When you become a mother, there is some kind of unwritten law, some unholy alliance, some contract signed in invisible ink on invisible paper that says “I hereby solemnly swear to CRAFT to my heart’s content, and to love it!”
Scrapbooking, home made wreaths and candle votives, decorative fucking egg holders, hand made soap and candles, paper mache… whatever the fuck you make paper mache with, construction paper masks, snowmen, hearts.. CONSTRUCTION PAPER ALL THE THINGS! Let’s go collect some pinecones and glue them together and then spray them with glitter- watch out for your nasal passages!
Look, I must have been trapped on the toilet with explosive diarrhea the day it came time for me to sign my imaginary contract- because I can tell you for certain that I never did.
How do I know that though, especially if it’s imaginary?
Simple: I DON’T CRAFT!
I don’t just NOT craft, I fucking HATE crafting. There is not a single solitary thing about any of it that I find even remotely enjoyable. It’s tedious and messy and irritating, and I get all clammy and frustrated- and what the hell is the point of all that? I mean really- some fucking pinecones? REALLY?
Unlike most of the female population, I have even refused to sign up for an account on Pinterest. Why, WHY OH WHY, would I want to spend time looking at crafty doodads I will NEVER make (not only because of lack of skill, but complete lack of interest), clothes I will ever never afford, look terrible in, or can’t fit into, and recipes i’ll never find the time to make.
Gee golly, that sounds like a blast to me!
Let’s not get it twisted though- if you have a love for crafts. A deep, desire, and passion for crafts- and especially if you’re good at them- BY ALL MEANS have-fucking-at it. More power to you- make those homemade candles and fancy non-seasonal door wreaths, napkin holders and shit, even take up knitting. I’ll need someone to mooch these things off of.
The deepest I will dip my toes into the crafting pool is when it comes to the management of our family photos. And honestly, even in that arena I fail miserably.
I have empty albums, folders of pictures waiting to be placed. Frames that are begging for photos to fill them, and even full frames still needing to be hung up.
It does not, at ALL, help the situation that I am one of those moms who takes a bazillion photos of my kids… almost on a daily basis.
So when it comes to making photobooks (which is the slacker version of a scrapbook, are you at all surprised?)- to say that I am in hell when I am forced to sit down and work on them is an understatement. It downright makes me want to punch a kitten.
And wouldn’t you know it- I just received an email from Disney that our professional Disney photos are about to expire. Procrastination never does me any damn favors.
For the past two nights, and the next week I would imagine, I am going to be spending ALL of my spare time that I could be spending fucking off and relaxing working on this book before I lose the photos (because Disney is evil and only makes them available for a short period of time).
This is where those gazillion stupid photos I insisted on taking really start to hinder things. They probably aren’t different at ALL but I can never decide between them. This one, of him with a half smile looking, or the one with a whole smile not looking? Head tilt left, tilt right? Background layouts, colors, text or no text, BLA BLA FUCK OFF.
What have I gotten myself into?
I think, from now on, i’m going to leave all the scrapping and hot gluing and glittering to the professionals, a.k.a. NOT ME. Unless it’s peanut butter honey popcorn… Or unless there’s alcohol involved… Or unless someone wants to do it all for me. Those are all acceptable forms of crafting in my world.
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