I had planned to watch one episode of "Orange is the New Black" while I ate, but one turned in to two. There is something totally differernt, (decadently enjoyable,) about playing hookey when you could actually be doing something else. And I could have, I could have been working. Again, here was the guilt creeping in. (Never mind, that I had hit my quota for the day and I would have been pushing the limits.)
At five, my daughter got home. She poked her head in and said hello. Then she spotted my latest project. I was knitting a new scarf .
I bought "Beanstalk" a new coat last night. The prospect of creating some matching accessories was pretty attractive. We found some yarn, came up with a color scheme and pattern, and off she went.
It was so nice to spend the evening with her. We knitted our scarves, talked about school, about the upcoming holidays, and basically joked around while we watched cheesy movies and hung out in my bed.
I don't really consider myself crafty, but I think my friends would. As I looked around, I saw evidence that it's in my genes. And it looked like Beanstalk had caught the bug as well. My daughter was using the quilt that my great grandmother made, on my wall is a picture that my aunt painted, behind me was a pillow that another aunt stiched. There is a handmade card, jewelry, knitted coasters, handmade placemats and a world of evidence that I was born to do this.
There is something soothing about creating something with your hands. Something theraputic about the repetition. And if you're doing it with others, barriers crumble away and let you really enjoy your time with them. There is no judgement, just community, a need to help and the shame in asking for help dies as well.
I think I'm hard on Beanstalk, but on nights like tonight, I really get to enjoy just being with her. It seems like with my hands busy, I'm free to relax and truly appreciate what a beautiful person she's turning out to be.
And that is nothing to feel guilty about.
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