Some children can’t color in the lines. They like to snack on paste and stare in horror at a blank piece of construction paper and deluxe set of crayons. I was not one of those children.

In the 3rd grade I made a clothespin family for my mother. In return, she gave me an “Ooh!”

In the 5th grade, I made a Popsicle-stick house for my mother. In return, she let out an “Aah!”

I beamed seeing my construction paper Valentine’s and Mother’s Day cards prominently displayed on the refrigerator and on my mother’s desk. Every Christmas, she would haul out the box of all the crafts I had made over the years. I probably should have been a little embarrassed, but mostly I was proud of those creations, missing macaroni pieces and all.

We had a good system going there. I would create. She would coo. Then I grew up, as little girls have been known to do, and grew serious. I was going to be a teacher; an accountant; a lawyer. Close enough, I grew up to be a court stenographer. It was a respectable position and the responsible thing to do. After all, I wasn’t a kid anymore. In fact, I had my own lovely daughter to think about. (Her paintings adorn our refrigerator. And yes, I coo.)

For Christmas of 2001, I dusted off my creative juices and somehow they never managed to get packed away with the tinsel and lights at the end of the season. You see, a Christmas tree project from a DIY craft book was to be my inspiration that year. It turned out to be quite the masterpiece (if I do say so myself). Overly ambitious planning left me with a bounty of beads. So, I made a bracelet for my best girlfriend (’twas the season). And still, there were more beads. So, I made a bracelet for myself (hey, ’twas the season!).

Before I knew it, all of my friends were asking for jewelry! I was flattered. Still, these were my girlfriends and this was surely just a passing fancy. The day that the shopkeeper at the local bead shop (I had run out by this point!) asked if she could duplicate my bracelet to display on her wall, the reality of it hit me full-force. So I did what any logical, single mother would do: I ended my career as a court stenographer and started Coleena Bobeena.

I think some of us misplace that creative spirit that runs wild when we are young. I was lucky enough to tap back into it. It is amazing to me that I get to be creative all year long. And when I receive pictures of customers wearing my creations, along with personal notes of thanks, it is like the biggest chorus of “Oohs” and “Aahs” a girl could ask for.

Visit the Coleena Bobeena – Inspired Designer Jewelry Boutique