Ah, the first born child. Everything is important. The future is ripe with ambitions of homemade clothes, cuddling memories, and absolutely perfect holidays. You read three stories a night at bedtime. You make a birthday plate with an original poem on the back. Every parenting tip you have ever read is about to implemented perfectly with that little soul. Baby food. . . blended at home. Diapers. . .changed every hour. And the Christmas stocking. . . lovingly made at home in a creative and beautiful manner.
Am I the only one who dreamed this dream? I sat down to make Isaac's first stocking and it came together perfectly. . in the beginning. How hard is it anyway to sew red felt in the shape of a large sock. And then I cut and stitched a cute little snowman on the front. But then, the name section ruined me. An abbreviated crafting tip: Felt and Puff Paint do not a good mix make:
I was totally distraught. My first maternal Christmas was a mess. I was a failure as a mother and a homemaker. But, with a sigh, I hang Isaac's stocking up every year. Lucy's is storebought with a charming homemade touch. Emma's was homemade. . . by my husband. Isaac's is a bit of a sore thumb when they are all in a row. So, this year I said, "Isaac, I think I better make you a new stocking." Gasp! "What Mom! I love my stocking! I love it! I don't want a new one!" He hugged it to his chest with an impressive look of terror. I was completely surprised and thought perhaps a trip to the eye doctor was in order. Could he see his stocking? Couldn't he see the smudged letters, the tattered snowman and the lopsided sewing job? Then I got it. All he saw was love. All he saw was the first stocking he ever had, one his mom had made just for him. I see smudges of paint, he sees his name. I see flaws, he sees creation. Unlike his mother, Isaac can look past flaws when there is love involved. My life is filled with countless flaws and shortcomings. But, it is also filled with love. I shout and lose my temper. I also cuddle and summon the energy to vacuum because I know it makes the house look so nice when Daman comes home. My sewing is crooked, and my bread sometimes burns. But apparently, a frumpy stocking made (imperfectly) with love is exactly what Isaac wants. So a life lived (imperfectly) with love is good enough for me too. Thanks, Isaac, I love you too.