I'm one of "those" moms. The ones who let their kids dig in the dirt. Who does stop to smell the flowers (and show them the butterflies.) Who asks and answers more questions in a day than any given call center in India. I've always believed that if I spoil my kids with art supplies, books, and blocks and legos, well then, I haven't done too bad.
Don't worry, I'm not one of "those" moms. We still eat at McDonalds on a (probably too) frequent basis. We play video games (we being the operative word - a lot of them I play with the kids.) We watch movies. We have entire days devoted to electronic pursuits. I'm no saint.But ages ago at a LLL Garage Sale, I bought a little-kid sized workshop table. It was sturdy, with red-painted legs and peg holes along the front, a little stool with storage space in the seat, and--best of all--pen cups, I mean tool holders across the entire length of the back of the desk. It was supposed to be for play tools, but we put it in the kitchen next to the kitchen table and plunked crayons and markers and safety scissors in those tool holders (oh-so-conveniently shaped like pen cups.) A stack of scrap paper, and voila! The origin of the "Art Desk."
Well that little tool bench went off to the Great Toolbench in the Sky (actually, to Rachel's house for her little artists/builders) and I replaced it with an inexpensive (is there any other descriptor that goes here?) IKEA desk with a stack of drawers down one side, a simple maple laiminate top, and IKEA (read as: flimsier than they look) metal post legs.
For the last ...er, since the last time I cleaned off the Art Desk 6+ months ago, the Art Desk has been an Art Desk in name only, since no art was possible on its surface. It had become victim to the piling that happens in our house (turns out, I'm a piler. Who knew?) So my mom tried to help (she straightened the piles.) In that oh-so-helpful-not-helpful way only mothers and spouses can help. :D Love ya, mom. Really.But it did get us ready to tackle the project, made it easier to tackle, truthfully.
So here are some (but not all) of the things that I learned about myself while cleaning off the kids' art desk:
1. We have enough colored pencils to survive a nuclear holocaust. I will never need to buy another colored pencil as long as I shall live.
2. There are absolutely zero black markers. There are over twenty yellow (thin and thick, not counting highlighters.) WTF? (Why The Face?) Two blue. A dozen gray. I didn't think gray even CAME in the standard crayola pack.
3. Crayola is totally putting one of my kids through college, I've paid them enough already.4. I am way more attached to some of the art supplies than the children are. Lucky for me it was a low-attachment kind of day. I did pause momentarily over the scratch-art book, which my daughter had followed the directions of even though she didn't know how to read at the time. But then I threw it away. I'll get her a new one for vacation this year!
5. I am devious when it comes to getting rid of things I fear the kids will pine for. Garbage bags are already in the can in the garage, recyclables covered with other (smelly and wet) recyclables. [1]
6. I prefer my piles to be hidden.
7. Jobs with tangible AND quantifiable ends provide way greater feelings of accomplishment than nebulous jobs or jobs on the computer.
[1] Need a Mommy's Law for this phenomenon: Why is it that if the kids see something in the garbage can/giveaway pile/recycle bin that they didn't know we were getting rid of, they will moan and whine for hours, remembering for ages how "I used to have X but MOMMY GOT RID OF IT. <hairy eyeballs at mommy.>" but if you just disappear the items, they don't even remember they've ever existed. Or, better yet, my youngest will claim credit for having lost it! "I used to have a <insert annoying toy/art supply item here> but then I lost it." Yep, sure sweetie. You lost it right into the garbage can under the coffee grounds and the leftover dogfood. Yep.
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