Craft is the only way you will truly feel like a real mother.
It’s finally happened. Today I did craft. I am sorry it has been so long since I have written a post. I am even sorrier that it has taken craft to get me to put pen to paper. Or finger to keyboard. But such is my life right at present that craft has actually done it.
Let me not offend those crafty types amongst us. I have the utmost admiration for crafty people, with their scrapbooks and fabric and natty little sewing machines, whipping up natty little crafty things. But craft is not for me. I don’t have a natty little bone in my body. My handwriting is so bad that I got extra time in my final school exams to rewrite my essays. And if my handwriting is so bad, you can only imagine what my drawing is like. It’s a combination of very little patience, even less of an artistic eye and a solid belief (grounded in reality) that anything I attempt will generally end in a bloody finger, lots of swear words and something that frankly, looks like crap that my three year old could have made. And this is from a child that thinks drawing a black dot on a piece of paper and sticky taping it to his chest means he is wearing a superhero badge.
I am so sick to death of babies. Thinking about babies, having babies, talking about babies, feeding babies. I had to do something else. I usually turn to cooking, but with a beach holiday rapidly approaching, I am trying to avoid hours of baking delicious treats in the kitchen – there has been a wee bit too much of that over the last nine months. And so on a rainy summer’s day in London, I turned to craft.
Specifically – a tissue paper garland. I saw this picture ages ago on this lovely blog, and felt inspired to do some decoration of poor hardly done-by number three’s bedroom. Which currently has one picture, a bookcase and an antique chair. When I compare this to the months of thought that went into number one’s bedroom, well, let’s just say god I‘m glad I was the oldest child…
So I got out my sewing shears, some tissue paper, some twine and my needles. (i.e., dug out the $2 kitchen scissors, some wrapping paper, ran down to the shop to buy some string and unearthed the hotel sewing kit) and got to work. I followed the instructions to the letter (it’s embarrassing how closely I referred to them really, it’s tissue paper flowers for godsake), created some dodgy shaped flowers, threaded them on to string that was too thick and required sticky tape to go through the holes, buggered up the knot tying and had to start again, and swore more than is probably acceptable with three children in the room. But I did it. I made a tissue paper garland. Voila.
I have done craft – I am NOW a true mother. Someone give me a bloody medal. And get me a glass of wine while you’re at it.