I really didn't intend to cut off anyone's fingers last weekend – I just wanted to play home-ec teacher when I invited the granddaughters to learn how to use one or another of my three sewing machines.
They looked at me in total astonishment.
"I'm afraid I will cut off my finger," one explained.
"That's impossible!" I scoffed.
I coaxed and cajoled them and began setting up sewing machines, promising them that the needle would not, could not reach their fingers.
I don't really NEED three sewing machines, but having an extra one comes in handy when one breaks down and needs to go to the repair shop – or when I have company in the sewing room.
Using my garage sale machines and stash of fabric from the recently opened Fabrics & More on Main Street, MNM Creations & Quilt Shop south of Parkers Chapel, the closing of the fabric store and fabric department at the big box store ... and of course garage sales, I knew I had lots of options to offering them in sewing. I set up the spare machines and handed each a sheet of lined paper, took the thread out of the machines and told them to try to make the needle stay on the line.
Thrills of excitement followed as they experienced the power of the machine and the concentration needed.
"Oh, I'm so scared."
"Push the pedal, it won't hurt you. It's fun."
She did and then stopped every three inches to study her accomplishment with pride and ask, "Didn't I do good!?"
"That's wonderful. Keep on sewing."
The youngest, not quite 10, loved it. She wanted to sew everything in sight.
I suggested they begin by hemming a couple of tablecloths. I had fabric for a Christmas tablecloth and a brilliantly colored party tablecloth with balloons, confetti and horns in six different colors – with enough left over for party napkins.
I showed them how to iron a temporary hem to sew in place. They took turns sewing the permanent hems.
I cut eight matching party napkins. The youngest did a Suzy Homemaker routine and sewed all the napkins' hems while her older sisters wandered off to do something else.
The next day, they wanted to sew something else. I pulled out a pre-printed set of Christmas stockings. Four stockings, enough for one each and one for me to demonstrate the techniques needed. When we began cutting out their stockings, linings and stocking hangars, I discovered I need to buy left-hand shears – or one child will never be able to cut her own material.
Initial fears and hesitations gone, they raced to the sewing machines and fought over who got which one. Ten minutes later, I could not figure out why they could not stay on the half inch seam line – until I remembered when I began sewing as a child, I had pre-printed projects with the sewing lines stamped out for me to follow, as well as the trim and snip lines. We began marking sewing lines.
After one sewed the whole stocking together with the material offset a couple inches, I realized she had not pinned the fabric – she was afraid of being pricked. She took out all the stitching and began again – with the pieces pinned together.
Although I had lots of white fabric for lining the red Santa Claus stockings, one chose a polished pink cotton, another chose a violet print with cats and the third selected a bright red fabric to line her stocking.
They made a lot of mistakes in cutting and sewing – the worst we fixed. The rest I let ride – I wanted them to have fun sewing. We'll refine the skills later.
Sewing the hangars for the stockings meant teaching them how to turn a tube of fabric inside out. I had forgotten the frustration of working material over a safety pin or around a pencil. But they each did what had to be done and we slid the liner inside the stocking, pinned all along the top edge, secured the hangar with a pin and then I hovered over each as they top-stitched everything securely in place.
We won't need the Christmas stockings and tablecloths for a while, but we had a lot of fun and they had finished products to take home to show-off ... and for once I needed all three of my machines at the same time.
(Joan Hershberger is a reporter at the News-Times. E-mail her at joanh@everybody.org.)
We always strive to keep visiting grandchildren moving, thinking, creating and away from staring open-mouthed at a television set for hours – which explains my craft cupboard for visiting grandchildren and eagle eye for community activities.
We maxed out with Easter activities during the grandchildren's recent spring break visit – thanks to the community wide planned activities.
In fact, they had barely arrived Tuesday when we packed them up in the car and took them to the last performance of “The Promise” at the El Dorado Municipal Auditorium. Sitting near the aisle at the front of the auditorium, the children felt part of the play as soldiers, disciples, town folks and Christ passed them in full costume on their way to the stage. For two hours, the show held their full attention All the way home they talked about the actors and scenes.
While I worked during the day, my husband pulled out his miniature race tracks, helped the children decorate clay pots for a future plants and laid out a treasure hunt. He delights in laying out the clues – which this time led to a basket of Easter goodies including chocolate crosses.
Thursday evening, I pulled out eggs and a food coloring kit for a grand mess of egg decorating.
Friday evening, we checked out First United Methodist's child friendly, hands-on review of Christ's last days. In the candle lit room, we dropped 30 silver dollars into a heavy leather bag as Judas did when he betrayed Jesus. Before two containers of water, we considered whether we would follow Christ's example of dipping our hands into water as an act of servanthood or be like Pilate and forsake Him. We watched red food coloring spread through a cup of water to remind us how Christ's blood gives life. The children handled the crown with the spikes of thorns and touched three nails asking “were they like this?”
Remembering that Christ endured such pain for our sins, we wrote three of our own sins on a piece of paper. A dish of vinegar and cotton swab hinted at the bitter experience of the soldier's mocking Christ. We extinguished a candle as we thought about how Christ's life was extinguished on the cross. Upstairs in the sanctuary standing before a rough cross, we replicated the dipping of the bread into the cup and thought about Good Friday events.
Saturday, before the family left we had a birthday breakfast with one granddaughter, a picture taken with the Easter Bunny – and gathered enough chocolate at the Jaycees Easter Egg Hunt to share with their Great-Grandpa Hibbard in the nursing home – and still had plenty left to make them sick to their stomachs.
Oh sure, during their visit we went out to eat a couple times and checked out the newest kid movie at the theater. But, most of the time was spent pulling games came out of the closet, dolls out of their cupboards and grandpa and grandma out of their recliners. Grandpa took them on nature walks and they found 25 different varieties of flowers. When they played our old upright piano, I noticed a distinct improvement.
Driving into town, we replaced backseat teasing with counting assigned colors of vehicles: Blue, silver, red, white, black (we had to divide the white vehicles into trucks and cars – there are so many). We all kept busy hunting and pointing out vehicles on side streets, in parking lots and in far-off fields.
The children say one reason they like to come is because we are always doing something fun.
I hope so, because after they left, we let out a huge sigh, kicked off our shoes, relaxed and did absolutely nothing for the rest of the weekend.
My husband did not want to leave his toy tractor behind. He wanted to take it with us when we visited the grandchildren.
It really should be MY tractor. I found the bright green plastic tractor and wagon sitting in front of the "For Pet's Sake" thrift store when my brother and sister visited back in June. My brother turned his rental van around almost as fast I would have and helped me load it.
My sister whispered I got it for a whole lot less than it would have cost new.
My brother said it needed a battery.
It sat in the garage for two months waiting on that charger.
My husband found a battery and charger – for significantly more than the tractor cost me – but still less than a new tractor. He plugged it in, pushed the accelerator and said there was a problem.
Many hours later – fortunately he does not bill for toy repairs or the tractor really would have cost more than a new one – he laid out his diagnosis and the potential cost for his possible list of repair parts. I said maybe we didn't need to fix it up.
He said he would call the manufacturer.
The company clerk said they had a complete kit for replacing the electrical harness for half the price I paid for the tractor.
Two days later the parts arrived and that was the day the tractor officially became my husband's. His face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He brushed aside all his other plans for the evening, set out tools and within three hours proudly showed me how perfectly it worked. That was two days before we planned to meet the family en route to a wedding in New Orleans.
He said the tractor would fit in the back of the van.
I wondered if there would be room for me.
He said it was just the two of us going in the van - there was plenty of room for the tractor and its trailer and the children were still small enough to ride it.
I wondered where the children would have time or place to play with it – we were meeting at a hotel.
He folded down one seat in the van and fitted the tractor and trailer in snugly and showed me it was going.
I had several toys I wanted to share with the grandchildren. He loaded some of them in the tractor's trailer. The rest we packed under and on top of the other unused seats – including the aprons I made for the little girls to wear while playing with the cooking toys I planned to give the third oldest for her birthday.
At the hotel, my husband parked the tractor just inside the hotel room door. The next morning, I was up, dressed and prepared for an hour before the children came knocking at our door.
The kids rushed in with hugs, yells and enough excitement to wake my husband. His grinned and pointed them to the tractor. The oldest drove it out the door to the sidewalk in front of the rooms. The birthday girl tore into her gifts. Under childish imagination, the aprons became capes, drapes, veils and super-hero clothes.
Fortunately, the battery-operated tractor runs quietly and the children know how to play with subdued voices. They took turns driving. It went back and forth in front of our room – around the corner past the office – around the next corner to the other side of the hotel – completely around the hotel's sidewalk back to our room.
The grandson added the grand finale by shifting into high gear, putting the pedal to the medal as he stood up bracing himself, grinning and enjoying the breeze as he spun along at 4.5 miles per hour.
They finally parked the tractor and checked out the other toys, ate the hotel's continental breakfast – and discovered the hotel's swimming pool. Their dad agreed to a 30 minute swim before we all checked out. They were well into their swim, when grandpa remembered our camera. He handed it to me and insisted I take a picture of each dripping wet, swimsuit clad child riding grandpa's newest toy – a permanent record that we really did take Grandpa's tractor with us when we visited the grandchildren.