My brain needs a hobby.

You may not remember this, but back in the day, I said something to a swap buddy about wanting to learn embroidery. 

It was pretty far back in the day, so don't feel bad if you have no recollection of this since I barely do myself.

I'm a little forgetful sometimes. There. It's out there. Shit out of horse.

Anyway, this nice swap buddy of mine indulged my whimsical wishes and sent me a Stitch-it Kit with her swap project and I was very excited. The whole time (years) it sat on my craft shelf, just looking at me with its "Remember - YOU wanted to embroider - so here I am whenever you're ready. Bitch." look on its face.

That Kit is really a lot mouthier than I would have expected from a pink box. 

Anyway, after all that time, I finally busted open the box and did something with all that thread. 

Well, to be truthful, I used very little thread, but I used some of the thread which is an occasion in itself given my lackluster attention to this craft BUT STILL.

See I had a project I finished last fall that I'd crafted with the full intention of giving it to my goddaughter when a gift-giving holiday presented itself. And then I made her something else for Christmas, so this bag got put back on the shelf, again for "future gift-giving". 

Now her birthday is this Saturday, and as I went to retrieve it from the shelf, yet again, I decided it needed some more specialing up because it's sat around for so long that my guilt had sort of taken over. Like it wasn't as special as it should be if I've let it sit on a shelf for six months. 

This is how my brain works, folks. Somehow the special-ness of gifts somehow degrades if that gift sits on my shelf for too long. Who knew that my brain had shelf lives associated with gifts? What IS it doing in there?

My brain needs a hobby.

ANYWAY.

I have been watching Wendy specialing up these cute Library Totes, like, forever, and I keep telling myself that these would be great ways to special up this gift for Emma, as though I could get enough of my shit together to do it all.

As though. I'm delusional.

While I imagined I'd make the bookmark, the hand-carved bookplate stamp AND the embroidered library card pocket, I only managed to get to the pocket. Because, apparently, embroidering two inches of muslin really takes it out of me.

I might have started sweating while making that flower. 

What? You didn't know that was a flower?

But in case that reason's not good enough, I thought of a few more ways to justify my laziness:

• Three-year-olds don't know what to do with stamps.
• You can't stamp a library book anyway. That is how one gets one's library privileges revoked and I won't be responsible for starting this child on a life of crime.
• I doubt you need to bookmark pages of a picture book.
• She's three - she's going to put her dollies in here and take them for a swim in the pool - stamps, bookmarks and even embroidered pockets aren't going to make a damn bit of difference. In fact, I bet they'd just ruin those dollies' afternoon swim.

On the bright side, she may be able to get a bunch of dollies in there.

So, I gave up, embroidered the pocket, sewed it on AS THOUGH MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT because holy crap what if I fuck it up and have to re-embroider another piece of fabric - shit! And then wrapped it with a princess card and a savings bond because that is all I know how to do as a godmother who knows nothing of children.

Eventually, I'm going to have to get better about giving gifts to this child so that Bubba and I don't become those people that always give crappy gifts like we all have in our lives.

You know what I'm talking about. That aunt that always sends you ridiculous Christmas sweaters with blinking reindeer noses or the uncle that shops for everyone's gifts from the Harley Davidson store. You laugh, but this is a real thing that happened. To Emma's mom, my best friend, so I know this issue is ripe in her mind as her beloved daughter opens gifts from her devoted public. 

If she's not on the lookout for Emma's future "shitty gift-giving relatives", I would be disappointed in her mother's intuition. Not that I have any (intuition or kids) or could judge anyone's habits with their children, but you know.

So, I'll be looking to y'all next year for gift suggestions that would please a four year old chatterbox. She likes pink, the swing set, her little brother and hiking with her papa. Feel free to start brainstorming now. 

I'll need to make up my lack of child-relation skills with really, really good birthday presents.