STICKY PATCHES
I tried to be a good mother. I truly did. I tried to be involved in my children's activities. I'm not particularly skilled in the kitchen but I'd burn those cookies and send them off to school. I participated in all the fund raisers. Whatever it was, I gave it my best shot. I'm just not very 'domestic.' My son and daughter, now 38 and 31 years old, survived but it was probably touch and go there at times.
I didn't have brothers. Growing up I had one very well-mannered younger sister, so when our first child, our SON came along, I wasn't prepared for that ball of energy who was into anything and everything all at the same time. There came a glorious day when he asked if he could join the Cub Scouts. I thought this was a fabulous idea. Nice, supervised activities that would teach him lessons while burning some of hisever-present energy.
Cub Scouts were great. He loved going. He loved working toward a 'patch'. I was so proud of him when he was awarded the first patch. But there was a problem. That little patch needed to be fastened to his shirt. A seamstress or a tailor I am NOT and I really didn't believe that a safety pin would be acceptable. So I sucked it up, went to the store to try to buy a needle and some thread. The cashier at Joann Fabrics probably is still talking about the woman who tried to purchase ONE needle and ONE spool of thread. The thread wasn't a problem but needles are sold in a package. I still think I only needed ONE, I should have been able to buy ONE.
Finally, back home I went with my tiny but important purchase. I sat down with his Cub Scout shirt, my new needle and a spool of navy thread. I tried to keep my stitches small so they wouldn't be so visible. I tried to not pull the thread too tight so the material wouldn't pucker. I truly tried to do everything right. When I was all finished and held up the shirt for inspection, THE PATCH WAS CROOKED.
I had to pick those itty bitty stitches out and start all over again ....... TWICE! By the time I was finished I felt like I had sewn a complete wardrobe.
But when we went to the next Cub Scout meeting, his patch was firmly attached. It was in the right place. It wasn't crooked. It wasn't puckered. It was looking good and I was almost as pleased with myself for sewing the patch as I was of him for earning the patch.
As I was sitting there with the other mothers watching the 'cubs' go about the business of working toward yet another patch, the woman next to mean leaned over and said, "Isn't it wonderful that they're making iron-on patches now. I just hated sewing those on for my oldest son."
Wait! What did she just say? When I turned to look at her she must have been able to read the disbelief in my face because she repeated herself, "I said, aren't the iron-on patches great?"
I tried to smile and said, "Yes, they sure are."
I felt like crying a river because I had worked so HARD. But on the other hand, I never had to sew on another patch, and that was a VERY GOOD thing.
© copyright Donna Hale Chandler
DONNA HALE CHANDLER
Author of:
LIFE HAPPENS (My Story)
Co-Author of:
THE HINTS BOOKS
