I’m just a minivan short of the loony bin.  And I’m blaming it on Pinterest.  As I left Michael’s craft store today with a shopping cart full of loot, I thought, “Well, here we are.  I should just go put my down payment on the Honda Odyssey right now.”  This so-called social networking site is going to be my undoing.  I’m so addicted that in the past week, the only socializing I’ve done is with my Pinterest alter egos (my own “boards”, if you know what I mean. If you don’t, good for you, you’ve managed to avoid the new time suck that is Pinterest).
My multiple personalities have really had a field day with this.  There’s Me, the Interior Designer (“hi there”).  Me, the A-type Organizer (“guten tag!”, she speaks German).  Me, the Chef (“bon appetit!”).  Me, the Fashionista (“hey hey!”). Me, the Super Mom (“hey, how are ya? want some sparkly glitter glue?”). I am none of these people, but I want to be all of them.
The upside to this madness is that I am really motivated to be creative.  I am planning to add upholstered benches to my living room for maximum seating and storage potential.  I am going to have shelves put into my garage so it doesn’t always look like the post-Sandy disaster area it has been since… well, since pre-Sandy.  I made cod cakes for my girls the other night (and even put a candle in one and sang to try to get the big girl to eat “fish cake”, that was a failure, it’s ok, plenty more to try from my “Recipes” board).  I tried on several revamped outfits in my closet to try to claw my way out of this mom-style fashion rut (now that I have new boobs, I think I can pull off anything.  Don’t tell my big, old butt. Today I even bought a new denim shirt with an anchor print on it from Old Navy… I agree, that sound hideous, but it’s on my “Lovin these looks” board, so you know it’s awesome).  And, finally, my trip to Michael’s.
This last foray into my Wannabe Super Mom personality led to our afternoon activity.  Finger painting on canvases with a Valentine’s theme.  In about two minutes, the big girl decided the paint looked better on her legs than the canvases and the little one had already stuck purple in her mouth, red in her ear and some pink was smudged across her nose.  I spent the next hour hosing them off and then scraping tiny bits of the paint that my little Jackson Pollock’s had left on our living room floor with my thumb nail.  It’s a good thing I haven’t had time to get a manicure in the past few months.  Well played, Pinterest, well played.

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