It’s high time I stopped succumbing to the Pinterest fantasy.
See, I saw this lovely pin from The Nerd’s Wife:
“I’ve got to get my kids’ valentines done!” I said.
“Hey! I’ve got a heart shaped ice cube tray!” I said.
“I’ve got crap-loads of broken crayons lying around here somewhere!” I said.
“I can do that!” I said.
Well mine looked like crap. Aaaand I ruined my tray. Aaaand it was a pretty silicon one. Aaaaand I probably left them in the oven way too long because the colors blended super weird with a film of waxy/oil almost-color across the top.
So instead, I bought my son the cheap Star Wars valentines at the grocery store like he wanted from the beginning. No candy. No super cute quote. No not-candy-but-look-at-this-cool-item-because-I’m-a-really-on-the-ball-mom pun thing. Just a small piece of holographic cardstock. And my son LOVED IT.
But my daughter, who’s been through this song and dance before, straight up ASKED me to look at Pinterest. “Pentrist?” she said, with a hopeful smile. They get ’em young, I’m tellin ya.
So, I found this awesome Pinterest gem, thinking “no oven, no hot glue gun, no photoshop, no selling my soul to the craft store gods . . . and I get to be ‘the healthy mom.’ I can do this.”
I didn’t think this one through.
I printed that printable on hot pink paper, cut them out by hand (because who has the “circle cutter” mentioned in the post?) and taped those babies to my dollar store applesauce all within an hour the night before the kindergarten valentine’s party. I felt awesome. Correction: awesome sauce. Everything was going according to plan.
Until morning arrived.
Do you know how much 28 applesauce cups weigh?
It’s a lot. Like, too much for a forty pound kindergartner.
When my daughter’s carpool ride arrived, I had to walk out, help her load the bag of cups into my neighbor’s van, and mumble some weird apology/joke about how I was making my daughter lug half her body weight around in a new-baby gift bag.
She came home and told me that her friend had to help her haul the valentines across campus into class.
Good job, mom.
It wasn’t until later that day, as my daughter and son were going through all of the valentines they’d gotten from friends that I realized something else. We never put her name on her valentines.
So now, I don’t even get the credit for being the healthy mom. What’s the point of being the healthy mom if I don’t get the credit! Oh, not the point, riiiight.
Verdict: Holographic cardstock valentines for the win.
But we ended Valentine’s day with a lovely family BBQ, drawing with chalk on the back porch, watching the sun set. I love my Valentines. All four of them.
Did I mention my husband painted my portrait? And nope, he didn’t have help.
He said the wet smudges at the bottom are “cloud nine.” Because I’m floating.
Until next time,
p.s. There was a third FAIL, but it involved a compromising chalk drawing of yoda, darth vader, and obi wan kanobi in a fight. It was on accident, but my brother keeps bringing up “schwartz” Spaceballs jokes…