Tomato

It's funny how certain things stick in your head. Like, I can't remember climbing up a pile of cut wood and almost knocking my teeth out, but I can remember my mom's tomato pin cushion and being completely fascinated by it. It is an icon. Whenever I see one of these, I think of its smell (it smelled weird, what can I say) and I think of my mom and I think of my mom sewing.

Yesterday my mom and I went to the fabric store so she could help me buy sewing necessities and to help me figure out what I need to buy from sewing pattern instructions. I have a few things, but not really anything that's specific for sewing with a sewing machine. She wanted to find a sewing kit that had all the necessities inside of it, but since there wasn't one, she started at one end of the wall and moved down, picking out things I needed. The first thing I saw and knew I had to have it because she had one was the tomato pin cushion.

I was so happy to see it because I knew that once I bought it, I would be a real sewer even though I haven't sewn yet (I figure it'll take me a week to make one bag -- I'm taking my time).

"I know I need this!" I told my mom.

That's when all my hopes and dreams and fond memories were crushed. She basically said that the tomato pin cushion is stupid. I can't quote her because I don't quite remember exactly what she said, but that's what she meant. I'm sure of it.

I loved her tomato pin cushion. I don't know why, but it made the whole idea of sewing a bit more interesting because if you sew, you could have a tomato pin cushion. Like it was some secret rite of passage for sewers. Now, I did have a little sewing machine as a kid and a sewing basket with sewing trinkets, but never have I had a tomato. That was for the serious sewers.
And for some reason hers smelled. It wasn't a great smell or even a bad smell, it just smelled. So that in and of itself was fascinating.

"Yours smelled," I said.

"It probably had catnip in it or something," she offhandedly told me. I realized that unless I wanted my memories and good feelings crushed, I had to drop the tomato pin cushion talk.

Right after that we had a slight child abuse incident where I was getting really excited about buying stuff, and so I was pointing out various things I remembered that she had, and I was asking if I needed it. I got barked at after doing it for the third time.

"Would you stop! I'm trying to look at all this!" she said to me.

"You shouldn't yell at me. That's child abuse!" I told her.

"You're not a child," she said.

"I'm your child, so it is child abuse."

So not only did my tomato memories get picked up, shook and thrown against the wall, but she was also being verbally abusive to me.

Later I found out she hid scissors all over the house because "us girls" (my sis and I) apparently had a scissor fascination and ruined her scissors all the time. So she hid them from us and when we moved out, she found them all over the place and realized they no longer needed to hide. Except from my Dad, but that's another story altogether.

Despite having my tomato memories crushed and being barked at in the fabric store, I still have high hopes of being a fabulous sewer like my mom. And every time I pull a pin out my new tomato pin cushion, I will think of her.

I hope you feel bad now, mom. You owe me a Coldstone sundae!