Wishing to hear those words - memories of mom- Watch out for the 'mother's curse'

On of the very few bridal
pics from my mom's wedding

I sit here at the table, surrounded by items, items that I know would make my mom smile. If she were here, I'd also see her visibly biting her tongue, cheek, and then lips in an attempt to keep the words, "I told you so" from coming out of her mouth.

Right now, today, I'd take those words.  I'd take them with a hug, a huge giant, never letting go hug.  The type of hug that you give to your loved ones that you haven't seen in ages.  Or the hug after someone returns from danger, where you weren't sure they would return alive.  That type of hug, is the type that I'd wrap my mother in just to hear those words uttered in love from her mouth.

Light Pink and lime stripes
with island themed curtains.

My darling creative little girl, has taken her artistic abilities and has decided to apply them towards re-decorating her room and painting her walls.  Now let me tell you that this is not the first time this year, or summer, that she has painted her room.

A couple of months ago, I came home from work to find two little busy bees downstairs in her room. I opened the door to see the wall covered in blue painters tape taped in horizontal stripes, the giant painting tarp on the floor covering the carpet, and two girls with paint dotted hands and arms applying a new coat of found paint to the walls.  I look at the progress they had made, laughed and shut the door.  Letting the two girls finish their art project.

Minty green walls with yellow circles

Well, with how much fun Ireland had in painting and decorating a few months ago, she's decided to re-do her room - again - this time in an island theme.  She decided to use a theme with colors that we don't have in stock (or house).  Besides, all the left over paint has already been used on her first paint job.  This time around we decided that she'll need to pay for her room make-over her self.

With all her creative juices flowing from her mind to her hand, she drew pictures of what she wants to do with her room.  She took all her hard earned money and bought the blue corduroy bean bag (which the darn cat promptly peed on), and new paint colors for her room.  She then bought the material to make curtains for her closet, her closet that has a perfectly fine working door, which was promptly removed when the design was written down.

Fun island print fabric (notice the
great stitching - thanks mom)

She choose a fun island flower material that would work perfect for her new decor.  One problem with this new 'door' it required me to dig deep in my arsenal of education from my mom to remember how to sew curtains...

For those that didn't know my mother, she was an accomplished professional sewer.  She could, if she so desired, sew up an entire new wardrobe for my sister and myself in less then a day.  My mother owned the highest quality sewing machines money could buy, she had one all purpose Bernina sewing machine, and at least 2 Surgers.  My mother had such a passion for sewing (that quite often went unused), that she turned her passion into hoarding, for she had enough material tucked away in boxes to open her own sewing store!

When I was around 8 years old, I remember my mom making me sit down at her sewing machine and practice sewing.  No, not like you think.  She'd make me sew on a lined paper with out thread in the machine so I could perfect sewing in a straight line.  Oh, how I detested this!  I usually ended up distracted, daydreaming and have rows of waves, just like the rolling ocean, all over my 'practice' paper.

I just wanted to have a project to work on, not perfect any type of skills!  As time, I swear it was over the course of an entire year, my mom slowly transitioned me from lined paper to unlined paper, then to strips of  fabric.  Not fabric cut out in any shape, but squares of fabric for me to practice sewing in a straight line.  Once I had this 'skill' mastered, I was then finally able to learn how to read a pattern.  Good lord, all I wanted was for her to just show me how to do it and then let me loose!  I didn't care what all the darts, lines, and dots meant.  Just let me cut!

After much attitude, from me, my mom finally let me loose on my own.  Well, I don't know if she really let me loose, I think it was one of those moments when I asked dad instead of mom to finish the bermuda shorts I was sewing.  Dad, not really awake, (which by the way, I learned I could always get my way if I asked my dad a question while he was sleeping) told me sure go ahead and finish your shorts.  So to town I went.

I sewed my shorts,  finishing them all by myself.  I did lack the verbal or written instructions on how to sew the crotch area of the two legs together. Ahh, but that didn't matter, I still finished them.  Boy did they look great!  However, they felt a little bulky in the crotch area, and for some reason they rid high on the inside of my legs.  Unlike 'normal' shorts with a straight bottom seam, my shorts had a bottom seam that was hemmed upwards from the outside of my leg to the inside.

In adolescent cockiness, I didn't care.  I wore those shorts all day long, tugging and pulling on the inside to keep them from clumping too much between my legs and rubbing them raw.

As soon as I saw my mother's car pull in the drive way, I ran, with my bulky inseam, bull-legged towards her.  As I got closer, I saw my mother's expressionless face slowly, ever so slowly turn confused, then straight into laughter (this by the way didn't happen often).  By the time I ran my bull legged self to tell her about my shorts that I just finished, she was laughing - laughing harder then I've ever heard her laugh.

My face quickly dropped from an excited accomplishment, to fear.  My mother has lost her mind, and I'm in direct aim of her craziness.  I stood in front of my laughing mother, waiting for the right moment to show off my shorts.  Between laughing gasps, she slowly gets the following words out. How. hahaha. Did. hahha. You. hahaha. Finish. hahah. Those. snort. hahah. Shorts? hahah, tears, and snort.

Fear racing through my head, the thought of 'what in the world is going on with my mom'?

I stammered to respond. I explained to her that I followed her instructions, and finished my shorts.  I continued on that since I didn't know how to sew the inseam and crotch area, I just connected them and sewed them together in a circle.

At this point, the neighbors, in confusion and wonder as to what has happened to my mother, start coming outside and staring at the two of us in the drive way.  I'm standing there tugging at the inside of my shorts, my streaky brown hair blowing in the evening wind, my brace covered smile slowly dropping, and these damn shorts still clumping up in the inseam.  Oh, if only my mother had a camera, the sight of me in front of her would be worth a million. Her stubborn, impatient, brace covered, short tugging, innocent, confused teenage daughter staring at her.

My mother slowly, ever so slowly, starts to get a grip on her snorting and asks how long I've worn those shorts?  In proud embarrassment I reply, "All day."

She then tries to keep her laughter at bay while asking me, "Did the inseam and crotch area feel a bit clumpy?"

Shifting my weight from side to side, trying to hide the need to tug at the inside of my shorts, I say, "No."  Now I didn't say no out of really not knowing, but rather from pride of not acknowledging that I may not really have known what I was doing.

The finished curtains for my daughter's closet

My mom then takes me inside where she tutors me on the inseam sewing of my shorts.  I learned that rather then gathering the two inside legs together and sewing them together in a circle, you actually sew the crotch together in a straight line.  Yes, those damn straight lines.

Later that evening, my mother later took those bulky inseam shorts and hung them on the dining room wall, like fine art.  Hung up there as a reminder of that 'hilarious' day when I refused to be patient and learn from the master.   Yes, my 'fine' art displayed for all to see and then hear the lesson I learned in those shorts.

For the next several years, I learned to take her slow instructions in stride.  Not ask my dad for permission to sew.  Later on the rule came into play that I'm not allowed to ask Dad for anything while he's sleeping.  (I think that rule came about when I asked to use the car, and I didn't have a license. Of course I got caught by my mother.)

Margaret Ann Grange on her
last birthday 2/3/00

So here I sit 12 years after my mom's death, wishing I'd hear those words from her mouth  'I told you Christel, one day you'll be glad  I made you learn to sew straight!'

'Yes mom, I am glad.  I'm also glad that I got to hear and remember your laughter, even if it the time I didn't find the humor in the situation.  Thirty years later, I find it just as humors as you did, possibly a bit more.  For I have a daughter just like me who too asked her dad if she could finish sewing her curtains on her own.  While working on them she accidentally jammed the machine and pretend it wasn't her (oh how the mother's curse comes true - I only wish you were here to watch it unfold.)

Thank you mom, you were right.