Protect your borders, then decorate from within

I sometimes think about the things my crafty friends make in these terms: 

 That looks so simple! Yet I did not think of it.  Why didn't I think of it?  Why don't I ever think of things like that? Do I even like that?  It must look good because someone else said it looks good.  Hey, whether I like it or not, at least it's a craft, and she has that, and then here we have me, and what do I have, I don't have a craft. So she wins.

Yesterday, my husband fixed our front fence.  It had been driven into by the car of an intoxicated human one night while we were peacefully sleeping and feeling safe inside the house.  Sometimes when you are peacefully sleeping and feeling safe inside your house, someone outside is damaging your parameters.  

     The result of the fence crash was that the gate would not close properly.  The latch was misplaced. My one year old son learned that he could push on the gate, and it would open wide, and suddenly the entire world had the potential to be his for the terrorizing, at least as far as his 12-18ish inch legs would carry him.  I had to follow closely behind him any time he was outside, and make sure I ran to the gate faster than he did, so that I could hold it closed until he got tired of pushing on it, and realized it wasn't going to budge this time, and focus once again on something else within the confines of the yard.  As he is one year old, it doesn't take long for his focus to change to the next thing on his "to do" list. 

 The list includes, but is not limited to, going up the two front steps, which is a full body effort, then turning around and reaching for my hand so that I can help him step down the two front porch steps, and then stopping to clap and cheer for himself, as he has once again gone up, then down two steps. 

 The list also includes climbing and sitting on one of the chairs on the porch, then grunting and reaching for my hand when he realizes that he is still too short to get out of the chair.  I hold his hand and help him down,  so that he can climb back into the chair and sit comfortably for 3 seconds, then try to get down, only to realize that he still has not figured out how to get down, and again reach for my hand.  Repetition is an important feature of one-year-old-hood.  

     So you see why it was important to me that the fence be repaired.  Much that is treasured is contained within this yard.  As my husband was fixing the fence,  I looked around and saw that I had a yard full of sticks and acorns.  What is a good homey craft anyway, but something my crafty friends had brought in from outside and called a craft? So I enlisted my four year old to collect sticks and acorns.  I put the sticks in a clean, empty jar,  and arranged them like a bouquet which lacked flowers or leaves. I surrounded the sticks with acorns.  When I was satisfied with the stick to acorn to jar ratio, Four Year Old Child said "Here's a pine cone!" so I put the pine cone on the front at the top, and called it done, and called it craft, and called it very good.  

It is now sitting on the kitchen table, next to a heart shaped rock my ten year old son gave me several years ago. 

And this is where you can stop reading, because

Let's not talk about the fact that as soon as I posted a picture of this "craft" on Instagram, the only person to leave a comment said: 

"Careful! Acorns picked up off of the ground contain maggots!" 

And then let's also not talk about the fact that while I deleted the picture out of embarrassment, and out of a feeling that all non naturally crafty people know, the "that's what you get for trying to make a crafty craft!" feeling,  I did not remove the acorn infested decoration from my kitchen table.  The very table where my people, my precious treasured and beloved people, some of whom used to live inside my body, now sweetly sit, and innocently eat the food which my very hands have prepared for them.  

For they are unaware of my schemes.

My craft is on my table still.

I have seen no maggots.

I choose to blissfully assume there are no maggots in my particular acorns.

In fact, let's not even say that word ever again.

I choose to blissfully assume that the fence our yard is surrounded by which was violated by an outsider and reconstructed by an insider will also keep out such pestilence as ma-----.

So now,

     after having lived in this house for a year and a half, I feel a little bit decorated. 

 Just don't look at the walls because there is nothing on them.  

Maybe mothers of small children don't often put things on their walls because "decorating" takes every ounce of mental strength we can muster, and also because we spend so much time looking down.