Ashli Ingram

Ashli Ingram Sharing Garden And Diy Tip

I think I got the colors wrong, I'm sad, my husband said it was too colorful. I accept constructive criticism, please be...
09/22/2025

I think I got the colors wrong, I'm sad, my husband said it was too colorful. I accept constructive criticism, please be kind. If you don't like it, that's okay.

I was criticized a lot when I finished this table runner, my husband said that these colors were a mess, I was very sad,...
09/22/2025

I was criticized a lot when I finished this table runner, my husband said that these colors were a mess, I was very sad, but I love patchwork.

I'm sorry I'm still a beginner but I'm trying to do a good job with this block
09/22/2025

I'm sorry I'm still a beginner but I'm trying to do a good job with this block

I gave 4 quilts last week to my sister-in-law and her 3 daughters. I let them choose from a collection of about 12. They...
09/22/2025

I gave 4 quilts last week to my sister-in-law and her 3 daughters. I let them choose from a collection of about 12. They look cute all wrapped up

I'm making my first block, it's still simple but I'm very happy with my sewing
09/22/2025

I'm making my first block, it's still simple but I'm very happy with my sewing

My son was embarrassed to post the quilt he sewed because he said that 'quilts are for women'... But I thought it was be...
09/22/2025

My son was embarrassed to post the quilt he sewed because he said that 'quilts are for women'... But I thought it was beautiful and I had to show it to you. đź’™

My first block in this pattern and as I live alone and have no one to share it with, I would like the group's opinion on...
09/22/2025

My first block in this pattern and as I live alone and have no one to share it with, I would like the group's opinion on this work of mine.

My 14-year-old hasn't left her room in three months. Not since the girls at school posted "Nobody wants to sit with the ...
09/22/2025

My 14-year-old hasn't left her room in three months. Not since the girls at school posted "Nobody wants to sit with the weird crochet girl" alongside her eating alone.

I'd find her at 2 AM, surrounded by Tedooo app patterns, yarn everywhere, eyes swollen from crying. "This is all I have," she'd whisper. Her little shop on Tedooo became her only connection to the world while kids her age destroyed her daily.

Then last week, she emerged holding this candy corn outfit. "For the baby," she said quietly. Her first complete outfit for her 10-month-old sister.

Every stitch perfect. The little hat, those tiny booties with black laces. When the baby giggled in it, my daughter smiled for the first time in months.

"Is it... good enough?" she asked, doubt creeping in.

Good enough? My broken girl had turned months of pain into pure magic. I posted these photos in her Tedooo shop without telling her. Orders flooded in. "Professional level!" "Does she take customs?" "Incredible talent!"

She's reading every comment through tears. Happy ones this time. Talking about maybe returning to school. Maybe starting a crochet club. Maybe those girls were wrong.

To anyone who thinks a teenager hiding with yarn is wasting their life - sometimes they're saving it. One stitch at a time.

Please tell her what you think. She needs to hear it from more than just mom.

My hands won't stop shaking. Three months of work, hundreds of hours crocheting after my night shifts at the hospital, a...
09/22/2025

My hands won't stop shaking. Three months of work, hundreds of hours crocheting after my night shifts at the hospital, and now I'm sitting on my bathroom floor wondering if I should just throw it all away.

My future mother-in-law stopped by this morning. The moment she saw my wedding dress on the mannequin, her face changed. "You're not seriously wearing that to my son's wedding?"

I thought she was joking. But she walked around it, touching the vines I'd spent weeks perfecting, and said "It looks like lingerie. What will our family think?" She kept going - too revealing, too casual, how her friends would gossip. "Maybe keep it for the honeymoon."

The thing is, I designed this because traditional wedding dresses made me feel like I was wearing a costume. This dress, with its climbing ivy pattern that matches our garden wedding, felt like me. I even found a woman on the Tedooo app who sells handmade crystal buttons for the back.

Now I can't stop seeing it through her eyes. Is it too much? My fiancé hasn't seen it yet. What if he's disappointed too? What if everyone whispers during the ceremony?

My sister says it's gorgeous and unique. But I keep hearing his mother's voice. She even texted me links to "appropriate" dresses from David's Bridal. I've already started looking at white dresses on the Tedooo app from other designers, thinking maybe I could just buy something safe.

I worked so hard on this. Every stitch was made with love, imagining walking toward him feeling beautiful and like myself. Now I just feel stupid and exposed. Should I just give in and buy a regular dress? I don't even know who I'm supposed to be anymore.

My hands were shaking when I opened the package with my wedding dress inside. Twenty-three years in storage, and now I w...
09/22/2025

My hands were shaking when I opened the package with my wedding dress inside. Twenty-three years in storage, and now I was about to cut it into pieces. The seamstress I'd found lived two towns over, and when I walked into her home studio carrying that massive box, she just looked at me and knew.

I'd lost three babies before this one. Three tiny heartbeats that stopped. Three due dates that came and went with empty arms. When this pregnancy finally stuck, I spent nine months terrified, wearing a bracelet with three small charms, talking to them like they were guardian angels. Through the Tedooo app, I'd found this woman who specialized in turning wedding dresses into baptism gowns—her reviews said she understood complicated requests.

"I want them there somehow," I told her, my voice cracking. "At the baptism. All four of my babies."

She didn't ask questions, just nodded and pulled out her sketchbook. Three small golden crosses, she suggested, embroidered right where they'd rest over the baby's heart. Subtle but present. I started crying right there in her kitchen.

The dress transformation took three weeks. She sent progress photos—the bodice becoming the gown's top, the train becoming its flowing skirt. Those three crosses, each one stitched with metallic thread she'd sourced from another seller on Tedooo app, looked like tiny stars against the white silk.

When I picked up the finished gown, I brought my daughter. Eight months old, chubby and perfect and here. The seamstress had added pearl buttons from my original dress down the back, delicate smocking across the chest. But those crosses—those were what made me sob.

The baptism was magical. Under the stained glass windows, my daughter wore her siblings close to her heart. In every photo, you can see my hand unconsciously resting over those three golden crosses, protecting them still.

That gown now hangs in her nursery, waiting to be passed down. Sometimes I stand there looking at it, at those three small crosses, and think about how love doesn't always look the way we planned. Sometimes it's stitched in gold thread by a stranger who becomes part of your story, turning heartbreak into something beautiful enough to bless.

My father called me crying last Tuesday. Not the silent tears I'd seen at Mom's funeral, but full, gasping sobs. "I can'...
09/22/2025

My father called me crying last Tuesday. Not the silent tears I'd seen at Mom's funeral, but full, gasping sobs. "I can't do it anymore," he said. "I walk past her chair every morning and the silence is killing me."

Dad's always been the strong, silent type. Worked construction for 45 years, hands rough as sandpaper. After Mom died in March, he just... stopped. Stopped eating proper meals. Stopped answering the phone. Stopped living, really.

I'd been begging him to try something, anything, to fill the empty hours. He'd grunt and change the subject. But that Tuesday, something shifted. "Your mother always made those Christmas wreaths," he whispered. "Maybe I could try?"

I rushed over with supplies I'd ordered from Tedooo app for my own crafts. Sat with him at the kitchen table where Mom used to spread out her ribbons and wire. His thick fingers fumbled with the delicate bows. "This is stupid," he muttered after his third attempt. "Men my age don't do this."

But he kept trying. Every evening after dinner, I'd find him at that table, determined to master what Mom had made look effortless. Last week, he sent me this photo. First wreath complete, that shy smile I hadn't seen since before the hospital visits started.

"I'm taking it to her grave for Christmas," he said quietly. "Think she'd like it? It's not as good as hers were..."

The thing is, Mom would have loved it. Not because it's perfect - it's not. Some bows are crooked, the tinsel's uneven. She would have loved it because it means Dad's trying. After 52 years together, he's learning her language of ribbons and wire, speaking to her the only way he still can.

I've already ordered more supplies from Tedooo app. He doesn't know it yet, but we're making wreaths together every week now. Because sometimes healing looks like a 74-year-old man learning to tie bows, one trembling finger at a time.

My husband told my baby girl she looks weird and fat in the Halloween costume I spent weeks making for her, and that was...
09/22/2025

My husband told my baby girl she looks weird and fat in the Halloween costume I spent weeks making for her, and that was the moment I knew our marriage was over. She'd been so excited about being a tornado - we'd found the idea scrolling through costume posts together, and I ordered special tulle from a seller on Tedooo app who helped me figure out how to attach the cotton batting clouds. The morning of the parade, she was spinning around our kitchen, giggling at how the gray tulle swirled, Hot Wheels cars I'd hand-sewn bouncing with each twirl. Then he walked in, looked at her for maybe two seconds, and said those words. The light just drained from her face. I watched my beautiful three-year-old's shoulders slump as she stopped spinning and whispered "I don't want to wear it anymore." That's when something in me snapped - he'd been cruel to me for years and I'd taken it, but watching him crush her little spirit? No. I gave her the most emotional pep talk you can imagine, and we went to the parade anyway (she won second place), and while everyone was cheering, I was texting my sister. That night after he passed out, I packed what I could fit in the car, buckled my baby in with her candy bucket, and left. He said I'd regret it, that I'd never make it without him. But it's been six months now, I'm selling costumes and crafts on the Tedooo app to make ends meet (up until this point, I only used Tedooo for the gardening groups and shopping, but luckily, I'm doing okay there with a shop!), and every time I see that tornado costume hanging in our new closet, I remember it as the day I finally chose her happiness over his approval. Best decision I ever made. I hope you like our story. I hope it saves even one little soul.

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434 Mt Prospect Avenue
Clifton, NJ
07012

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