Art Lessons for Mommy

The Bluejay, age 2 1/2, photo taken Feb 2007

My four year old son, the Nuthatch, doesn’t paint very often. We haven’t done a lot of art at home. Paint is messy. It takes too much time to clean up. It will get all over his clothes. Excuses, excuses.

A sense of mild panic takes hold of me as I realize the inadequacies of my child’s artistic abilities. I’ll sign him up for art lessons! Problem solved. With a cup of coffee in hand I contentedly flip through the spring issue of the community calendar looking for the perfect program.

I’ve signed him up for his fair share of classes in his short life. First there were the drop in playgroups, then swimming for babies. They were followed by a program to teach your 3 or 4 year old to play soccer, hockey, basketball and tennis in only 9 weeks (yes, all of those sports at the same time). That one was scheduled at 7 o’clock at night. Needless to say it didn’t go very well. The Nuthatch preferred running along the lines on the gym floor to the organized game of floor hockey and there were a few times where he just lay down and refused to get up.

I know I’m not alone in my quest to enroll my child in a variety of programs designed to increase his intelligence, athletic prowess or musical genius. A certain amount of acrobatics are required to get into some of these programs. You must outwit, outplay and outlast all the other savvy mothers. Phone lines are busy, websites slow down, and applications pile up for the under 5 crowd. The line up outside the local Early Years Centre would make you think they had the last ‘Tickle-Me Elmo’ on the planet.

The Nuthatch, September 2007

All these lessons take their toll on our family life. Trying to get the children (we now have three) into the car is often like herding ferrets. Somehow, a 15 minute swimming lesson can take over an hour once you have wrestled the wiggly captives into boots and snowsuits, driven to the pool, changed them into their swimsuits, given the "I’ll be right over there" pep talk and finally performed the entire scenario in reverse after the lesson has finished.

Where did my obsession with these programs come from? It might have started in infancy, when I was bombarded with products for my little ‘genius’ or ‘Einstein’. There were videos, flashcards and cd’s, not to mention the books, toys and computer games. The organized classes were just a natural extension of this developmental mania.

Part of the wonder of childhood is watching your kid take a few simple objects and create a whole world out of them. I’ve watched the Nuthatch create a piping hot gourmet meal using only a pot, a wooden spoon and some potatoes. Then there is the endless joy provided by a large, empty cardboard box. You can sense the possibilities as he circles the box, debating whether this particular box is a pirate ship, a cave full of bats, a desert island or perhaps a medieval castle, complete with imaginary moat and drawbridge.

Perhaps painting with a 4 year old isn’t so complicated. I could just give the Nuthatch some paint and paper and watch what happens. Does his picture have to look like a Renoir to post on the fridge? (I’ve seen some of Picasso’s sculptures, and frankly, I think the Nuthatch could do something similar.) Maybe I could join him, somedays I think painting a copy of ‘The Scream’ by Edvard Munch might be therapeutic.

The Scream, Edvard Munch, 1893

I often overanalyze this whole parenting thing. The simple things are the best part of childhood, splashing in puddles in the backyard, a pile of broken crayons and some blank paper,building forts with blankets and the dining room chairs. Simplicity is so elusive in our busy lives. I think I’ll skip the art class this time. Pass me the tempera paint please, I can figure it out, all by myself.

I originally wrote this piece about a year ago. Since then, I have realized that your average parent really wants to sign their children up for umpteen programs, and they look at me blankly when I explain how our children are not signed up for anything at all at the moment. We have enjoyed a relaxing year. We have not rushed around to swimming, karate, playgroups or skating lessons. And we have finally had time to play with paint at our own kitchen table.