So I was a little bit excited when a friend of mine asked if she could place a custom order for a doll to be made as a gift for a friend expecting a baby girl. Well, excited is putting it lightly, I was ecstatic. Up until now I have been using fabric that I have collected over the years including stunning Laura Ashley cottons, sourced vintage fabrics and those bits and bobs that have been handed down to me either by my mother or from my nanna. But, a paid project…well I couldn’t resist buying something tremendous and new from the most amazing craft store, Calico and Ivy. For crafters/knitters/sewers and the like it is literally paradise and a place of beauty. When I was there one of two staff members struck up conversation. She said that people have spent hours in their store, literally hours. I wish I had hours to swish around the store dreaming of all the things I could make, perusing the beautiful inspirational books at leisure, looking at all the trinkets, conversing with the staff about my next project. But I had minutes, because I took children. I took boys to a place of peace and tranquility and wrecked it. I just wanted my little piece of heaven.
When I parked out the front of the store, Master two was snoring peacefully in the car. Perfect. He even transferred to the pram. Hoorah! Only one child to have to worry about. Enter Master one at the top of his lungs “Mum LOOK! He’s awaaaaaake”!. I laugh now writing this. I was not laughing when it happened. We enter the store and are welcomed by the staff. Thankfully I had a goal. We conversed. “It’s Ok I have children too, I understand” said the staff member. And she did. We chatted some more but internally I was frantically trying to “take in the paradise experience” in enough time before Master two potentially screamed the place down from not getting enough sleep or master one from breaking something VERY expensive. WTF was I thinking?! I don’t think we had made the 5 min mark and I went looking for “the toy box”, praying they had one so that he could sit down and play with the toys. They did have one, but there was a ball in the box ………….and my paradise session ended. Game over. You know when they find a toy and they look at you with that “if you try to take this off me I am literally going to make a scene of epic proportions” look? The one where they have the potential to run around screaming like a crazed animal? Yup, we had THAT moment. So I allowed the ball. For those who know my son well, for a three and half year old, his ball skills are very, very good. So, every opportunity he gets, he likes to practice. Thankfully the instructions of “no kicking” and “no throwing” were adhered too. He impressed the staff with his bouncing and catching skills. How old is he? My son can’t do that and he is seven. Ok, awesome that you are bedazzled by the ball skills, but I am quietly praying I can source my fabric at a store that I get to visit once in a blue moon without actually buying the contents of the store, because we have broken everything in it. When the ball was bounced down the stairs with a “thud, thud, thud…and boing!! in an unknown direction with a “look! LOOK MUUUUUUUM! Look what I am DOOOINGGG”. I magic mother inspector gadget extender armed the ball to safety, caught one handed of course whilst holding crying baby, promptly paid for my fabric and handed the ball to the shop attendant. And she calmly said “Oh, is that our ball?”.