domestic goddess.

my friend andrew refers to me (in a disturbingly mocking tone, of course) as a domestic goddess.  because it is very clear that i am anything but that.  i hate crafts. i love the idea of them and i love the idea of creating things and saving money and stuff.  but the process really blows. few things make me as agitated as crafts (those other things are the post office, bank, dmv, rubber neckers, bad drivers, toothaches, ill behaved children...). yet i find myself drawn into the evil pool of the do-it-yourself blogs, pins and braggers. and though i may be setting women's lib back a good 4 decades or so, i still feel the biological obligation to embark on this journey towards female domestication.  i generally fail miserably at this and just put it by the wayside and continue along my way in beckieland (feeling completely justified with my cooking, cleaning, nagging, babysitting, nursing, needy, ironing and poor driving skills).  but one of my best friends, valentina, said something about me the other day that rang frighteningly true.  she was explaining to jared how much i like to play games and how well i play them, but then she said 

"i have never seen a game that beckie isn't good at. but then again, if she isn't good at it, she won't do it. so i guess no one would ever see her be bad at it because if she was bad it, she just wouldn't do it". 

oh, the truth hurts. but why spend emotional exhaustion and time on something that i know i am bad at?  i guess that whole personal growth thing... ? such a waste.

well last weekend i decided that i was going to do a craft. a real craft. not the cool kind (which would include saws, wood, power tools, home depot trips, super glue and paint) but the truly frugal, pinterest worthy, DIY craft. so while jared and the guys were hard at work on their school project, i went to work on mine (they got to use marbles, k'nex and hammers...they suck).

this was an HOUR AND A HALF, 4 curse words and 3 burned fingers and absolute determination to conquer this damn foam tree, into the project.

this was THREE AND HALF hours, 27 curse words, 10 burned off finger prints, frazzled hair, 1 bead of sweat and a chest bump worthy amount of victorious pride in my heart. i was ready to set the thing on fire but i am proud to say that i did it.

yes, i am gross.

and i just might blow it up for new year's eve.