Such are the ebbs and flows of my efforts to be an amazing mother, the last school holidays saw me break out glitter. Normally this just makes me break out in a sweat and a swear fest at the stupidity of such a ridiculous craft. Kids and glitter equal me losing my foshizzle so it surprised me the most when I was the one that got it out of the cupboard.
I wonder if it was the break in the monotony of Rainbow Looms which pretty much consisted of me picking approximately 4,000 of the little fuckers off the floor each day. Eating dinner around the construction of a purse in the shape of a panda made glitter infinitely more appealing. So out it came and so did the delight on the big girls faces. I doubt I could have done glitter and the one fanged monkey so I waited until he was locked in his cage, er, cot.
The thing was that the kids loved it. And perhaps me just a little bit. Okay a lot.
Getting your craft on is good for the soul. I’m not talking a sin forgiving, walk through the pearly gates soul cleanse here but it is a bit of fun and helps you to be in the moment. You cannot craft and expect to get other chores done. No siree, it does not work that way. There was glitter from here to kingdom come when I was on watch so I imagine that the kids would be shitting glitter if I left them unsupervised.
So we made these cute jars for the kids to put their crap in and you know where it all went wrong? They came inside.
Glitter outside is a bitch but glitter inside is enough to make you lose your foshizzle one hundred times over. Presently the girls’ bedside tables are like a glitter graveyard for little gold flecks who didn’t get enough glue in the first place.
Then just when you think you are getting rid of the stuff it multiplies like some weird gremlin in H2O. With my shitty shoulder injury, vacuuming is as fun as sticking needles in my eyeballs. All I seem to vacuum up now, besides long blonde hair and looms, is fucking glitter. And I wondered when the fuck did my life get to the stage where I am seriously considering buying one of those robot vacuums so I can just sit on my arse whilst the glitter gets stuck in that thing instead?
But one afternoon I sat down, after vacuuming again, and observed the glitter. It was different to the glitter that I had used with the kids. Had my glitter changed? Then I saw the culprit.
A cute pair of leopard print ballet flats that the princess got gifted for her last birthday, with details of GLITTER. And because she hardly ever takes them off there is still glitter all over the house. Even when she got the chickenpox before Easter, she wore her glittery shoes. She is kind enough to take them off to have a bath or go to bed or when I completely lose my foshizzle over the four billion gold flecks in my house.
But isn’t glitter a delightful thing? Pretty and shiny and just full of happiness? To my girls it is. They would sleep in it if they could. They would most definitely bathe in it and they would totally use glitter all day on top of the robot vacuum that we don’t have. Okay, the robot vacuum is me.
The girls would just use it all the time, with reckless abandon. They would dust it everywhere because they have the most amazing ability to live in the present, without regard for consequences. And if the consequence of glitter is vacuuming then perhaps I just need to chill the fuck out.
When I feel grey, I talk about needing to have time with it to be able to see the rainbow. Perhaps the glitter came the other way around for us. I have been showered in glitter because now the house is covered in chickenpox. Strike rate at present is 75% despite vaccination. Chickenpox is as impressive as glitter for getting all over your kids. Calamine lotion on the other hand is a bitch to get on to pox in hair. Yes, chickenpox in her scalp. They are everywhere. The glitter and the fucking chickenpox.
Right now I am wondering what the colour is for glitter and chickenpox. It waivers somewhere between pink – creativity + well, because it is lovely to grey – moody + just not feeling right (woe me, yeah?). But it is neither. It is blue – calm + mindful.
It is blue because I am in the moment. I am present. And with this comes mindfulness. Glorious mindfulness.
So here is how I currently feel.
Dear Glitter and Chickenpox,
I will take you for a short time but then you may leave again. You have taught me that I can be present. Mindful, I can be.
Thank you and please fuck off.
Yours sincerely in glorious blue,