The parent I thought I would be...

You have got to be kidding me?! Which one of you colored all over the wall again?!

(jumping up and down) MOMMIA MOMMIA ME DID IT ME DID IT!!!!

SEARK!!!! WHY?! WHAT DID MOMMY TELL YOU FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME?!

Only. Color. On. Paper. (as he smiles and gives me a thumbs up)

Why if this child knows and understands what I said to him is he still coloring on the walls?! The furniture. Himself. Why?! I have taken away the crayons and the markers and put them on shelves too high for him to reach them. He still manages to get to them. I swear he has a secret stash somewhere hidden away he is using to drive me insane. I have told him a thousand times or so it feels not to color on anything but paper. I have put him in time out. I have yelled. I have sat and talked with him about how much mommy dislikes seeing marks on things they don't belong on.

I tawry. I no wanna make you tad mommia.

{sigh} I find it so hard to stay mad at the little face that so resembles mine attached to that sweet voice. Until I walk past another colorful wall. I have in fact given up. I have learned to pick my battles. To find a happy medium that works for both of us. As much as this solution genuinely made me cringe in the beginning I have kind of grown to love it. Seark is allowed to color the walls and pretty much whatever he wants inside his toy room. It satisfies his compulsion to color on everything but paper and saves the rest of the house from Art by Seark. And as happy as I am to not have any future art work randomly drawn around the house there are times I can't help but laugh at what is already there. Like when we have new company over for the first time and they pull out the dining room chair over by the window and realize the seat is covered in blue hand prints from the time we painted ceramic trains. Or when I show someone around the house and then we get to the nursery where all of the stuffed animals are carefully placed and blankets neatly folded and the unstained natural wood closet door are covered in black and blue lines.

My house is far from perfect but it has been decorated and furnished with a great amount of care. The blue scribbles and red lines. Smeared marker that I tried to wash and only succeeded in further destroying the intentional paint. The super hero stickers that continually appear like magic. Once upon a time all of these things would have driven me insane. They don't anymore. I now have a love/ hate relationship with all of the art by Seark. It is a reminder that our house is more than it once was. Just like the stretch marks on my belly they are marks left with love. Soon Seark will out grow this phase just like all the other ones but the Sharpie marker will remain. You can't even paint over that shit with out some serious effort. The toy room looks clumsy and careless. It has little boy written all over it. Literally. And I love it.

It is funny how things change. Before I had any kids if I had went to someone's house and they told me they allow their kids to color on the walls in their toy room I am sure I would have assumed that their unruly children had finally worn them down. So much that the idea of them destroying the house for entertainment purposes had become acceptable if it meant they didn't have to deal with them for that hour. They were clearly failing at this parenting thing and I for sure would pity them for having to live with this small beast that was calling all the shots. Some of my friends probably think that about me. That's okay. What they see as a tiny beast to me is a beautiful creative boy. I am not worn out and although it is not the décor I had in mind it fits right in. I am not failing as a parent I am taking the approach I never thought I would but it works for us. The parent I thought I would be is far from who I am. My kids all have different needs that require me to be a different mom to each of them. They have changed me. Taught me to be more flexible. Have an open mind. Not sweat the small stuff. Seark in particular has given me a new appreciation for art.