I went in to our egg dying adventure with visions of pinterest dancing in my head. I totally forgot I wasn’t a crafty martha stewart mom, and that I have three quite YOUNG children and I was sure we could craft designer eggs that looked like these. that WHILE we were making said eggs, my kids would laugh and giggle and adore every second while listening to my gentle guiding instructions perfectly and grant would look on with glee from his bumbo. and I would document it all lovely with my camera AND interact at the same time, the perfect blend of photographer and mama.
we started out okay.
then grant had a diaper catastrophe of epic proportions. like head to toe explosion that needed taking care of.
so much for happy little brother looking on.
and chase thought the egg wand was a bubble wand, and instead of dying eggs, spent his time trying to blow bubbles. so much for a clean little boy for the lovely photos I was to make of our endevour
eggs got cracked. they didn’t die as richly or evenly as i envisioned. i forgot my crafty bone is missing and I can hardly even CUT a heart out of masking tape that actually resembles a heart. that i have a six year old and a three year old. that little girls love to put glitter on EVERYTHING. that life isn’t a pinterest board or a martha stewart magazine, and I am not that mama from the blogs i read that has it all together. so much for simple organic looking eggs with a designer flair. our eggs came out nothing like i imagined. but somewhere in there i remembered that childhood memories don’t HAVE to be pretty. they don’t have to be perfect and shiny and hip and pinterest board worthy. that my kids won’t remember how un-stylish their eggs were and how everything didn’t go as “planned”. that reality, however messy, is better. and fun times can be had no matter how un-put-together I am. so we went with that.