I think it was 1985. I was a stay-at-home mom with a four year old and a two year old. Along with a bunch of other young moms, I attended what was then called "LIFT" (and has since evolved into "Daybreak") every Tuesday morning at Portage Alliance Church (which was then located at the corner of Lorne Ave. and 13th NW!). A bunch of us were making these advent calendars and I climbed aboard. I know there are several of them kicking around the country, perhaps one of them is yours.
Looking at it now, I can only shake my head at the painstaking detail. Not content to merely glue on my numbers, I machine stitched around each one (after cutting them all out!) Each sequin is sown on by hand--up through the felt, through the sequin, through a tiny clear rocaille bead to hold it in place, back through the sequin, and finally back through the felt. Over and over and over.
Each little ornament, once finished, gets stiffener ironed on to it before stitching Velcro to the back.
|Here's how it looks by Christmas.|
Good grief! Where did I find time and energy for this? And, more importantly--why?
I always said I was going to make two more identical ones so I could give one to each of my children as they left home. Never even started.
So, here it hangs on our wall still. With some significant exceptions:
- No one is arguing over whose turn it is to put up the ornament on any given day.
- Nobody's trying to guess which ornament it will be.
- Nobody's wondering which pocket has a little Christmas tree inside, indicating that's the day we'll put up our tree.
- Nobody's doing the math, figuring out how he or she will put up the last ornament, the star at the top, on Christmas Eve.
All of which, I suppose, gives a healthy hint as to the answer to my "why" question. I'm thinking it might be time to pass this tacky, 26-year old tradition on to the grandsons.
Maybe next year.