I am not crafty in the slightest. Common garden slugs have more artistic talent than I do. And I’m mostly okay with this. Occasionally when I see some other woman create a gorgeous MacGyver-type centerpiece out of three twigs, four citrus fruits, and some leaves, I feel a little pang. And I will admit a little jealousy towards those females capable of making birthday cakes that don’t resemble mammary glands.
Mostly though, I’ve embraced my non-craftiness and so has my family.
The trouble is, as a homeschooling parent, I am in charge of my children’s art education. <Gulp.> Fortunately for my sanity, SAT’s do not include a section on papier-mache, origami, or other art projects. However, I have an 8 year old girl who is into the whole artsy-crafty movement, and I have a 9 year old son who deserves a chance to explore whatever artsy depths he may have hidden deep inside.
So. There is some considerable pressure to provide my offspring with craft time.
Last Friday, I threw caution to the wind and we made cardboard galaxies to go along with our outer space unit that we are studying.
I admit that I am partial, but I think they turned out brilliantly.
I will also admit that upon completing this project, I was consumed by a euphoric, slightly intoxicated state. My kids kept asking me, somewhat suspiciously, “What do you keep smiling?”
Additionally, I will admit that this project so exhausted me, that I was unable to scrub a single bathroom, even though they desperately needed a good cleaning. I just laid on the couch, grinning idiotically, until my husband came home.
Finally, I will admit that when the youngest picked up her project to show her father, I started singing, “She’s got the whole Milky Way galaxy, in her hands, She’s got the whole Milky Way galaxy, in her hands…”
I was the only one who laughed. And I laughed so hard, I snorted.
Art, it’s good for the soul. (But bad for my bathrooms and my sense of decorum.)