Confessions of a Non-Crafter

Hi. My name is Jen, and I hate crafts. Perhaps the word "crafting" would be more appropriate, since it is the actual act of cutting/pasting/hot-gluing/painting etc. that I detest. Always, I have been horrible at these things. Always I have forced myself to craft anyway, hoping to improve my skills. After all, surely if I were any good at it I'd start to enjoy it, right? I mean, I only hate crafts because I'm so bad at them, right? This is what I've always believed.

It's true that there have been moments (of the brief, fleeting variety) when I've lamented my lack of crafty talent. Relief Society, for instance. Relief Society Super Saturday (aka: big, huge, crafting Saturday around Thanksgiving that is nothing but cutting/pasting/hot-gluing/painting etc.), to be more specific. These kind of activities are mostly a chance for me to display my lack of talent/ability to all the amazingly crafty women in my ward. During such humbling experiences, I always have pangs of craft-ability longing. But these have way more to do with my pride than any actual desire to make "stuff."

There was also that time I decided to make a couple of flower arrangements to give away as thank you gifts. Anyone can put some of that green foam stuff in a basket and stick some flowers in, right? There isn't even any gluing required, how could I possibly fail?

I failed.

And the sorriest part of this story? I gave the people the flower arrangements anyway. Yes, you should be cringing right now - I certainly am. If there's anything worse than a craft-challenged individual, it's one with zero craft-shame to accompany their creations.

Then the scrapbooking phenomenon arrived. And stamping. Both these activities left me feeling completely baffled. Why would people get out all that stuff, i.e. paper, glue, scissors, glitter, and all the other little scrapbooking paraphernalia, and spend all that time making a mess, just to have to clean up, put away, and STORE IT ALL SOMEWHERE IN THEIR HOUSE???

Then at some pivotal moment of time I came to the following realization: These girls actually enjoy the process of cutting/pasting/hot-gluing etc. Not only do they enjoy it, they think it's fun enough to make up for the clean-up/put away/storing business. ????? I cannot comprehend.

I realized this when two girl friends of mine started scrapbooking once a week and invited me to join them. At first I admired their dedication to making those family records. I figured only women who had set the bar high would be willing to force themselves to set aside one night a week for such torture.

Then I realized they actually enjoyed it. Shocking, I know.

At first I was determined to try it out so I could gain a toleration (I knew love was too strong a word) of scrapbooking myself. "It shouldn't be hard," I told myself. "I'm willing to do about anything to get out of my house one evening a week to hang out with girlfriends." I should have jumped on that scrapbooking excuse the very next Thursday.

But I didn't.

I tried to, really I did. "It wouldn't be that bad," I told myself. "I might even enjoy myself." I even considered just stopping by to chat while they did all their cutting and pasting, just for the social side of it. But I couldn't. And frankly, my aversion to all things scrapbooky puzzled me. It made me reflect a little on my anti-crafting feelings.

I made a surprising discovery. A weight-lifting one, even.

I have always hated crafts! This aversion didn't start in Young Women's that time we were supposed to make Christmas wreaths and mine was so hideous everyone thought I made it as a joke - it started way before then. My birth, most likely. Suddenly I could distinctly remember sitting in First Grade (FIRST GRADE, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE) dreading Art. What kind of First Grader hates Art???

Me. I detested it.

All that tedious cutting, and pasting, and heaven forbid they ask me to paint anything - I am seriously the world's worst painter EVER. And that includes everything from paper and small craft-like objects, to walls. It all takes so much time... Really, just the thought of Art always made me tired.

So, why would this realization be such a relief?

Because I'm excused. I don't actually hate crafts because I'm bad at them - I'm bad at them because I hate them. Can you see how that's sooo much better? How it totally absolves me from any non-crafting guilt for the rest of my life??? I honestly feel so much better about attending Enrichment meeting now.

And then guess what I discovered?

I AM NOT ALONE! There are other women who proudly stand up and say "Hi. I hate crafts." How do I know this? How can I support such a reckless claim? Because I found them here. Right on the old Mormon Mommy blog. What gets me, is all the times I passed up this blog because it was listed under the crafty women heading, and had the word "glitter" in it.

I now love this blog. I sit around waiting for each new post - and they ALWAYS deliver. you really need to spend a little time looking around to fully appreciate their genius. And they're probably getting sick of me, because I have to put in my two cents on EVERY post. Just so I can feel like we're all best non-crafty friends.

So now I've come clean. I've admitted my genetical defect to a world of crafty mormon women. I'd be worried you'd all cast me off now, but I happen to know that judging is frowned upon in your religion, so I'm feeling relatively safe.

And please don't try to save me. I know you're shocked, but as you can see, I'm in good company. I'll be fine.

And I'll never feel guilty again.

And I'm NOT signing up for any Christmas crafts at Enrichment. So there.

Sister For Sale

The other day I was talking to my father-in-law (who lives in another state, and who we rarely get to see), and finally mentioned to him that I have a blog. Funny that it's taken me so long to get around to giving him this info, since originally our far-away-family was one of the driving forces behind my intro to the blogging world three months ago. Because this blog is all about my kids, right? I mean, I do mention them at least every ten posts or so... Do you think that's enough to incite grandparent involvement? I'm not so sure.

I did, however, decide that I should probably take a moment to put up some fresh Baxter children info - just in case someone in the inlaw-fam actually decides to check out the old blog. So here goes:

Today I was in the living room with my kids. I think I was cleaning or something (because I never waste time doing anything else), when I saw Meara whack Conan over the head with a toy. The attack was provoked, but still.

I'm busy reprimanding my violent daughter, and I hear Conan say "Why'd we have to have Meara? We should sell her. *sob, sob*"

I was going to ignore this remark due to the head injury (and the fact that he learned it from his brothers, although in their version it's usually him up for sale), when he tacked on the next part:

"Maybe Grandma will buy her."

Well. This proactive approach got my attention. Besides that, it was way too funny to waste on just me, so I quickly say, "Why don't you call Grandma and ask her?" (I know. Great parenting Jen - you're kid wants to sell his sibling, and you jump on the bandwagon. Yes, there should have been some lecture, and maybe a chorus or two of "Families Can Be Together Forever," but I couldn't help myself).

So we call. I dial, hand him the phone, and listen in to the following conversation:

C: Gwaaamma, *sniff, sniff* (he's still recovering from the attack), ummm, will you buy Meara?

G: Buy Meara?

C: Yeah.

G: Well, I'd like to, but I don't think I have enough money.

C: Oh. Well, you can just have her then.


I'm not sure which is worse - his lack of devotion, or his bargaining skills. He didn't even bat an eyelash, or reconsider the price! He definitely needs that lecture. And the song.

In his defense, however, I would like to report that he and Meara do generally get along. They've been playing together a lot lately, and their favorite game is "Puppy". In this game Conan's the puppy, and she's the tyrannical/adoring puppy owner. It's one of my favorite kid-games to eves-drop on. I'll be in the kitchen, and I'll hear her in the other room:

"Pu-ppeeey, (in her most authoritative two-year-old-boss voice) COME HERE! Puppy, SIT DOWN! STAY!" (complete with hand gestures, and immediately followed by...)

"Awww, puppy (in her most adoring two-year-old-obsessed-with-cute-puppy voice, as she hugs and kisses the puppy), nice puppy."

It's all very cute to witness, I have to say.

And now I have one more story regarding Conan. I think Rusty's finally realizing just how much his little son actually worships him. First off, Conan obsesses over the fact that he looks just like his father. Which he does, minus the red hair. Seriously, he's like a little, blond, Rusty clone. But then the other day he took it to a new level of adoration.

Apparently (I wasn't here for this one), Rusty and Conan were talking, and somehow the subject of getting old and dying came up. Rusty's way more brave than me, because he jumped right into how someday "Mommy will get old and die, and Daddy will get old and die." Since the major source of my childhood anxiety was this exact issue, I'll do anything to get out of admitting these facts to my small children. But once the information was on the table, Conan took a moment to digest it and came up with the following:

"Whelp, Dad" (whelp being one of his staple sentence starters) "when I get old, I'm gonna put my arms around your neck like this," (picture cute-four-year-old arms around big-strong-Dad neck) "and we can die together."

So, I don't care if he wants to sell/give away his little sister. The kid is priceless.

Why You Should Make Your Children Learn Piano

Today the other two pianists in our ward were both gone. For me, this translates into the following Sunday:

Play the organ for Sacrament meeting, and step in last minute for a musical number.

Play for the first hour of primary.

Run down and play for the Young Women so they can practice the song they're singing next week.

Hurry back and play for Relief Society.

Stay for choir, and realize there's no one to play the piano. Surprise!! I get to show off my fumbling, oops! I mean "sight reading" skills. That was great for the old self-esteem. It would have been easier for the poor people trying to sing their notes if I'd actually PLAYED any of them.

Went home for two and a half hours, and had my kids practice their piano lessons. This I obviously can't blame on the missing pianists, but still.

Went back in to church AGAIN to play for a Young Women's program - and found out they'd decided to do a last minute musical number, and oh, by the way, would you mind singing along since there aren't that many of them???

(As a side note to this last one, I actually wouldn't have missed the program for the world, and really was totally happy to play - and even sing. It was just so ironic that my piano-playing Sunday just kept going on, and on, and on...)

So, please. If you have children, make them take piano. I'm begging you. There are not enough of us (outside of Utah anyway), and it's DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!!!! I don't care if they hate it, some day they will thank you. (But not on days like today. On these days they will curse you - and all those nice parents who failed to force their children to continue on even though it was "boring" and they "hated it", because if those parents had just done a little more forcing, then maybe their child would be in your child's ward, and could PICK UP A LITTLE PIANO SLACK!!!!)

Ugh.

If a Train Heads South at 78 mph, and a Goldfish Swims in Circles Counter-Clockwise...

I felt really smart today. Well, first I felt really stupid, but after that? Smart. And I would just like to publicly say that if Macy's wanted to hire me to figure out how much wrapping paper (of different prints, no less) they would need for their holiday gift wrapping business - and how much it would cost to buy it - I could handle it. In fact, I would be all over it. I'm actually surprised they haven't called already...

So I get to work this morning (local high school, substitute teacher, three periods of freshmen in Career Something-or-other right off the bat) and discover one of my biggest subbing pet peeves.

When I entered my class-for-the-day with approximately ten minutes to spare before second bell, I find this in my sub notes:

"We're starting a new section today on managerial and administrative blah, blah, blah. The lecture notes and instructions are on the following page (lies, all lies, by the way), and here's an outline of the project.

Groups of three with a leader, note-taker, and presenter. (Can I just say that one brilliant freshman asked what these jobs required?)

Give them the following information:

You work at Macy's and are in charge of the holiday gift wrapping from the day after Thanksgiving, to Christmas Eve. Statistics from the two previous years show that daily, you will need 20 small boxes, 30 medium boxes, and 50 large boxes. 45% of these use Santa wrap, 15% use Peaceful theme wrap, and 40% use Snowflake wrap. The wrapping paper comes in 100 sq ft rolls, and you cannot purchase partial roles. How many rolls of each kind of wrapping print will you need? If the wrapping paper costs 5 cents per sq ft, how much will your total wrapping paper cost? Groups should be prepared to present their work to the class when I return.

Yeah. Here's about where I started to feel really stupid. There's nothing I hate more than when a teacher decides to let me introduce a new section (without at LEAST informing me first), unless it's a teacher who wants me to do some kind of lab with lots of complicated steps without giving me detailed instructions OR an answer key.

Did I mention story problems were not my strong suit? At all???

I'm standing up there with these stupid instructions desperately thinking, "isn't some key information missing here? How big are the dang boxes?" .

Is it just me, or does anyone else think a little more info for the poor sub might have been kind?

So here's me in front of the class once I had them in their little groups, and had given out all the instructions listed above:

"Okay, does anyone know what the first step should be?" (this is said very hopefully) (hopes are dashed moments later by a room full of blank freshmen stares).

"Well, I don't really know either, but we need to figure this out so we don't all look really dumb when your teacher comes back." (Nothing like making yourself look really smart and competent in front of your students, right? And thankfully, this was right about the time I noticed a pile of boxes on a side table, with a bunch of rulers.)

"Hey look - some boxes. And rulers. I think we should start by measuring the boxes..." (but how to go about it? Under pressure my brain was just kind of spinning, spinning, spinning. Some kind of measurement that has to do with wrapping paper in 100 square foot rolls...)

I finally swung a deal with the class that if they would all measure away for the first half of the period and think REALLY hard about what they should do next, I'd tell the teacher they'd been good. I spent the rest of the period ruminating over the problem. And by the time 2nd period showed up - I was smart again. I actually managed to figure the whole thing out, breezed through the next two classes like a story problem genius.

Can I just confess that a part of me enjoys this sort of thing? No doubt this is because when it all comes down to it - I like a challenge.

Even if it requires looking like a fool in front of a room full of teenagers. Actually, that's just like taking the whole thing up a notch, which just makes it that much more exciting. And the payoff? Knowing at the end of the day that you handled it. That the old "mom brain" is still working after all.

And so, if there's anyone reading this post who would like a little challenge to wake up a brain spending too much time on housework, here it is: Go back up to the instructions, figure out ALL the steps required to answer both questions (since you don't have the boxes you can't really do the whole thing), and time yourself. Then in the comments you can leave your time. The first person who takes the challenge can also list the steps, and if you think they missed something, list your own version.

After all, I know you're all jealous of my experience today, and wish it had been you. But please try to deal with your feelings, because "Thou shalt not covet," and after all, everyone can't be a high school sub.

Simon Says... Follow Me!

Once again, I am forced to direct traffic to that other blog I share with my blogging/real-life buddie Natalie, Desperately Seeking Skinny Pants. If you've ever been a woman, or have ever battled it out with your body's amazingly resilient fat cells, please come join me. Apparently I'm in need of some accountability, and if no one comes through there's no telling what might happen next...

And please don't panic - I'm sure I'll be back here posting my regular drivel in a day or two. Today I simply feel the need to address the issue of my body, and the wardrobe it would like me to fit it into.

Hope to see ya there!!!

Another Reason Why I Shouldn't Be In Charge

I am responsible for giving all the children (and probably some of the adults in my ward) the world's worst sugar high. Last night was our ward's Potluck/Harvest Party, and as I've mentioned previously, the powers that be have decided I need to enhance my party planning skills, and I am now the ward Activities Person. As you can see, I am so out of the activity-planning loop, I'm not even sure what the actual title of my calling is.

I just know that several times a year I must plan, carry out, and clean up huge group activities.

And that it is not my forte, because my brain isn't organized, non-procrastinating, or detail oriented. Yes, we remembered the silverware and plates - but of course we (I) forgot the cups. And the napkins. Apparently, I just wouldn't be me if I didn't forget one of these important items. Oh well, right?

I'd almost rather go back to my previous job of being Primary President. If I hadn't determined that weekly headaches were worse than (pre-activity) headaches lasting a week, it would be a toss-up.

The Harvest Party was supposed to be all about food. Healthy food, to be exact. The kind people grew in their gardens, the wholesome stuff they canned, the good and nourishing things they brought to eat at the potluck, etc. The food theme shouldn't surprise anyone, because if you know anything about me at all, you know that my life practically revolves around food. I love food.

As great as it is, however, bringing food to display and eating food for dinner didn't seem like enough of an activity. What about the children? Surely they need some games, right? And prizes? Looking back, it's clear to see how my thought process totally revolved around food. Not just any food, but sweet, sugary food.

There was the "Candy Walk." Exactly what it sounds like - just walk around and get candy kids, we're giving it out for free. Not the cheap stuff either - I have "good" candy connections to put in charge of events like this. The candy in our Candy Walk was stuff like mini Almond Joy, KitKat, BabyRuth - the Costco goodie bag, if you're familiar with it.

Then there was the donut eating contest. Donuts on a string for all the little children who had just finished gorging themselves at the dessert table. That's right kiddies, just cram that donut in your mouth, and before you have a chance to swallow, we'll shove another piece of candy at you just for playing!

Pin the tie on the Bishop? The Bean Bag Toss? Candy as both victory AND consolation prize at each activity!!!

And as if that weren't enough, a sprinkling of the candy corn mix with the little candy corn pumpkins on all the tables.

Oh yes. And the good people bringing their produce and canning for display deserve a reward. How about chocolate? That's right, all those little children, with all those little sugar-bug infested teeth, got a pile of big old chocolate coins (the cool ones that actually look like fifty cent pieces) for bringing an entry.

Gee, I wonder why the dear primary children were running around screaming like Banshees on the world's biggest sugar high while we attempted to clean up around them? I really and truly believe that only Halloween itself can possibly compete with my Harvest Party when it comes to sweets and sugar. When I realized just how much sugar was flowing (some children - like mine - won candy in the Candy Walk like twenty times), even I was a little taken aback.

Will I be liable for dental bills? What about parents who lost their minds trying to put sugar-loaded children to bed when the activity finally ended at 8:30? Will they send me anonymous, threatening mail? (Even if they did, I'd still know who they were. I was passing out the candy, remember?)

I have to say, I'm feeling a little responsible here. Where was the message of Health? "Here children, look at these nice vegetables you grew in your garden. I'll bet you would all just love some zucchini, but unfortunately the actual focus of this activity happens to be sugar. And more sugar. Sister S. is cranking out powdered sugar covered elephant ears in the kitchen RIGHT NOW, so run along and help yourself."

Should I feel guilty here? Am I a horrible person who is subconsciously passing my love of sweet, fattening food at Harvesty-Fair-type events on to innocent children?

On second thought, maybe I should do it again next time. If those powers that be decide my sugary-food-one-track-mind is too harmful for the children of the ward, they might feel compelled to release me and put me in the library where I can't possibly pose a food-threat to anyone.

Hey, it could happen. I believe in miracles - it's part of my religion.

For now, however, I suppose I should just act like nothing happened. Sugar? What sugar? I have no recollection of sugar, sweets, or a Harvest Party, so don't try pinning your kids cavities on me! If I can just hold out for twenty-six more days, Halloween will come along and erase all memory of my Loads-of-Sugar-For-the-Children Harvest Party.

Any guesses on why I love Halloween?

The Girl-Child

I totally remember fighting with my sisters - especially Annie - and even occasionally getting into a snit with my best bosom buddy Kelly. There was sassing, there was tattling, and definitely bossing going on. I distinctly remember exchanging insults with Kelly when we were about nine. The very worst thing we could call each other? Miss Priss. For some reason, this was THE insult of the century.

Now I have three boys. They do not fight this way. After the initial incident, their fights go more like this:

Someone gets tackled.

Someone gets choked.

Something gets picked up and used as a weapon.

Something gets broken.

Mom joins the fray, and heads roll.

Can I just say a little bossing and tattling would be refreshing?

Well guess what? I now have a girl. Finally, someone is content to just be prissy (and bossy). I actually call her Miss Priss as a term of endearment - which strikes me as ironic every time. And can I say that this whole girl thing is so unlike any of the boy things I've been through?

Yes, she knows how to sword fight, and has some karate moves, and loves to play in the dirt with her brothers. However. She also likes babies. And kitties. She thinks she's in charge of every human even close to her two year old size, and goes around mothering everything that will let her. Today while I was cleaning the bathroom she brought her baby in, helped it use the toilet, wiped it, and moved to the kitchen where she placed it in the high chair so she could feed it.

SHE'S A GIRL, PEOPLE!!!

Don't get me wrong, I love my boys (and hear they will be WAY easier to raise after the first ten years). And, I even feel comfortable saying I have really nice boys, who get along fairly well with each other.

But it's just different. Like a whole half of me as a mother has been able to come out and play! I'm having so much fun, and enjoying her girliness sooo much, it's prompted me to list the top ten reason's why it's so much fun to have a girl after having three boys:

1. She doesn't pick up every long, stick-like object and wield it like a sword.

2. Or gun.

3. Or break everything that is precious and dear to my heart with said sword-gun-stick.

4. She says things in her sleep like "Pretty, pretty girl", and gets to wear long, silky nightgowns.

5. Potty training. Need I say more?????

6. At football games she already copies the cheerleaders - and I never even pointed them out to her. Like the estrogen sporting female she is, she honed right in on those cute girls waving pom poms around, and instantly got up and did her best to follow along.

7. She may play with her brother's "guys" (even throwing in an occasional sound effect), but if they hurt each other they get reprimanded - and the victim gets patted lovingly while she holds him over her shoulder. Honest. Is that not the cutest thing you've ever heard??

8. She actually wants to be like me, rather than that big redheaded guy all the little boys around here are so smitten with. Finally someone throws herself against the door when I walk out of it! (Not that I want her to hurt herself over me, but gee whiz - for nine years I've watched my husband being followed around by a bunch of little Baxter groupies. FINALLY it's my turn to have a fan!)

9. She already knows how to open and apply makeup. (Okay, okay, I know this isn't necessarily desirable in a two year old - especially when it's mascara, her personal fav, all over her face during sacrament meeting. However. As stated in #8, it's the fact that she's feminine that counts here. She wants to be like ME!)

10. At Christmas and birthdays when she's older, she'll actually be excited to get clothes. And all the other cheap little girly things that most every girl gets thrilled about. And we can do lunch. And decorate her first apartment. And pick out homecoming/prom/wedding dresses. And when she has babies I'll be the actual mother of the mother - rather than just the mother-in-law (translation: she'll want ME there holding the baby and taking care of her). And she'll call me on the phone when I'm old and lonely and we'll chat. And I could go on, and on, and on.

I know that everything on this list does not come guaranteed with a girl-child. There are no "for sure's" with your children because they will grow up and do their thing. I know of lots of women who do not have this kind of a relationship with their daughter(s), and I know there's a chance Meara and I won't actually be soul mates.

But if we're not, it won't be because I didn't pray constantly that we would be.

So for right now, I'm just going to plan on things turning out this way regardless, because any other option is completely unimaginable and unthinkable at the moment. So wish me luck, and enjoy your girls - they are SO MUCH FUN!!!!