Three day weekends have come to mean out-of-the-ordinary expectations. I don’t know how it started, but somehow the girls expect that something amazing is going to happen. Maybe teachers say, “Ok, kids. Have a great break, can’t wait to hear about all the amazing things you do!” Or maybe classmates boast, “Man, my family is going to go so many places and do so many things!” The thing is, it’s not just the girls. I find myself expecting great things of myself. I’ll bake bread, sew embellishments on the curtains in the girls’ rooms. We’ll craft and dance and just generally be happier than any other time of the year.

Then the three day weekend hits and someone has a sty or I have cramps, or it’s gloomy and I have deadlines that require working through the weekend. That doesn’t stop me from hitting myself with the unrealistic measuring stick.

(Amanda:powered by working-mom guilt since 2004)

This morning when Sean took the big girls skiing I decided that Finley and I would craft. I should preface this by saying that I don’t pick activities from Pinterest (though I am totally pinning this post) and we don’t tend to have results that look anything like the how-tos. What I have is a keen understanding of which part matters in the crafting equation for my kids and me.

They want to do.

I want to have done.

We all want to accomplish those things together. That’s it. No bedazzled chandeliers. No gossamer garlands. Bulging clumps of dried hot glue beneath frayed bits of mismatched fabric?

“Mom, ohmygosh mom I love it!” They pant.

“Babe, it was so perfect. We worked at the table the whole afternoon. I’m so happy,” me in rhapsodic voice to Sean.

Anyone can do it. Watch:


Supplies o'plenty.jpg





Go ahead, have expectations, just change your attack. Having a perfect time does not mean doing it all perfect. Sometimes it just means starting something and letting how it’s done unfold all on its own.

Have fun with a capital F!