TRASH TALK

February 11, 2010



I thought I was being sneaky. I was certain I hadn't left any clues behind--no trace of my motherly wrongdoings. But last night, I was totally and completely busted by my 6 1/2 year-old son. He went over to the trash can in an attempt to clean up after himself and throw away his dirty napkin (an unusual happenstance in and of itself) and then I heard a shriek. "Mom," he screamed as if he had uncovered a dead body. But no...it was perhaps, worse. He pulled out his latest art project brought home from school earlier in the day. "My person is in the trash. How did they happen," he questioned. Um...well...I paused, panicked and then lied through my clenched teeth. "I have no idea." I pulled out his construction paper person, fortunately unscathed, albeit a tiny bit damp. "It's okay," I told my tearful son. "It will dry and be perfect." After a series of hugs and a bag of cookies, he had calmed down but still wanted answers. "I just don't understand how my person could have fallen in the trash," he whined, "I worked so hard on him." I took my lying to a new low and blamed it POSSIBLY on the housekeeper who, by the way, hadn't been to my house the whole week. I didn't know what else to do. I had been caught in my constant struggle of what to do with all the stuff that my wonderful, talented (of course) children bring home daily.
In the early days, I saved EVERYTHING including the projects that were definitely done 100% by the teachers. I labeled each piece of art and put it in a box for safekeeping but then one box turned to two which turned to three and then, oh yeah, we had another child. The house was overflowing with finger painted pictures and popsicle stick figures. I tried to do that thing all the parenting magazines suggest--cutting out parts of projects and then making a collage at the end of the year. I wish I had a better excuse for why this didn't work but basically, it just didn't. Maybe I was lazy? Maybe I didn't like the idea of cutting up the work? I don't know but I definitely failed on that assignment.

So, I decided to be a bit more selective in my art collection. I went through my older son's boxes and got rid of the projects that just didn't hold up the test of time. I started boxes for my daughter with milestone projects. And, well, I began throwing away a lot of the stuff that made it's way home. I am careful. I do it when they are not home. I always cover up the trash with other pieces of garbage (well, except last night but otherwise always). I even recycle in my own way. The art-of-the-moment almost always has a showing on the playroom walls. But then it takes a trip to either the trash or memory box so I can cycle in the more current projects. I really thought I had the whole thing down pat. I thought I had outsmarted the little people of my home.

But now, my kids are on edge. They watch their projects with hawk eyes, following them through the life cycle of our house. Which ones make it to the playroom? Which ones are in their boxes? And now, they want to know what happened to the unaccounted for Hannukah project from Kindergarten and that abstract sculpture from camp. It's startling what these kids remember.

So much for my New Year's resolution to follow Oprah guru, Peter Walsh, in his quest to declutter the world.