Stitching.

Much stitchery has taken place in my little and extremely messy sewing room. Actually, I realise that although I call it 'little' it is quite the opposite in reality. Messy, however, is quite another thing. Messy it definitely is. This is in part due to the working on of orders, but mostly because I am working on a new range which always involves me pulling out endless fabrics, throwing them away when the desired effect is not achieved and repeating the process... over and over again, generally sewing like a mad thing and gnashing my teeth at the frustration brought about by ideas not immediately translating as I wish.



Finally, the breakthrough is reached and the needle flies across the linen or whatever I may be using as a base for the hand embroidery I use on almost all my products. Then I become obsessed and want to work away forever.



Of course, sometimes my sketches and designs work straight away; oh, the heady feeling that comes hand in hand with a project that works first time. I do wonder if it is the same for everyone or does the fact that I have a head constantly brimful of colours and textures and if I only tried it in that colourway/stitch/size makes it almost a painful process sometimes? Reality tells me that creativity which has to be turned on and off according to a family's needs is always going to be a hard path to tread, but somehow we make it work and I am able to race to the task as the moment frees itself, even if only for ten minutes (do you know how many lazy daisies can be sewn in just ten minutes? Quite amazing really).



And it will not always be this way. My little Isabella turns three in May and time is already running away from me. However excited I am about the idea of more time to work on developing this business it is tinged with sadness at that letting go. I like having her with me, though am honest enough to admit to loving a break. I like the fact that my embroidery threads are beyond disgraceful because she plays with them on the days I have no choice but to work while she is awake. I love the way we cook and paint and do 'garding', both clad in wellies and covered in mud. There have been many (many, many, many...getting the picture?) clashes between the stubborness that is Isabella and the equal stubborness of her mother, but somewhere deep inside I am so proud of the fact that we have struggled through together and she is negotiating the rights and wrongs of her world with my help, and I with hers. I also know how lucky I am to be able to do this with Dave's support. Money has been hard, more than hard and there has been the constant guilt of knowing I am home where I could be out earning a regular wage as opposed to the irregular one my so far small business brings, but together Dave and I have made it work, choosing this difficult path for what feels the better good for us, for our family. I truly believe everyone should do what feels right for them and this was it for us. But slowly, slowly it is changing as my precious baby grows and I know it will still be good...different, but just as good.



Golly, that was not the post I thought I was going to write and I do apologise for my ramble, but it is obviously all very much on my mind and I suppose my blog is as good a place as any to offload! Funny how the mind weaves its own trail from one thought to another, each new thought laid down like the tiniest stitch to be worked on and mulled over before moving on to the next. My thoughts must now turn back to these particular stitches of which more will be revealed hopefully next week (she said with an air of something wonderful to behold and thus guaranteeing a sigh of deepest disappointment I fear!).



Have a lovely rest of week xx