I am at the age where teenagers scare me...maybe not scare me, but I feel horribly inferior and dorky in their presence. I am always aware that they are talking in some slang language that I don't quite get even when I smile politely and nod as if I know what the fuck "Emo" means. I avert my eyes when I pull up to the row of mailboxes near the local highschool to retrieve my mail while "Abba" or some parenting CD plays loudly over my car stereo. I wonder if they're snickering collectively at my handknit wool sweater or my bumper sticker that says, "In the time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act. - George Orwell". I am the epitome of 'mother' and all that negatively implies to teenagers.
But then, I think, my kids are the next teenagers. When the current rash of too-cool-for-you teens have been transformed into playdough encrusted, Raffi listening, milk scented parents, my kids will be the ones hashly judging their convenient and comfortable attire, their choice of vehicles and their lack of knowledge in current events while using strange and foreign 'teen speak' to communicate when with their cohorts.
And you know what? For now, my kids think I'm cool. So at this present time, I must be really stinkin' awesome. Really. I am. A six year old and a two year old tell me often that "You are the best mommy in the whole world!!!!" while bestowing upon me wet and occasionally snot-filled kisses. My son thinks I can fix anything. My daughter thinks I can make anything. This phenomenon will last too short a time.
Because of this impending deadline of hipness, I am always willing to try to make any of my children's requests come to fruition...at least in the fix-it or craft-it department.
With May Day just having passed, Liv asked for a daisy chain crown. "Oh! A daisy chain crown!!", I thought, "Yet another thing I can do for my sweet little peanut before she realizes what a truly flawed human I am in the 'hip-and-jiggy' department (a shout out to you, Marn!)! Hell, of course, I'll make one for each of your closest buddies too! You can be the 'Daisy Chain Club and I can be the coolest mom in the Universe!!"
If this thought ever comes to you, if this ego-centric idea of becoming the BESTEST mommy ever because you have created a masterpiece ever enters your clog-loving mind, shoe it away. Forget it. Leave it. Be cool in some other less....fucking insane and frustrating way. Make a paper airplane. Have a food fight. Scoop your eyeballs out with a grapefruit spoon. Hell, buy a bloody fucking Webkinz if you need to. But don't sign up for this.
I stupidly agreed. I let my momm-ego drive the bus. I even thought, "Hey, this is the perfect opportunity to do a tutorial on the blog! So fun and so crafty! I'll just take pictures along the way, do a bit of an explanation and Voila!"
Well, I took pictures. The initial ones are nice, sweet and happy.
They grow a bit harried and imperfect but I figured that I would just explain that it was more finicky than I had hoped.
Be happy that I stopped the photo session at that point. If you could see the nasty words that hung in the air for much of the sewing bits, you'd have trouble catching a glimpse of the damned daisy fucking chain.
Anyhow, I finished one. One only. It WILL be the only one. The 'Daisy Chain Club' will have to take turns wearing the headdress of horror. Sorry, girls. I am not the Coolest Mom in the Universe. I am just a wannabe. And in highschool, we all learned that wannabes are the lamest of all....But if it means that I never have to make another one of these atrocities, I am truly cool with being a lame wannabe. Don't all of us mommies wear this title sometimes?....Yes, I think we do.
The Firehouse Chronicles Episode 12
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