The Green (With Envy) Dress

Mom was quite the seamstress, but she did NOT enjoy sewing. She was good at it, but it was probably one of the things she disliked doing the most. When she did pull out the old sewing machine and put up the card table and go to work, I would find things to do under the card table so I could be near her and watch whatever creation she was working on. I'm sure that playing Barbies interfered with her use of the foot pedal more than once, but she never really complained.

One year for Easter, Mom decided to make me an Easter dress. There was another lady in our ward who loved to sew and was also great at it. This lady sewed every day, whether it was an article of clothing, making a repair to something, or just whipping up something for fun, she sewed every day. Contrast that to Mom who only sewed when she absolutely had to because nothing else made her pull her hair out quite as much as sitting at the sewing machine. The fact that she wanted to sew an Easter dress for me was huge. I didn't know she was making me a dress though. She kept it quiet and surprised me.

The dress was beautiful. I still think of it often and remember how pretty I felt in it. It was a very light green, almost mint colored. There was a pattern of white throughout the green fabric that almost looked like a floral pattern, but not quite so florally that it was obvious. It was delicate, not powerful or overbearing. The fabric had more of an embroidered feel to it. It was an interesting texture. I remember the dress had a collar and a long tie that made a big bow in the back. It came to just below my knees and poofed out just below the waist. For some reason, I remember there was kind of a band around the middle. It wasn't too wide, but it wasn't so small it couldn't be noticed. The sleeves were short and a little bit poofy so that they stood up just off the shoulders. That poof made me feel just a little bit taller. I think I was probably six or maybe seven when Mom made that dress. I'm not sure how long I wore it, but I remember being sad when it didn't fit anymore.

The other lady in the ward that loved to sew had a daughter that was just a couple of months older than me. Her daughter also went to Church in a new Easter dress, but it wasn't anything to write home about. I think it was a lighter red dress with a white apron (?) over the top that was trimmed in lace. It was pretty, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't pastel and filled with Spring like my Easter dress. I distinctly remember sitting next to this girl in the red dress on Easter Sunday in our Primary group. We were friends, after all, so sitting together is just what we did. I complimented her on her Easter dress and she asked, "Where did you get your dress?" I told her, proudly, that my mom made it for me. With a scowl on her face she said, "Oh."

At six or seven you think that's about it, right? Big deal, someone has a dress, yada, yada. Oh, no. That is NOT how this other mother worked. The daughter went home and told her all about my dress, how my mom had made it for me, how it was pretty and green and light and Easter-y. Well, they couldn't have that! They couldn't have me "one-upping" the daughter, especially on Easter. How dare we?! So, her mom got to work the next day. And, from what I understand now, she spent that entire week putting together a dress for her daughter that "exceeded" the dress my mom had made for me.

You know what I remember about the week after Easter? Nothing. Not. one. thing. Mom was the one who told me, years later, about the Easter fiasco when I came to Church in a new homemade green dress.I don't remember my friend having a new dress or what the dress looked like or anything.  I don't even remember complimenting her on the dress. Why? Because I was still wearing my mint green Easter dress the following week. (And probably for several weeks after that; I liked it that much.)

The interesting thing, to me, about all of this is that when I see pictures of me in that dress I have nothing but feelings of fondness. I reflect back on how beautiful I felt and how special it was that my mom devoted her time and effort to making me a new dress. I am flooded with memories of being under the card table and watching fabric fall to the ground and bounce all around me as it was shifted in the sewing machine by Mom. I think of the times I fell asleep under the sewing machine, being lulled into slumber by it's humming as Mom pressed the foot pedal. And I feel some sadness for the other girl whose mother thought it was all a competition and that more had to be done to impress the masses. It's sadness that it became a selfish thing for her mother, and probably for her, to "out do" someone else.

Having that green dress taught me a wonderful lesson, one that I'll probably never forget. The lesson is this: you never know as a parent what things you will do that will make your children feel beautiful, but do the good things anyway, and take comfort in the fact that when your children feel beautiful (and you've helped them feel beautiful) it will stay with them forever.

Do not be the mother or father that has to "out do" the other parents. That's not how winners act or what winners do.

The winner is my mother because she not only helped me feel beautiful and special and loved, but because she didn't give in to the other mother's whacky ideas about what was important and compete with her over a stupid dress. There is so much more to life than who has the better dress (homemade or not), and if you're teaching your kids that being better is all that matters, you're creating a monster that the rest of society gets to deal with and clean up after. Just stop. Stop it now.

Create moments of beauty and love instead. Then, everyone's a winner.

The Easter Dress

My mom used to sew a lot when I was growing up. Mainly, it was because we didn't have a lot of money to spend on clothes, but I think it was also because her mother had done the same for her, and it was a way to be frugal and save for a rainy day. Whatever the reason, I loved it when my mom would sew something new for me. 

One of my friend's moms was constantly sewing things for her. She spent all day, every day (it seemed like) sewing something for one of her two daughters. Her father loved to quilt, so I think he liked that his wife sewed so often because it meant he got the scraps for his quilts. My friend, of course, thought it was lame that she had to wear homemade items to school and Church. I was actually a bit jealous. 

There's one particular Easter I remember. Mom worked so hard on a beautiful green and white Easter dress for me. Maybe I should clarify that Mom didn't actually enjoy sewing. It was definitely not her first choice of extracurricular activities. But she did it anyway, mostly because she loved her family and didn't want them walking around in shabby clothes. 

Anyway, Mom finished this Easter dress. It had pretty little sleeves and a tie at the back with cute, little white buttons that sealed the deal. It took her hours and hours of work. In fact, she may have worked on it for weeks before Easter. I don't remember any of that, but I'm sure Mom probably does! 

I wore it to Church on Easter Sunday. My friend also had a new Easter dress on that her mother had made for her. We were young and stupid and compared dresses by swirling them in the halls at Church and generally making fools of ourselves. Little did I know, her mother actually felt a "competition" between the two of us girls. My dress flared more on the swirls or had a longer tie or better button holes or something. Whatever it was, her mother was highly annoyed that I had such a pretty Easter dress. 

My friend and I were oblivious, but the next Sunday, she showed up with another newly made dress. It was decked out, but that's about all I remember of it now. I just remember thinking, "Ooh, pretty." And that was that. But it wasn't, actually. My friend said her mom made her wear that dress after spending the entire week on it because she needed to look perfect in a new dress at Church. And how dare that Katie and her mother try to "out do" us with their white and green Easter dress? 

We couldn't have been older than five. In fact, it was probably more like four, but somehow her mom had made this competition out of the two of us, and the only way she could "win" the competition was by making a bigger, better dress than the one I had. Thankfully, I didn't realize any of this was going on. It wasn't until later that Mom filled me in and told me the story of the Easter dress. I believe my response was to laugh out loud. Really? Mothers do this kind of thing to their children? And for what? 

In the end, my friend began to refuse wearing the clothes her mom made for her. Even when high school dances came around and her mom was standing scissors, needle, and thread in hands to make her a formal dress, she would beg her dad to take her shopping. He'd take her every time. I think he was tired of the competition, too. There was some sort of irrational hold on her mother to make the "perfect" dress. 

I, however, have never forgotten that Easter dress. It had nothing to do with the competition. It had nothing to do with the dress my friend ended up wearing to Church the following week. The reason I loved that dress is because my mom made it. I knew it was special, I knew it took a lot of time and effort, and I knew it came from the heart through pin pricks on fingers and curse words at the sewing machine. It was a dress of love, not of duty or competition. That was, and still is, my favorite Easter dress.