I love to make things. Things that could much more easily be purchased. I am a crafter, and that's what I do. The process of imagining and then actually creating fuels my ship and gives me a sense of purpose. A box of cake mix is a little depressing to me when I have books of recipes and a pantry full of ingredients. Pre-assembled? Ugh. Give me a million little unfinished pieces and let me paint them and glue them and turn them into something unique and spectacular. And in an ideal world, that is all I would do. Be a from-scratch goddess of all things homemade. But I live in my little world of family and housekeeping and teacher conferences and countless other mundane little things that eat away this crafting time. I should know this, and yet for some reason I pushed that knowledge to the side these past couple of months and acted as if I had no other responsibilities than my own crafting ambition. This was stupid, and Jim told me so (in much nicer words, of course, but definitely with that tone).
I think it started with Annie's birthday. She turned two, and after two boys, I got a little excited about planning a girly party. I made the invitations. I made the party favors (custom shirts complete with appliques and contrast stitching...by hand). I made the food (cupcakes! miniature quiche! yogurt tarts!). I made the decorations. I made a cupcake photobooth. And then she had to have a gift, and so I made a dollhouse. A kit that involved powertools, paint, nails, glue, wallpaper, installing flooring, 1200+ individually applied shingles and instructions that made IKEA assembly manuals look obsessively detailed. After that came Valentine's Day, where I had to make the valentines, the homemade red velvet cupcakes, and then volunteer at the parties. And then Annie needed a second party for the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. And of course that had to be homemade, too. And of course I had to feed my family, keep-up with knit orders, make shower gifts, go to the gym, and keep my house from being a total disaster.
The fact of the matter is, I am not Martha, and most of us aren't. What she does that is so amazing is rules a crafting empire with grace. She completes each project with ease and because she is who she is, she can take on numerous projects of astonishing diversity and detail. We commoners have to know how to choose what we craft and what we let others do for us (even if we could do it better ourselves). The kids at the Valentine's Day party? They totally went for the grocery store bakery cupcakes before my little homemade ones (their loss...but that's another story). The homemade Valentines? They were by far the cutest I have ever seen and were noticed by everyone...worth the effort for sure. The photobooth? Cute, but two-year-olds really don't want their pictures taken and none of them stood still long enough to pose by the cupcake.
And finally the dollhouse. This is the only one I am torn on. It is beautiful, but I probably invested over 100 hours in it and earned more than a few gray hairs in its construction. I cried. A lot. But it is beautiful. And she plays with it everyday (without me forcing her to) and loves it. But she would probably love a pre-made plastic one just as much at this age. Yet this funny little sentimental part of me hopes that someday she will give it to her little girl and tell her that her Mommy made it for her, and that is why it is so special.
