Secret #3: We throw away our children’s artwork when they aren’t looking.
It’s true, so sue us.
This does not mean we don’t love the art. No, no, we love the art. Really, we do. It sure doesn’t mean we don’t love the kid. It means there is paper everywhere we look and for the love of the washable marker WE CANNOT TAKE IT ANYMORE.
[Deep breaths, Amanda. Deep breaths.]
But seriously. It make a mama claustrophobic, these piles and piles of mail and schoolwork and every single thing a child has put crayon or pencil or thumbprint to since birth.
I’m beginning to think a mother’s love for her children is rivaled only by her hatred of stuff - stacks on the kitchen counter, baskets and bins full of forgotten papers in the closet, broken VBS crafts shoved in the “utility” drawer.
Individually, each piece is a memory, a tangible souvenir of the joy that is childhood.
Collectively, they are our Mt. Everest. We will conquer it or we will die trying.
You want to see a woman feel a true rush of freedom? Let her sneak that sun-faded cut-and-paste construction paper project off the art line while the kids are playing and bury that sucker in the trash. Pure adrenaline, I tell you.
Besides, any mama will tell you the artwork itself is not the prize.
The true prize is this:
And especially this:
Who’s with me?
: : : : : : : :