I make fire...

Humans have always made things. We used to hunt, gather and grow our own food. Women sewed clothes for their children. Likely with fabric they or another woman they knew made.

I do not make things.

I mean, I scrapbook. But honestly, I don't feel it takes a whole lot of creativity or talent to buy pounds of paper that matches, cut pictures out and stick them on said paper.

What I am is fearful of being so far behind I'll never catch up which means I. Get. It. Done.

That's not making something. That's being Type A.

Or AAA.

Anyway. I wish I were able to create, make or build something with my hands. I'd love to be the person who knits. Or sews. Or paints. Or takes gorgeous pictures.

But I'm not. I'm the girl who cleans. Runs. And shops.

Now, though, I'm a mom and so this whole weird desire to make something for my daughter has emerged. Like some sort of hardwired desire from yesteryear.

And it's taking over my life.

I find myself spending hours looking at the most adorable knitted hats on Etsy. Or scouring the internet for pictures of baby girls in tutus.

Makes me wish I weren't quite so caught up on the scrapbooking.

So in all my Etsy lovin', I discovered something I'd never heard of and feel 112% certain all of you have.

Pillowcase Dresses.

Hello cuteness.

I spent one whole night looking at every site out there and watching youtube tutorial videos. All the while thinking I could so do that.

If I had an extra pillowcase.

A sewing machine that works.

And maybe the knowledge to work the sewing machine instead of having it say... packed away in a trunk in the guest bedroom.

By Sunday, I could no longer stand it. I HAD to make this dress. And I convinced myself I could do it with that fabric bonding ribbon and an iron.

So at four o'clock I went to Wal-mart and bought all the supplies.

And after the first attempt failed miserably, I finally had this:

Don't look too closely. Perfectionism is so over-rated.

As soon as I finished it, I ran into the living room where Chris and Pumpkin were playing and put it right on her.

For the love of pete. I made a dress. I made a DRESS. I MADE A DRESS!!!

Looks absolutely nothing like a dress the pioneer women would have made. But who cares. I made a dress. For my daughter. With my own two hands. And no real pattern.

I spent the next half hour clapping and beating my chest like I was the first caveman who discovered fire.

Yesterday, being so impressed with myself and feeling over-confident and possibly a little manic trying to avoid thinking about it being our last day home together, I went to the craft store to make a fancy pillowcase dress. It only takes a couple of hours so instead of getting ready for work by making my breakfasts, lunches and laying out my clothes, I made this:

Me. Make dress. It good.