keep passing the open windows

Last night, trying to be ambitious and actually accomplish something in the evening (other than my normal “making dinner, pestering kids about homework, picking one child up, dropping another one off, throwing in a load of laundry, do a load of dishes” evening) I decided to repair a pair of pants that had ripped at the seam.

I am NOT a sew-er and couldn’t thread the needle. In my defense, the needle holes were super small! And the thread, well, it was sub-par.

I guess that’s what you get when your sewing kit is from Dollar Tree.

I called to Chris for help.

He responded, confident in his threading ability. Ten minutes later we both gave up. Yes, the needle holes were that damn deficient.

He said “Why don’t you just call Wesley and ask him to sew them for you?”

Um, I should call my son and daughter’s fourteen-year-old friend to mend my clothing?

Chris said, “Sure. I had him repair the lining in one of my jackets and a pair of pants.”

What?

My kids always complain about their indentured servitude, 18 years (minus babyhood) of getting mom a glass of tea, fetching the remote and picking up dog doo from the yard, but, really, why else have kids?

Okay, I know, I know, it’s the greatest joy, the continuation of the species, propagation of the aryan race, yada, yada, yada… I just want to remain prone while I watch TV and have a crap free yard.

(Yes, that “propagation of the white race” bit was a joke! I’m not a advocate of Matt Hale’s twisted beliefs.)

But asking their friends to do chores, well, that’s a little bit much, I do think!