Reading is Sew Hard.

I have kept a dark and dirty secret from many of you. In this case, I didn't say anything for a number of reasons. I am now, however, ready to let the proverbial cat out of my handmade bag. Yeah. You read that right. My handmade bag... Lost? Confused? Let me clarify. I took a sewing class with two of my girlfriends for five weeks. Yes. Feel free to re-read that because those of you who know me are scrolling up to ensure you're on the right blog, and those of you who don't know me may slowly be getting the wrong impression.

Let me break it down.

1. I love a challenge but I'm easily frustrated.
2. I'm not a quitter but I have no patience.
3. Sewing is no joke and my class was in Chinese.
Our laoshi (teacher) was lovely..and collectively we struggled to find the correct English/Mandarin to make three finished products.

At times the teacher and her assistant (probably for fear that my finished products would be attached to the quality of their shop) would just run the stitch or cut/measure the material for me themselves. While elated (am I really using this word in relation to sewing??) that I got out of measuring, the victory did not taste as sweet as when I sewed the stitches myself. Sure they were crooked and loose, but they were mine. A product of my hard work; not to mention sweat, a little blood and definitely a couple tears. I thought of this illustration multiple times as I watched poor Wyatt struggle with reading, writing and a number of other academic concepts this year.
Perhaps it's because he and I spend so much time together- or maybe it's the unfortunate result of being an only child. Regardless of the reason, at times I treat Wyatt as if he were a decade older. My expectation of his maturity level is met with the disparity of his six year old behaviors. With his natural charm, wit, sarcasm and charisma (not to mention his big ol' attitude), it's simple. I forget.
My kid is only six.

Let me break it down.

While a product of myself and Will- Wyatt's attitude? Mine. False confidence and big talk? Mine. Propensity to overcompensate with this big talk and cover up discomfort with sarcasm? Guilty again. Quick to frustration with a severe lack of patience? Yeah. It's humbling to say the least- and it's never pretty to see yourself in a six year old light. Lack of filters replete with LOTS of whining. Ga-Ross.

SO when my frustration begins to match his as he's making up 5 Ba-Jillion words that begin with the letter J instead of sounding out the rest of the $&%* word...I just need to take a minute. I embarrassingly can't tell you of the countless times our evening has been riddled with apologies for outbursts of anger that I've had at his lack of genuine effort. 

And then my mind flashes to sewing. @#*@! I get it. I totally get it- It sucks. The process totally sucks. The reward? The silver lining you ask?  The recognition in Wyatt's eyes the moment he finishes a book himself. It's the same feeling I had with that stupid bag. Thirty years later- bags, books, it's all the same. While it doesn't necessarily get any easier, it's worth it in the end. Seriously. It is.