"You know, you're really getting into this whole pregnancy thing," said soon-to-be PP, "Did you, by any chance look up a manual with all the things that pregnant women feel and do, just to make sure you got them right? You don't have a checklist on you by any chance?"
Fine, he did have a point, even though it was stretched finer than my budget for maternity clothes (viz. nil) I just didn't see the point in shelling out a bomb for ugly oversized clothes which I wouldn't need after baby made the grand entry (hahahaha - I still laugh when I think about it. I punch the air every single time I manage to hold my breath and squeeze into formerly-loose, pre-pregnancy clothes for a second or so. And I once trapped myself for five whole minutes in a dress that I thought would fit. K found my acrobatics amusing and applauded - the brat!)
Anyway, to get back to the point, I was nesting like crazy. One fine day I woke up and demanded a sewing machine. The conversation went something like this.
A: You've always said that there is no such thing as women's work and men's work and that you'd be damned if you would sew buttons on my shirt just because we're married. And now, you want a sewing machine. Fine. Do you even know how to thread one?
Me (trying hard to reprise childhood memories and pretending I know all about it): Of course! See there are these round things called bobbins that are involved...
A: So what will you stitch? Do you know how to?
Me (lusting after visions of Peter Pan collars and an entirely imaginary domestic goddess image of myself) I will make baby clothes. And sheets. And nappies.
A; Oh really? (while he envisioned a private hell)
And my brahmastra was launched: I'm pregnant! You have to keep me happy and do what I say.
And so he did. We scuttled off to a showroom (MIL was away and would have sensibly dissuaded me from a disastrous decision but well - she was away :) and I shortly became the proud owner of a spanking new Usha Janome Stitch Magic.
Luckily for me, there was a demo of sorts that the guy gave (which included threading the machine, which I obviously didn't know how to do) and demonstrated the bewildering array of feet (the machine's, not his) available and from then on I was on my own.
Suffice it to say, there were mistakes galore, BUT I did manage a couple of dozen nappies from an old sari, half a dozen sheets, a couple of light quilts and several clothes, most of which she has outgrown now that she is nearly five months old)
How? The internet is a great teacher and has loads of free patterns.
I even managed a couple of simple kurtas for the MIL; one for A (he actually wears it out) and a clutch of stuff for myself including two rather nice long divided skirts and a few simple tops, all of which are currently invaluable given my laziness in getting back into shape. More on that later...
Fine, he did have a point, even though it was stretched finer than my budget for maternity clothes (viz. nil) I just didn't see the point in shelling out a bomb for ugly oversized clothes which I wouldn't need after baby made the grand entry (hahahaha - I still laugh when I think about it. I punch the air every single time I manage to hold my breath and squeeze into formerly-loose, pre-pregnancy clothes for a second or so. And I once trapped myself for five whole minutes in a dress that I thought would fit. K found my acrobatics amusing and applauded - the brat!)
Anyway, to get back to the point, I was nesting like crazy. One fine day I woke up and demanded a sewing machine. The conversation went something like this.
A: You've always said that there is no such thing as women's work and men's work and that you'd be damned if you would sew buttons on my shirt just because we're married. And now, you want a sewing machine. Fine. Do you even know how to thread one?
Me (trying hard to reprise childhood memories and pretending I know all about it): Of course! See there are these round things called bobbins that are involved...
A: So what will you stitch? Do you know how to?
Me (lusting after visions of Peter Pan collars and an entirely imaginary domestic goddess image of myself) I will make baby clothes. And sheets. And nappies.
A; Oh really? (while he envisioned a private hell)
And my brahmastra was launched: I'm pregnant! You have to keep me happy and do what I say.
And so he did. We scuttled off to a showroom (MIL was away and would have sensibly dissuaded me from a disastrous decision but well - she was away :) and I shortly became the proud owner of a spanking new Usha Janome Stitch Magic.
Luckily for me, there was a demo of sorts that the guy gave (which included threading the machine, which I obviously didn't know how to do) and demonstrated the bewildering array of feet (the machine's, not his) available and from then on I was on my own.
Suffice it to say, there were mistakes galore, BUT I did manage a couple of dozen nappies from an old sari, half a dozen sheets, a couple of light quilts and several clothes, most of which she has outgrown now that she is nearly five months old)
How? The internet is a great teacher and has loads of free patterns.
I even managed a couple of simple kurtas for the MIL; one for A (he actually wears it out) and a clutch of stuff for myself including two rather nice long divided skirts and a few simple tops, all of which are currently invaluable given my laziness in getting back into shape. More on that later...
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