When the color guard cult calls, you answer. This week’s sacred ritual? Sewing uniforms. Now, I haven’t used a sewing machine in 15 years, but how hard could it be? (Famous last words.) The bobbin alone had more moving parts that a NASA launch, the thread broke every three seconds, and at one point I accidentally hemmed a pant leg completely shut. Nothing humbles you faster than realizing you’ve created a uniform a teenager can’t physically wear.

But it wasn’t just me versus the uniform… that would be too easy, it was me versus the entire household.

Dad was fishing with the oldest son so Harper decided she needed to “help.” Translation: she took every pin I had carefully lined up and redistributed them into the couch cushions. Meanwhile, the cat grabbed the thread and bolted across the room like she’d just won the Kentucky Derby.

Enter Lynnlee, breadstick in hand (because why wouldn’t she be?), chasing the cat like a tiny carb fueled gladiator. Harper then joined the race armed with a water bottle, you know because obviously hydration is warfare.

I leapt up to stop the chaos, which of course created more chaos. I knocked the sewing machine clean off the table The cat whipped back around, dragging the thread behind her, and suddenly I was tangled in strong like a discount Cirque du Soleil act..pins in my hair, fabric flying across the living room.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse?? The cat narrowly missed the red flavored water cup she’d launched earlier, which would have permanently tie-dyed the uniform.

So no, the uniform aren’t perfect, I failed the inspection done by ruler mom and the initiation was a flop… I heard next week was bedazzling. IF you see me with jewels attached to my face just know I am living my best life. Twizzlers in my purse, coffee in hand and glitter flowing from my ears…. I am starting to think joining the Navy SEALs would have been easier.