A Crafting Confession

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?

Posted in Thoughts

I love reading your comments! I will try to respond to every single one.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

%d bloggers like this: