The Trouble with Kids and Art

It's December 8th, 2024 as I'm writing this - very appropriately in my Moms Who Create Journal (unrelated, I only have about 10 pages left in it and I'm so sad about that!) (Also unrelated, what are my kids going to do with all my sketchbooks and journals when I die, because I have a TON!) Ok, ok, back to the point!

It's December 8th, 2024, and I've just finished cleaning up our crazy mess of a dining room table (and the floor underneath.) It's been covered about 3" deep with plastic bags, markers, paint, brushes, colored pencils, glue, cut up and torn magazines, crayons, scissors, etc. because back in August I gave myself a crazy 14-day art challenge that I'm currently halfway through. I'll write more about the challenge itself later on.

Between Jon and I, I am the strict parent. This may surprise you, it certainly surprised me, but it's true. Once when I was pregnant with Alex, it was Emma's bedtime. I told her when I was done going to the bathroom (which happened every 15 minutes at that point) we were going to brush teeth and she would go to bed. Everyone agreed, but when I waddled back from the bathroom Jon and Emma were sharing a bowl of ice cream that had NOT been there when I left!

Five years later, if you ask my kids what I hate, they will probably tell you I hate messes. The sheer number of times I say "Clean up this mess!" probably rivals the number of times I say "I love you!" to them. As a disclaimer, my studio is the only room in our house that is in a constant state of mess and chaos, and I blame the fact that it's the random catch-all room. Also sometimes there's 6' statues in there.

This is basically a picture of the whole room.

It took me a good 30 minutes to clean up the dining room this morning, including sweeping the paper scraps that had migrated to the kitchen and hallway, cleaning glue stick residue off the table. putting away all the supplies, and using rubbing alcohol to remove some permanent marker from the table. 

What started our art-full weekend was going to an artist reception downtown after work. No kids, just me meeting and chatting with other artists. It had been SO LONG wince I've networked just because. And I came home with creative excitement in my soul! So I got out some supplies (after the kids went to bed) and started collaging with my mom, who was visiting for the weekend. We had a great time, and some of the tension I'd been hanging onto eased. I was creating, and it was FUN.

Fast forward to the next morning, when I wake to a chorus of "We want to make that kind of art, too!" Deep sigh. I love seeing my kids make art, but like with all things, if I'm helping them I'm not able to do it myself. Which is fine, except when I'm actually trying to get some art done. Like when I'm painting a statue that has a deadline, and my girls want to paint at the same time. 

My toaster collage!

So I let them create. I gave them the scissors and glue and set them free. I was able to do a bit of art alongside them, which made it even better. They kept coming back to their projects throughout the weekend to do more. It left a huge mess in their wake.

As I cleaned up, I chose not to listen to music or books. I just wanted to think about things as I scooped up tiny bits and crayons. A few days prior to this I saw a video of a woman complaining about the wreck in her house due to her kids' toys being everywhere in her house. She goes to work after making and posting that video - I think she's a nurse - and her work that day was with a little girl in home hospice, who had stopped playing with her toys... indicating that her health was declining and she would pass soon. The woman cried in the video, I cried watching it, and any second now Jon is going to notice that I'm crying as I write this (and then he'll poke fun at me about it!) 

The trouble with kids and art is that there's always a mess left behind! And as I've mentioned, I hate messes. But the mess I was cleaning up was the leftovers of a weekend of art and memories made with people that I love. Cleaning up the mess was less work and more of a chance to live in the moment and reflect on how lucky I am to have this mess to clean up.

When my girls see me creating art, they are seeing their mom fulfilling her dreams and making her passions a priority. When my girls as to create art themselves, they are asking to do the exact same thing. 

Am I going to revel in every single mess that my children make? Of course not. Will my kids remember that I didn't make them pick up after themselves this time? Oh please, they've already forgotten that there was a mess there. But I sure appreciate the lesson for myself this morning.

(And Jon never noticed me crying, ha ha!)