At least I can say I tried

14 10 2006

Sometimes I get in these really crafty moods.

Today I was determined that Jeff, Ethan and I would take a nice relaxing nature walk, enjoying the crisp fall air while along the way collecting the items we’d need to make our own little scarecrow, as well as acorns to make these. Then we’d bond even more while we all sat around drinking hot chocolate and bringing our little scarecrow to life. We’d smile, and share, and be polite and happy, and later I’d bake cookies. Our scarecrow would be completed before naptime, and it would look amazing while still retaining that homemade quality. Ethan wouldn’t hit me in the face, or try to eat any of the scarecrow parts. And when he pooped (BEFORE his nap, not during), I would open Ethan’s diaper to find perfumey little rainbows of joy instead of green and brown toxic lumps of horror.

In fact, our “nice relaxing walk” was anything but relaxing. Jeff let his inner 8 year old out to play, hitting everything in his path with a big stick, destroying the trees, leaves, small animals, anything that got in his path. Ethan wouldn’t keep his shoes on, and whined his pathetic ‘I’m melting!’ whine half the time because the sun was in his eyes. And when he wasn’t destroying the wildlife with his big stick, Jeff was amusing himself by touching me with various parts of nature without warning. He hit me in the butt with a dirty stick (probably covered in ants and animal poop and worms and other gross things), and shoved other leafy, nature-y things in my face.

wetland.jpgWe stopped in the wetland refuge right next to our neighborhood (also where I saw this disturbing sight, which I am still trying to figure out), and enjoyed a few moments of peaceful silence, broken by Jeff’s sigh as he asked if we could go home now. I remembered the acorns when we were almost home, but all I could find were tops, and a few crushed ones. Jeff was right- the squirrels got to them first. Stupid squirrels.

I gave up on the cute little choking hazard pumpcorns, but by this point I was still convinced we were going to make the darn scarecrow. We got back home, had lunch (half of which Ethan pulled, partially chewed, out of his mouth and handed back to me), and put Ethan down for a nap. I very productively spent his naptime getting together the things we’d need for the ‘crow, making a list of a couple of things I’d need to pick up at Michael’s (like straw), and scarfing the rest of the candy corn.

Sometimes I get in these really lazy moods.

When we got to Michael’s, I found out two things very quickly: a bag of fake straw costs $6 (PLUS the other supplies I’d need on top of that), and already made, way-cuter-than-any-ghetto-looking-thing-my-two-wannabe-Martha-hands-could-make scarecrows cost $6.99. And they were ON SALE (that’s three things; I lied).

Our homemade scarecrow went the way of the pumpcorns faster than Ethan can throw a meat stick at the wall.

And I never baked those cookies.



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