1. I'm terrified I will break it. Right now, it is sitting on the kitchen table. I have walked by it about 150 times and every time I look at it, I think it starts to ratchet itself apart somewhere on the inside. It's not making any noise, per se, but I swear it's squealing, kind of like a dog whistle that human ears can't hear or like a rabbit in panic mode, warning me not to take another step closer or else it will implode.
2. I'm afraid I'll hurt myself. I don't know if anyone has ever actually sewn her own fingers together on a sewing machine but I'm pretty sure, if it can be done, I will figure out a way to do it. I can't imagine that it feels too good and if I have to go back to Care Now and explain one more crafting related accident, well, let's just say the words Insurance Fraud may show up on some paperwork addressed to me in the near future.
3. I'm afraid of the words my children may learn. When I was in seventh grade, my wonderful language arts teacher proclaimed that cursing was for people who could not think of anything more interesting to say. While I whole-heartedly agree with her, in times of duress, I've been known to spew an obscenity or two. I believe that it is a distinct possibility that I will even invent some new swears while working on my sewing machine and while I'm pretty sure no one can understand anything my two year old says, if my five year old walks into kindergarten next semester and repeats any of those gems, well, we may need a teacher-parent conference.
4. I'm afraid I'll have to attach another limb to my child so she can wear whatever I make her. Okay--that was a little wordy, what I mean to say is, if I actually attempt to make Lu a dress, it will most likely end up with three sleeves, in which case, being the perfectionist that I am, and having a little bit of a problem admitting that I have made a mistake, my only resolve will be to attach a false arm. This beats the alternative, of course, of what would happen if there's only one arm whole . . . . (Don't worry, I'd never really harm my baby!)
5. I'm scared I'll lose my dog. I have a very small seven pound dog. He often ends up in strange places and I have no idea how he got there. Boxes, drawers, the cupboard (okay, Imma may have had something to do with that.) What if he accidentally gets sewn in to one of my projects? I know PETA is against wearing fur, I assume that means dogs, too? Is Lhasa Apso in right now? Luckily, he is hypoallergenic and non-shedding!
6. I'm terrified to fail! I hate failing! And there's already a craft-fail blog! If I can't sew, I'll probably be the first person in the history of human-kind who couldn't figure out what is, essentially a baby-sewing machine meant to be operated by eight year olds, and I'll be the laughing stock of all the neighborhood moms. (If you are a close friend and you know that there are not actually any other moms that live in my neighborhood, please keep this information to yourself.) With my luck, my husband will be using it instead of me and he'll be making all kinds of fancy pinafores for the girls to wear to nursery school!
7. I'm petrified of succeeding. Do you have any idea how much fabric costs? It's really expensive! And I'm already spending my entire paycheck on tulle. Do banks give loans for fabric? Do fabric stores accept chocolate, blood or first-born children as payment? Does anyone personally know Jo-
Ann? Something tells me that, if I am actually good at this, we will need to build on so that I have a place to store all of my lovely items and all of the fabric I'm going to use someday. (And I am going to use it someday! Just like that stock-pile of acrylic paint that went bad four years ago and that nice peach yarn I bought on clearance when K-Mart closed it's Houston locations in 2001. You'll see, you'll all see!)
8. I'm afraid of creating something so heinous I actually cause the Zombie Apocalypse. Okay, this one is a bit of a stretch but with the inevitable Fiscal Cliff, the Mayan's being off (but how far off?) and the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius (I may have the date wrong on that one) who knows? I am not above imagining that I could accidentally cause the end of the world as we know it through something I accidentally do--and I wouldn't feel fine about that!
You were with me until that last one weren't you?
When I finally use it, I'll let you know. Until then, it will be sitting on my table, looking spiffy, and daring my children to touch it.