Heartless Mom Trashes Kid's Art

Posted on November 3, 2009 by FoBaM-Jamie

This post is by Meredith. We bet you’ll be able to relate!

artworkI have a confession to make. In my defense, let me say that I really and truly love all of the special artwork that my kids make for me. It’s adorable when my little one empties his cubby at preschool pick up, or my older kids dump out their backpacks and proudly present their something special – flowers, rainbows, stick figures, comic strips – you name it. I always shower them with hugs and kisses and get a kick out of how excited they are about what they’ve made … even if it’s paper saturated by black marker (my 4 year-old’s favorite medium). But, I sometimes secretly throw it out. It sounds terrible, doesn’t it?

I’m not really heartless. Some things immediately make it to the kitchen corkboard to be showcased for all to see. Some get hung in their playroom. Much ends up stuck on the walls of their bedrooms. But, let’s be real, there’s a lot of art passing through this house and it’s usually on the back of a Chinese take-out menu or recycled office letterhead. It doesn’t all have the same appeal, right? I can’t keep everything, can I? The Louvre in Paris doesn’t have the wall space to display all this stuff, much less my own home. What’s a mother to do?

On the occasions when they totally bust me jamming the wadded stuff to the bottom of the recycle bin, I play dumb and apologize for not realizing that the ripped paper with a boatload of glue that no longer holds what was originally stuck to it was something “important.” Then, I feel really guilty.

I assuage my guilt by carefully organizing the highlights from years of achievements in portfolio-sized files tucked away in the attic. I’ve kept the first self-portraits, family pictures and written names. After each school year I go through their stuff and choose a smattering of the best to save for future walks down memory lane. I’ve become the family’s art historian.

Still, when all that other stuff makes it to the “circular file,” I feel like it’s my dirty little secret. Most of the time, I pitch it under the cover of darkness, long after they’ve gone to bed, tucking it way into the trash bag and bringing the bag out to the garage immediately, lest they see a hint of their masterpiece when they clear their plates for dinner or through the translucence of the bag on garbage day. Their disappointment, if and when I am caught, is too great.

So there, I’ve said it. I’ve unburdened myself. Whew.

How about you? Are you guilty of thinning your child’s collection under the cover of darkness? How do you manage the avalanche of artwork at your house?