On Wednesday afternoon I danced along the fine edge of parenthood we all have, the one that separates the parent you can be from the fallible adult you are. I do a fair job keeping my foibles and neuroses from affecting the way I parent. Like almost everyone else, I keep out that which I don’t want them to model with the help of a self-made retaining wall–but the Hero of Haarlem is proof that doesn’t always work. What you try to keep out will find a crack and trickle in. As a parent, it’s my job to see the leak and plug it.
I was helping Mikey with his picture of an allosaurus attacking a triceratops when Nicholas reached across the coffee table and reached for the pastels. He wanted them because he watched me explain to Mikey how they work, how you can shade and blend and mix to make color progressions and all around awesomeness.
“Nicholas, please don’t. Use your crayons, please.” He looked disappointed; he wanted to be like his big brother. I wanted to avoid a mess; I didn’t want them to get on the carpet or sofa. I didn’t want them to break or wear down. He reached for them again, and I sighed.
“Nicholas,” and I paused, trying to think of a nice way to say don’t touch my stuff. I couldn’t figure out a way to say please don’t touch my pastels from college, the ones I used one semester 19 years ago, the ones we found last summer buried under decades worth of memories in your grandparent’s storage unit. Please don’t touch those.
I felt ashamed.
Search for cracks. Find the leak. Plug the dyke.
When we were kids, my youngest brother and I used to roshambo over who would swipe the knife across a new tub of margarine. Neither one of us wanted to do it–it looked nice and new and pretty with it’s little dollop on top. After the first swipe, we could care less. Smart Balance for everyone! But there was something about that first swipe. Same thing with new clothing, or socks and underwear. I used to buy what I needed and then continue to wear my ratty t-shirts and socks into oblivion. I wanted my new stuff to stay new as long as possible. I thought I was over that silliness but, so it would seem, pastels bring out the cray-cray in me.
“You know what, Nicholas, go ahead and use the pastels. Use the q-tips and cotton balls like mama showed Mikey. And use these, too. These are called oil pastels, and you can blend them with your fingers.”
A happy Nicholas started coloring, and Mikey continued outlining his picture of a dinosaur, and I got up to stretch my back and crack my knees because sitting on the floor to color for more than an hour is almost as hard as parenting. The picture of Nicholas and me dancing underneath a layer of pastels (and crayons and pencils and charcoal) is worth the achy joints.
A few things: 1) that is one handsome allosuarus; 2) roshambo–that’s a new one! I had no idea; and 3) you totally got me with the last bit. Tears in my coffee. (not to be confused with clouds in my coffee.)
I think roshambo is a guy thing. I learned it from my brothers and husband. :)
Those two happy green faces make it clear that you made the right choice to “share”.
Especially since I was hoarding 19 year old pastels I didn’t even know I still had until last summer!
Sweet. Isn’t it great when we see where the junk comes from and then DO something about it? Love it!
Yes, I felt really good about it as soon as I course-corrected.
Boundaries versus generous, self-less parenting. That’s a tough one. I think it’s still okay to retain some of the former.
But OMG! Did Mikey do that drawing? You’ve really got a budding artist in your house!
I think boundaries are good when they are valid. I don’t think my 19 year old, grubby, worn down pastels made the cut. :) But, YES! Mikey drew that. Isn’t it amazing? I couldn’t believe it. I love the perspective.
great post, Jules! I have to admit, I am terrible at plugging those leaks. My girls are getting old enough now where they will begin to notice. Time for me to step it up. Thanks for the reminder :)
Yes, it’s the thought of Mikey and Nico getting older that makes me pause and reevaluate. (On a good day.)
As always, a wonderful post to make me reflect on my own actions. The word “no” comes out of my mouth almost immediately in a lot of situations, because I don’t want the mess or to deal with the aftermath. But when I really think about it, it’s not that big of a deal and I change my mind. My boys must think I’m a huge pushover. Love the butter story.
I think it’s easier for the person who cleans up, puts away, and is there everyday to say NO. Sometimes I feel that’s all I say. Hmmm.
Glad I’m not the only one who got teary. This made me cry because of the sweetness of that picture at the end, the generosity you showed, and the ache in my heart for all the times I didn’t plug the leak.
There have been plenty of times where I didn’t plug the leak. That’s the way parenthood goes.
I am always trying to plug the leaks and keep from zapping the fun. My 6 year old son likes to play a game on my iPhone called Jetpack Joyride. One of the objects is to collect coins to buy upgrades. My son likes to buy new helmets and accessories for the guy, I like to buy equipment to get more coins. The other day I had to stop myself from telling him what to buy. It’s a game, let him play! There are moments that you just have to go with, let the mess happen, clean it up and move on to the next one.
Yup! When Mikey was drawing, I had to stop myself from telling him what to do. In the end, he did just fine, as you can see.
You are SOOOOOO right in what you did. I regret not letting my daughter play with certain dolls because she would “mess them up”. Guess what? I am now faced with what to do with them and will likely give most to the needy–in their perfect state! Makes no sense!! Why did I not let my kid play with them?? Wear the special shirt or the pretty dress and forget about stains from spills. And you can always get a fresh set of pastels when the college ones are done. We had them as kids and used the same box forever. There was a way my sibs and I took care of stuff and valued it growing up in the 60s. Consumer culture hadn’t hit yet. One big box of crayolas for our childhood, more or less. . .not the million crayons in a tupperware like I have in my house. I digress. You are on the right track. . . wish I could have a re-do on some of my parenting decisions.
I have a few dolls in mint condition that I have no idea what to do with. For now, they sit in my childhood room. Silly.
Mikey and Nico draw better than I do.
Funny thing is that when I saw the photo with the pastels in it, on your coffee table, I said to myself, “Wow, she’s brave to let them use those pastels in the living room…”
I know. It was hard.
This post and the one about almost peeing your pants so you can finish one more thing; both putting words to something I do, but had not given much thought to.
Worth thinking about. The peeing in your pants one- putting words to the absurdity. Love it!
Thanks, Katherine. :)
I will recall this post someday when I have kids… I totally have a sharing/don’t mess this up thing that is so not cool, and you overcoming yours in the present totally inspiring. Maybe I will steal someone else’s kids today and demonstrate to myself that I am capable of doing this too!
Haha! Let me know how the stealing kids works out for you. :D
I have that same box of pastels that I used for one semester…only mine is from a 9th-grade art class. Yikes. I should dig them out and let my 7-year-old use them; she’d LOVE it.
Also, thanks for teaching me a new word! I never knew rock-paper-scissors was also called roshambo.
I am a fountain of useless information, especially when it comes to words and phrases.
I saw this in my email and haven’t read but that drawing is pretty flippin’ AWESOME! Will come back to read later;)
Jules-oh how I identify with this post. Sadly. I can be such a neurotic perfectionist with my stuff. Crayons get me. I love new, sharp crayons. And woe to him who dulls the crayons first. IDK what I think I will do with all of these hoarded brand-new crayons!? Always felt that way. The eraser on my pencil, the bottle of glue and on and on. Love new stuff….but what a good lesson and that picture was worth a thousand sets of pastels. <3
that picture was worth a thousand sets of pastels
Yes, this. +200 points.
i absolutely love this… laughed out loud when i read it. for my brother and i it was whoever got to hit the elevator button at the mall first. it was a huge deal!
(that dino is a masterpiece, by the way.)
Beautiful story! When my mom died, I spent days clearing out all the beautiful things she’d set aside…things “too nice” to use on an ordinary day. My mother’s days were ordinary and she never used them.
Celebrate, make a mess, use the good china. We all deserve a little bit of luxury–even messy kids!
Thanks for a great read!