Domestic Diva. Or Something.

My husband left town Tuesday morning for a work trip leaving me to single parent one dog, two cats and three boys for (basically) three days. Earlier this week I commented to a friend “Oh I’m not worried. Our boys are EASY!”

Which is how I found myself sewing on a button tonight.

Hmm. That transition probably needs a bit more detail.

I don’t sew. I mean I really do NOT sew. At all. There are very talented people who create marvelous and functional pieces with needle and thread. Some even get paid for it. I am the complete opposite of  those people. If a button falls off a shirt, I will THROW IT AWAY and buy a new shirt. Someone has to keep those talents in business. So a couple of years ago after my husband asked for a needle & thread and I stared at him blankly, he LOVINGLY and PATIENTLY asked if I’d procure a travel sewing kit to keep on hand.  Now I’m quite good at purchasing items so that wasn’t a problem. And that cute little sewing kit has resided in his desk drawer ever since. I’m sure he’s used it. I, however, only had a vague idea of it’s location.

Fast forward to this morning. I’m trying to find my other shoe while getting ready to herd the dog into her kennel and the three boys out the door while trying to remember if I had put on all required items of clothing when I hear LilBit yell the 13 yr old’s name in his bossy/accusing tone of voice. I called him in to calmly ask what the problem was only to hear “Well. I can’t find my bookmark so I KNOW TheKid MUST have taken it.”

And that really has nothing to do with the whole sewing a button thing except, yeah, I’m now trying to get everyone where they’re supposed to go while scratching my head.

So. Everyone finally makes it into the car and they even all have backpacks, lunches and coats. (Seriously – I don’t know how my husband pulls this off every morning. Give the man props.) Then. I glance over at the 12 yr old in my passenger seat and see…a bony knee poking out of a rip in his uniform pants.


To which he very matter of factly replied “Well when I was putting on my other pair of uniform pants the button popped off.”

And the 13 yr old pipes up from the backseat “Yeah it did. I saw it.” Because I apparently needed eye witness confirmation.

“So. Um. HOW LONG have those been ripped?” (Note – they do their own laundry so I don’t see their clothes unless they are wearing them.) He SHRUGGED and said “Dunno. A little while.”

I would have facepalmed except I was driving. I was tempted to anyway.

I was all set to drive to the store this evening and purchase new uniform pants when a coworker pointed out the logical, simple solution. Take the button off the ripped pants and sew it onto the button-less pants (since he lost the original button). That would get us through the rest of the week anyway. Oh. Yeah. But I don’t sew.

Until tonight.

I found the sewing kit. I threaded a needle. And I laboriously sewed the button onto the pants. I did a nice, neat job. My finger & thumb were throbbing but I was proud. I didn’t take the easy way out. I tackled a domestic job outside of the kitchen and was successful!!

Then TheKid reminded me “Tomorrow is Spirit Day. We get to wear jeans.”


I’ll take that facepalm now.

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