I’d like to preface this by telling you that I’ll be turning 34 in 15 days. I think that’ll make this post worse, but hey, whatever. It’s the truth.
My precious item is my baby blanket. No, I don’t mean my baby’s blanket. We don’t have kids yet. I mean my baby blanket, as in the one I had in my crib in infancy.
Mom and I did some digging a few months ago when I asked where I got it. It turns out my great aunt Pearl made it for me. She was my maternal grandfather’s sister. Mom found her name with this gift next to it in my baby book. Oh yes, mom has all of our baby books 36, 34 and 30 years after our births.
The fabric is white with yellow daisies, a white ruffle around the entire border and random yellow satin bows tied through the fabric. At one point, it had nice thick bunting inside. When you constantly wash and crumble up bunting, it doesn’t hold up that well. Several years ago I finally pulled the clumps out and sewed the sides back together.
Also, it’s about the softest silkiest fabric to ever touch my skin. I take it with me on every vacation and yes, it will be in Vegas with us on our honeymoon. Steve totally accepts my craziness as every time he makes the bed, I find it folded up under my pillow.
I also have a pink crocheted afghan that another great aunt made for me. This one was my maternal grandmother’s sister and the only one of her siblings to have passed away already. Her name was Martha and for some reason, all blankets she made are referred to as a Martha Gaga.
I know, you think I’m a crazy person. But you know what? When the babies I’ve gifted items to are in their 30s, I hope they have fond memories of their baby items too. I also hope my babies will love anything I make for them.
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