Felix's Onesie Quilt

So many people have told me how awesome it is going to be with another little boy.  "You already have all the clothes!"  Yeah.  No.  That's not (entirely) how we roll in our house.  Sure, with a new little boy on the way I felt it was time to organize.  Time to move all the clothes Felix outgrew to the new gremlin's room.

Except for those outfits Ben and I fell in love in Felix's first year.  Those are special.  Those evoke memories.  I got it in my head to create a quilt of all the onesies and jammies that mattered most to us.  Thanks a lot, Pinterest.

I laid out all the clothes to see what I had.  Monkeys.  I had a lot of monkeys.

Then I cut them to the size I wanted.  Math is hard and I don't like this part of crafts.

My first corner!  Look, it matches!

Totes an Ikea sewing machine.  Love it.  Sturdy little guy for $70.

Finished quilt top.  I'll be honest, production pretty much came to a standstill at this point.  I can see why people just do the top and send the rest out to be finished by someone else.

Luckily for me I have an Aunt Pat who came all the way from Alabama to teach me how to tie carrot tops and make a binding.  (Ok, she may have visited family and viewed the country on her journey, but pretty sure the whole trip was just for my quilt.)

Complete with binding.  God, I was SO proud of my (not perfect) functional corners.

I had an absolute blast.  I hated and loved all of it.  Quilting is hard, peeps.  This is why the people who quilt are patient, older, steady-handed women.  Not me.  This was my first attempt into quilting.  I wanted it to be something important so I would try hard to make it perfect.  Well, I did try hard but it's not perfect.  It's perfectly wonderful and Felix adores it.  But there are lots of flaws.

I still have the baby quilt my grandma made me.  It is falling apart because I loved it so much as a kid.  I still remember the patches and the edges and how they would feel as I fell asleep.  I hope this quilt is the same kind of thing for Felix.

I love looking at the patches and remembering how tiny he was when he wore the clothes.

How the patch with the stain on it was from the Puyallap Fair when he crapped through his diaper and I threw the onesie in the trash.  And how Ben was so sad because he loved that onesie.  And I went back and dug it out of the trash to take it home.  And how, no matter how much we washed and bleached it, the stain was set.

Or his little striped onesie that made him look like a little french sailor.

Or his polka dot one that became capris and 3/4 length sleeves because I just wouldn't stop putting him in it.
His homemade Captain America onesie.

The owl from Maggie.

His cow on the butt.

Clown jumper.

Just all the snuggles that happened in his first year and how much I adored them all.

Sigh.