My beanbag adventure, and a little aside about my girls' camp trauma

The other day as I was researching things I wanted/needed to get for Eva's preschool program (more about that later), I saw some beanbags. I thought, "I could make some beanbags."

I googled online for a beanbag tutorial and found this adorable one from Lil' Blue Boo. Um, hello? Those are the cutest beanbags I've ever seen in my life. So the next morning (Thursday) I got brave and took both kids the the craft store to get some fabric and everything else I needed. I got fabric. But after Leighton was leaning way out of the cart and throwing every bottle of puff paint he could reach on the floor, I decided to forego painting the letters on the front for now. A plain beanbag is good enough, right?

Friday afternoon, I laid out the fabric on my coffee table. I was a little nervous, as this was to be the first sewing project I had ever carried out completely on my own. Kind of a big deal. I ironed the fabric (aren't you proud, Mom?) and then got to cutting. I loosely followed the tutorial, although I just found a mark that looked right to me on my ruler without knowing the exact size. But they were all the same size, so it was a victory indeed. I matched up all the fabrics and found that I had 24 beanbags. Whoa. Way more than I intended - apparently I got a little cutting-happy. Oh well.

I sat down at my machine and got to work. It took a little practice to get everything just right. My machine tried to battle with me, but I pulled out the instruction manual and put that little Singer right in its place. After sewing a few squares, the hum of the machine became relaxing. It was like an out-of-body experience and I had suddenly become my mother. The hum of that machine is the background noise of my late childhood, in a way.

As I sewed, I started thinking about how I would blog about this project. About how I would post pictures of the finished product and feel so proud of my accomplishment. I tried to think of a good opening line for my post, one that would convey the idea that I got this crazy idea and totally carried it out. Like "The other day I got a wild hair and..." There was a certain phrase I was trying to think of...something about a bee. I ran through the options in my mind. A bee in my hat? No. A bee in my underwear? No. A bee in my pants? In my brain?

But the underwear one brought back a memory of that one time at girls camp (about age 15) when I was in the bathroom stall changing out of my swim suit. I put my underwear on and felt a little lump right at the crease of my thigh, you know the spot? I reached in and pulled out a full-on BEE. FROM MY UNDERWEAR. Funny memory, but not the right phrase. The words eluded me, and I pondered as I sewed. I got all 24 squares done, turned them right-side out, and ironed them again. (Mom, for real, are you proud of me?) (I NEVER iron.)

Saturday night I had Monique over for scrapbook night, but instead of scrapbooking, I worked on my beanbags. It was slow going. I don't own a funnel, so I was pretty much filling up the dang things bean by bean. I top-stitched around them all to make them look pretty. After a couple hours, I had completed 6 beanbags. Here they are, for your viewing pleasure.

Oh, and I remembered the phrase. So here's my opening line, as a closing line instead:

The other day, I got a bee in my bonnet. I made some beanbags.