Sew, What's Love Frickin' Got to Do With It, Anyway?

My oldest daughter had this really great idea. You see, she needed to come up with a sewing project for a benefit fashion show at the high school, "Barbie Through the Ages."

What -- I didn't pick the name -- but, it was going to count as a HUGE part of her final grade, so, you know, what was I supposed to do?

"What do you have to make?"

Because, I do NOT sew, or help "make" anything, if it means having to use something other than hot glue gun, let alone...mechanical...with running parts and a very sharp object, that puts holes in things, on purpose.

"I have to make a wedding dress."

Holy crap, that should be easy, right?

"Actually for the wedding party."

Oh, okay, still I'm guessing a "NO!" on the hot glue gun.

"How about if I sew a dress for Barbie's sister, Kelly?"

Um, okay.

"Yeah, and maybe even get my baby sister to model it, too, right?"

Riiiiight.

Like, most everything that comes (and goes) around in this house, it sounded good, at first...on paper...but, if I had a dollar for each time one of my kids came home with a school project, that I did NOT have to buy, sell, or help them with, the night before, while in a sugar-induced shock, then I'd be poor AND a diabetic, by now.

Oh, wait...

No, I am NOT diabetic...yet...but, I swear, I never saw my 15-year-old stress over anything (EVER) like this frickin' dress; or, what we ALL here have come to lovingly refer to as the...runway project from hell.

"Smile, for the before picture, Hopey!"

You could just tell from the poor kid's face, she had her doubts (so did I) but, the only thing her baby sister was worried about was, you know, having to move, wearing ALL those pins.

"No, they DON'T stay in!"

Phew. Still, they only have so many machines in class, my kid is the first to admit that she's not very good with sharing (yeah, she lets everyone go first, here at home, too) and, 2 days before the show, it STILL wasn't runway ready.

To her benefit, her teacher allowed Holly to "borrow" one of the sewing machines from school.

"NO...I...AM...NOT...DONE...YET!"

We were spending the later have of Mother's Day with my MIL and my daughter decides that, you know, it was the perfect time (and place) for a full-blown-meld-your-face-to-the-floor-type panic attack, in front of my MIL...you know...on Mother's Day?

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?"

Because, we don't' have a sewing machine...oh, and her mother can't sew...remember?

"Well, you can borrow my machine."

Because, my MIL has a sewing machine, but...um...I don't and, lately, my kids already think she is SO MUCH more of rock star, than I am, anyway and rightfully so.

"Here, don't worry about it tonight, take it home with you, let's have cake!"

See what I mean?

'Twas was the night before the "project runway from hell," the frickin' dress was still NOT DONE and, if it were up to me, and if it wasn't for my husband, Garth [not his real name] the dress would have remained, frickin' sleeveless.

Later, he was telling all of the ladies at the bank how he was the ONLY one who was able to figure out how to sew the sleeves [a.k.a. frickin'] on a dress.

"Then, one of my customers proposed to me."

[eyes go wide]

"Oh, really, what did YOU say?"

Now, you have to understand, one of my husband Garth's [not his real name] biggest laments is that, after nearly 20 years of marriage, no one has ever propositioned him and that now he looks "too married" to even care.

"Um, I told her that I was already taken...of course!"

Frickin-A!

Aaaanyway, Holly was able to finish and attach the bodice to the skirt [a.k.a. frickin'] with a little help from me (what, I can cross-stitch, you know?) and I sent her to bed, just around midnight, while I finished ironing out the hem.

You know what? It didn't look half-bad. Gorgeous, actually. In fact, my kid was pretty gosh-darned proud of it (me, too) and even if it did mean she would have to wear the brides maid gown, Holly [a.k.a. the shyest out of all my kids] insisted on walking her baby sister down the runway [a.k.a. from hell] and if that ain't love...well, my friends...then, I don't really care to know what is...not to mention, her final grade...whatever the frick, it is.