Singer Has Yet To Make Me Their Spokesperson

Sewing makes my eyes bleed. And my brain cramp. And then there's that problem with explosive diarrhea.

I sew because there are things that I want. Unlike my sister and her daughter who attended Hogwarts School for Sewing Wizardry, I can sew if you put a fully loaded gun to my head with Clint Eastwood on the other end of it.

"You wanna make a quilt then? Do ya punk?"

Yes, I've made a few quilts. They keep me warm. Just don't look at the seams...DON'T!

I lately find that I can't handle much in the way of sewing (hmmm, here's where I would slip in one of those 'crafting as a metaphor for life' observations if I was all philosophical like. Fortunately, I'm mildly retarded and will spare you the bullshit.

Little things. I can handle little things. I can put together a three piece quilt square but when faced with sewing it into a quilt top, I'm forced to wash three Valium down with a shot of Jack Daniels and call it a night.

I haven't made a purse for awhile but I occasionally enjoy that, except for when the pattern REALLY PISSES ME OFF. I believe the last purse I tried to make ended up with me throwing it, half finished onto the floor and screaming that I hated it, it never talked to me, and it was cold and uncaring.

Yeah...never sew while thinking about marital discord. It never has a happy ending (the project or the marriage.)

But I must admit, I LOVE to make potholders. Five minutes to cut out, two minutes to sew. It's the ULTIMATE ADD sewing project. They also don't take a lot of fabric, so poor people can have fun too!

And, as my dog can attest, when you accidentally dip them in spaghetti sauce the night before and leave them a little too close to the ground before taking them to the washer, they are DELICIOUS!

A Little Comfort

The most important job that I have on the face of this earth is to be a good mom to my kids.

I figure they at least deserve one parent that feels that way.

I think that's why I got so emotional yesterday when I found the quilts on my front porch.

Getting a gift that my friends made for my family feels like a hug, it feels like what a good parent would do.

"I can't fix everything, but I can let you know how much I care."

The hardest thing lately is admitting to my kids that even the little things that we would do are now out of the question. Video store? Why, that's four bucks and four bucks is a gallon of milk...Driving to the dog park? That's on the other end of town and gas might not be three bucks a gallon now, but it might as well be.

I find myself wandering down to our basement frequently. Not to ferret for food in the chest freezer, but to curl up next to it and cry as quietly as possible. I have amazing kids and they have been through so much and I try to bouy them up and be their safety net but then I turn to face the grim realities of our finances and I try to calmly explain to them that everything will be ok when I feel like I'm failing as a parent and a provider.

My job has a mandatory retirement plan which conveniently kicks in on my next paycheck. It decreases my pay by 5%. The skin of my teeth no longer exists.

I'm becoming fatalistic. I no longer fear bad credit. I make my kids dinner and then sit back to see what's left over so I can eat it. I don't let them see me flinch when they barrell through the food in the cupboard as only the parent of a teenager can imagine. I tell them that there are new realities in our life and then I go downstairs again.

Never let them see you cry.