Remember the crafting afternoon disaster I wrote about last week? It wasn't entirely unsuccessful. There was one craft that turned out so beautifully that we're actually planning on going back and revisiting it tomorrow, because pom-pom pinecone ornaments are so cute that I kiiiind of need to make baskets of them.
A couple of weeks ago, my friend Erin asked if I wanted to set up a crafting afternoon for our kids, so they could make gifts for their grandparents (and anyone else who might prefer a fingerpainted snowman to, say, a Dyptique candle, which would be no one, but that's besides the point). We started a Pinterest board to find projects that seemed doable without looking too much like...you know...crafts. Our goal was to make things that the recipients might actually enjoy, as opposed to things that they feel obligated to display in perpetuity because said thing was made by a child.
This entire post is going to come with a massive caveat, and the caveat is this: If you have children under the age of...I don't know, I've only been a parent for five years. At what age do children start sitting still? Five-year-olds don't, in any case. So here's the caveat: if you have kids aged five or under and decide to make a fucking wind chime, please be aware that you will end up being the one making it. (My five-year-old did, in fact, bead his very own wind chime strand...and then picked it up to show it to me, at which point all the beads fell off, transforming a happy crafting afternoon into a trauma likely to halt further beading experiments for two years, at minimum. Because that is what happens when you try to force a five-year-old to make a fucking wind chime.) (My two-year-old, in contrast, applied herself with spectacular concentration and perseverance. Except what she was concentrating on and persevering in was ensuring that every single piece of berry bunny cereal, including the ones she dropped on the floor, were eaten.)
Bag (similar) | Skirt | Blouse (similar)
The overt purpose of this photograph, taken at last weekend's Renaissance Faire, is to show you the wings that I am wearing. But before we get to that, I think that you should be aware that as relatively serene as I appear in this image, approximately five minutes after this was taken our daughter commenced what was literally - LITERALLY - the most epic meltdown she has ever had. And she is two years old, so we're talking about a serious achievement.
See, what happened was that we did nothing at all, and this made her so furious that she decided to do a sort of full-body whiplash-thing while cracking her skull against my eye socket and chin (over and over) while I tried desperately to calm her via the delivery of things with sugar in them and an uncomfortably loud public rendition of Part Of Your World, and while passers-by looked on in what was unquestionably horror mixed with intense judgment of our parenting skills.
That's a wrap on St. Louis!
I've spent a ton of time this summer with my cohost for the project I'm working on. Together we drag suitcases down hotel corridors, crawl into Suburbans for five seconds of sweet, sweet air conditioning, and commiserate over our mutual dislike of the straight-from-a-box scrambled eggs that hotel chains all over the country offer up in their "delicious! complimentary! breakfast bar!" We also talk and talk and talk, because that's what you do when you're hanging around on a set all day.
My cohost is more of a veteran of television work (and the associated travel schedule) than I am, so I've been picking his brain for hints about what life will look like should our project continue beyond this summer - basically, should our show get picked up for series and should neither of us get replaced (something I won't know for a couple of months at least). I ask question after question...but whenever I hear his descriptions of "life on the road" I feel my heart rate speed up. He talks about evenings spent perched on top of washing machines in Holiday Inn basements because you're fresh out of clean clothing. About waking up and not being entirely sure what city you're in. About weeks going by without a single glimpse of home. These words don't just "bum me out" - they put me into pure fight or flight mode.
Very cute. Very loud.
Q. Dear Jordan,
I was wondering if you ever wrote a post about how you and Kendrick dealt with getting your children to sleep through the night? My baby girl still wakes up multiple times a night, often winds up in our bed, and still needs to nurse to sleep. I don't think I can handle full-on "crying it out," but I just started working again full-time and I am EXHAUSTED.
