I can’t begin to describe how a silly pile of crayons changed my perspective this week.
Mom guilt eating me alive is that I don’t have the energy to play with my kids most days. We have a plethora of arts and crafts, but I’ve always kept them in a cupboard. They rarely come out, and when they do, they’re always under supervision. Apparently art messes make me cringe. We don’t paint. Three boys “painting” and getting paint everywhere just makes my skin crawl. Play Doh is rare but a bit easier to deal with. I’ve had to just accept that they’re going to mix colors and when a tub is $0.50ea at the store I’ll grab a few new ones. However, it’s always at the table and never allowed over carpet. I don’t have time to clean up that mess! As I dug deeper into this during therapy this week, it’s the need for control. My life was completely tossed into chaos when Josh died. So my need to maintain control in order to function, has been an ongoing issue for 10 years.
When my boys got some crayons and coloring books for Christmas, I decided to keep them out with their toys instead of put them away. It may have been more subconscious, but I want them to be able to draw and color whenever they want. And as the crayons got broken into smaller pieces, I colored little bits when Nick brings me the crayons and coloring book while I sit on the couch. He learns his colors, I write words with them, he learns letters. It’s over in a few minutes and he moves onto something else. And I continue to pick up these breaking crayons, put them in the little box on the shelf he can reach, until the next time.
Sometimes my husband questions why these are still here. He gets irritated with making a pile of broken crayons every time we pick up the living room. I told him they’re more for me rather than them. Nick has totally been caught scribbling on the hall floor by his bedroom. I’m surprised that’s the only evidence I’ve found for misplaced play. I’d probably cry if he touched my kitchen cabinets with them though. What? No one is perfect!
So this little pile of broken crayons represent my ability to “let go” and “let them make a mess”, be it ever so small. It’s something so trivial to most, I didn’t realize it was taking place until this week.
Outnumbered Six to One 