I want to be crafty. Some would argue that I am but, sadly, I am not. I can sew and I’m pretty good at it. I have a decent eye behind a camera lens but that comes with so many years running lights for live bands and dance companies. I love color and have a good sense for timing.
But, no, I am not crafty. Not really. I stumble around the internets at all hours and come across some of the cutest ideas. Boxes made from vintage wallpaper (Why vintage? Because it’s not pre-pasted or was the quality better somehow? And how would one find vintage wallpaper?), itty bitty gingerbread houses, all manner of recycled objects like a giant wall decoration made only from toilet paper tubes and spray paint. You may think I’m being flippant but I actually saw such a thing. I was oddly fascinated because it offered a full tutorial. You know, just in case YOU would like to make wall art from cardboard. I? Don’t have that kind of patience.
Oh, how I do adore supplies. Raw materials: school supplies, art supplies, fabric yardage, elastics and trims and scrapbook papers. Oh my. I have an entire room devoted to crafty things. Not that I spend much time in there and not because of what you think. It’s not my nap schedule, thankyouverymuch, it’s because when I’m in there I have two thoughts: 1) There is something else I should be doing. 2) I can’t hear or see what is happening in the rest of the house. This is not an issue when I am the only one home (*snort*) but neither child can be trusted for any length of time unsupervised. And maybe I should get past being concerned.
I mean, they are too old to do something dumb like eat the bleach from under the sink. But they might snip holes in my favorite bamboo/cotton blend sheets. I know they are not going to run away from home but they might just decide to pick up the phone and dial random numbers until somebody in Paraguay answers. Or the police. They maybe might find the remote (ps: can somebody please find the remote?) and wind up watching abused puppies or, worse, some crappy movie that will give them body image issues like Bring It On.
Do you ever end up on one of these crafty websites…not the ones that are selling something like etsy but the ones that are self published by stay at home moms…do you start looking around and wonder what the rest of their house looks like? Are they taking their kids’ Ritalin and staying up all night making perfect little nametags for Junior’s second birthday party? Are they independently wealthy and have a live in nanny? Or, are they actually single and living in a shoebox apartment and just posing with a neighbor kid?
These thoughts come to me as I reflect on my day. I figure I did two productive things today. I went to AFC (where I whaled on my pecs and ripped my quads) (it was all strength training today) and I shined my sink. And not because FlyLady told me to. Because after I loaded the dishwasher, it looked like somebody threw up in there. Last week. A little Comet and a little scrubbie crocheted from some remnant tulle in a cute little circle did the trick nicely.
What? Doesn’t everybody crochet their own dish scrubbies?
Well it is that season again. I have to keep my hands busy so my mind stays clear.
Last year, I worked. And worked some more. This year I think I will dust off my inner Martha and whip out something cute. And then take pictures of it. And then maybe somebody somewhere will stumble onto it and think “Genius! How does she find the time?”
Lady, my kid just ate an entire box of Cheezits while I was busy doing something else.