Metamorphosis
I noticed in the church bulletin that the children's RE instructor was looking for volunteers with sewing machines. The kids were making re-usable grocery bags out of T-shirts to sell at the service auction next weekend. So last Sunday I arrived early, checked Z into the nursery (where the two ladies in charge were utterly charmed by him), and then spent an hour helping a crowd of 6-11 year olds sew a straight line. Some of them were very independent, and already knew how to use a sewing machine, and some were scared to death of sewing their fingers together, so the degree of help varied from child to child. In some cases, I held the fabric steady and just let the kid push the foot pedal.
Wow. It's been a long time since I was in a room full of small children--I'd forgotten what the noise level was like. Luckily I wasn't in charge, nor even the only sewing machine mom. In fact, there was even one sewing machine grandpa.
Have you been paying attention to recent posts? I cook. I sew. I garden. I volunteer at church. You know what this means.
OMG, I'm turning into...her. I'm Glowing, Cookie-Baking Ubermom!
Wow. It's been a long time since I was in a room full of small children--I'd forgotten what the noise level was like. Luckily I wasn't in charge, nor even the only sewing machine mom. In fact, there was even one sewing machine grandpa.
Have you been paying attention to recent posts? I cook. I sew. I garden. I volunteer at church. You know what this means.
OMG, I'm turning into...her. I'm Glowing, Cookie-Baking Ubermom!