And that is the end of my dalliance with Pinterest.
I do not cast a glance toward the arts & crafts posts, nor the endless supply of recipes. Posts that involve ribbon and chalkboard paint and hot glue sticks, baking supplies and aluminum foil and cinnamon stick figures with marshmallow heads.
The truth is that I refuse to get sucked in. I am crafty (in the artisanal, non-villainous sense of the word.) But if I were to open the door to Pinterest Craft-&-Recipe Land, all the balls that I'm currently juggling would plummet to earth and life as I know it will be altered irreparably (pronounced with the accent on the 2nd syllable like the British say it. It sounds much more authoritative that way.)
"Why?" you ask, feigning curiosity, knowing a diatribe is inevitable so you may as well act as if you chose the direction of the conversation rather than fell victim to it (also the British way of conversing with the unstable and/or irritating).
Well, I'm glad you asked. Here's why:
Most of the recipes require ingredients not found in my pantry, thus requiring a jaunt to the store and counteracting any time-saving measure while offering the added bonus of siphoning away any enthusiasm I had for cooking and, let's be honest, for life itself.
And don't get me started on kids crafts. I occasionally do crafts with my kids, mostly on Saturday mornings. I make a semi-annual run to Hobby Lobby and stock up on Perler Beads, coloring books, and bracelet-making accoutrements, then whip them out when the kids get antsy.
But s'mores on a Popsicle stick? Unlikely. Easter candy made out of edible cotton balls and a Bedazzler? No. Organic Christmas wreaths that double as a flotation device in case of a tsunami? Not a chance. I'm lucky if my bed is made in the morning and my children show up at school with shoes on both feet.
Now, I'm not gonna lie. There are moments when I want to be Pinteresty. When I want to throw my children a themed birthday party with hand-crafted favors and life-sized origami swans that dangle from the ceiling. But those Pinteresty inclinations last only a single, vaporous moment because then I read the class newsletter my daughter brought home asking for a toilet paper tube for a class project or apple muffins for the upcoming harvest party, and I am nearly overcome with anxiety. How can I add one more thing to my gargantuan To-Do list?!
That's when I take a deep breath and remind myself of this fact: I don't have to be Pinteresty to be a good mom. Yes, there will be moms who will bring a bouquet of apple-slice roses (complete with soundtrack and choreographed dance) to the harvest party. And they'll be the ones to make cupcakes in the shape of pilgrims that sing "Come, Ye Thankful People, Come" for the Thanksgiving celebration. I am not one of those moms. This is a simple statement of fact, and I've made my peace with it.
So, with renewed mental equilibrium, I walk to the bathroom and finagle the tube from out of the roll of toilet paper, because there's no way we'll go through an entire roll in time for tomorrow's school project. And, while I'm fighting with the TP, I remind myself to buy a box of apple muffin mix the next time I run to Walmart for toothpaste and fruit snacks.
|Yes, I just yanked that tube right out. We do what we must.|
Okay, I know there are those of you out there who are nodding. Your life, too, is diametrically opposed to all that Pinterest stands for. I am with you, dear ones! Keep those chins held high! And to those who cannot fathom why I wouldn't even attempt the construction of a 4-D diorama of Mount Vesuvius for my daughter's science project, I admire you. It is you who bring so much color and interest to every class gathering and social event. Your Pinteresty-ness is a gift.
Yet one request I would make: please don't judge me. Just smile when you see me walking through life, then look down at my children's feet as they patter along behind me, because the fact that those pattering little piggies are clad in matching shoes is nothing short of a miracle.