I certainly didn’t shut myself in the nursery and manically paint the chair-rail — a delicious shade of pink called Candy Stripe — with two coats in quick succession. Who has time for paint to dry? NOT ME OMG MUST FINISH!
I did not let the fact that we were out of painter’s tape deter me from painting. Who has time to run to the store? NOT ME OMG MUST FINISH! PAINT ANYWAY! Will fix sloppiness do touch-ups later!
I was not unreasonably annoyed when Darling Husband popped his head into the room to ask what he should make the toddler for lunch.
After he was banished left the room, I certainly didn’t mutter things like, “I never ask YOU what I should feed OUR child for lunch … Goddamn grilled cheese … Not rocket science … Rawrrrrr.”
When Darling Husband went off to work, I didn’t continue to throw myself into the nursery chaos — despite being exhausted.
When my mom arrived for dinner, I, er, made dinner. I didn’t just toss her the toddler and rush back to the nursery to start pulling up dropcloths and removing paint cans.
I was not unreasonably upset when I realized Darling Husband had left the vacuum on some weird stair-only sucky-hose setting that I couldn’t reverse. No, I just decided to patiently wait until he’s home on Tuesday to help me with it. I would never go batshit crazy and then vacuum the whole room on my hands and knees with only a small sucky-hose tube thing.
I did not cry when I realized I couldn’t hang the curtain rod — thus displaying my beautiful, handsewn, freshly-ironed curtains — until he is home on Tuesday. Hot, angry, frustrated tears. No, not me.
I’m Heather Laura Clarke. I’m writer living in beautiful Nova Scotia, I have a 11-year-old son and a nine-year-old daughter, I married my high school sweetheart, and this is the story of my handmade life.
Whether I’m writing novels, decorating a room, busting out my power tools to build furniture, getting muddy in the pottery studio, sewing clothes for my kids, or cross-stitching a swear word, I’m all about using my creativity to craft a life I love.
I’ve been writing this blog since 2009, so if you dig deep into the archives, you’ll meet a bright-eyed 25-year-old newlywed who was basically obsessed with having kids, buying a cozy house, and supporting herself full-time as a writer. (Spoiler alert: she got exactly what she wanted.)