My name is Suzie and I am a Quitter
Someone told me once that if you can read, you can sew. Liar. I promise you I can read, I can not, however, sew. Before Christmas, I took a sewing class and came home all puffed up, showing off my brand new pillowcase. Look! It's got a decorative trim! I'm amazing! I might start whipping up all kinds of cute and creative wares, I might get a booth at Farmer's markets and sell out of my stuff every week! No, every day! I might need to hire people! I might need a factory! I might be featured in Canadian Living! I mean, look at this pillowcase-it has puppies on it! Everyone likes puppies. When level 2 was offered, I signed up, ready to continue on my path of creative awakening and success. Before the first class had started, it was evident that I actually suck at this. We were asked to lay and cut our pattern before showing up on the first week; I unfolded the tissue paper pattern and stared at it. What in the what? I turned it every which way and it still didn't make a lick of sense to me. During class, I fell behind and spent most of my time ripping out stitches. What started as enthusiasm and excitement soon fizzled out and left only dread and anxiety before each class. The other two gals in my class were sweet enough to look away as I muttered curse words at my machine. They patiently waited while our teacher helped me make sense of the most basic things, I was obviously the weakest link and was getting sick of feeling like an ass-hat. When one of the girls showed up one evening with a gorgeous quilt she'd just whipped up in her spare time, I knew it was time to tap out.
I figured that this would be a good "teachable moment" for Owen so I confessed to him that I was the worst in my class. I told him that I was holding the others back and felt embarrassed every week. I told him that I was starting to hate sewing and, every week, that little ray of effing sunshine said "Do your best and forget the rest, mom!" Seriously, where does this kid get this stuff? How do you quit your sewing class when your kid bombards you with this kind of wholesome positivity and encouragement? Well, I'll tell you how. You quit quietly. Sneakily. You hope that your presence at home every Thursday night from 7-9pm goes unnoticed. Good plan, right? It worked for awhile. Eventually, Owen asked if my sewing class was over. Yep, it's over alright because I'm a quitter and I'm OK with that. I am. I'm totally fine with it and here's why. I took a risk on something and it didn't work out-them's the breaks. Had sewing been really important to me, if I had felt passionately that this was a skill I really wanted to develop, I'd have stuck with it. But that wasn't the case here. This was supposed to be fun and it wasn't. I'd taken level one with only two goals: learn to thread and start my machine and be able to stitch a straight line. Done and Done! Thankfully, level two helped me to realize two things about myself. #1. I can only sew a pillowcase. #2. I don't care that I can only sew a pillowcase. If you'd like a half constructed apron, I just happen to have one lying around. I worried that Owen would be disappointed in me for being a quitter. Or worse, he'd use it against me the next time he'd rather play a video game instead of go to Karate. Know what he said? He said "oh" then he moved on to something more interesting than his mom's sewing class.
Yearning to quit my soul-crushing sewing class coincided with wanting to start my own business with Rodan And Fields. Given that I wanted to passionately throw myself at my business, it only made sense to step back and evaluate where I was spending my time and energy. Some things were keepers, others got the axe. Sewing class was a pretty easy call to make. The moment I made that call and gave myself permission to be a quitter, was the moment I felt about 10 lbs lighter.
I'm going to try to bear this in mind when one of my kids wants to quit something. In the event that they want to throw in the towel, I'll obviously smother them in wholesome positivity and sunshine. Let's see how they like it!
I figured that this would be a good "teachable moment" for Owen so I confessed to him that I was the worst in my class. I told him that I was holding the others back and felt embarrassed every week. I told him that I was starting to hate sewing and, every week, that little ray of effing sunshine said "Do your best and forget the rest, mom!" Seriously, where does this kid get this stuff? How do you quit your sewing class when your kid bombards you with this kind of wholesome positivity and encouragement? Well, I'll tell you how. You quit quietly. Sneakily. You hope that your presence at home every Thursday night from 7-9pm goes unnoticed. Good plan, right? It worked for awhile. Eventually, Owen asked if my sewing class was over. Yep, it's over alright because I'm a quitter and I'm OK with that. I am. I'm totally fine with it and here's why. I took a risk on something and it didn't work out-them's the breaks. Had sewing been really important to me, if I had felt passionately that this was a skill I really wanted to develop, I'd have stuck with it. But that wasn't the case here. This was supposed to be fun and it wasn't. I'd taken level one with only two goals: learn to thread and start my machine and be able to stitch a straight line. Done and Done! Thankfully, level two helped me to realize two things about myself. #1. I can only sew a pillowcase. #2. I don't care that I can only sew a pillowcase. If you'd like a half constructed apron, I just happen to have one lying around. I worried that Owen would be disappointed in me for being a quitter. Or worse, he'd use it against me the next time he'd rather play a video game instead of go to Karate. Know what he said? He said "oh" then he moved on to something more interesting than his mom's sewing class.
Yearning to quit my soul-crushing sewing class coincided with wanting to start my own business with Rodan And Fields. Given that I wanted to passionately throw myself at my business, it only made sense to step back and evaluate where I was spending my time and energy. Some things were keepers, others got the axe. Sewing class was a pretty easy call to make. The moment I made that call and gave myself permission to be a quitter, was the moment I felt about 10 lbs lighter.
I'm going to try to bear this in mind when one of my kids wants to quit something. In the event that they want to throw in the towel, I'll obviously smother them in wholesome positivity and sunshine. Let's see how they like it!
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