During my two-month absence from the blog, I was (fortunate? cursed? humiliated?) to have experienced several situations that put me in a special sort of category. A People of Walmart category. A take-your-kids-to-work-with-no-pants sort of thing that morphed from the mortifying into the hilarious, at least for those who happened to view it. Us. Whatever. (Trust me, those stories are coming. And you will LOVE me for them. Just not tonight.)
I try to adopt the “laugh so you don’t cry” mentality, which may be a sure sign of my descent into full-blown white-trashiness (“Hi, my name is Kemi and I have no class.” “Hi, Kemi.”), but I’ve found that it helps me retain what little sanity I have. Especially when dealing with my husband children family. Perhaps the ability to embrace the tackiness that makes up my life is somewhat like Prozac, only without the pharmaceuticals.
So, my life being what it is, after I got all the kids to school this morning, and Abbie went off with her dad (*insert your own title-related joke here*), I noticed a two-inch spot on the wall in the hallway. Upon further investigation, I saw that someone had used my wall as an artist’s canvas. This someone, when interrogated after her Kindergarten dismissal, said that she didn’t have time to grab a sheet of paper, and therefore felt completely justified in using the wall.
Also? This is not her first time. Nor is it the first (or second, or hundredth) conversation we’ve had about what markers and crayons are SUPPOSED to write on. And yet? I find mini masterpieces on her limbs, her clothes, her sheets, her books, MY books…
Who needs wallpaper (or nice paint) when you have an artiste living under your roof? Perhaps I should charge for her services and fund my retirement.
Living Room Abstract
2′ x 3′
Hannah, age 2
Dry erase marker on white paint
(faded paint courtesy of magic eraser)
Composed while artist’s mother was nursing artist’s infant brother
2″ x 2.5″
Hannah, age 5 (three weeks shy of 6)
Red felt tip on white paint
Composed covertly while artist should have been in bed
Oh my goodness, we’ve turned into this: