Mason Jar-gon

Mason Jars are everywhere.  I don’t even use Pinterest or go to weddings in barns, and yet they are STILL everywhere.  They are the fidget spinners of the 30 somethings.  I don’t have a problem with Mason jars; they are cute places to stick pencils or pour a drink–I’m not completely heartless or style-less.  However, there is this one Mason jar that has been rubbing me the wrong way for months.  It’s a jar with an agenda.  “Find Joy” it says.  IMG_3427

I have been reading this tag on the side of this jar off and on since Thanksgiving.  The jar is a leftover center piece from the Thanksgiving lunch I signed up to help organize.  A sweet and crafty mom filled the jars with corn kernels and had phrases attached to them.  It was a simple and cute way to decorate the table, and I was so glad that she made them.  In the hustle to clean up and get home, I ended up with some of those jars in my box of stuff.  The jar sat on my front porch for a week or so, until the chickens tipped it over and ate all the decorative corn kernels.  Then when our house was painted, it was stowed away in the porch cabinet of doom alongside containers of evaporated bubbles and the WD-40.

And then when spring flowers started blooming, Charlotte pulled out THAT jar to put roses in.  That was weeks and weeks ago.  The flowers have long since withered and died, and the jar remains on the kitchen island.  Once a stray item finds its way into our home, getting it out and back where it belongs is a lengthy and absurd process.  For you tidy readers, that’s a basic tenet of the messy life.  Maybe it’s because I have been reading snarky books lately, or maybe it’s a Trump presidency, but I am feeling a little sensitive about all these preachy messages.  Is it because church attendance is becoming less common that people are looking for sermons on t-shirts, coffee mugs, and mason jars?  “Find Joy,” “BE the change you want to see in the world,” “Love Wins,” “Reach for the Stars,” “Change is inevitable, growth is optional,”  I’ve had it.

When I see that jar, telling me what to do, all sorts of things run through my jaded mind. “Find Joy” NO! Find my car keys.  Or better still, find the Tile (registered trademark) that I got for Christmas to help me find my keys and/or my phone.  Then while you’re off finding stuff, FIND some computer skills and help me download the app to make that clever device work.  Yeah, FIND that.  Or “Love Wins.”  NO! People who can put on their shoes for themselves WIN.  “Reach for the Stars” NO! Reach for the toilet paper a few more times because I am spending a fortune stain-treating your undies.  Reach for that.  Change is inevitable.  NO! bickering over senseless things is inevitable.  And growth?  Growth seems pretty unavoidable because every single kid in my house needs new Crocs for the summer.  And crocs need to be re-named dinos because they are becoming extinct.  Apparently they are not cool anymore and only homeschooled nerds still want them.

So, yeah, I need to take some deep cleansing breaths, and that jar needs to go.  On second thought, I’ll just pull off the tag but keep the jar.  It is doing a stellar job of holding that fishing lure and metallic sharpie.  Reach for the stars, mason jars.


6 thoughts on “Mason Jar-gon

  1. I get where you’re coming from on the preachy messages, but “it is what it is”

    Also, you’ll be encouraged to hear that I actually looked at the “Find Joy” jar the other day and thought, “that looks a little like Sarah’s handwriting. But that does not sound like her heart-writing.”

    But my favorite part was fidget spinners for 30 somethings.

    Your biggest fan

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Way to stand firm and not be pushed around by a preachy mason jar! Getting snarkiness out in the open is good for the soul. Reading your blog is like “Chicken Soup for my soul.”


  2. Ha! I’ve had those same grumpy snaps in my head at those motivational phrases. It is really bad for the parent ones. “These are the best years of your life,” or “you will miss this so much,” or even dishes will wait, your children won’t wait to grow.” Really!?! If this is as good as it will ever get- shoot me now. I hope, count on, there being more to grow know and love about my kids. Frankly, 2yr old tantrums, 7 yro chore fights, and 5 yro whines aren’t gonna be missed. Shirts (new even!) stained and ruined due to diaper blow out, sleepless nights, fights and broken things aren’t going to be missed. Dishes and laundry aren’t waiting, they are piling up into monsters that prevent life from happening. If my kids feel unloved because I did dishes first and played second, well a therapist can help them unpack it all later in life.

    Wow! Sorry, I’ll hop off that soapbox now.


    1. Oh, Amy. I wasn’t in a head space to even go anywhere near the parenting sermons. You def. hit on some of my LEAST favorites! I saw a FB link this week that caused throw-up to bubble up “you only have 18 summers…” I do think that kids grow quickly, but don’t lay that crap on me. Pass!!
      And I won’t miss ANY of that stuff you mentioned.


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