A PinterPessimist

I fear that I may have a bit of a divided self.
But it's not entirely my fault.  It all started with Pinterest and it's pervasive culture of glossy DIY perfection.

After stating yesterday that I was thinking about the upcoming Holidays, I ventured over to my long abandoned Pinterest account and started searching out ideas for "handmade Christmas c..." I didn't even need to fill in the rest of the word before Pinterest knew what I wanted. It filled my brain with visions of mason jars and cranberries and their endless possibilities. I saw crafts and cookies of impossible adorableness. I "pinned" with wild abandon, knowing full well that I will make few or none of these suggested delicacies.  I am convinced that these pictures are brought to the world wide webs by Professional Martha Stewart Mothers seeking to bolster their own papier mâché self esteem.  "Look what I can do, with only 5 minutes of "me" time and 5 nickels' worth of supplies!" They don't tell you that it took 20 times practicing for that one perfect result. You don't expect failure, but that's what you get. Be warned, parents and teachers everywhere. The shiny, hazy or brilliantly white background-ed  pictures are not the stuff of everyday goodness. They are the stuff of failed dreams and hot glue burns.

I know this failure.  This failure and I are long-acquainted. We have coffee together maybe a little too much.
And even though I felt that I was treading softly, oh-so-carefully picking my way through the mine field of over-ambitious ideas and ideals, I still was sucked in. My (perceived) ability was amplified.
Later that morning, I went to the local resale shop, because every single pinner knows that the new basic craft supplies are actually someone else's old junk. 

First I hit up the house ware (how is that not all one word?) section of our little town's little thrifty store, Care & Share.  I found old lady fabric, old lady buttons, an old gallon-sized glass jar (not quite mason, but we'll pretend), an old little old pitcher, and - my favorite - old crocheted Christmas ornaments that are way cooler than they sound.  
I felt pretty nifty and hipster-like to have obtained all that project-ready vintage stuff, so I decided to check out the clothing section.  Have you seen the things people make out of felted sweaters? With this idea in mind, I browsed the round rack of sweaters.  And then somehow, I found myself trying on pants. As in, I was putting my body in trousers that once belonged to someone else.  My Pinterest-Optimistic self found herself arguing with the Realistic Pessimist in my head.

Pinterest-Optimist: "Hey, these fit pretty nice, and I don't see anything wrong with them." 

Realistic Pessimist: "Well then, why someone would be throwing them out? Are they possibly out of style? Am I so out of style that I don't know what is "in" anymore?"  

Pinterest-Optimist:  "Surely not.  Maybe whoever owned these simply didn't fit into them anymore. Maybe they'd gained so much weight that they couldn't fasten the buttons any longer." 

Realistic Pessimist: "Or maybe they'd lost so much weight that the garment just fell right off of them.  Does that make me the fatty?"

Pinterest-Optimist: "Why does food look so good?

Realistic Pessimist: "Darn Pinterest."

Pinterest-Optimist: "Let's just accept that I have a maturing body."

Realistic Pessimist: "Sure. But could I ever wear those pants in public? Their former owner will probably recognize them. This is a pretty small town." 

Pinterest-Optimist: "Shut up. They're three dollars." 

Realistic Pessimist: "You know you're going to end up wearing those sweaters too. They'll never be re-purposed into cute little animals."

Pinterest-Optimist: "This is hysterical. You should write a blog post about my second-hand finds."

Realistic Pessimist: "Good thing you have such low blog readership, otherwise all our friends will be checking out my every outfit to see if you've been buying up their old junk."

Pinterest-Optimist: "Shut up. This is what hipsters do."

Realistic Pessimist: "Wear clothes from someone else's closet? No. That's what little sisters do."

At this point the optimist and pessimist merged back into the mother whose two year old had escaped under the dressing room door and the pointless bantering within came to an abrupt end as we I went to find her. 

Did I buy the trousers? The PinterPessimist has decided not to answer that. And she's made her current board, Christmas Ideas 2013, a "secret board." She will most definitely find a spot on her undersized tiny live Christmas tree for the crocheted ornaments that are still way cooler than they sound.  And if she finds herself putting any other second-hand purchases to Pinterest-inspired purposes, she will try to let her readership (hi, mom and dad!) know every detail of the project, fumbles and all. 
But, let's be realistic: I'm really lousy at keeping up with my good in[ternet]tentions, be they blogging or crafting.  
And I'm really OK with that.
I think.

Christmas Clutter

Saturday marked the first weekend in December and officially the last day of the Holiday season when I can consider the effort of decorating to be worth the amount of time left before Christmas.  Maybe I typed that backward, it doesn't read right. 

Anyway, it was time to fight my way through the clutter and cold to those boxes in the attic.  I love pulling out Christmas decor.  If I repeat it to myself, I'll believe it, right?  But still, I just couldn't bring myself to add more chaos to our already disorderly and dirty house.  I made a deal with the kids: "You guys help me clean up the downstairs (just this one measly old floor, not even the toy room, bedrooms, or basement!) and then we'll get the Christmas stuff out."

They were more than willing. 

First, though, we had to watch some cool videos on YouTube.  We got stuck in a lineup of tiny home clips.  Like this:

And this:

I am fascinated by the minute dwellings.  I mean, how easy would it be to decorate this place for Christmas?  Even more exciting, I bet I could clean it top to bottom in 30 minutes. Brand Spanking New Looking for minutes every day. {Side Note: check out the origins of your favorite phrase and thank me for the lovely little diversion.}

OK. So those little videos did nothing to make our abode more festive (or cleaner), so it was time to get to work. And then to adorning.  I won't bore you with the details of our cleaning spree or the mom lectures delivered on-site throughout the process.  Somehow, between dancing to Christmas songs (them) and vacuuming under the couches (me) to breaks for dress-up (them) and nursing GBaby (me) and laying on the couch (them, again) we got most of our downstairs clean. 
Boxes lugged.  Contents strewn.  Discoveries remade.

In my mind, the perfect Christmas trimming scene is something like this: A fire in the hearth, Bing, Frank and Nat fill the air with old-timey songs while a mugs of peppermint cocoa sits near by.  Hints of fresh pine waft from our potted tree, and I hum along with the music as I artfully arrange each meaningful ornament.  The children don't fuss or break ornaments or grow bored and tired of the chore delightful task before it is finished.

Have we discussed that I'm not perfect here? 
OK, good. Then we don't have to go over that again.

I still have boxes of decorations sitting out in my living room.  (Excuse: We haven't purchased our tree yet, so we could neither put away the ornaments nor hang them upon the highest bough.)
The children's stockings are hung with tacky push-pins. (Excuse: It is pretty hard to come by a set of FIVE anything, let alone stocking hangers, let alone FIVE stocking hangers that are pleasant to look at and don't cost a few of my childrens' arms and legs.)
My unfinished wreath is sitting on a dining room chair, not the front door. (Excuse: Um. I'm out of excuses.)

Does it seem like I constantly post confessions of imperfections?  Someday, surely, I will get my act together and pull off something impressive.  With a camera that works.  But it's not looking like it will happen this Christmas season.  I could feel lousy about this.  Instead, I'm taking encouragement from one of the first embellishments to make it out of the boxes:

This is The Man's favorite contribution to our Holiday celebration.  I like it because he likes it.  And also because it reminds me that the trappings of this Christmas time are mostly burdens I pile upon my own back.  If he were home this evening (and not doing a disgusting activity that I will not even dirty my blog by discussing here except to say that it's initials are "Butchering" and "Deer") he would totally approve of me relaxing in front of a movie instead of perfecting the homeyness around me. 
I married the right guy.
That's why we have babies.
And they're why we have a ginormous house that doesn't clean or decorate quickly.
*sigh*
I'm one blessed {if inadequate} girl. 
Because, really, what would be the point of decorating for Christmas and then sitting around for a lonely cup of coffee? Right? 



Well, maybe I could just have one of those tiny homes for a few hours each week.  Sometimes a solitary cup of coffee isn't so lonely.