I’m crafty.
Well, let me clarify: I love planning and daydreaming about
all the crafty stuff that I want to someday do.
Pinterest is a black hole of my time and attention. I have a tremendous love-hate relationship
with that website. I have the entire
interior of our house worked out, my daughter’s wardrobe planned to the stitch,
a myriad of health and beauty products that I can make from 3 ingredients, and
a gourmet menu to last for months on end.
But as soon as I turn around from my marathon of "pinning," I’m delivered a roundhouse kick to the face by reality. My couch is buried in unfolded laundry, at
least one of my kids is half naked (usually the same one who just snacked on coffee grounds and broccoli ends from the compost bowl on the kitchen
counter), and it’s already time to make dinner, which means I have to navigate
the minefield of Legos and books in the living room to get to the kitchen. The kitchen is a minefield of grainy mystery
stuff underfoot, as well as toys, shoes, and dirty laundry.
The stack of to-do crafts is huge, but I have never, in good
conscience, been able to start a project when there is cleaning to be done in
the crafting space. That space is the
living room. And since our living room
and our kitchen are practically the same room, I tend to want the kitchen
cleaned as well. You can imagine how
often such an event occurs. And when it
does, I want nothing more than to collapse in a heap with a glass of wine and
some Mozart (or Mumford) afterwards.
I am disorganized, to put it delicately. Reality and reason dictates that I’m as guilty
of being a human tornado as my kids. I
think this is true for everyone under my roof.
I sometimes tell myself that it isn’t as bad as all that. I mean, come on, we’re not an episode of
Hoarders waiting to happen. But when a
cop knocks on my door because the neighbor called to tell them that a naked
kid was throwing buckets of water out of the top window in an effort to melt
the snow off of your roof, my house suddenly descends into a reason for CPS to
show up and take the kids away.* So, as
you can imagine, all the sewing and scrapbooking and embroidery and crocheting
that I want to get done takes a big, fat backseat to our day-to-day scramble to
live like we aren’t, in fact, zoo animals.
Once in a while, maybe twice a year, I DO throw my hands in
the air with a big mental “EFF THIS SHTUFF!!!” and carve out a spot amongst the
mess to sit, dream, and get one
project knocked out. Sometimes it’s
enough.
*The cop story is
true. Kid #2 took his shirt off to keep
from getting wet while he dumped buckets of water out of the upper window to
melt the snow off our porch awning. It
was snowing, so the neighbors thought I was negligent enough to warrant police
intervention. I had the flu and was
stupid enough to think I could catch a quick nap while the kids played upstairs
quietly. I should have been more
suspicious of the fact that they were uncharacteristically quiet. The cop wanted to come in, but I explained
that I had the flu and he’d better not.
Thank God he agreed, because the house was a complete disaster. I spent the rest of the afternoon crying and
cleaning, feeling miserable about the incident and just feeling miserable overall. But that cop showing up got my kids to clean
diligently and thoroughly without a hint of protest. And, if anyone was wondering, CPS has not knocked on our door. :-) Now, whenever a cop drives by the house on
patrol or administers a traffic violation on our street, my kids quietly get up and diligently clean
the house. I may invite the cops over for
cookies and milk thrice a week so that the kids keep the place picked up. J
No comments:
Post a Comment