The Exorcism Of Martha Stewart……


Tuesday an unexplained feeling of motherly love overcame me. I can’t explain it exactly, but I was acting a bit out of the ordinary all day. Generally I allow my children to roam free with the hope in my heart that they will safely entertain themselves for the most part…

But Tuesday was different! C was off school, the temperatures were again well below freezing and rather than confronting the cold, I opted to call the school and inform then that my son was not coming! This is NOT something I do on a regular basis, usually C is at school rain, shine, cough, or cold. I like it that way, and so does he…. but Tuesday, I was different. So with C at home, L was amused with just following him around all morning, which meant that, for the most part, I had the pleasure of some peaceful time to myself…..something that I rarely get! It must have been a side effect of the luxury and pleasure this peaceful time gave me, because as I was reveling in the solitude that is usually my chaotic livingroom, and looking at the Christmas tree I managed to purchase the other day. A tree that is a little ‘Charlie Brownish’, bare, cheap, and crooked (I managed to stay in a store long enough to purchase a tree, but not quite long enough to purchase decorations!)  and I thought to myself….

“Wouldn’t it be cute if we just decorated the tree with homemade ornaments instead of the store-bought, color coordinated heartless ones I was planning on purchasing! (Well the ones I would purchase if I could manage to brave Walmart ever again) Yes. It would be grand, cute, loving, and unique. In fact, I should gather the kids and makes some RIGHT NOW!!!”

Sure, seems like a great idea. Lots of fun, some quality time, and plenty of creativity. It is a great idea, and I am so proud of my cleverness in coming up with such brilliance, but it is not like me to desire such activities, at all!

I won’t lie to you, I am not the “arts and crafts” kind of mother. Nor am I the ‘soccer game’ kind of mother, the ‘playdate’ kind of mother, or the ‘big birthday party’ kind of mother. I don’t really like children, seriously! I don’t mean that to sound as terrible as I am sure it does, but some people have it….. I just don’t. For me children are best in small doses, here and there, when I am in the mood for them. Luckily for me, my son is well aware of this fact, and is also well aware that just because mommy is not the most active participant doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. My daughter will catch on quickly to this fact as well, I am sure. My son is amazing at amusing himself, and happily does so most of the time without an issue. He is constantly amusing himself with his computer, crafts, drawing, or recently reading and with a little sister around now he is even more content to amuse himself, and her as well. Yes, I am lucky… I thank God each and everyday…trust me!

Anyway… So I got it in my head that C, L, and I should all make crafts to hang on the tree, (well mostly C and I, L mostly just ate the craft paper and squealed at the top of her little lungs like she often does) but, if we were going to make christmas crafts, we needed Christmas cookies!

OK, this is where it starts to get really weird, not only do I not do arts and crafts, I have NEVER baked a cookie in my life! I have never baked anything in my life! (well there was that one attempt at a birthday cake, but it went horribly wrong!) Anyway… by this point, I believed that my mind, and body, had been taken over by demons for the day… like Aunt Jemima demons or some Martha Stewart wannabe….

But never the less, I set out to bake cookies. No, not from scratch of course, I am not that clever, even when possessed by the demon of some happy little homemaker. Out of the package, on to the tray (which I had to borrow from a neighbour btw, I told you I don’t bake, I mean how sad is it that I don’t even own a cookie sheet?) and 20 minutes later I had cookies! Crunchy, (even though the package said chewy) crusty, over cooked, black bottomed, outright awful, oatmeal chocolate chip cookiesThis is why I don’t bake! But C, being the darling that he can be at times, gobbled them up and told me how amazing they were, with only a slight hint of the true pain he was feeling visible on his face!

With the baking out-of-the-way I decided that I would pop a roast in to the oven to slow cook all day, and start our little arts and crafts party… so I seasoned the roast, cut up potatoes, and popped it all in the oven on low at noon, to roast slowly all day long! (The roast turned out great btw, I managed to not burn dinner at least!) My children were looking at me like I had two heads, I am sure that I saw fear in their eyes, or perhaps it was pleasure and excitement, or wonder of where this ‘new’ mommy came from, or what the hell I was on!! I don’t know. Soon C and I were gathering any and everything we could find that would be suitable for arts and crafts, and we set to work…. 3 hours, and a few swear words, later we had a paper chain, a snowman, and a few other strange decorations….

I think that it was around this time that the Sally homemaker demon left my body, because I started to get weary and irritable, the excitement that was ‘arts and crafts’ was wearing off, and I was losing interest quickly. C must have picked up on this because he turned to me and said… “You know I think maybe that’s enough for now, we can always make more later.” Bless his little soul!

So we tidied up and that was that for the day, a great dinner, a long bath, and into bed. C was so happy to have had a “fun” day, and I guess that is satisfaction enough for me, even if I did have to suffer through a demon possession, burnt cookies, and a long session of ‘arts and crafts’. But do I think I will be having another arts and crafts fest anytime soon??? I doubt it, but you never know Tuesday…. I was different!!

(P.S. I actually had fun, but don’t tell anyone they may start to get crazy ideas about me being domesticated!)

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One thought on “The Exorcism Of Martha Stewart……

  1. Pingback: Christmas Cupcake Queen « K8's Krazy Thoughts

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