November 17, 2018: My Mom Made my Jammies

"Made by Mary" tag proudly sewn on inside of pajama top
(Brutus to my right. Photo cred Garrett)

My mom made my jammies and I love them. I love them a lot. Enough that I packed them for our last out-of-town trip, and most trips for that matter. They are my cozy, go-to, favorite nightwear. Typically paired with a fluffy sweatshirt or furry slippers, this black flowered combo is starting to show some wear, but will likely be falling apart before I part with them.

As a child, my mom sewed a majority of my clothing. Having store-bought clothes was rare and only for special occasions or items too difficult or expensive to sew (winter coats, socks, sweaters...). This was such a norm in my life that until junior high, I didn't know other kids bought a majority of their clothing. My mom would spend hours going through bolts of material, carefully planning our next season wardrobes and choosing patterns to complement our sizes and personalities.

Wardrobe by mom

My fondest childhood memories are accompanied with visuals of the Mary-made clothing we were wearing at that place in time. Jeans and a matching jean jacket with soft strawberry scattered embellishments were what I wore on my first motorcycle ride. I remember Mom carefully pounding the divots to create the backs to the jacket snaps. And, yes, she sewed the designer-look jeans.

My brothers were often dressed in matching shirts and shorts, compliments of Mary. My second grade school picture was a grape purple dress with gatherings carefully forming rows across my bodice. Mom made purple cool with the other girls in my class quickly finding similar store-purchased numbers in the color of grape.

By junior high, I discovered shopping malls and painters pants. I yearned for this stuff and looked for hours through the JC Penny's catalog I would leaf through while babysitting. Mom's stuff wasn't as cool to me anymore, but I did start sewing my own clothes. I would find the hip styles and learned to embroider designer logos like OP onto my Flashdance off-the-shoulder jumper.

I even had a run of entrepreneurship with cord tied Hawaiian beach shorts. I couldn't keep up with the demand, selling them for $12 with a cost of $4 in material and cording. My customers would pick the pattern and the simple shorts would take about 15 minutes to make. I loved making money while providing a product my teen counterparts loved.

Robbie and me our freshman year
(I 'borrowed' my shirt from Mom...
she made and I loved so it landed in my
college closet)

By college, I didn't have time to sew anymore but found that my wardrobe was a hit with my new friends. Robbie, my first and forever friend from college, loved to raid my closet. I thought it was the ultimate compliment that my cute friend from the city found my clothes as her favored high-end wear. Robbie even chose to wear a pair of my favorite sewn bright Hawaiian shorts to her bridal shower the following spring. If only we had social media back in the day to memorialize what is now only left in my minds eye (or maybe not... unsure if we really lost anything without social media).

My college years were in the late eighties and by my sophomore year, my parents had moved to Arizona. We had no cell phones, Internet, or email then. We communicated by letters and weekly phone calls on a shared phone in our dormitory hallway.

Mom was extra caring by sending me a box every week. This was the college student's dream. I remember the excitement of going to the mailroom and finding a note in my post box that there was a package waiting for me. There were always photos and a nice handwritten letter. My forever thoughtful Mom sent shared momentoes and pieces of their life in Arizona in that little weekly boxed treasure to me.

Then there was that extra special gift that every college student appreciates. Cash. Cold, hard, cash. Every three or so packages would include a crisp $20 bill with a neatly printed note that this was the money she would have spent on Weight Watchers, but was sending to me instead. It was like a little secret between she and me as I gladly pocketed the needed funds.

One box arrived with Robbie at my side at opening. Along with the crisp $20 and handwritten letter was a tissue-wrapped surprise. Reading the accompanying note, Mom explained that she had just taken a class in sewing intimate apparel and had sewn me a pair of underwear. They were beautiful. The kind I had seen in the lingerie pages of the Spiegel catalog. Robbie looked on in awe. I didn't quite know what to think. Although perfectly normal to me, would my friends think it weird that my mom not only mailed me underwear, but made them?

I held my breath, waiting for a response from my friend lingering over my right shoulder. And then she spoke.

"Oh, my gosh! Those are beautiful!!! Will she make a pair for me? Do you think she will?"

I immediately called my mom, of course after tracking back to the dorm community phone, and thanked her for the wonderful surprise.

"And, Mom, do you remember my friend, Robbie? She came to our house for my birthday? Will you make her a pair of underwear? She LOVES them!"

A week later, Robbie and I ran to the Westmar College mailroom. Her underwear had arrived. We were both ecstatic. My designer mom was back to genius status. And we had our brush with how Amazon delivery would feel thirty years later.

Fast forward post-college and as new sister-in-laws, Robbie and I both bought sewing machines and would spend Saturdays sewing colorful trapeze shirts with matching scrunchies for her toddler daughter and our nieces. And there was a lot of matching going on, both with mother and daughter outfits and with cousins. Those were the glory years. We sure had a lot of fun and the littles loved it.

Grant in his Gma Mary jammies
with Gpa Jim

No girls for me, but my creative mom was all over sewing for her grandsons. I wish I would have counted the number of outfits and jammies she made over the years for the Lane boys. Always in the best quality fabrics, she would find patterns that would fit their individual personalities. This spanned a good fifteen years as the Lane boys eventually hit their teen years and outgrew matching and fun jammies from Gma Mary. Every piece was labeled and many are stored in the basement as I could never part with the favorite treasures.

Mom carefully designed each of the boys' baptismal gowns. The craftsmanship is exquisite as are the chosen materials of satin and boyish trims. Each are carefully packaged in collector boxes. I need to get them out again just to appreciate the fine detail along with the great memories of the days when the Lane boys were under 10 pounds.

I would often tell my mom how much I loved the clothes she frequently sent for the boys as they continued to outgrow the last sets or have them fall victim to wear and tear. She surprised my with my own jammies, nestled in between the boys sets. I was thrilled! Just like my underwear in college, my mom surprised my with a product of her vast talent. One that I under-appreciated as a child, but fully-appreciated as an adult.

Not only is my mom talented at sewing, she is pretty much talented at anything creative. My house is adorned with numerous paintings, hand-made cards, and holiday creations. My mom's imagination lives in various parts of my house in different times of the year. Most pictures from my childhood and the childhood of my boys has a piece of Mom in most pictures.

House in Remsen - decorated by Mom
(note: spray-painted gold bird cage with
fake bird to my right and Japanese lady
on display to my right)

And the woman never ceases to amaze me. She actual is incredibly talented with large projects and furniture as well. As a child I would watch her reupholster chairs and couches, both for us and for hire for our small-town designer furniture store. Recently, she and my dad built and moved into a new house. Seeing her decorate and design their new house with fine details and her splash of unique flair has been fun to observe.

About a month ago, my mom excitedly told me about a class she was taking to make a farm table and she was going to use POWER TOOLS. She was beyond excited at the prospect of making furniture and using power tools. My mom continues to rock it in her seventies. She continues to find new crafts to learn.

So now I am in my fifties. The boys clothes by Gma are packed away in the basement (well, other than a lot of toddler bib overalls of which Benny decided to boycott and bury in the backyard sandbox). I am loving my very worn jammies. And as I eye every item in my house, analyzing where it will eventually be packed and whether it will be moved, I find myself attracted to all things made by Mary and those that carry a memory of the great things I have enjoyed in life to date. Everything else is just stuff. And stuff doesn't give me joy. But my jammies sure do, as do the carefully painted Christmas ornaments my mom sent every year.

It is a funny world where we live through our twenties wanting stuff and then obsessively collecting it through our thirties and forties. The fifties are all about the cherished things. And as my mom is showing me, it's never too late to go completely new, even in your seventies.

Less is definitely more and it really is about quality and not quantity. Quality of time. Quality of relationships and every day a chance to create a new great memory.

And, yes, my mom did made my jammies. I absolutely love them :)

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If my mom had a fashion show of her creations, here is just a sprinkling...