It stares at me accusingly from my desk (where it takes up valuable real estate, I might add). It reminds me of all the money that was spent on it whenever I look past the box of supplies and tools toward the fabric behind them. Looking at my daughters enjoying the little I actually have done fills me with bad mom AND bad crafter guilt.
The scrapbooks.
I enjoy looking at them too. I love taking that trip down memory lane every now and then. And I do enjoy the process of making them. I like going over photos, choosing what to include and how to show them off. How to crop them, which papers and stickers to use. It used to be a really fun activity for me.
Used to be.
I started scrapbooking when a good friend of mine invited me to one of her monthly scrapbooking nights. It was fun. It scratched my creative itch. And I went back. This was before the souricettes. Before I got back into sewing. Spinning wasn’t on my radar at all. I may have already gotten into knitting but maybe not. I missed being creative. I was working as an “optimization specialist”. Basically, a programmer with a masters degree in operations research (math). I didn’t have a lot of pictures for scrapbooking so I compensated by making really elaborate pages. If I’d been too fast, I would have run out of pictures!
And then, those monthly nights stopped. The lady who was hosting them had a family situation and she stopped. Without those nights, it was harder to drag everything out and work on the scrapbooks. And I quit my job to go back to school and study textile. And I had souricette 1. All of a sudden, my creative itch was being scratched quite well by everything textile.
The scrapbooking stopped.
But I’m someone who doesn’t quit halfway through. I started these books and I was going to keep at ’em. Two years ago, I went through a blitz to get caught up. I worked for a week straight. I got all the way to souricette 1’s second birthday. I didn’t touch the one I made for Mr. Mouse and I. I thought I could dedicate one night per month to it to finish getting caught up. Didn’t happen. If I have an evening to work on something, I always choose something textile-y. Sewing, lately. But could be knitting or spinning. Everything stands as it was two years ago. Souricette 1 is now almost 6 and souricette 2 has an empty scrapbook.
I tried to help myself, I really did. I had a bunch of pictures printed and I sorted them out. I brought the books and pictures out so I could just grab them when I had a second. I even bought a small one for souricette 1. I thought I could get some stuff done while souricette 2 was napping as long souricette 1 could work on her own. We never touched it.
And now. Both souricettes are going away to spend some time with their grandparents. I will have some glorious time all to myself. All alone. Such a dream for an introvert like me. I’ll have more than just a few stolen moments to myself.
The scrapbooks are calling to me. They’re telling me I should use this time alone to do another blitz. I feel the pressure. The guilt. That feeling that I really should. It makes me not want to. Well, I do want to. I do. But I want to do other things more.
Actually, I guess this is the biggest confession of all. I think I don’t want to do anything. Worse, I think I’ll do just that. For a day.
Creative mommy at home to two wonderful little girls, trying to juggle family, sewing, exercise, family, knitting, photography, and did I mention family?
Deux souriceaux 
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