Another word for "quitter."

Believe it or not, I'm a perfectionist. But not a typical one; I don't have the typical determination to get something perfectly. I want to be able to do everything perfectly, and if I can't do it perfectly on the first try, and without much practice, then I give up. I think I use "perfectionist" as another word for "quitter."

I've been thinking about this a lot because of a situation I got myself into. You see, I'm kind of cheap, and I decided that it made more sense to buy all of Elijah's clothes a little big, and that way I could get more wear out of them for my money. Well, maybe I'm not "cheap," per se ... I bought nicer clothes (Gap, Levi's, Janie and Jack, some Gymboree - almost all on sale), so that they would stand the test of time, but again, I bought a little big (I just bought 2T instead of going for the 24 month stuff that he'll be out of in the next growth spurt). It made sense at the time. Still does, in theory. The problem? Everything's too long. Especially the pants.

And so, Tuesday I attempted to sew -- true sewing, not just mending a hole in a stuffed animal or replacing a button -- for the first time since I was in middle school. I called my mom and asked how to hem the pants up a couple inches -- I just needed to hem them, because I am so smart and got pants with adjustable waists, so the waists were fine. She told me to use a simple whip stitch, easy peasy, and I'd be fine. I googled "whip stitch," found a simple how-to video, and was on my merry way. 

Too bad I started when Elijah was awake. After pulling my whole sewing kit out of his hands, oh, maybe 50 times, I finally realized that I only had one color of thread that would work -- dark blue -- and it would only work in the denim, which of course is the hardest fabric to work with (for me). I spent the next 30 minutes cursing in my head and ripping out the stitches after starting a grand total of five times. It was a MESS. I couldn't do a straight stitch for the life of me, and forget about it being small. I was so frustrated that I packed everything up and threw it in a pile and walked away. And then I pouted. For about 24 hours. I came to the conclusion that the doubters were right, I had no business trying to sew, and I'd just go to JoAn on Wednesday and get some stitch witchery tape and be done with it. If I couldn't do it well the first time, might as well just move on. I sent Elijah to school on Wednesday in pants with safety-pin hems, and when he sat down they became capris. I told Michael we had the homeless kid at school and tried not to be too embarrassed.

On Wednesday evening, Michael and I had a conversation about being proud of your spouse. I am so proud of him and all that he does, and we have friends who are just as enamored with their spouses' accomplishments. But then I stopped to think -- what exactly do I do that Michael can be proud of? Sure, I make sure he has clean laundry and a relatively clean house, but I have help with the cleaning. Can I say that I fit the description of a worthy woman from Proverbs? "She looks well to the ways of her household, And does not eat the bread of idleness" (31:27 NASB). After taking the boys to school this morning, all I accomplished was keeping the kitchen tidy and finishing a book, which I then returned to the library. If that's not idle, I have no idea what is. And what about verse 13? "She looks for wool and flax, And works with her hands in delight." Well, all I had was cotton, but you gotta start somewhere.

So tonight, after Elijah was in bed, I decided to have one more go at it. I picked up the pair of Target jeans I bought for $4.50, deciding that if any could look bad, it could be them, and I started to sew. And you know what? It ain't pretty, and the stitches are totally irregular, but darn if I didn't finish hemming those jeans. And because the wash is dark and the thread is too, no one will ever see it. Except for maybe my mom, but I think that's her job. As a mom, I mean. I haven't been this proud of myself in a while. And I know that, by the time I get to the last pair of pants, the stitches are going to look a lot better. 

Maybe I'm not a quitter after all.