One of the most embarrassing moments of my teenage life was the time my Mom and Dad took a cruise to the Bahamas. I didn't go. Heck, I wasn't even invited. But I was left at home with the knowledge that somewhere in the world, whether in an airport or an island village, my parents were wearing matching shirts.

Yes, Mom sewed two sets of matching shirts for my parents to wear - one set in blue with beach balls and sun umbrellas, the other in black decorated with brightly colored parrots. And they posed for pictures wearing both sets.

Oh, the teenaged horror!

Now, as a mother myself, I get the joke.

And guess what, family - I'm getting a sewing machine.

My mother just upgraded. Her new machine is more like a super computer, with monitors and graphics and more buttons than the international space station. It can actually stitch messages into her blankets.

And guess who gets her old sewing machine.

That's right. Me.

My enthusiasm for this new machine can only be matched by my tackiness.

Picture 12-year-old Taylor and 6-year-old Sammy in matching vests. Or better yet, imagine Taylor's friends coming over to discover that Taylor's new shirt is made from the same fabric as the living room curtains.

I see a hand-made shower curtain with dolphins and sea shells, leopard-skin slip covers and floral-print throw pillows.

For every holiday, I'll sew a set of matching cloth napkins and place settings. They'll have leaf prints for fall, turkey prints for Thanksgiving and stars and stripes for the Forth of July. Who cares that I've never once set a table with place settings. With my new sewing machine, anything is possible. Even cloth napkins.

Everyone in my family will get crooked-seamed potholders for Christmas. I'll make doyleys and toaster covers. Finally, as my confidence builds and my sense of sewing-humor matures, I'll sew matching Bermuda shorts for everyone in the family. We'll all wear them to a downtown summer festival.

Granted I've never sewn a stitch in my life. My mom hasn't yet delivered the machine. And, the first time I accidentally sew through my thumb will likely be the last time I ever use the thing, but for now, I'm going to enjoy my daydreams of domesticity.

Besides those matching shirts, my mom sewed memories with her sewing machine. She made two of the best dresses I ever wore - my first-grade Christmas dress with gold stars and a lace collar, and my wedding dress even though we disagreed about the color.

(I wanted a light blue. She insisted on white. "You're first wedding dress should be white. After that, you can pick whatever color you want," she had said. My dress was white.)

Now, mom sews dolls for her granddaughters, quilts that her daughters will someday fight over and baby blankets none of us would ever actually use on a baby. I have one she made for Sammy hanging on my wall.

I have no aspirations that my potholders will ever hold a special place in anyone's heart.

But I know this: Every family needs a picture of themselves in matching clothes - whether it be parrot shirts or Bermuda shorts. And if I have one stitch of sewing talent, my family will have that photo.

Sorry Taylor. Someday, you'll get the joke.

Contact features editor Kristy Gray at (307) 266-0586 kristy.gray@trib.com.