I’ve reflected a great deal on the Glue Gun Incident of 2016 (read Saturday’s sugar honey iced tea post if you missed the story) and have come to the inevitable conclusion that I’m a moron.

Not because I managed to squirt scalding hot glue across my finger, although that won’t score me any extra IQ points.  I was moronic simply because it was ridiculous to think a type A person like myself could wing it on something so far out of my wheelhouse.  That I was capable of just “throwing something together” without worrying about what the final product would look like.

You might as well tell me to publish something without proofreading it a dozen (or more) times. Sorry, can’t do it.  Not happening.

Despite the fact that crafting is not my forte, my genetic makeup makes it psychologically impossible for me to simply throw shit together and send it in to my kid’s class.

I realize this sounds slightly insane.  That expending any energy at all feeling concerned about what sort of one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater I could create is plain old silly.  But that’s me.  If I say I’ll do it then I’m all in, even if all in means worrying about a kiddie craft.

So the real question here is this.  Knowing myself as I do – that it’s nothing but pure folly to think I could half-ass a school project, no matter how insignificant – why on earth do I put myself in that situation?

Need a class newsletter written?  No problem.  A story created about the students?  Piece of cake.  An age appropriate language arts activity?  Sure, I’m your girl.

But agreeing to create a one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater?!  WHAT WAS I THINKING?

That’s not a “sure, I can slap one together” kind of thing for me.  That’s a “spend an afternoon researching ideas online, stand dazed in Michael’s for 45 minutes, sketch out my idea, then spend two days making the craft” kind of thing.  Not exactly whipping something up over the weekend, is it?

Now, to be fair, all the teacher asked me to do was throw something together for her.  She didn’t expect anything state-of-the-art to come through the door.  I reinforced this attitude by sending her a Pinterest photo of a super cute critter (because apparently someone has the time to knit one of these freaking things) with a note saying that was one thing she could be sure wouldn’t be coming to school on Monday.

Keeping expectations low is key for crafting-challenged folks like myself.

At any rate, my purple people eater turned out pretty awesome in the end.  Which is where I may have shot myself in the foot.

You see, each class was creating one of these to put in the front hallway as a Relay For Life fundraiser.  Kids bring in change to put in the jar for their favorite purple people eater (are you starting to see why I was feeling the pressure?) and at the end of each day they announce the leading classes over the loudspeaker.

T-man came home on Monday afternoon brimming with pride because his class was winning in the fifth grade rooms.  I’m pretty sure You’re kidding!! popped out of my mouth when he shared the news, and then there was a little tingle of pride because hey…my crafting skills don’t totally suck.  Cool beans.

He didn’t mention it Tuesday or Wednesday so I simply assumed one of the more creative entries had passed us by, until he walked through the door Thursday afternoon.  By the way, he said, our class is still winning.  And my teacher says I’ll be gone next year but Bear will still be there so she’s gonna ask you to do theirs again.

Crap.  Guess I’d better start brainstorming, huh?