My numb fingertips are proof of my love for my child

I couldn't feel my fingertips this morning. I also could not feel the ends of my thumbs either. I didn't have a stroke that caused me to lose sensation in my extremities, but rather spent three hours last night tying beads onto a shirt so Amelia could go to school dressed as an Indian princess for her class's Thanksgiving feast.

Normally I like to have plenty of time to attend to projects and would have loved to have had ample time to get this one completed. However, my first-grader waited until yesterday after school but before dance class to tell me she needed an outfit for the feast. This announcement made it clear to me that I'd just become a parenting cliche.

Hoping against hope that I'd saved a quasi-Indian costume my momma once bought for Amelia at a yard sale, I went on a mad search through closets and toy boxes after directing Amelia to get ready for dance class. Having no luck locating the costume, I snatched one of her daddy's t-shirts from the drawer and set about cutting fringe along the bottom hem and sleeves.

In order for the fringe to have an authentic look I knew I'd need to wash the shirt first so, while screaming at Amelia for the umpteenth time to get her tights and leotard on, I gathered a small load of clothes, put them in the washer with the t-shirt and went to make sure Amelia was ready because at this point it was time to leave.

When we returned home two hours later I immediately got the shirt out of the washer and hung it up to dry some before I got to work beading it. I quickly ate my dinner then set about putting the beads on the shirt while watching Dateline NBC's coverage of Prince William and Kate Middleton's engagement. 

Amelia at first was eager to help me by selecting the beads and passing them to me as I requested them. However, her interest lasted about 10 minutes. She couldn't possibly assist me in making this costume because her attention was captured by the tale of commoner Kate snagging herself a real life prince.

I took only tiny breaks from beading, which is why I was able to finish it in three hours. If I hadn't buckled  down and focused on getting this done, I could have easily been up burning the midnight oil for my little lady. Also, let me just say that beading is hard work. I would have never made it as a beader back in the day. The tribe elders would have banished me to work as a potato peeler or corn picker or some other such work that wouldn't cause me to whine, "My fingers hurrrrrtttt!"

Anyway, all my work paid off this morning when Amelia woke up, gazed upon her shirt and proclaimed me to be "the best momma in the whole wide world." She wanted to get dressed immediately, which is highly unusual because normally she likes to laze around for 45 minutes before even contemplating changing out of her pajamas.

Once she had all her garb on, Amelia requested I snap of picture of her decked out for the feast. I couldn't take the photo, though, until she'd decided on the best pose to showcase her fringe and beads. Just knowing she's so proud of my hard work that she wanted to make sure it could be seen in a photo made my heart swell with pride and nearly brought a tear to my eye.

After our photo session, Amelia wanted to look up photos of "real-life" Indians on the Internet to make sure her outfit was historically correct. We didn't find any Indians wearing Twinkle Toes by Skechers or purple tights, but we did find several in which men and women alike were shown wearing fringed and beaded clothing very similar to what I'd made for Amelia.

During our Internet research Amelia decided that a headdress with a feather was more appropriate for a boy. She instead opted to do away with the headdress in favor of "an Indian princess crown," which is actually a piece of gaudy costume jewelry that came from my momma's house. Because we saw several photos of Indian maidens wearing braids in their hair, Amelia announced it was of utmost importance that I braid her hair.

This is what she looked like when I dropped her off at school:

She again wanted to show off her fringe and beads, God love her. I reminded her when we were headed to school that her shirt is a physical symbol of my deep, deep love for her. She seemed genuinely impressed with my work and my love for her.

Even though I sacrificed being able to feel the ends of my fingers for a few hours, I am not alone in giving up something for this little darling. Jeff also sacrificed to make this project a reality. His shirt I used is 21 years old. He received it in basic training after he joined the Army in 1989. It is one of the softest shirts I've ever felt against my skin probably from having been worn and washed for more than two decades.

Now, woe be unto Amelia if she ever tries to tell us that we don't love her because I have proof to the contrary.