Worthy Exhaustion

Pulling an all-nighter upholstering a chair and forcing my scissors to cut through napped fabric has left me with man hands this morning. I hold both of my thumbs up side by side. The left has a perfect curve. I rub my finger down my right thumb, hitting a hard dip. Is this my bone? I feel my left thumb again and compare it to my right. Pinching the skin and pulling... it's just callus. Goodness, I was starting to think I permanently deformed my thumb. I've never taken the time to look at my hands before, but today they are aching something fierce. This must be coming from years of choosing the hard plastic all-purpose scissors that cost $12.99 instead of the $50 shears with the comfortable grip.

Fabricating textiles and moming is my 24-hour job. Talk about painfully exhausted, and I still have to wrap my project, feed my boys, jam them AND this chair into my Kia Sorento and run up to my client in Meridian Hills. Boss. Mom. Life. Many mini preventable complaints, but I absolutely love what I do. So much that I get caught up in the relaxation of tearing something down and fabricating something new that I end up working through the night. "They'll sleep in tomorrow," I say. No, my boys? Never. They are up before 7 am singing the Steven Universe song, "It's the True Kinda Love."

I warm up some oatmeal for my youngest and sit him in his high chair. The older two are surprisingly patient, waiting for me to pour their Trix. "Mom, I don't want milk in mine today." My oldest says. I don't argue; slide the dry cereal over and head down to the basement.

This project has been one of my favorites by far. When my clients pick daring fabrics, I get extra hype about the finished look. This chair is in a blue leopard print. If you glide your hands over the blue parts, you can feel the soft napped fuzziness in between the cream silky wefts. I carefully tug some plastic wrapping over the chair, knotting it at the top. I grab my scissors, struggling to cut the end of the knot. Back story, I couldn't find my pliers last night and refused to do a late-night run to Meijers with three kiddos. Cutting corners, ironically, I damaged my scissors, prying a million staples out. I don't know why I thought that would be a grand idea-- taking a mental note for a new pair of scissors. The comfortable ones this time, I promise. I load everyone and the chair into the car and head out.

I don't know what it is about the car, but my kids always fall asleep. Glancing at in my rearview, catching a glimpse of my little troopers snoring, mouths open. I do this all for my boys, but can we trade spots... just for a few? As I yawn, I silently beat myself up for going above and beyond, promising a 2-week guarantee. I definitely should've made that night trip and saved a few hours... or 6.

You never realize how important scissor quality is until you have hit a snag in your project because your scissors literally won't cut. You know, when you're no longer able to get that smooth glide, leaving your fabric with jagged edges. Oh, and of course, you miss every opportunity at the market to get your sheers sharpened, so you add another to your checkout items from your local fabric store. Yea, that's definitely my life.

I pull into the driveway, hoping my kids will stay napping when the client comes to meet me at my trunk. "Rooh rooh rooh rooh rooh," (because honestly, dogs don't go roof, right?) My client's fluffy dog comes running towards me, the owner bouncing down the steps right behind her. Before I can even greet her, my client spots her newly upholstered chair. "Wow, you're absolutely amazing. This came out so great! Do you want to do my whole home? I'm serious." And just like that, all the blood, sweat, and tears were worth it. I smile, "Of course, you know I'm ready." I grab my schedule notebook from the front seat, on to measuring the rest of her furniture.