I wrote this several years ago after delving into craftiness to make Nora’s birthday party “perfect.” I never delved again. After this, I happily handed over the money to purchase an overpriced bounce house package where a teenager, with more patience than myself, led all birthday parties from then on. God bless inflatables.
Enjoy.
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As all things do, it all began so innocently.
I decided to make Fancy Nancy cupcake toppers for Nora’s Fancy Nancy themed birthday party.
I felt excited to add this personal touch, a fun detail, to her party. A kind friend took the time to create the cute images for me, so my one job would be to print them and use the hole punch she gave me. Easy peasy!
Here is how it went:
Having some problems with the printer. It’s not happy with the card-stock. Understandable. Card stock can be a tricky business.
Thirty-five minutes later: Got it to print on the %*@$** card-stock, now I’m going to use the hole punch.
Crap, it keeps cutting off the image weird. How do you get this stupid paper to sit in the hole punch correctly?
Christ on a bike! I need to make more copies because I ruined all of them trying to use the hole punch. Please, no, not the cardstock.
Text equally craft-challenged friend to let her know I’m near tears over cupcake toppers. She assures me I’m still a good person.
MOTHER TRUCKER!!!!!!!!!!!! THE PRINTER!
I have printed them out again. Phew.
HOLE PUNCH I HATE YOU. WHO HURT YOU?
The dog is now eating the scraps all around me as I sit and stare in wonderment at the hole punch thingie, thinking about the fact that the friend who nicely created the topper images for me will be at the party tomorrow and see first hand that I’m a dill hole.
I Google “how to use a Fiskars hole punch” and am led to a site giving them praise for being so user-friendly that arthritic elderly people use them with ease.
Feel a red hot hatred towards Fancy Nancy that I have never experienced towards any other person.
Text husband that I can’t be all things to all people: He had to travel for work this week, and I list that I have had sick children, birthday party planning, a Christmas cookie exchange, and Christmas party stuff to handle. I AM BUCKLING, AND THE CAKE TOPPERS WANT TO KILL ME!
My husband texts back requesting that I put the hole punch down and walk away.
I call Walmart and have them add sprinkles to our cupcake order, as they will have no cupcake toppers.
End the experience by contemplating that whenever I have seen Martha Stewart’s daughter interviewed, she comes off as cold and dour.
Pat my own back that I am not like Martha Stewart and thus have lovely, happy daughters.
Feel smug.
Sit down and write about this experience because that is one thing I can do.