I am super aware that this does not look easy. It is so easy. I whipped this arrangement – which is nice and low, so you can put it on your dining room table without completely obliterating your view of your fellow diners - up using exclusively grocery store-bought flowers, and in about ten minutes. (Okay, my son helped. But still.)
Step-by-step how-to is below!
I am literally bouncing up and down in my chair right now because I'm scrolling through the list of half-finished post drafts sitting on my Wordpress dashboard, and I cannot wait to show you all the cool stuff I've been up to lately. In the past three weeks, I have redone the exterior of my entire house. I have made over my kitchen. I have planted all the plants, have learned how to do something called a German Smear (omg just wait until you see it), and have identified the cutest and least crazily priced drawer pulls a person can find. And, oh yes:
I HAVE CREATED A FOUNTAIN.
FROM SCRATCH.
Remember Monday's post about potato-stamp Valentine's Day cards? The ones you can make with your kids minus the miserable stroll through the craft-store aisles? The inspiration behind it was what you see here: my daughter was napping and all of a sudden my son announced that he was willing to make Valentines for his classmates, and I had exactly two seconds to conceive of a doable plan before losing him to the living room rug, where the epic battle between Mini Cons and random dragon figurines that my mother bought at the Met had finally been put on pause for a moment.
And so this is what I decided to do: help him make school (of fish! whee, puns!)-themed Valentines that ticked all of my personal boxes: inexpensive (check), easy (check), witty (eh, sort of), and (seemingly) original (checkity check check check).
(It is not lost on me that I have an addiction to parentheticals. Moving on.)
What's more fun than painting potatoes? NOTHING.
My feeling about Valentine's Day, in a nutshell: I want to be all "Ooh! A teachable moment wherein my child can learn the value of giving and receiving love, albeit via paper cutouts!" But I also do not want to put any real effort into the Valentine's Day-celebrating process, because few things are less fun than dragging two children through Rite Aid in search of something - anything - that doesn't have a picture of a Minion and "You're One In A Minion!" written on it.
Regardless of your personal attitude towards Valentine's Day, here is a fact: When you have a kindergartener, you have to help him or her make and distribute Valentines, because that's in the contract you sign when you procreate. Fortunately for the begrudgingly-participatory Valentine's Day celebrators among us, I have a friend named Mollie who is about as interested in fussy DIYs as I am...and yet seems to be always creating beautiful things. When I want to look like a crafty genius (but don't want to, you know, try too hard), it is Mollie to whom I turn - and so it only made sense to ask her to start publishing her (actually completely for-real accessible) ideas to RG.
This is technically a photo of a woman painting, not of a woman doing drywall.
But strangely enough, when you google "woman doing home repair," what you get is mostly...porn.
So here is a photo of a woman painting. (I like her sneakers.)
Remember the crafting afternoon disaster I wrote about last week? It wasn't entirely unsuccessful. There was one craft that turned out so beautifully that we're actually planning on going back and revisiting it tomorrow, because pom-pom pinecone ornaments are so cute that I kiiiind of need to make baskets of them.
A couple of weeks ago, my friend Erin asked if I wanted to set up a crafting afternoon for our kids, so they could make gifts for their grandparents (and anyone else who might prefer a fingerpainted snowman to, say, a Dyptique candle, which would be no one, but that's besides the point). We started a Pinterest board to find projects that seemed doable without looking too much like...you know...crafts. Our goal was to make things that the recipients might actually enjoy, as opposed to things that they feel obligated to display in perpetuity because said thing was made by a child.
This entire post is going to come with a massive caveat, and the caveat is this: If you have children under the age of...I don't know, I've only been a parent for five years. At what age do children start sitting still? Five-year-olds don't, in any case. So here's the caveat: if you have kids aged five or under and decide to make a fucking wind chime, please be aware that you will end up being the one making it. (My five-year-old did, in fact, bead his very own wind chime strand...and then picked it up to show it to me, at which point all the beads fell off, transforming a happy crafting afternoon into a trauma likely to halt further beading experiments for two years, at minimum. Because that is what happens when you try to force a five-year-old to make a fucking wind chime.) (My two-year-old, in contrast, applied herself with spectacular concentration and perseverance. Except what she was concentrating on and persevering in was ensuring that every single piece of berry bunny cereal, including the ones she dropped on the floor, were eaten.)
When Elise and I got together a few days before the Mermaid Party to work on the decor and she told me that we were going to make a bubble chandelier, I kind of went "mmmhmmm yeah sounds great!" and then returned to hot-gluing starfish to sticks, because obviously we were not going to make a bubble chandelier. Because in my world, that is not something that people do. It turned out that I was right (that day at least): after hot-gluing many, many starfish to many, many sticks we ran out of time, and no bubble chandeliers were made. And so I forgot about the whole thing, figuring Elise had realized that trying to make one of these things was way more labor-intensive than anything created for a two-year-old's birthday party should rightfully be.
Then, on the morning of the party, Elise showed up an hour early to help me set up (I've said this before, but helloooo awesome friend), sat down at my dining room table, and said: "OK, let's get started on the chandelier."
Excusemewhat? Do you not see I am presently pouring frozen meatballs onto a sheet of aluminum foil and not exactly ideally situated for a four-hour plastic bubble extravaganza?
Remember my little run-in with a full jar of gold leaf a few weeks ago? (Not one of my finest moments.)
But honestly? I wasn't all that upset about the fact that I'd just completely destroyed my floor with a permanent paint-splatter. Because I'd already decided that I was going to (finally) do something about the terrible, dark-grouted, 1970s-style tile in our master bathroom. And the solution that I'd come up with would mean that I'd be able to fix up the floor (which was tinted a lovely shade evoking a 1981 urinal) as well...at no additional cost.
Stay with me.
Here is my attitude towards crafting: I am thrilled to do it, but only if it’s easy. Massively involved, multi-step crafts involving expensive and/or specialized supplies are just not my jam. My kids have just started to get really into art (although my 1 1/2 –year-old is mostly interested in applying things like paint and glitter to herself), so I’ve been trying to come up with fun (and easy) little projects for us to do in the afternoons, during that terrible, horrible interlude between 4PM and dinnertime when things can go real bad, real quick.
The key to navigating the Witching Hour (which is actually two hours): keep those tiny hands busy, and away from things like full boxes of cereal, dog food, permanent markers in shades that look really pretty when applied to white walls, and your favorite jacket.
