(Well, it fits on my face just fine…)
I am an artist. I went to Art School for Pete’s sake. I also graduated from college with a Bachelor’s Degree in Education and have been a teacher for many years. I should have patience to spare. I have been a parent to six children. That should count for something. Family Art Night. That sounds right up my alley, doesn’t it? Enter me; dashing from work, slapping a quick dinner on the table and rushing off to this event with my mischievous eight year old son and my over-tired Kindergarten daughter.
The art project was to encase an object in Saran Wrap and then tape to create a model of the aforementioned object to decorate creatively. Our tools were an unmanageable roll of clear, wide, tape and children’s safety scissors. My son brought a turkey decoration and my daughter brought a tiara to wrap. My son started us off by hiding the tape and the tiara from his sister. I threatened him with removal and somewhat miraculously, this produced stellar behavior from him. We set out to perform our task. I cannot explain how much I was hating on that tape after sticking it to my hair, the table, the scissors, and constantly having to peel it off of itself with my nonexistent fingernails. And then there is that tape thing that happens when you are only peeling part of the strip and leaving the other skinny part stuck to the roll. With effort, I swallowed my frustration and continued dutifully cutting pieces of tape for my children so they could wrap their objects. My son’s turkey ended up looking like a…Blob. But perhaps a turkey sculpture was a bit challenging to reproduce in tape. My bad; I had suggested it. Most of the other children had brought in such items as Pringles cans and soda bottles. So, I suggested to him that he start over with one of the community objects that the teacher had brought. He selected some sort of cardboard roll and was quite pleased with the result. My daughter created a somewhat lumpy , but beautifully decorated tiara. She was happy with it until she tried to put it on her head and then promptly burst into tears because it didn’t fit. She insisted with stomping feet that she wanted to make another one that fit as soon as we got home. On a school night. At bedtime. When I demurred, she was not interested in the practical reasons for pursuing this venture at a more convenient time. It was then that I found myself drifting into a flashback of my eighth grade Home Economics class embroiled in The Wrap Skirt Fiasco. It had taken me an entire marking period to sew a simple wrap skirt while the rest of the class moved on to more advanced projects. It was blue and I made sure I wore it after all of the blood, sweat, and restitching that went into that thing. Have I attempted to sew again? No. I limit my tailoring to popped off buttons and simple rips. Will I wander innocently into a tape sculpture project again? No. I will figure out a way to make that sticky, colorful tiara stay on my daughter’s head and then I will use tape as it was intended. Wrapping presents and paper tears will do me just fine for tape usage. I will find my art elsewhere.