As I departed and returned to the YMCA for my Saturday morning run today, I couldn't help but notice the addition traffic. Ladies (and a few helpful husbands) were busy setting up their booths for a craft fair. I couldn't help but think back on my craft fair days. Back when my kids were tiny, when my husband's career was in its infancy and when money was tight, Sarah and I tried our hand at selling crafts for money. We skill-sawed, painted, spattered, sanded and poured our hearts into one wooden craft after another. We hurried to work while the kids napped and stayed up late to work some more. We took a hobby we both enjoyed and drove it into the ground, rendering it completely devoid of any joy. To be honest, it wasn't all bad. We always found a way to have fun, something (or someone) to laugh at. Many good memories where made. But I would never willingly go back there.
That got me thinking about other times in my life. Times that weren't all bad, but times that I wouldn't whole-heartedly jump back into. Like Middle School. I remember some fun, but for the most part it was a horrible awkward time I wouldn't want to relive. At the risk of sounding like a horrible person, I am not sure I would want to relive my kids' toddler years. They sure where cute when they were sleeping or gently snuggling on the couch with me, but those sweet memories seemed few and far between. My memory is filled with food all over the floor, being touched and hanged on (all.the.time), lots of whining and other such unpleasantries.
But life isn't like that. We don't seem to be able to achieve the good without taking a bit of bad along with it. And all the good times with my kids are definitely worth the bad (although I am not sure how much longer I can put up with Josh fighting with Sam, he's 15 for heaven sake...but I digress).
The crafts on the other hand, are not.