this? What possesed me to think this was ok??
Once I arrived home, I couldn't settle. Everything was annoying me. Luckily Mr Yumminess was home so he hustled Master Yumminess out for some nude paddle pooling (just Master was in the nude - we totally have Wilson from Home Improvement as a neighbour - those eyes would have bugging out had Mr Y been taking party in the nudie pooling!) while I listlessly dragged myself around the house.
Soon it was time for Master Y's lunch sleep time. I was about to read him his story when I was struck by an all encompasing urge.
I had to go back and get my machines.
I can't go for 7-10 days. That is absolutely ridiculous. Who do they think they ARE keeping my machine HOSTAGE for 7-10 days?!
(I'm not kidding you - I was really being this dramatic inside my head)
I marched outside to see Mr Yumminess, who was up on the roof doing something manly.
"Honey! I think I have to go back and get my machines!"
He paused mid nail gun firing...."What?!"
"I HAVE to go back and GET MY MACHINES! They said it will take seven to ten days!!!"
And I kid you not, this is why I love that man....he actually looked horrified and said "Oh no, you can't have that!" and he was deadly serious. This is a man who if you try to speak about feeling turns in to a robot with a stiff neck who can't look you in the eye - but my god, the man is a tradie - he gets my love of my tools.
Seriously, the theme from Chariots of Fire started playing....I hand-balled the book reading to Mr Y, I grabbed my keys and I jumped in my car to make the dash back to the shop. They closed at 2pm - it was 1.15pm - it was a half an hour trip. I HAD to make it - tomorrow was Sunday....I couldn't wait - I wouldn't wait!!! Who CARED that my machine had been making a weird noise? We would overcome it together!!!
About 4 metres down the road, some common sense kicked in and I thought to call them. I'd better let them know what I thought of their dastardly plan and that was coming to break my babies free!
The lady answered and I started talking (in what I recognise now as a maniacal way)....she cut me off and said pleasantly.
"Oh, we can have them done by Monday afternoon - you just have to pay an extra $20. Didn't we tell you that when you dropped them off?"
*ahem*
I was back in time to kiss my boy before he went to sleep.
Somewhat sheepishly.
I LOVE them, ok??!?!
Saturday, 12 November 2011
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
A sugar.....low?!
Every Friday night we have junk food night. I looooove junk food night - not only do I not have to cook but very unfashionably - I LOVE junk food. The evening in question was KFC night.
I will not go in to details but I will not be eatng KFC for a verrrry long time.
If ever.
Needless to say, after a night of vomiting, I was in a bad way the next morning. Mr Yumminess had to work so it was me and Alby at home. He was playing happily so I snuck off to bed and had a bit of a snooze.
Big mistake.
Huge.
Can I just remind you of the expression my child wears about 99% of the time??
So there I am snoozing and in comes my angel.
"Mummy?" he whispers "Cook you eggs."
I peel open an eye to see him holding an egg carton.
"Ohhh how sweet...", I think, as he hands them to me, "...even if the thought of eggs is enough to send me over the edge again."
Something sprinkles out of the carton.
It is then that I look at his face. Which is covered in fine white granules. Sugar.
That's when I look at the floor - my eyes following a trail of sugar leading out of my bedroom.
Oh god.
I get out of bed and crawl....yes crawl because I am still feeling so ill and lightheaded that I can't walk, out of the room....following my very own white brick road through the kitchen and in to the playroom where I find a whole 2kg container of caster sugar upended and mixed with ALL of his toys!!!!!
"Yay?" he tries.
"Not yay" says me.
I get myself to the laundry (after much head holding and head shaking and a fair bit of tutting), get the vaccum and start the cleanup - all of this is achieved without standing up for fear of fainting. It's funny now - at the time, not so much.
No one told me that you can't suck that much sugar up all at once.
In fact, I didn't find that out until the fire alarm went off and I realised that the sugar was not only spontaneously combusting inside the vaccum cleaner but it was coming out the back of the vaccum in a FINE WHITE SUGARY MIST! Conveniently covering the entire kitchen in a sticky dust.
So I did what any self respecting Mum would do.
I went and laid back down in bed.
Couldn't get any worse now, could it?
I will not go in to details but I will not be eatng KFC for a verrrry long time.
If ever.
Needless to say, after a night of vomiting, I was in a bad way the next morning. Mr Yumminess had to work so it was me and Alby at home. He was playing happily so I snuck off to bed and had a bit of a snooze.
Big mistake.
Huge.
Can I just remind you of the expression my child wears about 99% of the time??
So there I am snoozing and in comes my angel.
"Mummy?" he whispers "Cook you eggs."
I peel open an eye to see him holding an egg carton.
"Ohhh how sweet...", I think, as he hands them to me, "...even if the thought of eggs is enough to send me over the edge again."
Something sprinkles out of the carton.
It is then that I look at his face. Which is covered in fine white granules. Sugar.
That's when I look at the floor - my eyes following a trail of sugar leading out of my bedroom.
Oh god.
I get out of bed and crawl....yes crawl because I am still feeling so ill and lightheaded that I can't walk, out of the room....following my very own white brick road through the kitchen and in to the playroom where I find a whole 2kg container of caster sugar upended and mixed with ALL of his toys!!!!!
"Yay?" he tries.
"Not yay" says me.
I get myself to the laundry (after much head holding and head shaking and a fair bit of tutting), get the vaccum and start the cleanup - all of this is achieved without standing up for fear of fainting. It's funny now - at the time, not so much.
No one told me that you can't suck that much sugar up all at once.
In fact, I didn't find that out until the fire alarm went off and I realised that the sugar was not only spontaneously combusting inside the vaccum cleaner but it was coming out the back of the vaccum in a FINE WHITE SUGARY MIST! Conveniently covering the entire kitchen in a sticky dust.
So I did what any self respecting Mum would do.
I went and laid back down in bed.
Couldn't get any worse now, could it?
Saturday, 3 September 2011
In the new house!
So Mr Yumminess and I bought a new house without seeing the whole thing. Yup.....that's right. One might call us impulsive, others might call us crazy....who cares, as long as they call us! Boom boom ching!
*Ahem*
So basically, I saw this.....
And passed out on the carpet from excitement!
We are finally now able to see the house properly and thankfully, we don't regret it. We think it was built in around about the 1950's with lashings of charm. Lashings! I sound like Enid Blyton!
I'm going to be a completely different person in this house! The sort of person who has moulded cornices! I'll be one of those people who picks up bargains at flea markets, restores them to their glory and then nonchalantly matches eclectic nic naks to them.
I'll be one of those people who will have a fire every night. Even when it's 40 degrees. Because I can!
I'll wear one of those 50's pinnies and cook at the stove with no shoes on! I'll wear those cool headbands like Sadie the Cleaning lady does!
In my current house, I have 4 cupboards in the kitchen. Yes.....FOUR! In the new place I have like, 200 or so.
Not really - but damn it feels like it!
In the new house I'm going to be one of those people who has everything labelled in Tupperware containers. I'm going to start having dinner parties! I'm going to tastefully renovate the kitchen using only secondhand re purposed timber, lovingly sanding it back by hand and sealing it with high gloss lacquer. I'll be one of those people who never gets impatient and touches the paint before it dries or who buys a flat pak kitchen from IKEA. I won't ever get distracted by my......
SEWING ROOM!
It's dinky, it's dirty, it's dank and it's delightfully ALL MINE! I have big plans for you my little space!
Oh hang on - other way around.
Did I tell you that Mr Yumminess is in the flooring biz? Very handy at times like this! For anyone who knows anything about timber flooring - he has to punch EVERY. SINGLE. NAIL.
In the whole house.
I offered to help and he laughed.
I was offended.
Until I saw what it actually entailed.
And then I rejoiced.
Then I felt bad because he had to do it.
Then I was excited because I was dispatched to Spotlight to get blinds.
First (and I dare say last) time I have ever been to Spotters without buying fabric but my child was maiming various people with a plastic stick he got somehow and then pulled the whole display of stapler thingys over.
His punishment....
And this is us......happily ever after....
*Ahem*
So basically, I saw this.....
And passed out on the carpet from excitement!
We are finally now able to see the house properly and thankfully, we don't regret it. We think it was built in around about the 1950's with lashings of charm. Lashings! I sound like Enid Blyton!
I'm going to be a completely different person in this house! The sort of person who has moulded cornices! I'll be one of those people who picks up bargains at flea markets, restores them to their glory and then nonchalantly matches eclectic nic naks to them.
I'll be one of those people who will have a fire every night. Even when it's 40 degrees. Because I can!
I'll wear one of those 50's pinnies and cook at the stove with no shoes on! I'll wear those cool headbands like Sadie the Cleaning lady does!
Incidentally - how freaking COOL is this cooking area? These tiles literally make me swoon...
Mr Yumminess doesn't like them.
He is a looper.
Alby thinks all his Christmases have come at once :)
In my current house, I have 4 cupboards in the kitchen. Yes.....FOUR! In the new place I have like, 200 or so.
Not really - but damn it feels like it!
In the new house I'm going to be one of those people who has everything labelled in Tupperware containers. I'm going to start having dinner parties! I'm going to tastefully renovate the kitchen using only secondhand re purposed timber, lovingly sanding it back by hand and sealing it with high gloss lacquer. I'll be one of those people who never gets impatient and touches the paint before it dries or who buys a flat pak kitchen from IKEA. I won't ever get distracted by my......
SEWING ROOM!
It's dinky, it's dirty, it's dank and it's delightfully ALL MINE! I have big plans for you my little space!
I ripped these up with my bare hands. Mr Yumminess just stood around giving me unhelpful tips and generally getting in the way.
Did I tell you that Mr Yumminess is in the flooring biz? Very handy at times like this! For anyone who knows anything about timber flooring - he has to punch EVERY. SINGLE. NAIL.
In the whole house.
I offered to help and he laughed.
I was offended.
Until I saw what it actually entailed.
And then I rejoiced.
Then I felt bad because he had to do it.
Then I was excited because I was dispatched to Spotlight to get blinds.
First (and I dare say last) time I have ever been to Spotters without buying fabric but my child was maiming various people with a plastic stick he got somehow and then pulled the whole display of stapler thingys over.
His punishment....
And this is us......happily ever after....
Until we kill each other over various renovation disagreements.
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Manus Fluitis
I think I have the man flu.
No, really.
You know how the phrase "take it like a man" usually denotes someone being brave? I've decided to take it literally. I'm taking my cold "like a man".
Meaning I am laying in bed, whinging that I'm dying. Demanding loudly that things be brought to me and that I can't possibly do ANYTHING.
I'm not normally this sexist. Only when it benefits me. Like when I refuse to take the bin out because it's a man's job. Y' know.
I'm counteracting my manly behaviour by eating these magical healing biscuits. They're made by fairies in a little fairy factory and they kiss each one to give it healing properties. It's true.
If you haven't already seen this video, it's one of my absolute favourites. What can I say? I learnt from the best! Pure gold.....
By the way - it's totally just a cold that I have. But if you tell anyone, I'll sneeze on you.
No, really.
You know how the phrase "take it like a man" usually denotes someone being brave? I've decided to take it literally. I'm taking my cold "like a man".
Meaning I am laying in bed, whinging that I'm dying. Demanding loudly that things be brought to me and that I can't possibly do ANYTHING.
I'm not normally this sexist. Only when it benefits me. Like when I refuse to take the bin out because it's a man's job. Y' know.
I'm counteracting my manly behaviour by eating these magical healing biscuits. They're made by fairies in a little fairy factory and they kiss each one to give it healing properties. It's true.
If you haven't already seen this video, it's one of my absolute favourites. What can I say? I learnt from the best! Pure gold.....
By the way - it's totally just a cold that I have. But if you tell anyone, I'll sneeze on you.
Monday, 22 August 2011
The Naughty Shorts Experience
When the package you find in your PO box has this name as the sender......
.....you almost keel over from excitement.
When you open it up and this is inside......
.....you weep a little. Carefully, so as to not damage your mascara.
You do this to the package......
And feel no remorse.
And then this......
I have never gotten undressed so quickly.
This sight makes me happy...
It's really hard to take photos of yourself in the mirror....
So you take photos with your head chopped off,
just so you can show how well the shoes go with
the prettiness.
See? No head, just so you can see the dress!
You blow Bec the biggest kiss.......
And make sure that everyone knows where to find Naughty Shorts.
Then you start thinking about which Naughty Shorts creation
you are going to get next....
Hang your Naughty Shorts dress where you can see it at all times.
This dress is so beautifully made, with obvious care and love.
It fits me perfectly and is so flattering.
I am in love.
Friday, 5 August 2011
Slave to technology
My handsfree kit in my car has a really handy function. You press a button and then say someone's name and it calls them.
I have to talk to it in an English accent.
Like, a plummy posh accent. If I talk in Ozstraylian it calls "Doctor" instead of "Mum".
I am a slave to technology.
But I kinda like it. The other day, I was listening to one of my Christian O'Connell Breakfast Show podcasts (seriously funny London radio show) and they said that research has shown that people on average check their phone 34 times a day. I guess that means I am above average then! **blows on nails and buffs on shirt**
Actually, hang on, why do we huff on our nails, then polish them on our clothes to show that we've done a good job or are proud of something. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?! I have been doing that my whole life and it only just occurred to me how stupid it is! Does it mean, "Hell yeah, I achieved THAT and I didn't even ruin my manicure"? or "How good was that!?! Now I'm just going to buff my nails for the next time I need to save a child/stop world poverty/remember to clean the lint filter in the dryer before putting on the 1,200th cycle of never ending stupid washing"?
Once again, I am off topic.
I am most definitely a slave to technology. I LOVE it! I'm a gadget girl, through and through. I am sitting at my desk typing on my 24inch Mac desktop, I have my iPhone next to me, my iPod connected to my computer and I can see my iPad in the kitchen. I love checking in, I love being up to date and I love hearing from people. It was probably a natural progression that I have an online business - now I have a legitimate excuse to be glued to the screen!
Surely, I'm not the only one? Actually, I know I'm not - there is this guy....he makes me feel like I'm not alone!
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Oh the humanity!
Conversation between me and the receptionist at the chiro. We were talking about Masterchef.
Her: "Ohhh....what did you think about...."
Me: "Hang on, don't say anything. I've been away for 9 days so I'm catching up on the episodes I've missed. I've taped them all."
Her: "Oh, this was ages ago, you would have seen this already."
Me: "Oooo-k, if you say so."
Her: "What did you think about Hayden being kicked out?"
Long silence.
A tumble weed rolls past.
Me: "I haven't seen that episode yet".
On another note, why does my phone autocorrect the word "bum" to this.....?
What is a B'um? And where do I get my hands on one?
Speaking of bums.....well bummers anyway. My overlocker did a little whoopsie in it's beret (please excuse my awful Frank Spencer from Some Mother's Do Ave Em reference - I've never watched the show yet I feel the need to quote that line on a regular basis. Despite the fact it ended in 1978. And I wasn't born until 1981.)
Sigh.
It's hard being inside my head sometimes.
Anyway, back to the bummer of me being without my overlocker while it gets fixed. **Note to self - don't take sacred machines to be serviced by a man who works in a shed out the back of his house**
I am at a complete loss. I could be cutting things out or doing some prep work but without my overlocker I am hit by the futility of life. And what good is my sewing machine (don't you dare tell her I said this) if I can't finish the edges off?
So instead, I am wasting time on Facey.....and dreaming of the dress that the amazing Bec from Naughty Shorts is making me. It's going to look like this:
And I will wear it with these shoes:
I feel better now! You can find Bec from Naughty Shorts here on Facey, here on etsy and her gorgeous blog here :)
I'm off to watch my Some Mothers Do Ave Em box set.
Her: "Ohhh....what did you think about...."
Me: "Hang on, don't say anything. I've been away for 9 days so I'm catching up on the episodes I've missed. I've taped them all."
Her: "Oh, this was ages ago, you would have seen this already."
Me: "Oooo-k, if you say so."
Her: "What did you think about Hayden being kicked out?"
Long silence.
A tumble weed rolls past.
Me: "I haven't seen that episode yet".
On another note, why does my phone autocorrect the word "bum" to this.....?
What is a B'um? And where do I get my hands on one?
Speaking of bums.....well bummers anyway. My overlocker did a little whoopsie in it's beret (please excuse my awful Frank Spencer from Some Mother's Do Ave Em reference - I've never watched the show yet I feel the need to quote that line on a regular basis. Despite the fact it ended in 1978. And I wasn't born until 1981.)
Sigh.
It's hard being inside my head sometimes.
Anyway, back to the bummer of me being without my overlocker while it gets fixed. **Note to self - don't take sacred machines to be serviced by a man who works in a shed out the back of his house**
I am at a complete loss. I could be cutting things out or doing some prep work but without my overlocker I am hit by the futility of life. And what good is my sewing machine (don't you dare tell her I said this) if I can't finish the edges off?
So instead, I am wasting time on Facey.....and dreaming of the dress that the amazing Bec from Naughty Shorts is making me. It's going to look like this:
But it will be in this fabric:
I feel better now! You can find Bec from Naughty Shorts here on Facey, here on etsy and her gorgeous blog here :)
I'm off to watch my Some Mothers Do Ave Em box set.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
I love mail!
This is what was waiting for me when I got home from 9 days away.
There were bills too but I just chucked them in the bin.
I'm kidding.
I shredded them, then recycled them. C'mon, I'm not that environmentally unaware.
There were bills too but I just chucked them in the bin.
I'm kidding.
I shredded them, then recycled them. C'mon, I'm not that environmentally unaware.
Thursday, 21 July 2011
Spotlight here, Spotlight there
Ok, so I have no self control. Pffft, you say. We could have guessed. That's weird, I think. Why are you talking back to me? This is my blog, just read it and shoosh yourselves! You'll get your chance in the comments section at the end.
I buy lots of my fabric online. But I still love Spotlight because I love to see the fabric in person, to touch it and to hold different fabrics together to make a match. Somehow, every time, I spend far too much money.
This is what happens when I go to Spotters.
First of all, I give myself a little pep talk on the way. I say,
"Now, you don't really NEED any fabric, so we'll just look, ok?".
That's a good plan. I'll definitely stick to that.
"I might touch the fabric, but I won't even get a basket. Just looking, maybe a little touching. But no buying. Good."
I square my shoulders and walk through the door and no, I don't get a basket. No.
I get a trolley.
I swear, I don't even know how it happens. I think it's a throwback from my childhood, and something to do with the fact that I want to put the $2 coin in the slot to release the trolley. No big brother around to claim that right this time!
In I go, guiltily pushing my trolley, skimming past the homewares toward my favourite section. And then I'm there. In Fabric Town. Population: me. And some Nana's.
Instant fabric coma.
I walk. Very. Slowly. Past. All. The. Fabrics.
And then back again.
And again.
I look at them suspiciously....they're definitely winking at me.
And then....I touch one. And it's all over. I'm like a whirling dervish twirling around, flinging fabrics into my trolley, the matching threads, a packet of pins that I want just because they have pink flowery ends, ooh pinking shears...why, hello tape measure with a pig shaped case! Sale table? Don't mind if I do! Buttons? Sure, chuck em in! Wadding? Sure! Never used it before, probably won't ever? Never mind, in it goes.
And then it's all over. I take my ticket and line up to get my fabric cut. Eyeing off the other trolleys around me to see what they've got. At this stage, one of the sweet little Nana's inevitably asks me why I have so many fabrics. At which point I end up either giving them a business card or showing them photos of what I make. Shame? Never heard of it.
The ladies at the counter seem to be trying to take longer than each other to finish their current customers...they wouldn't be trying to avoid me would they? And then my number is called, my fabrics are cut and I'm out the door, my Spotlight card crammed with new points!
I go home, read this tutorial and organise my new fabrics to look like this.
I don't really.
This is what I really do.
Shopping at Spotlight counts as exercise, right?
I buy lots of my fabric online. But I still love Spotlight because I love to see the fabric in person, to touch it and to hold different fabrics together to make a match. Somehow, every time, I spend far too much money.
This is what happens when I go to Spotters.
First of all, I give myself a little pep talk on the way. I say,
"Now, you don't really NEED any fabric, so we'll just look, ok?".
That's a good plan. I'll definitely stick to that.
"I might touch the fabric, but I won't even get a basket. Just looking, maybe a little touching. But no buying. Good."
I square my shoulders and walk through the door and no, I don't get a basket. No.
I get a trolley.
I swear, I don't even know how it happens. I think it's a throwback from my childhood, and something to do with the fact that I want to put the $2 coin in the slot to release the trolley. No big brother around to claim that right this time!
In I go, guiltily pushing my trolley, skimming past the homewares toward my favourite section. And then I'm there. In Fabric Town. Population: me. And some Nana's.
Instant fabric coma.
I walk. Very. Slowly. Past. All. The. Fabrics.
And then back again.
And again.
I look at them suspiciously....they're definitely winking at me.
And then....I touch one. And it's all over. I'm like a whirling dervish twirling around, flinging fabrics into my trolley, the matching threads, a packet of pins that I want just because they have pink flowery ends, ooh pinking shears...why, hello tape measure with a pig shaped case! Sale table? Don't mind if I do! Buttons? Sure, chuck em in! Wadding? Sure! Never used it before, probably won't ever? Never mind, in it goes.
And then it's all over. I take my ticket and line up to get my fabric cut. Eyeing off the other trolleys around me to see what they've got. At this stage, one of the sweet little Nana's inevitably asks me why I have so many fabrics. At which point I end up either giving them a business card or showing them photos of what I make. Shame? Never heard of it.
The ladies at the counter seem to be trying to take longer than each other to finish their current customers...they wouldn't be trying to avoid me would they? And then my number is called, my fabrics are cut and I'm out the door, my Spotlight card crammed with new points!
I go home, read this tutorial and organise my new fabrics to look like this.
I don't really.
This is what I really do.
Shopping at Spotlight counts as exercise, right?
Sunday, 17 July 2011
It's a boy's life
I had a lovely liker on Facey ask me yesterday why I don't make boy's clothes, particularly seeing as I have the perfect model in the shape of my son. A great question, which I feel can be answered with this photo:
My child + food or drink = spillage. He takes after his father who constantly has a collection of smudges on the exact same spot of his tops. It's cute. When it's not on clothes I have made. It's easy to ignore the stains...I just squint and avert my eyes when I hang their clothes up. Also works well for ignorning creases, missing buttons, mismatched socks etc. I can go on. Suzy Homemaker, I am not.
But I digress.
I like to pretend that each bit of Yumminess clothing goes to pink princesses that tiptoe lightly through life, completely smudge free and perfectly presented at all times. They don't miss their mouths and spill milk everywhere. They drink their babychinos with a pinky in the air and nibble the accompanying marshmallow delicately. NOT shove in it their gob and make a grab for the sugar packets on the table, while dragging their sleeves through their eggs. Isn't that right?!
Don't shatter my dreams ladies.
In all seriousness though the reason why I don't make boy's clothes (and by the way - boy's clothes are not ruled out completely at Yumminess HQ, it's just not happening right at this moment) is because quite simply - my life is FILLED with boy stuff. And I love it, I truly do. But after a long day of trucks and hammers, getting to sit down with some seriously feminine fabric and creating something frou frou is what inspires me. And to me, it's so important to remain inspired to keep the Yumminess coming!
Plus, it gives me a chance to support other businesses who do make yummy boy's things, like these amazing businesses....please click on their name to find their site :)
My child + food or drink = spillage. He takes after his father who constantly has a collection of smudges on the exact same spot of his tops. It's cute. When it's not on clothes I have made. It's easy to ignore the stains...I just squint and avert my eyes when I hang their clothes up. Also works well for ignorning creases, missing buttons, mismatched socks etc. I can go on. Suzy Homemaker, I am not.
But I digress.
I like to pretend that each bit of Yumminess clothing goes to pink princesses that tiptoe lightly through life, completely smudge free and perfectly presented at all times. They don't miss their mouths and spill milk everywhere. They drink their babychinos with a pinky in the air and nibble the accompanying marshmallow delicately. NOT shove in it their gob and make a grab for the sugar packets on the table, while dragging their sleeves through their eggs. Isn't that right?!
Don't shatter my dreams ladies.
In all seriousness though the reason why I don't make boy's clothes (and by the way - boy's clothes are not ruled out completely at Yumminess HQ, it's just not happening right at this moment) is because quite simply - my life is FILLED with boy stuff. And I love it, I truly do. But after a long day of trucks and hammers, getting to sit down with some seriously feminine fabric and creating something frou frou is what inspires me. And to me, it's so important to remain inspired to keep the Yumminess coming!
Plus, it gives me a chance to support other businesses who do make yummy boy's things, like these amazing businesses....please click on their name to find their site :)
Little Red Child - Facebook page
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| This is actually Alby's - we love it! :) |
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| We own TWO of these! |
Furious Kingston - Facebook page
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| How can you NOT love this!? |
Boystrous - Website
Boystrous - Facebook page
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| Tractors rock! |
Jonny and Delilah - Facebook page
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| Cute! |
Little Toot Creations - Website
Little Toot Creations - Facebook page
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| My little man in action :) |
Thursday, 14 July 2011
Our little baby bobbins
Soooo......I saw an ad for a TV show about people who are in love with inanimate objects. This woman was touching and kissing, of all things, a wall. Yes, you did read that right, a wall. It was a little disturbing but it got me thinking about what an inanimate object can mean to people. Clearly, there is some underlining psychological issue with the wall lady...but I'm the first to admit that I have kissed my sewing machine before. There, I said it. We're in love and we're running away to Mexico, where we will be joined together in holy haberdashery and live happily ever after with our baby bobbins.
Ok, I'm being silly (apart from the kissing the machine, that bit is true) but my point is that I never knew that using a machine would bring me so much joy. The thought of sitting at my machine after a long day and creating something from scratch makes my heart sing.
The first time I sat down in front of a machine was in November last year. I come from a long line of seamstresses, I remember in school holidays joining my Mum in the TAFE workroom while she studied fashion design and also playing with the (tailored!) barbie clothes that she and my Aunties made when they were little girls. My Aunty is a very in demand pattern maker who can look at a photo of an outfit and make a pattern from it - her talent is incredible. My Mum used to make us fake Mambo and Billabong clothes (actually, is that illegal? I'll have to delete that bit if the cops read this) and my god did I rock the gumnut baby jumper she made me - complete with actual gumnuts that had been drilled and attached to the jumper. My point is, that I have grown up being surrounded by handmade and it still surprises me now that it has taken me this long to discover it myself.
It was actually my Mum who bought me my first machine and as soon as I sat down in front of it, I whipped up a skirt. I have no idea how I was supposed to do it "properly" but the skirt is still in action and happily worn by one of Alby's little girlfriends. Isn't it amazing what you can do when no-one tells you that you can't? And I have never looked back. I'll always be grateful that my Mum never tried to force me into sewing. That she allowed me to find it on my own and that when I was ready, the timing was juuuuust right so that she would be the one to buy me my first machine. And to be able to bite her tongue while I haphazardly navigated my way around and figured out my own way of discovering the joy that is sewing.
That being said....I'm not above a bit of pushy parenting myself......
What? Someone has to keep Yumminess going when I go away on honeymoon with my sewing machine!
Ok, I'm being silly (apart from the kissing the machine, that bit is true) but my point is that I never knew that using a machine would bring me so much joy. The thought of sitting at my machine after a long day and creating something from scratch makes my heart sing.
The first time I sat down in front of a machine was in November last year. I come from a long line of seamstresses, I remember in school holidays joining my Mum in the TAFE workroom while she studied fashion design and also playing with the (tailored!) barbie clothes that she and my Aunties made when they were little girls. My Aunty is a very in demand pattern maker who can look at a photo of an outfit and make a pattern from it - her talent is incredible. My Mum used to make us fake Mambo and Billabong clothes (actually, is that illegal? I'll have to delete that bit if the cops read this) and my god did I rock the gumnut baby jumper she made me - complete with actual gumnuts that had been drilled and attached to the jumper. My point is, that I have grown up being surrounded by handmade and it still surprises me now that it has taken me this long to discover it myself.
It was actually my Mum who bought me my first machine and as soon as I sat down in front of it, I whipped up a skirt. I have no idea how I was supposed to do it "properly" but the skirt is still in action and happily worn by one of Alby's little girlfriends. Isn't it amazing what you can do when no-one tells you that you can't? And I have never looked back. I'll always be grateful that my Mum never tried to force me into sewing. That she allowed me to find it on my own and that when I was ready, the timing was juuuuust right so that she would be the one to buy me my first machine. And to be able to bite her tongue while I haphazardly navigated my way around and figured out my own way of discovering the joy that is sewing.
That being said....I'm not above a bit of pushy parenting myself......
What? Someone has to keep Yumminess going when I go away on honeymoon with my sewing machine!
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