I Had a Pin Fail

That's what they call it, right?

This:

Was supposed to yield this:

Really, I just have to laugh.

I am a perfectionist in certain areas of my life. DIY is not one of them. I know my limitations. The bar is set very low. I expect to have a fail of the pin variety. I’m shocked, pleasantly surprised, when my endeavors come even close to the bright and shiny picture.

You may be expecting a post hating on Pinterest right about now. Something along the lines of: Pinterest makes mamas like me feel inadequate or pressured to be perfect.

Or, maybe, something like: Pinterest is reactionary, a throw back to the days when a mom’s worth was measured by her ability to make an apple pie (or play-doh).

I've read posts that say as much, and know that Pinterest has become another great divide between mamas. I find myself resting somewhere in the middle -- a craft-impaired mother who loves Pinterest. You might say I'm looking to become a Pinterest peacemaker, so to speak.

I love Pinterest despite the fact that my DIY adventures are more likely to be pin fails than pin-worthy. I’m glad there are women other than me -- the ones who actually possess the crafting gene -- who come up with ingenuous ideas and recipes that wouldn’t occur to me in a million years.

They’ve given me the know-how to actually make stuff with my daughter, which is the definition of quality time for me. When play-doh is made at home, it is somehow infused with the good vibes of having your hand in it and of being together. And, just to clarify, our homemade experiments don't mean that I am obligated to always make play-doh every time. We have the store-bought kind too, but I digress.

I do believe that there is power in making things by hand, though. Yes, I am incredibly grateful that Amazon Prime opens up a whole world of consumer goods, which appear at my door, as if by magic. I am likewise glad that making play-doh is the perfect tonic to an Amazon shopping experience. I want Claire to learn that clicking a button on her computer doesn't count as agency or effort.

And that agency and effort count for something -- I want Claire to value process as much as product. Actually, when I really think about it, I'm even more of a fan of Pinterest because of the Pin fail. I am trying to teach Claire to embrace the fact that things don’t always turn out the way that you expect (which is often the case with a craft-impaired mama like me. She will be well schooled in this lesson). I want her to see that mistakes can yield surprising results too.

No, we did not create finger paint like the lovely picture above. The result of our toil together was much, much more like slime (what’s ironic is that I put in the green dye BEFORE it went the way of pin fail). But, guess what, Claire loved it!

No, I will never be Martha Stewart. I don’t need to be. My daughter needs a mama not a Martha anyway.

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Photo Source: Aaron Gilson, Flickr

Welcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

 

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The Ghost of Halloween Past, Present and Future

Ah, Fall. The snap in the air is the first harbinger of the season. Then, the light takes on low, slanting glow. Life settles into a more ordered routine. My favorite time of year, sullied only by one day…Halloween.

I have been boycotting Halloween for a long while. The titular reason is that I want to avoid women dressed like ho’s and their male moron counterparts. Indeed, this statement is true. But the real reason is that I don’t have an ounce of creativity when it comes to costumes.

Opting out of Halloween as an adult has been no big deal. Now that I have Claire, it’s been on my mind again. When you have a child, you benchmark her experience growing up against your own. As the saying goes, we relive our childhood…

I remember my mom bent over the sewing machine with a knitted brow. I stood by her side, just about the height of her hands feeding the fabric through the needle. I watched what seemed a miracle transformation. She was turning one of her shiny, sequined 70’s disco numbers into a fairy princess costume for me. Come trick or treat time, I felt like the best shiny, sequined princess on the block. Later, the same piece became a tin man costume for my brother. One year, my brother and I both went as Raggedy Ann and Andy. That costume was so authentic; mom even made the wigs!

Mom, Brother Ben and Me (circa 1978)

I felt sorry for the kids who had to wear those Woolworth generated plastic items, complete with suffocating masks and an unseemly smell. They looked scratchy and uncomfortable, and made a weird rustling sound going up and down the street. But, worst of all, they lacked the hand of a mother’s love. I am haunted by the fact that Claire will now be one of those children.

I have warm feelings in my heart thinking about the love that went into the costumes mom made for us. I feel emptiness in my heart for Claire, because she will not have the same experience as me.

But I know I don’t need to be all things to her. Teaching children that we have limitations is wise. At some point, I will have to tell her that the craft gene has skipped a generation. This fact bodes well for her. Maybe one day, she will carry on the Halloween costume tradition with her own kids.