Don't Tell My Mom

Despite spending the last month with sick children (anyone else in the States led to believe this is courtesy of Australia?), I did manage some sewing.  Not much, seeing as the oldest was camped out in the sewing room to keep him and the other sick boy from waking each other all night long, but some sewing was managed.  I made something for the madchen that I won't tell you about until after her birthday; I'll give you a hint though, it rhymes with Lincess Peia and I made it from this pattern.  I also got the latest planet quilt basted and ready for some handquilting. 

But, my mom knows all of that. What she doesn't know is what I've made for her latest hip problem. Yep, it dislocated again. That makes three. Seeing as she already has the walker bag, and the ridiculous blanket, we went a completely different route.  Meet Dr. Parker.

 However it started, in my family my husband is often referred to as Dr. Parker.  No, he's not a doctor; but he will dispense medical advice and is yet to be wrong.  Perhaps the classic Dr. Parker story is diagnosing one of my brothers at my sister's wedding reception and finding the solution that months of tests from actual doctors hadn't.  He's become my mom's go-to for a second opinion on just about anything medical. 
During one of the hip episodes (a surgery maybe?), the box of goodies we sent involved some Dr. Parker Miracle Pills.  They were a success.  They were also sugar babies.  We made them a cute jar with directions.
Right now, Dr. Parker and a sizable stash of Miracle Pills are UPSing their way to my mom.  And we're brainstorming what to give her for the next hip event.