Mother of the year

by Rebecca on June 5, 2012

I bought a new dress with a long red and white sash. My 4-year-old, who has a flair for attaching great sentimental value to the most worthless of items, laid eyes on that sash and immediately determined to claim it as her own. She set her thieving plan in motion when I wasn’t around by asking her dad most sweetly if she could play with it. He saw no harm, and handed it over.

Once I discovered the sash was gone, I immediately went to her “secret” stash-hiding place, found the prized sash (as well as a vacuum attachment I’ve been missing), and put it away, only to repeat the same process several times over the next few days.

Finally, I told her enough was enough. No more playing with the red and white sash. It is mine.

She begged me to make her one of her own, and I half-heartedly agreed, hoping she would forget our little agreement with enough distraction.

She forgot. And then she remembered. And remembered. And remembered. There was no more putting it off. I had told her I would make a sash (or a long piece of fabric, as she accurately called it), and so I must fulfill that promise.

I retrieved my mom’s 1970-something sewing machine from my basement, set it up on the kitchen table, and told Lydia, “I have no idea what I’m doing. This may not happen today.”

She hovered close-by, whispering words of encouragement as I struggled with my most-feared element of sewing: threading the machine. The bobbin was in place, and I thanked my lucky stars for that because even after a summer sewing class when I was 12, lessons from my mom, lessons from a friend, and lessons from my husband, I still have absolutely no idea what the bobbin is. I get all rashy if the bobbin needs to “be threaded.” What does that even mean?

After a few minutes of studying the machine, I discovered a diagram on threading the needle. With another warning to Lydia to not get her hopes too high, I hesitatingly followed that diagram — and was completely surprised when I found success!  Lydia and I both cheered.

Remembering something about “wrong sides” or “bad sides” or something of that nature, I sewed the “wrong sides” (I think) of Lydia’s two chosen fabric pieces together. I then spent almost an eternity turning those pieces right-side-out. I’m sure there was an easier way, but I am certainly not equipped to discover such a way.

Bewildering to me, my goofy Lydia was — and still is — thrilled with her uneven sash that I think still needs to be ironed before it can be called complete.

Thank goodness for 4-year-olds and low expectations.

{ 9 comments }

Emily June 5, 2012 at 3:38 pm

You are my hero.

Haley June 5, 2012 at 4:00 pm

NO way! I can’t believe it. you did it!!! Now the sky is the limit on what you can sew. you should really take it up. and then teach me. :)

vanessa June 5, 2012 at 4:07 pm

ha ha that is hilarious, and it is scary to thread those beasts!

Linda June 5, 2012 at 5:31 pm

Too bad that making a sash wasn’t in your bucket list. Good job dear one. See how easily Lydia was satisfied? Good Mom.

Kim June 5, 2012 at 7:28 pm

That is a funny story! And I can’t believe you still have your mom’s sewing machine!

Diane Wright June 6, 2012 at 9:14 am

I love that sash. Can you make me one? I prefer black, just black. Lydia definately is one of a kind.

Elizabeth Giuliacci June 6, 2012 at 10:22 pm

Yeah, I’m with Linda on this one. Isn’t there something LAME on your bucket list that you now regret putting there, and can you swap it out for this adventure in sash-making? I’m really actually quite impressed. I still haven’t mastered sewing on buttons. It’s pathetic. Your girls are darling…

Camille June 8, 2012 at 9:02 am

can I take writing classes from you? And sewing classes??
Well done, Becca…..well done!

mindy June 18, 2012 at 1:45 pm

i am such a proud sister…tears sprang to my eyes when i saw the glee on lydias face and the way you described her cheering for you! love it! i love that machine…can i borrow?

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