You know that mom who drives you up the wall? The one you love to hate?
There's always that ONE -- who glitters things that don't necessarily need to be glittered. Who decorates for every. single. holiday. Forget patting yourself on the back for festive window clings from the Target dollar spot; she has a chalkboard wall, a gallery wall, a pinboard, and a coordinated mantel and entryway for every occasion. She hand-cuts themed washi tape into jack-o-lantern faces for cups of yogurt dip for an after-school snack. She gleefully volunteers for every single crafty thing in your kid's class and coordinates it with (how freakin' dare she?!) joy.
I'm a crafty, creative, DIY enthusiast who'd be that way WITHOUT Pinterest. It's in my blood. It's how my brain is wired. Let's face it -- my DNA is a sparkly, German-glass-glitter-covered, color-coordinated double helix.
I thrive on party planning. I literally think about nonexistent parties and their never-gonna-happen details at red lights.
I crave the smell of hot glue and Mod Podge.
And I'm not going to apologize for it.
Look, I know I make you crazy sometimes. I know you scroll through your Pinterest feed and instead of relaxing or getting inspired, it just makes you feel a headache coming on. You might even feel like the Pinterest Mom has raised the bar so high with her cunning Elf on the Shelf antics and individually piped Elsa and Olaf sugar cookies that you'll never meet expectations and everyone will think the stuff you do for your kids and your family is utter crap.
Let me break it down for you.
One, your stuff is not utter crap. If you showed up, tried, and made your kids happy, then it's utterly awesome. Remember the '70s and '80s when the only time your mom broke out the cookie cutters or glitter glue was a really, really, REALLY special occasion? And when she did, you were deliriously happy? Kids here in 2014 feel that way, too. (And the best part is that 99 percent of kids aren't on Pinterest, so they won't even know any better until they're planning their perfect dorm room or fairy-tale wedding far, far in the future.)
Two, this is my jam. It's what I'm good at. But you -- YOU, dear Other-Kind-of-Mom -- are out there running marathons. Or nursing sick kittens back to health. Or making a week's worth of paleo dinners for your gluten-free, nut-allergic kiddo. Or, ya know, heading a corporation, giving expert tax advice to clients, re-setting broken limbs, that kind of thing. And I don't bash you for your six-pack abs, your big fat bonus checks, your letters of commendation, et cetera, et cetera.
So let's agree to disagree, shall we? You be good at your Other Kind of Mom thing, and I'll kick butt as a Pinterest Mom. I'll silently cheer you on for what you do, and you'll... resent my craftacularness a little bit less. After all, I am the one who gave you the idea to personalize your IKEA bookcase and told you how to turn Nutella into a three-minute mug cake. (You're especially welcome for the latter!) We can coexist without it diminishing your contribution, I promise.
After all, as we say in our house, you don't need to blow out my candle to make yours burn brighter.
If you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go gold leaf that thought onto a reclaimed canvas.
The Pinterest Mom