Saturday, 15 December 2012

Cute As A Button Tree!

I may not be able to remember what I came upstairs for or where I put my glasses, when they are sitting on the top of my head, but I remember buttons.  Dump my old button jar out and I'll point out the one with the little anchor that was on my toddler's sailor dress.  Or, I'll show you the pink pearl buttons from my grandma's bed jacket.  This heart shaped one was on the another daughter's dress and those brass buttons are from a 60's fake leather coat.

When a blogger I read showed us a button covered tree that she bought at a craft fair, I knew I just had to have one!  For the life of me, I cannot find the original blogger but I know you read this, so let me know and I'll send them over to you to see your totally glam one.

Mine is a much simpler version. ~

My sister was visiting and sorting out the white and red buttons for me.  I grabbed one squealing, "Oh my gosh, you know this one for sure!".  She just looked at me.  She often looks at me like I'm one possessed.  "You surely know where this button is from!"  She keeps right on looking at me.  But, I know this is the button I want for my star at the top of the tree.  I remind my sister of the story and we both laugh until the tears are running down our faces.

This is my star. ~

It may be a simple bit of plastic and gold gilt but it certainly has a story!  My daughter was scheduled for a C-section on a February day fourteen years ago.  After the difficult birth of her first son, it was a wonderful relief to have everything under control this time.  Or, so I thought!

Days before the delivery my husband decided to go out of town to work with a well known recording artist. I freaked out because that left me out in the country with no car and no way of getting to the hospital.  My sister said she would take me but her husband was out of town working and had their car.  Luckily, my brother was working as a car salesman and my sister took one of his models out for a test drive.  We'll have that car back to him in 3 hrs.  You can start singing the theme to Gilligan's Island about now.

I've chosen to wear a lovely, new suit with about 40 tiny buttons all down the front of the jacket.  Off we go to the hospital and sit daintily in the waiting room.  My son in law comes out very soon and he does not have the look of a happy new dad.  It seems my daughter has gone into labour on the operating table and we must wait through the whole labour and delivery again!  It has just begun and they recommend we go home and wait for a call that things are getting closer.

We drive back out into the country and hang around sipping tea for hours until we decide to catch a little sleep.  No sooner do we get in bed than the phone rings.  SIL says, "You better get back here fast 'cause it's coming!".  I'm yelling for my sis who is hopping down the hall with one foot caught in the hem of her slacks, trying to get the other leg in.  I'm fumbling with forty, stupid, little buttons and finally say, "To hell with it", yank that jacket off and throw on an old tee shirt.

Sis grabs the car keys and unlocks the doors.  Or, so she thinks.  It's the middle of the night, the horn is blaring and lights are flashing!  It's pouring rain and we're standing out there yelling and hitting buttons on the key holder to shut the damn thing off.  It takes 40 mins to get from here to the hospital, but we made it in half that time and got there just in time to welcome Dermott, grandson number 2!

The car would have been returned if baby Dermott hadn't started running a fever the next day.  My daughter freaked out because that's when grandson number 1 started having difficulties.  She called me crying and I called the doctor and we raced back to the hospital.  It was a false scare and we fully intended to return that car by evening.  Then, the hospital messed up her vegetarian food and brought her a big slice of beef and I had to go home and make her something she could eat.

Three days later, my brother is on the phone saying, "Where the hell is the car you took for a test drive?  They want to know if you drove it to Florida!".  Big sis told him to calm down.  She liked that peppy, little car and was buying it.  And she did!

So, this may just look like an old paper cone tree, covered in buttons, to you but to my sis and I it means a heck of a lot more.  It means generations of family and sticking together when you need to.  It means laughter and tears and joy at the birth of a new baby.

It means Christmas to me! ~

Ah, if you want a real trip down memory lane, just dump out that old button jar.  It's my version of a memory quilt!

I'm Sharing over at:  Nifty Thrifty TuesdayKnick Of Time TuesdayChristmas Decorating Party on a BudgetMake It Pretty Monday