More Lessons in Homemaking

The Scene: My bedroom/My kitchen

The Players: Kristen and Georgie

Kristen, sitting quietly in her room, G-Chatting and job searching hears some mumbling from the first floor.

Me: What did you just say?

Mom: Hey Martha Stewart! Could you come down here for a minute and help me with something? (I kid you not, my mother actually shouted this up to me just to make fun of the fact that I had talked about feeling like I was 107 years old all week. She's a real spitfire.)

Me: I'm sorry; what did you say?

Mom: Seriously, I have a sh*tload of cinnamon sticks and cloves down here and I need you figure out what to do with all of them.

Yeah, that really happened. My Dad used to make tomato butter (I have no idea what tomato butter is as it always really grossed me out, but, I gather it involves tomatoes, cinnamon sticks, and cloves.) and hence we have piles of cinnamon sticks and cloves lying around and we have nothing to do with them. Georgie's way of fixing this problem: Call on me. Or Martha Stewart. Or po-tay-toe, po-ta-toe, as it were.

I spent the better part of my Friday night using said cloves and cinnamon sticks to make homemade teabags to use as Christmas gifts. Natch. This story has two points:

1. If you would like some homemade teabags for Christmas gifts, call me.

2. If you suddenly feel like you need someone to craft something for you, apparently, you can just shout at me whenever the mood suits you.

The Soccer Momification of K. Fahn, Part Deux!

So... I posted about turning into a soccer mom and then I posted about doing very anti-Biggest Loser things while watching The Biggest Loser. I didn't realize until today how not only is it very not Biggest Loser-esque making Martha Stewart No Bake Chocolate Peanut Butter Oat Bars, but how very motherly it is. Later today I decided, what the hell, why not really take things to the next level.

And by next level I of course mean crafting.

Yeah, please refer to this link. The project named Mom's Magnetic Board was the project I did today. Because I'm kind of like a 12 year old (really oxymoronic isn't it?) and moved home with my mom, I lost my very well decorated refrigerator in Philadelphia. I loved my refrigerator. I realize that a weird thing to take the time to decorate in your apartment is a fridge but it was my thing; let it go. Realizing I wouldn't have a fridge in my bedroom I decided the only logical step to hanging onto all my awesome magnets was a magnetic dry erase board. However, the idea of a stark white board hanging on my very grown up golden walls made me want to cry. Yes, this is seriously how my mind works.

A little bit of Googling and a serious trip to Michael's later I created my very own Mom's Magnetic Board. Albeit she's a little fancier and a little less embellished than the example but realizing the name of the project, well. I. Wanted. To. Die.

Turns out we have a theme for the week ladies and gentlemen. Kristen is becoming an adult. And by adult I of course mean, your dessert making, hockey team supporting, Crafty McCrafterson Mom.

The Soccer Momification of K. Fahn

I didn’t realize that moving back to the suburbs would make me a soccer mom. Apparently, it has. Fast. Let me start with the outfit I ran my errands in this afternoon. It included but was not limited to a zip up hoodie (Lion Ambassador Homecoming 2k6 whattttt!), jeans, sneakers, (like serious gym sneakers, though I don't exactly use them for the gym) and my Orange Bowl 2k6 hat (really went with the Penn State theme today). It may not sound like anything out of the ordinary but once I got out on my way and saw how many people (and by people I of course mean mother’s with 2 year olds) I was dressed like, I. Was. Mortified. That is literally the uniform of young mothers everywhere just in case you were wondering.

My day started with a trip to the supermarket to pick up dinner for the next two nights. Because, of course, what good mom doesn’t have dinner planned for more than one night? (Skirt steak and pork tenderloin, BTW.) On the way home I stopped by the local high school to support the Varsity hockey team fundraiser by buying a few Chiavetta’s chicken dinners. Had my pre-purchased tickets from the kid down the street and everything. By the time I got home I felt like I had aged about 30 years. I mean who comes home with three nights of dinner including one purchased to raise money for new uniforms for a high school freaking hockey team?

The one redeeming thing about this little adventure into motherhood (aside from the fact that there was no actual child involved, Thank God) was my choice of music as I pulled into the parking lot of the high school. If you’ve ever heard the song Shots by LMFAO (featuring Lil' Jon), you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t heard it, it isn’t the type of music you want to be listening to as an adult pulling into buy chicken from a bunch of high schoolers and their parents. I realized perhaps I’m not as much like a mom as I feel if the first line of songs I’m listening to are, “Get ready to get f*cked up!” Don't worry, I turned it off as I actually handed the man my tickets and received my meals.

Ahhhh, feeling so my age right about now.