Parenthood

A Jar of Buttons and an Old Sock Made a Keepsake for Life

My mom created one of the best toys I ever owned

One of my earliest memories from childhood and our first apartment was spending quiet time with my mom as she darned my father’s socks or sewed a button onto one of his shirts.

Her button collection

She had a huge jar of buttons she told me she had been collecting since she was a child. The jar was certainly proof of that. There was every imaginable style, shape, and color button in that jar, some obviously an old style, some newer ones, and they all fascinated me.

When I became bored she would take out her jar of buttons and let me play with them, sometimes darning or sewing as I sorted all the lovely buttons. To be sure none would get lost, she would turn over an old table cloth so the non-slippery backing would be facing upward to keep the buttons from sliding off.

As she darned she used a pink plastic darning egg with a handle on it which she’d stick inside my father’s socks to mend the holes. In those days every pair of socks was worth saving as money was tight, and my mom learned to mend them when she was a girl watching her mother do the same.

One time she showed me her mending technique, and even though I never had much reason to, I used it once when I was older to repair a wool sweater that a moth had gotten to.

Those days with my mom were very special. It was our quiet time together regardless of what we were doing. She wasn’t much of a baker or house cleaner, but she could mend socks for hours.

Sock transforms into special toy

One morning as she sat repairing one of my father’s white socks she announced that one of them was too far gone to mend and was about to throw the whole pair in the trash. I asked her if she could make a puppet for me out of the matching one although I had no idea if it were even possible.

“What kind of puppet?” she asked, “I’ve never made one before.”

Being around 5-years old at the time I said, “A sock puppet with button eyes!” I’m not sure where that came from but I sort of pictured it in my head. Maybe I saw it in a children’s book.

“Pick out some buttons and I’ll sew them on this white sock for you,” she said as she held up a clean one that no longer had a match. While I was picking some matching buttons she pulled the sock onto the pink darning egg and threaded one of her needles with white thread.

I chose two buttons for the eyes, one for the nose, and a few for the mouth, which she quickly put together on the tablecloth to show me the arrangement before she sewed them on. I was delighted at my choices.

When she was almost finished sewing on the buttons she mentioned that it could use hair and would I like to choose a bunch of smaller buttons. Excitedly I chose eight small- to medium-unmatched buttons and asked her if it could be a hat. She agreed.

Button collection disappearing

It took about 10 minutes to select the appropriate buttons, but as I was pulling them I became aware that I was depleting her collection of the buttons she cherished so much, and I began to feel guilty.

“Mom!” I said anxiously, “I’m ruining your button collection!”

“No, my love, you’ll have this sock puppet forever, and you’ll always remember us making it together with my buttons and your idea.”

With the “hair” sewn on it was one of the most unique creations I’d ever owned and played with it often. It had a name, which I forgot, and even had a few good washings before I outgrew it.

Despite the fact that the sock puppet has aged over time, I still hold it dear to my heart. While the jar of buttons and my mother’s darning egg may be long gone, and my mom having passed a decade ago, the buttons on my father’s old white sock will forever remain a cherished memento.

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