The long march of winter in the Northwest have finally given way to the long march of spring in the Northwest. Rain clouds, storms, hail, and soggy, sloppy earth beneath our boots. Keeping little ones occupied indoors all day requires some creative planning. I've gotten pretty good at coming up with little craft projects while my son naps, because I like to do things with my hands and would like to pass on the value of making things to my daughter, and because I can't, in good conscience, let her watch yet another episode of Go, Diego, Go or The Wonder Pets. (Could I?)
So being the fabulously crafty parent that I am, I decided our most recent activity would be making paper boats. Easy enough. I'm sure I remember doing something of the sort back when I was young. Really, how hard could it be? I find instructions on an origami website, grab some paper and L. and I sit down to knock out a few quick paper boats. Until I get to direction #6, that is. I'm sorry - fold what corner where? Does that particular corner even exist because I'm pretty sure directions #1-5 never mentioned anything of the sort. And why is my daughter continuously grabbing at the paper that I'm pathetically attempting to fold, repeatedly asking if it's done yet? Why do I, a semi-intelligent, somewhat handy person feel like I'm trying to land aircraft and all the directions are in German? Surely we can do this before my son's nap ends, which is very, very soon (*note to self - stay cool and carry on even though I'll hear his wail any minute now and I'll have to disappoint my oldest by failing to complete quality mother-daughter project) and before I have to answer, once again, "NO, IT'S STILL NOT DONE YET! BACK OFF, MUNCHKIN". Breathe in, breathe out. Remember that this is a fun and precious memory in the making and I am an occasionally mature adult. But seriously, what the hell?! I find an alternative website and set of instructions. My daughter has since moved on to playing with toys but now I'm determined because I can't be possibly be outwitted by paper folding, so I fold and re-fold until finally, the simple paper boat - that is anything but simple - is done. Like an idiot, I decide to make another. Because I can now. I pleat corners in order to soothe my tattered and bruised ego and convince myself that I'm not a complete dipshit incapable of folding paper according to direction. We put red and yellow sails on them and sit them on the fireplace for a not-so-rainy day. Quality craft time has officially ended for the day.
A few days later we are fortunate enough to get a slight break in the action; the sun shines brightly even thought the ground is water-logged. We decide to take the boats out to the small pond in the backyard. The ominously opaque water and safety hazards notwithstanding, we launch the ships. They float and move with the wind. As I watch my daughter pick up the boats and place them down again in the water, I am beaming. Not because they are floating successfully (my husband predicted they would sink instantly) but because I see my sweet, gorgeous girl in her matching blue dog rain coat and boots crouching over a pond to set sail her paper boats. And it's as innocent and lovely a moment as a parent can ever imagine.
I love my kids. I love their curiosity and I love that in their world anything is possible. The crafting of the boats wasn't exactly my finest moment, but this unexpected burst of sun and sweetness is more than my sappy mothering heart can take. It's so good. It's hot fudge sundaes, newborn puppies, long afternoon naps, and rock-hard abs all rolled into one spontaneous, glaringly beautiful moment and I love that I am this lucky. In this moment I have all that I need. I am full.
So being the fabulously crafty parent that I am, I decided our most recent activity would be making paper boats. Easy enough. I'm sure I remember doing something of the sort back when I was young. Really, how hard could it be? I find instructions on an origami website, grab some paper and L. and I sit down to knock out a few quick paper boats. Until I get to direction #6, that is. I'm sorry - fold what corner where? Does that particular corner even exist because I'm pretty sure directions #1-5 never mentioned anything of the sort. And why is my daughter continuously grabbing at the paper that I'm pathetically attempting to fold, repeatedly asking if it's done yet? Why do I, a semi-intelligent, somewhat handy person feel like I'm trying to land aircraft and all the directions are in German? Surely we can do this before my son's nap ends, which is very, very soon (*note to self - stay cool and carry on even though I'll hear his wail any minute now and I'll have to disappoint my oldest by failing to complete quality mother-daughter project) and before I have to answer, once again, "NO, IT'S STILL NOT DONE YET! BACK OFF, MUNCHKIN". Breathe in, breathe out. Remember that this is a fun and precious memory in the making and I am an occasionally mature adult. But seriously, what the hell?! I find an alternative website and set of instructions. My daughter has since moved on to playing with toys but now I'm determined because I can't be possibly be outwitted by paper folding, so I fold and re-fold until finally, the simple paper boat - that is anything but simple - is done. Like an idiot, I decide to make another. Because I can now. I pleat corners in order to soothe my tattered and bruised ego and convince myself that I'm not a complete dipshit incapable of folding paper according to direction. We put red and yellow sails on them and sit them on the fireplace for a not-so-rainy day. Quality craft time has officially ended for the day.
A few days later we are fortunate enough to get a slight break in the action; the sun shines brightly even thought the ground is water-logged. We decide to take the boats out to the small pond in the backyard. The ominously opaque water and safety hazards notwithstanding, we launch the ships. They float and move with the wind. As I watch my daughter pick up the boats and place them down again in the water, I am beaming. Not because they are floating successfully (my husband predicted they would sink instantly) but because I see my sweet, gorgeous girl in her matching blue dog rain coat and boots crouching over a pond to set sail her paper boats. And it's as innocent and lovely a moment as a parent can ever imagine.
I love my kids. I love their curiosity and I love that in their world anything is possible. The crafting of the boats wasn't exactly my finest moment, but this unexpected burst of sun and sweetness is more than my sappy mothering heart can take. It's so good. It's hot fudge sundaes, newborn puppies, long afternoon naps, and rock-hard abs all rolled into one spontaneous, glaringly beautiful moment and I love that I am this lucky. In this moment I have all that I need. I am full.
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