Also, I have a confession. I don't really even get what Pinterest is. I mean, I get that it's a website with its own icon, and I've been on there once or twice. Enough to deduce that it's a place where people exchange crafty ideas like how to make ants on a log look like the Chrysler Building and how to build a functional life-sized cruise ship out of origami and unicorn tears.
In other words, as far as I can tell it's just like the rest of the Internet: Somewhere to go when you either (a) want to feel bad about yourself or (b) want to make other people feel bad about themselves.
Well, I'm not down with that. And that is why neither my kid's Barbie clothes sewing project (Fig. 1) nor my psychotic coloring book page (Fig. 2) will ever go on Pinterest.
I don't know how to sew, which is why the words "Moooooom, can you heeeelllp us?" fell on deaf and highly unsympathetic ears this rainy Veterans Day morn.
"I told you when we bought that P.O.S. at JoAnn Fabrics that I was only getting it for you on the condition that you'd play with it all by yourself for a long time," I mumbled through a pen lodged between my teeth (I was coloring, which is like sewing for developmentally compromised monkeys).
"What's a P.O.S.?" Paige's friend, who was visiting, piped in cheerfully.
"Never mind," I replied, removing the pen from my mouth and turning to face both girls with a kind expression on my face. "The point is I can't help you. You might as well get used to those four words, because you'll be hearing them a lot as an adult."
Paige and her friend looked at me quizzically, and went back to making my living room a clusterfuck shit hole of needles, thread, sequins, and rubber bands.
Suffice it to say, the end product looked like something that could easily be featured on (if not win) Project Runway: Meth Whore edition.
Makes a mama proud, I tells ya!
Fig. 1 (Barbie clothes sewing project)
Fig. 2 (Psychotic coloring book page)