I would like to introduce you to my Frankenpot. I figured that the timing was apropos since Halloween is just around the corner, but honestly, it's a story for any time. It's also the perfect example of the old saying that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and since Exquisitely Unremarkable is all about finding beauty in the everyday, I thought I would share.
I mean, honestly, what could be more everyday than a broken pot?
Our tale begins many years ago in the land of no children, where everything stays just where you put it...and intact. I had come down with the decorating bug sometime after high school and was loving the process of making our first house a home when I bought this little number at Marshall's for $9.99 (the price tag is still stuck to the bottom of the pot!). I don't know why I liked it so much, I just did, which was rather odd, because I am not generally a fan of faux flowers.
Either way, this little gem wormed its way into my heart and sat happily on one shelf or another in my living room for about a year.
Until, a certain someone was born and systematically un-decorated my home at every opportunity.
From the start, I have loved being a mom, it was definitely my calling, but while the baby filled my heart and my home in a way that no piece of furniture or accessory ever could, I did not like the décor changes necessary to accommodate a baby and then toddler. There were primary colored pieces of plastic furniture everywhere. My shelves and table tops were either empty or padded or covered in soggy board books. I was loving motherhood, but the aesthetic had a lot to be desired!
Somehow, that pretty little pot managed to go unnoticed by baby for about a year and a half. It had been tucked into a corner of our built-in bookcase and camouflaged against the white paint, I suppose. One evening while making dinner and very pregnant with baby number two, I peeked in on my husband and little one from the kitchen and watched in horror as my husband tried to get the pot from my daughter who was holding on to it...like a ball, ready to pitch.
Instinctively, I called her name and she knew by my tone I wanted the pot. So, she did what any toddler would do, she giggled and ran. She was halfway across the room when daddy said, "Come on pumpkin, give daddy the pot!" She did, good girl that she was and is, she tossed it to him...and missed.
It smashed into several pieces on the floor. Baby laughed and daddy laughed as she was scooped up and away from the broken pottery.
I cried a lot.
It was irrational, but I was very pregnant, very tired and the house was under construction, as we were adding a bedroom and moving a kitchen to make room for baby. Our home was in total disrepair, completely undecorated and the broken pot was just the last straw. I'm not proud of my behavior, it was just a stupid pot from Marshall's. I had bought it for myself, it wasn't even a gift. It had no real meaning whatsoever.
Until that day.
That pot has been with us for over fifteen years now. I hate faux flowers even more now then I did then, but that silly Frankenpot is the most beautiful home décor accessory I own.
It's not that it was a great story, my daughter didn't do anything prolific and I cried like a spoiled teenager over it, but as the years go by and the memories get fuzzier, I can only recall the sweetness. Those cracks represent a time when our family was tiny and so much was brand new. I see the house where we started out. I recall my daughter's baby face lighting up as I call her name and the flash of that devilish smile. I see my husband, glue in hand, trying to make his exhausted, fat wife feel better. I envision my swollen belly, the wonderful promise of another baby to come.
It's a busted pot and yet it's still making me smile. It truly is exquisitely unremarkable. Not bad for $9.99, huh?
Do you have a "Frankenpot" story to share?
Sign up for email and follow the fun ~
Tips, tricks, crafts and giggles delivered straight to you!