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I Just Want to Build A Fire

I Just Want to Build A Fire

Fall is the distinguisher.  It separates the haves from the have nots.  The with it from the without.  The good moms from the I’m not crafty and I’m not going to even pretend to know how to make that crap moms.

This time of year is hard for me - the parties and cutesy treats and appliqued shirts that coordinate with the family activity for the weekend.  It’s too much.  For me to think about.  Coordinate.  Commit to.

Maybe that is my problem:  I’m not committed to Fall.

I mean, I’m committed to the 85 pins on Pinterest I’ve clicked of Fall treats I will never bake, decor I will never make and gift ideas I will never use.  Totally committed to continue browsing boards.  Clicking ideas.  And letting that be as far as I get.

I’m committed to taking my kids trick or treating {in costumes that are the bomb but are definitely not homemade} and painting pumpkins {that look like crap and don’t go on a real display but make my girls happy} and on going on a family fun filled activity.  At least once.  

But I think I’m done feeling inadequate or over scheduling to ensure that my girls have the “right” growing up experience.  This year, we didn’t go the pumpkin patch.  And you know what?  We survived.   It wasn’t a conscience decision.  We just ran out of time.  We were too busy at Boo At the Zoo and the apple orchard - both activities we had the best time at.  And made some amazing memories.  But we won’t have the pictures from that same spot every year.  That’s okay.


I mean, I made a commitment to my girls, to my family, not to some arbitrary tradition that only exists to that we can take a picture and post it on social media so that the world can like or comment on what a great Mom I am creating all these memories for my little loves.  

No I’m not.  I’m a shitty memory maker.   Did you see my attempt at pumpkin painting?  Or the price tag on the store bought Halloween cookies?   Or that lame excuse for Halloween crafts?

There is nothing Pinterest-worthy of my attempts to make Fall memorable for my little loves.  At best, it’s half assed.  Because I don’t want them to go to high school and tell their classmates they’ve never been trick or treating.  Or that they never decorated cookies.  Or that they don’t know how to carve a pumpkin.

It’s not that I don’t love spending time with my babes, I do.  But all this over scheduling and feeling obligated to construct these memories and put them all on display.  It is not authentic. Or fun.  It just makes me tired.

And all I really want to do is just  build a fire.

I just want to build a fire.  Drink a beer.  From my crystal wine glass.  Lay in front of the fire on pink polka dot bean bags.  Turn on some Christmas music and snuggle up to the two little ladies. And sing.  Maybe play some Barbies.  Or color a picture.  We may even write a story.  Or two.  Together.  At our picnic on the floor.  Eating take out or pizza or some other not organic or good for you dinner that will make the other Moms shake their head with disdain.  Watching Charlie Brown or Rapunzel or Full House.

Giggling.  And spilling.  And talking.  And dancing.

Oh, there is always dancing.

And eating store bought Oreos and Halloween candy.

I think that is what I’m committed to this year:  building a fire.  

And little love laughs.

And time.  Together.  Making real memories that won't go on a Christmas card or in a digital album.  But we will share.  Long after our accounts are closed.

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