I know…it’s been a while. I have a good excuse. No, I’m not trapped under something heavy, but I am swamped. Yes, I have become overwhelmed by a force from which there is no escape: artwork.
My five year old loves to draw, color, cut, and glue. She calls herself The Artist. In fact, she has requested that when I accept her most recent masterpiece (to replace the one I received five minutes previously), that I do indeed respond, “Why, thank you Artist!”
Let’s see if you can relate. On the average weekday she creates at home five to seven pieces of artwork. That is per day. On weekends that figure can double. Despite my fire breathing conniptions and her promise that she will not leave them there, I find itty bitty slivers of paper from her cutting escapades abandoned all over her bedroom and my living room rug on a daily basis. I am inundated with tons of snow flakes, crowns, intricate paper sunglasses, and of course the usual rainbow, flower, and giraffe cutouts.
And this is just what she creates at home. A single day in preschool produces several more pieces of artwork that get tossed out of her backpack, and those are usually three dimensional. Recent projects have included stuffed blue paper whales, a Maypole, what I think is a tree made out of a paper bag with who knows what inside to hold it up, a stuffed laced pillow, and there is even the occasional diorama. Oh, and not to mention the bean shakers, which always break when the kids inevitably conk each other over the heads with them, leaving me to spend hours upon hours picking up miniscule beans from the rug because no matter how much I clean I JUST KEEP FINDING MORE AND MORE AND MORE. WHY??? WHY IS THIS A NECESSARY MONTHLY CRAFT???
Deep, deep breaths.
Now don’t misunderstand me, I love that she is creative, and that she has the desire to make her vision a reality. I recognize that every piece of artwork is special; her heart and soul poured into each carefully thought out squiggly line. But I don’t know where to put all of this sh…tuff. I save some, but a lot of it I used to try to sneak into the recycling bin when she wasn’t looking. Hey Judgy McJudgerson, there’s only so much I can keep for all of eternity.
Of course I got caught in this sinister act, and am forever reminded of the betrayal.
“Remember when I drew that pretty picture and you threw it out?”
She and I are going to need to hold a conversation pronto about what should and should not be saved, but I know that she will not be very amenable to that discussion. These are her creations. Why would I not cherish each and every one?
So, help me out here. How do you handle this influx of brilliance without reaching Hoarders Level 1? I need to be armed with ideas, and believe me, ideas are welcome.