what I MEANT to say about a sleeve of Crayola pip-squeaks

So the other day I thought I would be all pro-active and start a blog post on my computer so I could complete it later on my phone. Instead of pressing the save button, I pressed publish.  Don’t you hate it when that happens?

Oh, that’s never happened to you?

Well, I’ll blame it on mommy-brain and my continual lack of sleep and apologize to all my email subscribers who received a really random note from me in their inboxes on Friday. 🙂

So Elijah and I have become happy little artists during Noah’s nap-time. We’ve been experimenting with all types of Crayola and listening to jazz and talking about the latest happenings with his Superheroes. Running at my normally frantic pace, I had forgotten how incredible it is to sit and create something. Anything. Just because.

I will admit that my artistic abilities plateaued at about 8 years old, so many of my creations look entirely juvenile, but it’s time well spent with my boy, time well spent resting, and surprisingly, time well spent learning just a little more about myself.

I bought a sleeve of pip-squeak Crayola markers at Target last week because we didn’t have any, and remarked to Mike while coloring on Friday how much I enjoyed markers. More than crayons. More than watercolors. More than cray-pas (does anyone remember those?!).

“That’s totally you though.”

I paused and thought that he is absolutely right.

I like the even control of markers. That when you press down or skim the page lightly, you get the same effect. That it’s easier to color in the lines because the ink flows so smoothly out of a well-defined tip. When I color with crayons, I have a hard time with shading and keeping all the colors going in the same direction.  When I paint with watercolors I can’t stay inside the lines. Call me crazy but I like the dependability and the vibrant color of a marker

But really, it’s not just about markers. In life I like constant. I like straightforward. I like neat. I like defined. I like to feel like I have control over the story or the circumstance or the color coming out the top end of the marker.

But how awe-inspiring is a coloring page neat and one dimensional from top to bottom covered in marker?

There’s something to be said about the depth that comes from shading or the wash of color with paint. There’s something beautiful in flexibility and ingenuity and coloring outside of the lines. There is wonder to be found in the grays between black and white if I can take the time to stop and appreciate it.

For our afternoon coloring, I will probably stick with markers, because it’s what I’m good at and it’s what I know. I have no misunderstood hope of becoming an artist in the literal sense, but I do want to live in the fullest and widest and deepest way, and I understand that to get there I may need to let go a bit of what is familiar to embrace what is beautiful, what is best. I’m going to try to put down the marker, so to speak, so I can experience the wonder of something new.

And all that, from a sleeve of pip-squeaks.