My kids go to a fine and performing arts magnet school, so I know they get plenty of art in their lives, but now their projects are Minecraft worlds or stop-motion animation output on video. Creative and fun, but different.
And I miss it.
Motherhood is like this: The stages you think will never end, that drive you crazy and cause you to question your abilities as a human, are the same things you miss the very instant you realize they are in the past.
Recently I came across a small stack of art treasures I must have missed in that purge (I told you that gene is serious). It was like discovering a family heirloom. I sat down and looked through these little gems, crooked handwriting, and wide-arced smiling faces. One was a yellowed paper with "I love Mom" scrawled in red marker. It had multiple push-pin holes on the corners, so it must have lived on the bulletin board for a while, being repositioned and punctured repeatedly. On the back, I'd made a notation with the year. I wrote:
"Lucas, 2016: I made this for you so you remember when you’re mad at me. :( "
It made me sad to think that my sweet little boy thought I needed such a thing, but of course, that's what art should do. It reminds you to love while it breaks your heart.
Just like being a Mom.