I hate crafting. I HATE CRAFTING. Know why? Because I like things to look nice and be perfect and not all crappy and ugly. I’m aware that some people can craft and get things to not look like a drunk third grader did it but I’m not one of these people.
So, I did have a little trepidation about doing salt dough ornaments but they are about as simple as it gets and I wanted to save the kids handprints somehow. I even texted my sister that I was hesitant to try it but she basically told me to just make the dang ornaments. So I did. Kind of.
I should’ve trusted my gut and just taken a picture of their hands next to a coke can or something if I wanted to remember what size their fingers were.
It would’ve been more accurate too since Jack couldn’t resist squishing his fingers around in the dough and Case wouldn’t unball his fist so we did his foot instead.
This stupid simple activity sent me into anxiety overload and all of a sudden I found myself standing over a table covered in flour, with a screaming baby in a Bumbo at my feet, wearing yoga pants that looked as tired as I was and arguing with a two-year old about why he can’t eat the dang salt dough.
I had a moment. Everything froze and it was like I was looking at a picture of the scene and all of a sudden I was like “What am I doing and who am I and is this my life?” And then it got kind of funny, probably because I’m delirious, and I started laughing at the strangeness of it all.
And then Jack pounded an ornament I had painstakingly formed into somewhat of a circle and yelled (he only yells) “Best day eber!” And I was like “Well. They are cute.”
And now the ornaments are stuck to a baking sheet, waiting for me to work up the courage to go pry them off because I forgot to spray the pan. And I swear, if one breaks I WILL LOSE IT.
Remind me I don’t craft, k?