I’ve been called “brave” by a fellow mom for the activities
I allow my toddler, Lady O, to engage in, but I’m pretty sure that “brave”
means “crazy.” The “brave” reputation comes from my willingness to play what we
call “messy games.” For instance, Lady O asks to “play with the flours” several
times per week.
She doesn’t get to play in the flour that often, but she
asks. Sometimes she asks for the messy game with the colors:
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| Baking soda and colored vinegar=many minutes of fun, which is basically hours in toddler land. |
Today, she asked to do bubble painting, one of the tamest of
our messy games. I can’t claim credit for the invention of any of these (except
the flour, I guess. That started out as moon sand but I got lazy); I found them
all on Pinterest. As the stay-at-home mom of a toddler, I’m always looking for
new activities to keep her mind busy and her feet off her five month old
brother.
I am, admittedly, also trying to keep her out of my
activities, which can’t all be relegated to nap time. Since becoming a SAHM, I’ve
become more interested in decorating my house. I think this is a natural consequence
of spending so much time within the same three rooms with two children two
years and under. Having pretty surroundings makes it easier to be home, and
when I get frustrated, I can look at the beautiful things I’ve made and feel a
sense of accomplishment. And also, I get bored sometimes. Dr. Seuss has a relatively short shelf life in terms of adult interest. Currently I’m working
on my kitchen. It’s laid out in the worst possible way for a mom of little
kids: the kitchen is parallel to the living room, but across a full wall from
it, so I can’t see my kids if I’m in there. (And no sane-ish parent is about to
encourage their two year old to hang out in the kitchen with them. Chemicals
and knives and counters to climb—oh, my!)
What was I saying? Oh, yes. The makeover. There’s a whole
half wall above my sink that is completely blank: no cabinets, no window,
nothing. Dishes are hard enough to get through, and without something pretty to
look at, there are days where I just want to toss them out the window rather
than stare at the white, white wall and scrub. So I’m trying to remedy that by
creating some décor for my kitchen. But I can’t paint without Lady O wanting
some of that action, and unfortunately, the only paint I have is acrylic.
(Okay, and fabric paint.) So I set her up with several layers of newspaper,
some cheap brushes, paper, and the tiniest bit of paint I could manage to drip
out of the bottle. And then I made homemade watercolors for her.
Here’s the problem: I didn’t read the directions first. I
just skimmed them to make sure I had what I needed. And as I got all the
ingredients mixed, I finally read that they would take twenty-four hours to dry
out and be ready to use. That’s like 2 millennia to a toddler. And to the
mother of the toddler screaming for the promised paint. It also took what felt
like 2 millennia to mix and color the paints, so we’re really looking at 4
millennia. It was probably an hour and a half total, but either length is too
long in toddler time. It took so long that I got the hiccups from my building
tension.
Nevertheless, we now have watercolors drying above the fridge
and Lady O is napping. And I thought I would share with you the lessons I
learned about making watercolors at home.
I used this recipe.
First, don’t get all conservationist and try to fit all of
the paint base in the ice cube tray. I don’t like to waste, and it seemed like
I could fit more, so I did. But when I started mixing the colors, I discovered
my error. Anyone who thinks ahead (not me, obviously) would have realized that
if cubes were too full, they would run over when mixing the colors in. My
husband, for instance, would have told me as I poured the first cube that I
would have that problem. I remained unaware until I started mixing the red. I
sort of solved this by doing the colors in rainbow order. I figured that a
little bleeding here and there wouldn’t hurt, since I was mixing my own shades
anyway. That was true until I attempted purple.
Let me interrupt for a second and say this: Dear purple, I
hate you. You are impossible to make and you always turn out ugly. Because of
you, Lady O won’t be able to make a “raingow,” though I’m sure she’ll ask
several times and cry and get frustrated when we can’t finish it because of
your stubbornness. I hope you can live with yourself.
The purple, besides being more in the range of
charcoal-brown, had more completed colors to spill into, and so took the
opportunity to taint all of them. I almost ended up with a half tray of
different shades of brown because of that purple. This wouldn’t have been a
problem if I’d been content to fill each cube only half or three-quarters full.
Oh, and apparently the popsicle sticks I was using are
starting a mutiny. I know because I found a few of the shivs they’re making in
preparation.
I can pretty much promise that when these watercolors run
out (never, I hope), we will go to the dollar store and buy more, like sane
people.
(I want you to know that most of my “crazy” activities pay
off. The flour, for instance, keeps her occupied for at least half an hour. Do
you know what you can get done in half an hour? A lot more with your toddler
out of the way! Also, they generally provide hilarity. One of the first times
we did the flour activity, before I learned to only dress my toddler when
absolutely necessary, I looked over at her and thought, “Hmm, I don’t remember
buying her white socks.” And then I remembered: I didn’t. Her socks were pink
with silver polka dots when I put them on her. Those socks left the cutest
white footprints across my carpet.)
