OOPSIE DOOPSIE

Growing up, I was a girl scout. I loved it. Every other week, I hung out with my girlfriends after school, enjoyed some sort of peanut butter snack and worked on crafts. A group of the coolest moms helped us make lanyards, took us on our first camping trips and taught us the exquisite art of selling cookies. As a reward for our efforts, we were given patches. And when we were Brownies, oh boy did we earn patches! I feel like we were given patches every month. And since this was before the patches had the iron-on adhesive, we lovingly sewed those triangles onto our brown sashes. Well, we didn’t. Our moms and grandmothers were provided this wonderful task.

I would pass my sash and new patches off to one of my grandmas – whoever was assigned the task that time – and wait in anticipation. When I finally received the sash from my grandma, which sometimes seemed like an eternity, I remember looking at each stitch and how it looped around the patch.

Over. Under. Over. Under.

It didn’t move. It was sewn on with such care and love. And it was not coming off. It was now a part of me.

That was years ago. So many years. But the familiar gesture started to come back into our lives. This is the first Halloween Madeline had an opinion, and a strong one at that, about her costume selection.

“Princess!” she shouted. Of course. A princess. As Madeline, grandma and I walked through the aisles of costumes, she landed on “the one.” I grabbed the smallest size I could find, and we made our way to the check-out line. The smile on her face was priceless, but running through my head was a slight worry that “the one” was still going to be two sizes too big.

When we walked into the house, she started running around, asking to try on the dress. “Of course we can try on the princess dress!” I said. After all, I needed to see how big this would be…

Once she popped her head through the tulle and lace, the B I G G E S T grin appeared. And I’m not talking about Mads. This mama was pleased to see that the ball of fabric did not entirely envelope the child. However, grandma also noticed the size.

“Let’s pin it. I’ll take it in just a bit,” said grandma {aka my mom}.

And in that instant, I was immediately transported to a different place in time. The only difference? My mom took the role of grandma, I was in the role of mom and my sweet Mads would soon begin the appreciation of the love given to her clothing by some pretty amazing women. Feeling each stitch. Attempting to undo a bond that will not break. She will realize soon enough its wondrous strength.

Mads passed the dress to a wide-eyed, smiling grandma that waited so patiently in line. Now, it was her time to swiftly and lovingly stitch together another first memory for the pair.

Just one needle. One piece of thread. And the countless memories bound together by those two. 

Over. Under. Over. Under.

What treasured memories are within your everyday, ordinary details? Share in the comments! xo

Linking up with Jessica and Emily.

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