Sewing

I am so glad I learned to sew. From the time I can remember, I was fascinated with Mother’s sewing machine, an ancient treadle machine. It sits in my house today. It is still functional. It is the best machine to use for heavy jobs like hemming jeans.

My first dismal attempt was in 4-H. I chose a sewing project, a simple project I was supposed to enter in the fair. One of the initial instructions in the booklet was “Ask an adult for help.”

Let me preface this with, the fact that my mother was definitely not a helicopter parent. My project was MY PROJECT! The project instructions didn’t have any advice for a situation where Mother had a newborn, a severely overburdened budget, and no time or interest in teaching a nine-year-old to sew.

The prize-winning apron the agent showed us was of a heavy fabric like denim with perfect seams. It looked exactly like the one in the project guide, even down to the color. I imagined my perfectly executed project looking exactly like it with a big blue ribbon at the county fair.

As Mother held the colicky baby, I told her, “We need to go to store and buy material for an apron. For 4-H.”

She answered crabbily. “No we don’t. I have a drawer full of material Grandma sent.” She was always crabby when the baby cried.” I’m busy now. I’ll find you some later.” Though I asked three more times that day, I didn’t get fabric for an apron. The second time I asked, she sent me to dist the living room furniture. The third time, she sent me to hang out a load of diapers. I gave it up for the time being.

To be continued

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