I Need Prozac

I was doing a lovely applique dish towel at an enrichment night. I was supposed to choose a cute pattern, cut out wonder-under (an iron on fabric adhesive), and iron it to one side of the fabric in preparation to then iron it onto the dish towel and sew around the edges making a cute, festive little towel to hang in my kitchen during the appropriate holiday.

I chose a pattern that I thought everyone would admire when they came to my home. I picked out beautifully colored, patterned fabric to iron the wonder under to before carefully ironing it to my stylish dish towel. After painstakingly cutting out the individual pieces of wonder under, I went to the iron and proceeded to iron all 28 pieces of wonder under to the WRONG SIDE OF THE FABRIC!!!

If I hadn't been in the cultural hall surrounded by concerned friends and other sweet ladies I may have said a few choice words. There was not much time left to finish. I got enough wonder under to finish the project at home.

I did finish the project. But I had to give the dish towels as a gift to a very dear friend because looking at them caused me to have unkind feelings.

Someone Always Has to Criticize

I decided to be creative. I was going to make a great meal for my sister's family. I was babysitting and had six hungry children to feed. I thought, everyone eats breakfast. I'll make breakfast for dinner. I got out the pancake mix and made pancakes. I thought, "What goes with pancakes...EGGS!" I made scrambled eggs. I got out the milk because everyone needs milk. I went through the four basic food groups. Grains, pancakes. Dairy, milk. Meats, eggs.... I hadn't made a fruit or vegetable item for the sweet children's growing bodies. CORN!!! I made the meal and served the sweet, darling children who ate gratefully.

A short time later my sister and her husband came home. I was excited that the children were fed and dinner was ready for them to eat. The first thing my dear, sweet brother-in-law said was, "IT'S ALL THE SAME COLOR!!!" I was crushed. I mean, WHO CARES WHAT COLOR YOUR FOOD IS??? I wanted to poke his eyes out and ask him how the meal tasted then.
SHEESH!!! (Some people)

THEN, both my dear, sweet brother-in-law and his dear, sweet wife, my darling sister, started complaining about the CORN! They tried to tell me that CORN doesn't go with pancakes and eggs. I calmly pointed out that the CHILDREN weren't complaining!!!

Who do they think they are? It's all EDIBLE!!! (:

Creativity Challenged

It is very difficult being a non-creative mom in the Mormon capital of the world. Every "good" mom does cute little hand made decorations in the home. They decorate the front door with the appropriate seasonal accessory (which reminds me, I still have to put the Halloween decorations away...I TRIED). And their children don't scream, "HELP ME BISHOP!" as they are being carried out of sacrament meeting for misbehaving.

Being non-creative is like a disability around here. When I go to enrichment nights and try to do what other moms can do in their sleep, they look at me like I'm their child and I just picked a bouquet of dandelions. "Good JOB!!!" some say in a honey sweet voice. But I still go and I still try. WHY? you might ask! Because I LOVE THEM. They are my friends. And it all comes down to the fact that it's just FUN! Besides, I CAN DO MATH!!! Logic is my forte (some of my friends and family may fall down in hysterical laughter and demand a sedative after that claim). But still, I teach math. At least I can do something useful.

My First Post

Life is a little more difficult for children of a non-creative mom. For example, I can never decide what we should have for dinner that we haven't already eaten MANY, MANY times.

One time, for lunch, I decided to make my son (12 years old at the time) a tuna sandwich for lunch. I made it on cinnamon raisin bread. I made myself one as well. I thought it was perfectly fine. My son didn't speak to me for the whole morning. Then he went to school mad. I couldn't believe he was so angry. I told my creative sister the details about why my son was so mad. She agreed with HIM!!! The nerve. That's what I get for being "creative."