Where is the green sheep?

Personally I'm not sure, but I suspect he's snugly wedged between the sturdy pages of a board book in my daughters bedroom, fast asleep. That tends to be his usual hang out. On the other hand, I can vouch for the whereabouts of two sweet, fluffy little toilet roll sheep. They're chillin' in my lounge room after a serious craft session earlier today involving two under fours, a bottle of glue and a copious quantity of cotton wool balls.
I keep reading confessions here and there from Mum's suffering a touch of the Mummy guilts about not enjoying playing with their beloved offspring. With each comment I exhale a little, calmed by the realisation that I am not alone in my distaste for playing kiddie games. I really want to park my royal behind on the carpet amid a see of Thomas' and Percys and tumble in to the imaginary world of my son and feel the same joy that I see in his eyes with every 'busted buffer' and subsequent, exasperated 'peep, peep, wheesh', but I struggle. I want to sit cross legged with my daughter and rock, feed and burp the baby (or bear, or rabbit or other target of maternal affection) but it's difficult. I continue to try and try, but each time I do, I begin yawning and my eyes glaze over. My mind wanders and I start noticing housework that needs to be tended to.
Now, my kids are not silly, Billy. They instantly pick up the scent of my disinterest and I feel like a fraud. A mummy try hard. It just doesn't feel right. It makes me sad that I can't absorb myself in their world for their sake and it makes me mourn the loss of the imaginary world of my child self.  Somewhere along the way I've lost the ability to make believe. I've begun replacing the pretending with the practical. I guess it has something to do with growing up. But I console myself in the privileged position I hold whereby I can watch my kidlets creating vast and magical worlds complete with elaborate stories filled with drama and lots of weirdness. It is pretty cool.
Just because I find this kind of kiddie fun less than such, doesn't mean we don't have fun together otherwise. I remember reading about reading in the guff they give you at the health centre. You know that never ending trail of paper that makes raising a baby seem terribly complicated, difficult and daunting? There are sheets about poisons, dental health and road safety. There are sheets that make giving juice to a toddler seem like a world ending action. Then there's the one that tells you which car restraint you should be using. This one did my head in. It's a challenging puzzle involving age to weight ratio with added complexity regarding side impact protection, rearward or forward facing options and separate, but compulsory harnesses. Yet, if I call a taxi to come and collect me and my darlings, they can travel legally, restraint free, go figure.
Now I'm back from that tangent, on to the sheet about reading. It made the point that if you as a parent don't enjoy reading a particular book to your child, it will be difficult to convince him/her that reading is fun. So true. Has anyone tried to read an In the Night Garden book without wanting to tear the pages out and make paper planes? On the other hand, I've read Lynley Dodd's Mairy Maclary books somewhere in the vicinity of 64000 times and still enjoy them. Not surprisingly so does my son. Now I look forward to introducing them to my daughter.
The same concept rings true for all shared activities. So, instead of banging my head on the wall trying to get enthused about playing kiddie games, I try to play to my strengths. Hence the crafty little sheep. I love making stuff from other stuff, so we do that together. I love clothes and being creative with the way I dress, so we do that together, too. I love to cook, so on special occasions when I feel capable of handling butter on the ceiling and eggs smashed on the floor, we do that together as well. Having an environment conducive to the kinds of activities I like to do with the kids goes a long way, too. Really messy stuff happens outside and we keep the wet crafts for the kitchen. With a reno in the pipeline, I'm looking forward to a space that works really well for kiddie creative play. I envisage lots of wipe down surfaces, a big table and big chests filled with crafty bits and dress ups.
Does anyone else have a great space set up for living with kids? I'd love some ideas about what works for you, so let me know and I'll get planning!

With no markets in the next couple of weeks I managed to devote my last buntyandsars Thursday to some research and scavenging and managed to find some lovely tins, baskets and a special timber box. I even managed to source some very simple, elegant and affordable stands for my colouring books, so ta ta to those rotten, rickety, corflute ones! Now I'm looking forward to fiddling around with my goodies to create an interesting and engaging display for my stall.
I've just been to get some new paper as it seems my sweet little 'pull-along' caravan cards are rather popular and now I need to make some more, which will be nice. I really enjoy creating the little mobile homes with my old fashioned pen and ink  and a tiny little cutting blade.
The timber box I mentioned gets me thinking about quality, with it's beautiful dovetail joints. It is a reminder that such beautiful things have become rare. But do not despair because I can feel a change in the air. Handmade is cool again, and I'm proudly riding this new wave.
Instead of heading to one of those places of mass production when you want something lovely for a special littlie, a special friend or your special self, think again. Seek out a cool market (they're cropping up everywhere) or a local shop supporting designer/makers. You'll find something beautiful, interesting and well made. You may even stumble upon a one-off. Oooh, aaah. But best of all, you'll be surprised at how affordable the stuff is. When you get home gushing at your gorgeous purchase, feel the warm and fuzzies for supporting a local maker, then get on to all your friends and tell them how great handmade is. Lets start a revolution, baby!