Saturday, December 28, 2013

Confessions of an UnPinteresting Mom

I am not a Pinterest kinda Mom. I wish I were, I really do. Nothing against them, nope. I would LOVE to be able to make cupcakes too beautiful to eat. I would love to whip up reversible totes in every size for my daughter. I wish I could craft a charmingly practical board to organize all of my jewelry and have delicately decoupaged vintage boxes perched atop our sunny breakfast nook next to the adorable succulents spilling out of wine corks.

But I don't, I haven't and I can't.

I love all that stuff and have the best intentions. In fact, I have evidence of all my "best intentions" in the form of half started (or finished - is the glass half empty or full?) projects. Journals I never stay loyal to for longer than 5 days. Daily planners that I always find something just not right about. And pages and pages and pages in my "Bookmarks" folder of cute, creative ideas I'll get to one day but never do. Don't get me wrong, I'm not being self-deprecating or modest or cynical or jaded. I just know myself. I am unorganized. There, I've said it. It's true. You know that top drawer in the kitchen that has everything in it EXCEPT what you could possibly ever need in a kitchen? That's kind of how ALL of my drawers are. I'm good at keeping everyone else on schedule and organized but am completely hopeless when it comes to myself. I don't know why, exactly. I think it might be my little way to be a rebel. To claim something for myself. After all the laundry's been folded, homework looked over and signed, kids shuttled to and from activities and all the other mind numbing tasks have been completed, it's my way of saying: I'm not perfect, I got all my shit done, my closet's a mess. So what? I know where everything is in that pile. It's my pile. If my messy purse and tangled jewelry and avalanche of clothes is an indication of what makes me tick, that's okay with me. I am a complicated, eclectic collection of stuff. Organization is in the eye of the beholder.

Crafty, perfect moms, I raise my glass to you. I am in awe of you. When I grow up, I want to be just like you. But in the meantime, I'll be sitting back here with my beer and I'll just represent "the opposite of what you are" moms. Together, we are one.

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