The Backpack.

(This story is written from my mom's perspective. I was very little when she made the bag, but I do remember her spending so much time working on it. Yes, I am now the current owner of this bag. I did add in a few of my own elements to the story to make it a tiny bit fictional, but not many. Hope you guys enjoy this little story, from my mother's perspective.)

My mother called again this week. As if taking care of my little girl, Emelia by myself isn't tough enough. Not that she's difficult to take care of. My husband is a lawyer, who works in Philly. We live in Collingswood, which is a drive from his office in the city. But we make do. It's not too difficult. He is a really great defense lawyer, but he's thinking about switching to a different office. Or starting his own office, which would be equally as good.

Anyway, with the nearing holiday, my mother thought it would be nice to exchange Christmas gifts a week or day ahead of the holiday. I have been getting gifts together, but I decided to make her a backpack by myself. I thought it would be nice to sew the inside of it, with knit straps and the body of the bag would also be knit. It seemed like the perfect gift. It seemed like she would love something like that. I thought it was the most perfect gift. After all, she loves things like that. Right?

I've been taking knitting classes recently. My husband takes my daughter out while I go to the local knitting classes at our church. My husband takes my daughter out for milkshakes, as I have learned to knit. It gets me out of the house doing things to open up a new skill for me. It's also good because I'm out of the house, making friends. I make things and I don't have to worry about my daughter. I socialize with the women. It is a nice program provided by our lovely church.

So, I got to work. First, the straps. Those were easy to knit. It only took me an hour or so to complete. Nice and easy. Then, I had to knit the bag, this took upwards of a week. I almost ran out of purple yarn! Then I had to knit the lining into it. This took forever, with all the pockets and other things that were sewn on. But I got it done. And now, for the top flap and button. The button was very difficult, but the flap was easy. All done. Then I wrapped it up in a big bag. I had made a beautiful little purple bag for my mother. I just had to hope she liked it.

Now, not hating on my mother, but she can be a tiny bit picky. That can be annoying, especially when you pour your heart and soul into something and she doesn't like it. But I was almost sure she was going to love it. After all, it was made with love, joy, happiness, and it took me so long to make. So much time. But it will be so worth it to see how proud she is of me. To see how happy she is to receive the bag.

About a week later we drove over to go see her. To celebrate Christmas as a family. She looked happy to have it. I thought. I never saw her use it, ever. And I tried to talk to her about it, and she said she loved it every time. And years passed. I had two more children, both boys. She started to annoy me a bit more, but one day, I allowed the children to go to her house. We were sitting around, and Emelia was talking to her. When she said she had something for her.

I wondered what it could be. Then she came down wearing the bag. My mom said that I made it. She was practically giving it back to me! This bag, that took me so long to make for her! Not for Emelia. I love my mother, but she crossed a line. I had to leave. My daughter and I had a talk about the bag. She didn't use it, as I told her that it needed to be protected. She has it in her closet but does not use it. I still cannot believe my mother. That she did that. I chose not to think about it too often.

In all fairness, she'd done some stupid things. Once, she walked into Chick-fil-A and ordered a baby burger. The worker told her that they sold chicken and she told him that, "Just last week" she had ordered a baby burger from them. Then he reminded her that they were CHICK-FIL-A! She just giggled and said oops. My mother. Another time she sent me a fruit basket for my birthday. She asked me to take a picture of it. Then the balloon. I had the mirror on my camera and took the picture.

My husband said that chances were likely that she would call saying that the lettering was backward. 30 seconds later, sure enough. She called them back for a refund, and they had already sent it. The next day I got another one. Speaking of birthday presents, she wanted specialized stamps with her name on them. They weren't good enough, so she asked me for the website name to get a refund. She got kicked out of an Olive Garden. Seriously? Seriously. I couldn't believe that one. Because they ran out of peaches for iced tea with peaches.

I love my mother, but not her shenanigans. I really want her to know that I love her, so much. But she really needs to realize that the things she does have an effect on others. Especially her loved ones. Not to mention how she makes it clear that her favorite child is my little brother. She's always favored him. I love all my children equally. She can take a page from my book. Please do. I love you, mom.