My lack of sewing skills is well-documented, but for some masochistic reason I just keep trying.

Before winter break, Maggie came home from school with soaking wet legs thanks to the blown out knees in her snow pants.  Look at these little tears:  how hard could it be to stitch them closed?

Of course I procrastinated through our entire two week break, actually making her wear an old sized 3T pair I found in the coat closet.  (Hey, at least they covered her knees…)  But once it was time to head back to serious recess play, I knew I needed to break out the Singer beast and zip up those tears.

Clark declared, “You are going to be up all night with that project!”

“Project?!” I huffed.  “It’s only two quick seams.”

If only.

An hour later the thick fabric had bunched, jammed, and scrunched my panties into more than a few bunches.  I’d ripped out more stitches than I’d sewn (how is that possible?) and was ready to stab myself with the seam ripper.  Two quick seams!  Why was this so difficult?  Why do I always slink away from the sewing machine, shoulders drooped in shame and frustration?  Why do I keep going back?

If these crooked, pathetic seams don’t hold then you can find me at the Land’s End clearance rack.

You don’t have to be a seamstress to see that my repair job was shoddy at best, but don’t tell that to my 6-year-old daughter.  Today I came home from work and found this sticky note waiting for me:

The seams may have been uneven, but her legs were dry.  Suddenly the sewing machine felt like my greatest ally and my daughter felt like my biggest fan.

She’s on a kick lately, writing little Post It love notes all over the house.  One day I accidentally put a pair of my socks in her laundry basket, and she politely returned them with a note declaring, “Not Mine.”  For the past week she has snuck into our room and stuck random notes to our pillows every night:

These little notes are a highlight of my day.

My botched sewing job warmed her legs, but her little sticky notes warm my heart.  That’s why when she wakes tomorrow morning, she’ll find a little love note sticking to her door:

I can’t wait to see what she writes back!