After spending hours and hours of cutting literally hundreds of tiny squares of fabric, realizing that I truly have no idea what I'm doing (although I really don't think it's that hard), almost being to the point of never wanting to see a cutting mat and rotary blade ever again, fearing mistakes that might be made and hair being pulled directly out of my head, I decided I would designate the task of finishing the quilt I started for Jake to a professional.
Of course, I always knew I would leave the art of machine stitching all of the layers together to someone who owned a machine that could actually do that sort of thing, but I had really hoped I would actually piece together the top layer of it myself.
But I gave up. It just didn't happen. And surprisingly, I'm okay with that. I have not one (zilch, zero) bit of regret. I'll never be so happy in all my life to ship the box that's already loaded in my car (See what I mean? No regrets!) to another part of this state tomorrow at lunch time, and know that when it comes back to me, it will be the finished project I hoped it would be.
And Yesterday...he watched our entire family's favorite football team come out victorious against the Arkansas Razorbacks (Speaking of pulling my hair out...).
He also slept his newly re-arranged room. This (re-arranging his room) was Jim's idea. He decided a different layout would work better and give him more room to maneuver around his play table so he can actually reach all of the parts to his Thomas the Tank Engine train track.
It wasn't until today, though, that he and I painted his face this way.
I was too overjoyed and relieved that I had found someone who was willing to finish his quilt that I spent most of my morning cutting the last few (few as in one hundred and twenty) squares of fabric and just didn't make time.
But he was okay with that.
Every day is a good day to wear his football jersey and throw a little paint on his face to him.
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