Sew Mama

This post is dedicated to my mother who gave me the love of sewing.  My first memory of my mother is her at her Singer early in the morning before we were awake, stitching away at something.  She didn't have a sewing area when we were little and because of space (five kids in a three bedroom house) she couldn't leave her things out, she would have to pack everything away.  But she sewed, or knitted, or crocheted, or embroidered constantly.  If she was sitting, she was doing. 

I'm the same way now.  I can't watch TV without doing something.  I never developed a passion for knitting, but I went through my crochet phase, embroidery, handwork, needlepoint, you name it, I've done it.  But I always go back to sewing.

As a teen, my mother made her "pin money" by sewing for people.  She made nurse uniforms, cheerleader costumes, whatever anyone needed.  She never charged enough, and some of the people who downright rude to my mother.  But she endured because it was a skill she had that could give her a little independence.

We would get something special twice a year, Easter and Christmas.  I loved the things my mother made.  Beautiful dresses, suits, even coats.  I don't remember anything I owned that was purchased with as much love as the clothes my mother made me. 

I don't have a photo of my mother with me.  Isn't that strange?  I guess with five kids, it wasn't a priority, but I am told I look like my mother.  I think I share her strength of character, stubbornness, and creativity. 

When we were very young (4-5) our family was in a horrific car accident, in which my mother suffered catastrophic injuries.  Nearly every bone in the left side of her face was broken, collar bone, ribs, etc..  Requiring months of recovery, surgery, and scars.  Years of further medical issues and procedures, in the days where recovery was extremely painful.  My mother was always self-conscious of this, and worried what people would say. 

I never saw the scars.  I saw a woman who survived the bombing of Berlin, the ravages of World War II, the hatred towards her nationality (German), the struggles of being a wife of a military man, and the challenges of raising five children. 

I saw my mother re-fashion clothing when it wasn't the "in" thing to do.  I saw my mother transform my desire for dark purple velvet knee breeches and vest into reality.  I watched my mother create clothing without patterns or by modifying patterns. 

I saw my mother keep us all clothed despite periods of time with little money and growing children.  She cared for clothes with so much regard; I guarantee she has clothes in her wardrobe she has had for many years and they still look new. 

Sew, on the Mother's Day (which is tomorrow I know but I have to work) I want to remember my mother for all that she has given me and I feel blessed that I had the privilege of knowing her.