Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Martha Stewart takes a holiday

So, maybe it's just me, but sometimes I have days when I wonder why the universe has allowed me to be a parent. Most the time I'm ok, I give myself a B+, which is fine, I'm not striving for hall of fame or anything, just survival.

So imagine my surprise when I woke up Friday and had an itch to sew my cute little girls cute little matching sun dresses! I don't know what happened. Sewing generally thrills me about as much as wading through pools of spiders. But hey, who am I to resist a completely innocent urge? I dragged the kids to the fabric store (mia was in tears because that was not what her plan for the day was) and forced them to pick out fabric as I slyly asked the clerk what the easiest pattern in the store was as I am a what I like to refer to as a special needs seamstress. Anyway, long story short, here's what we ended up with after 3 hours of me cursing my machine

Yes, they are freaking adorable, thank you for noticing. This picture was taken Sunday morning about 10 minutes before we left for church. Approximately 13 minutes later, Mia's dress, hair and dignity will lay in shreds on the kitchen floor. (Aha! you were wondering when I would get to the "Amy is a massive mom failure" part of my story!) We wandered to church, my cute little matching girls holding hands and giggling, me trailing behind with tears of self satisfaction glistening in the sunshine. We selected our usual pew and settled in for the chaos we accept as sunday worship with kids. Here's where I made my fatal mistake, I asked Mia to (Brace yourself) Move to the END OF THE ROW! I know, how dare I say such things to her? Her screams of indignation echoed through the chapel as I tried to calm her down and explain that she can't sit in the middle because she puts her feet on the hymnal holder thingy and refuses to let anyone squeeze past her. This lead to more hysteria and a violent outburst. Charlie finally noticed that he was dressed and at church with his family just in time to raise his eyes from his smart phone and see his angelic 6 year old take a swing at me with her remarkable right hook. I've always been proud of that right hook. Anyway, he dragged her out of the church, all the way back home with her scratching and screaming and clawing at him the whole way. By the time they reached the safety of the house she had ripped her dress, reduced her cute curly hair to a hopeless birds nest and worked herself into such a frothy mountain of rage it took her nearly 2 hours to get a hold of her emotions and return to church (charlie had sewn her dress strap back on with a needle and thread and tried his best to salvage her hair, because he is adorable.)

Anyway, my point is, within about 3 minutes my "I am the worlds best mom with adorable girls whom are worthy of a magazine cover in dresses I sewed with my own hands" mood fell to "my whole ward just saw what a miserable failure of a disciplinarian I am and my children are secretly abusive monsters that should be locked in the basement for the safety of the whole neighborhood" kind of mood. It happens that fast. Eliza and I sat through the meeting with shame hanging over our heads (well, I did anyway, eliza mostly was irritated that her dad wasn't sitting next to her, she likes him lots.) Yep, that's how it goes. Kids. Hmm.

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