Sewing Machine plus Little Children equals :(

Three weeks ago, I picked up a pattern and some fabric from my amazing fabric/digiscrap/pattern designer neighbor, Carina Gardner. I was set to make Rebecca a new church dress, something which had been promised and was desperately needed. 

Well, you know. The pattern got put onto my bed, which then got moved to my dresser with the fabric, which then got moved downstairs with my sewing supplies, but somehow the pattern ended up someplace else altogether.

(Does this story sound familiar? Because this is the story of my life, for real.)

Anyway, I went out of town to visit my mom and thought: aha! A chance to sew while someone else watches the kids. I spent a good many hours Sunday afternoon working on cutting out the pattern.

Finally, kids to bed, ready to sew.
I plug my machine in. 
I get out a spare bobbin, ready to thread.

My machine does nothing.

After some investigation, I discovered little hands had been working on my machine. 
Here is my machine:

No bells or whistles, but it’s pretty much a workhorse.
{Except of course, when I’m 9 months and 1 week pregnant and need a distraction. Then it breaks.}

And here is what I found on the inside of my machine:

For those of you not so familiar with sewing machines, let me just be clear:

That is not where those items belong.
Just one more “adventure” to add to the guilt baby book.

And for those of you who are familiar with sewing machines, yes it did get fixed. 
About the same time I put the fabric…


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