I love my children, and I especially love that they are creative and imaginative beings. We are also fortunate to live in an area that has high regard for arts education in school, and in the community at large as well. However, I am often at a loss of what to do with all of this creative expression.
The girls are fine with me looking at their homework, praising them for whatever it happens to be, and then recycling it. Art, on the other hand, is expected to remain on open exhibit indefinitely. To recycle a toilet paper tube with a string attached ( aka "my favorite mouse") is a tragic sin. And I thought someone had cut off a finger the other day, but, no, the commotion was over a lima bean with tape around it (aka "my hamster") found in the trash. My bad.
The playroom has two rows of rope with clothespins to hang art work, frames filled with art and there is at least one project on display in every room of the house. The cellar has totes of "special" crafts, and the girls are only 6 and 7. I push the boundaries of good mothering by waiting until after bedtime to throw away things I think they will not notice are gone, but only when they go out to the outside trash bin immediately so as not to be detected. I also strongly suggest that grandma (aunties, friends, etc.) are looking for art just like whatever has been recently completed...paintings, wood sculptures, origami, beaded jewelry, clay masterpieces, weaving, etc.
Do not even get me started on fuse beads...you know, those small cylindrical beads that dig into your foot every 2 inches and have to be ironed by an adult to make a toy that breaks within seconds and needs to be re-ironed or worse, remade. The only thing worse than this is pixos, even smaller round beads that fuse together with water, but only when fusing to things you would like preserved, like your clothes. If you are doing the project correctly, these beads will only stay together until touched, then break apart, or scatter every where and fuse to the cat's tongue. We have zillions of these creations. Correction, we have zillions of pieces of what once were creations. All are very special.
What to do with all this "specialness"? My bedroom has all the painted wood sculptures and beaded jewelry it can handle. The dining room has paper Sophie made in school framed on the wall, the living room has clay candle holders with beautiful gold beads glued on, the kitchen has the fridge, the playroom has masks and paintings and a recycled art gallery. No one would ever wonder if we had children upon walking into every room of our house. But that is enough.
After I got married my mother handed me a large box filled with things from my childhood that she had kept. Reports, report cards, pictures, paintings, poems etc. I looked through, reminisced a bit, but ultimately threw most of it away. It was sweet of her to keep it all I told her, and she laughed out loud. "You should have seen all the crap you wanted me to keep." Hmmmm....sounds familiar.
The girls are fine with me looking at their homework, praising them for whatever it happens to be, and then recycling it. Art, on the other hand, is expected to remain on open exhibit indefinitely. To recycle a toilet paper tube with a string attached ( aka "my favorite mouse") is a tragic sin. And I thought someone had cut off a finger the other day, but, no, the commotion was over a lima bean with tape around it (aka "my hamster") found in the trash. My bad.
The playroom has two rows of rope with clothespins to hang art work, frames filled with art and there is at least one project on display in every room of the house. The cellar has totes of "special" crafts, and the girls are only 6 and 7. I push the boundaries of good mothering by waiting until after bedtime to throw away things I think they will not notice are gone, but only when they go out to the outside trash bin immediately so as not to be detected. I also strongly suggest that grandma (aunties, friends, etc.) are looking for art just like whatever has been recently completed...paintings, wood sculptures, origami, beaded jewelry, clay masterpieces, weaving, etc.
Do not even get me started on fuse beads...you know, those small cylindrical beads that dig into your foot every 2 inches and have to be ironed by an adult to make a toy that breaks within seconds and needs to be re-ironed or worse, remade. The only thing worse than this is pixos, even smaller round beads that fuse together with water, but only when fusing to things you would like preserved, like your clothes. If you are doing the project correctly, these beads will only stay together until touched, then break apart, or scatter every where and fuse to the cat's tongue. We have zillions of these creations. Correction, we have zillions of pieces of what once were creations. All are very special.
What to do with all this "specialness"? My bedroom has all the painted wood sculptures and beaded jewelry it can handle. The dining room has paper Sophie made in school framed on the wall, the living room has clay candle holders with beautiful gold beads glued on, the kitchen has the fridge, the playroom has masks and paintings and a recycled art gallery. No one would ever wonder if we had children upon walking into every room of our house. But that is enough.
After I got married my mother handed me a large box filled with things from my childhood that she had kept. Reports, report cards, pictures, paintings, poems etc. I looked through, reminisced a bit, but ultimately threw most of it away. It was sweet of her to keep it all I told her, and she laughed out loud. "You should have seen all the crap you wanted me to keep." Hmmmm....sounds familiar.
