She sits on my lap. She plays with the pins on my sewing machine. She’s finally learned to resist the temptation to play with the dials . . . most of the time. I pause to let her remove a pin before I continue sewing. Her hair tickles my face.
My projects take a little longer because I have two little helpers. When I cut my fabric, I have two little girls standing by me saying, “trick or treat.” I give them the scraps I don’t need. When I pin the fabric in place, I have small hands wanting to hand me each pin, while I listen to a constant chorus of “here you go, Mommy.” We settle arguments over who gets to sit where to watch me sew. My oldest takes the pins from me and puts them in the box. When they aren’t watching, they are playing close by.
I try to keep things balanced. I try to make sure they still have some of my focus. As they get older, I hope to help them do more than remove pins. I hope they remember these moments, and I hope they learn to value the feeling of making something. I want to teach them all these things I know how to do, and I hope they will feel love in my teaching. Most of all, I want to remember these moments, when she is small enough to sit on my lap while I sew, when her older sister is sitting nearby, peppering me with questions about what I’m making. I want to remember them just like this, because as much as I love watching them get bigger every day, I know I will miss the smallness they leave behind.