This Boy Mom Reports: Crafts Gone Horribly Wrong

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Written By: Julie Hoag

Of my three sons, one of them loves to make crafts. I admit he is quite creative with his inventions. Though it’s a tough pill to swallow when his boy mind disregards what this girl mom thinks is OK when making these crafts. We clearly don’t see eye to eye. Some crafts have gone horribly wrong.

The making of a homemade stress ball.

One Saturday morning I sauntered down the stairs after my refreshing alone time shower to find my middle son in the kitchen making a stress ball. The ingredients of this craft were innocent enough: a balloon, flour, and superglue. The giant flour bag was on its side with flour splatted out as he apparently slopped it across the counter to fill his balloon. A spray of flour was speckled across the floor in a four- foot square area in front of the stove. I can handle this, I just need a cloth to wipe the counter and a broom to sweep the floor. Easy fix, right?

However, the shockers kept coming. The superglue lid was off and had dribbled a pea sized nibble of superglue onto the counter. I touched it and cringed, it was dry. I couldn’t pick it off. A permanent button on my counter-top to remind me of this day. But wait, next comes the worst part. Ready for a guffaw?

“I used a filter to get the flour into the balloon, Mom. And it worked really good.” He shows me the stress ball and smiles proud with flour flecked across his cheeks. I wonder where he got a funnel because I don’t have one in the kitchen.

My jaw drops as I look into the twenty-pound flour bag. Amongst the white flour sits the oil change filter funnel from the garage. I stare at him speechless. Mortified.

Really, the oil change funnel. I can’t even make this stuff up. Is it wrong to consider wine instead of coffee in the morning? Or maybe I just swipe his newly made stress ball to squeeze to death. No I’m kidding. Well, sort of.

When I ask if he washed the funnel, he just shrugs. Not a big deal in his world. He says he rinsed it but he can’t remember if he used soap before plunging it into the flour bag. He proudly shows me his invention as I sigh and grimace as I chuck the flour bag into the trash. I must remember to add flour to my shopping list, but I need a pen to make that note or I will probably forget I need flour until I’m already baking.

I can only find one pen to write my list with. That’s strange, I just bought a pack last month. Again, a story of another craft gone horribly wrong.

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Where have all the pens gone anyway? Crafts made with pens.

A few days prior to the stress ball fiasco, I came downstairs to find my son at the kitchen counter. His back was to me but he was sawing something with vigor. As I peered over his shoulder I saw he had a steak knife and was sawing a pen against the countertop, with nothing underneath. There were already ten ½ inch pieces of a pen tube on the counter and a pile of little springs.

“Making bullets!” he said. Plus he wanted the pen springs for another part of his shooter craft. I grimaced as I saw he had already sawed into the wooden countertop edge. In case you didn’t know, serrated steak knives saw into a wooden edged countertop like cutting into butter. I glared at the saw marks on the edge as I asked him to please leave us some pens for writing.

Where’s my glass of wine, it’s so calling my name.

The Morning Chef.

Another morning after enjoying my morning coffee, I headed upstairs to take a shower. When I returned back down I found my middle son making puppy chow in the kitchen. For my son it’s another day another craft.  I found powdered sugar spewed across the stovetop and crumbs of Chex cereal littered across the counter. I cringed as I found even more cereal as I stepped on and crunched them between my freshly showered toes. The lid of the peanut butter was off and the peanut butter inside was speckled with mini chocolate chips. And I thought showering would be easier once they got older. Not so much.

Both he and my youngest son smile at me with white powder-sugared lips. “Cereal in the morning, Mom!” He chomps again before he speaks. “Peanut butter too, see it’s healthy.”

I smirk at the three chocolate bar wrappers on the counter. I sigh and wonder when I will clean this up since we need to be out the door in ten minutes for basketball. At least they fed themselves breakfast I guess.

Craft Victim: The Table.

Our family table has been the victim of crafts gone wrong too many times. Superglue you are usually my friend, but when you stick a triangle of black construction paper to my table that fell from my son’s hand, you are not my friend.  You are still there from a year ago and I can’t get you off the table. Sharpies are great but red sharpie marks on the table I can do without. Pink and orange highlighter can leak through paper and stain a table, something I did not know before my boys. Now it’s a rainbow menagerie of color table. And Grandpa wonders when we are going to buy a new table. Not for a long time Papa. Too many more years of crafts to victimize this table with before that should happen.

I love my boys and I love their version of crafts. At least I will not forget these days as a mama when they are young and destroy my kitchen like little tornado mad scientists, leaving their scraps about the floor like the cupboards vomited. Excuse me now while I set my glass of wine plan into motion. Geez, it’s like a hidden picture game trying to find my glass amongst the crafts strewn across the counter. I almost step on a hot glue gun on my floor as I take my first sip.

Gotta keep smilin’ mama! This reporter out….


About the Author:

Julie Hoag

Julie Hoag is a writer, a wife, a mother of three boys, and a mama also to furry babies: two rescue dogs and two guinea pigs. Julie writes on her blog about antics and life with all males in the house, motherhood, kids, family, parenting, faith, and meat/vegetarian recipes. Her essays/posts can be found on the Huffington Post, Sammiches and Psych Meds, Her View From Home, Scary Mommy, The Mighty, Parent.co, Manifest Station, and her own blog juliehoagwriter. Julie has survived working as a SAHM, a pediatric nurse, a scientist, and a veterinary assistant. She has volunteered as PTA Treasurer and served as Mom’s Club President. She loves red wine, dark chocolate, aged cheese, and pasta. Favorite past times include writing, swimming in her family’s pool, watching her boys sports games, and spending time with her family (including pets!).

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