White Water (Baby C)rafting!

Yes, I know, I lead a RIDICULOUSLY exciting life.

For example, this week I diced with death. Or to be exact, I diced with thread. I dusted off the ole sewing machine and made some stuff. Okay, I made "a thing". And when I say I dusted off "the ole sewing machine" that slightly misrepresents the situation. I've had it since I decided I'd make all my own baby stuff (hahhahahahaha) when I was hugely pregnant. I then made the questionable decision to place my spanking new toy up the spiral staircase, a journey entirely unlikely to be undertaken by a lady in the shape of a planetoid with cankles. Who happens to be incredibly lazy.

Long story short, I have a brand new, practically unused sewing machine, which I still rely on my mum to thread for me when she visits once in a blue moon. Who can thread a sewing machine? I firmly believe that NO HUMAN born post Abba is capable of performing such a complex and dangerous feat.

Except my beautiful friend Eilidh at http://Sittingonherbumbaleerie.blogspot.co.uk

She is a genius.

I made a dribble bib, as we were going to Baby Sensory that day - and the theme was to be "Sailors". As we all know, there's not a sailor ON the 7 seas without such an accessory, likely due to excessive sea-sickness. So I hear, the Royal Navy issue them to every recruit automatically on sign up.

Here it is...

Yes, that is Velcro you see! I clearly won't be setting up a home business in dribble bibbage anytime soon, but at least The Bairn was On Theme.

Also being manufactured in the Bee Hive this week was a Sensory Bag containing such multifaceted (probably not the right word, but I surely get points for inserting it) delights as feathers, ribbons, a wicker ball... I could go on. But won't as there's not much else in it. Any ideas, intrepid (again, right word? Who knows) followers? Answers on a glittery postcard, or preferably in the comments box.

And finally, I dared to make a card for a friend's newborn Bairnette. Flipping scary, I'll tell ya! I risked life and limb through PVA glue explosion. In fact it dropped, Gunk Tank circa 1988 stylee, over my beautiful creation which (when I can be bothered to heave my humongous, lazy form up the shoogly spiral staircase) will need to be replicated.

Dangerous business, this craft malarkey. And that, my friends, is a FACT.