Glitter in my sticky kitchen

My kids and I recently spent their spring break hanging out around the house.   The whole plan was to goof off.  We ran a couple errands, the kids went to a couple art classes but other than that we mostly just slept late and ate frosted flakes while laying in bed watching cartoons in the morning.  It was pretty sweet.  I highly recommend it.

Every afternoon we had Art Camp.  We dropped $50 at the craft store for a variety of projects and everyone took a turn being the camp counselor.  The kids were in heaven.

My nine year old had tie dyed at an after school craft class several weeks ago.  She about lost her mind with excitement in the craft store tie dye aisle.  It must have been some impressive excitement because it actually got me to agree to allow dye in my house. 

Rubber banding the hell out of the shirts.  The nine year old camp counselor called this the carrot kind of tie dying because the shirt looked like a carrot after all the rubber bands are on.  I tried asking what the other kinds of tie dying are called but my camp counselor told me to shut up and get back to work.

I'm not a dye in my house kind of girl.  It mostly makes me wonder how long it will take to clean up and how many articles of clothing would get permanently stained.  The answers are, not long if you put down trash bags and act semi shrieky during the project and zero articles of clothing were ruined. 

You squirt the dye out of little plastic bottles.  This seems like controlled chaos until you watch a nine year old squirting the hell out of the bottle.  A better mother probably would have located some aprons to wear during this project.  I'm trying to lock down my mother of the year nomination so we free wheeled.

It's ironic that I was worried about the tie dye when Modge Podge collages were in my future.  I'm sure there are lots of people that love them some Modge Podge.  I'm here to tell you I admire them but will never be one of them.  I successfully got Modge Podge on my kitchen table, my body, my clothing and my nine year old's hair. 

While temporarily distracted trying to help her brother get a little Modge Podge on his paper, I looked up and my nine year old had her glitter collection out in full force.  It exploded in giant puddles on her collage. 

There was so much glitter on this thing I actually had trouble getting a photo that didn't just resemble the glare of the sun.  It's also shedding everywhere it travels in my house.  Just what everyone wants in a piece of art.

There are few things I hate more than glitter in my kitchen.   Glitter in my hair being one of them.  Glitter in my hair that I don't notice until a trip to the restroom after an important meeting being another.  But glitter in my kitchen still ranks pretty high. So does glitter in my sticky Modge Podge covered kitchen.  As her brother is demanding some glitter for his, I was comforting myself that at least she'd used all of it up.  Then she pulled out the other tubes of glitter she owns in an assortment of colors.  Super.  Full tilt glitter.

My son's collage.  The allure of glitter was strong enough to make him overlook the fact that it was pink and use it anyway.  

Paint was up next.  We painted the hell out of stuff.  First was a wind chime.  I bought one wind chime kit figuring everyone could paint some of it.  Except that dumb thing came already hooked together.  As if I need everyone's paint brush attempting to work that closely together. 

Why yes that is my baby painting the metal chime part of the wind chime that most sane people wouldn't bother to paint.  This is a kid prepared to take the road less traveled.

I'd also like to know how anyone in their right mind can paint that thing with the strings already attached and have it turn out looking anything other than cracked out.   Or maybe I just say that after working with two loose cannons that kept moving it every three seconds causing the strings to consistently stay in the paint.

Weighted down with crap next to our barbecue grill.  Naturally.

But we also put some paint on paper.  Easy.  Popular.  Water proof.  Obviously.

Cherries.  Lovely.

Don't bother asking me what he's painting.  Love that kid but that's some cracked out madness. 

 

 

 

 

 

We also tested out some fancy new water colors that were not made by Crayola that my budding artists convinced me were essential to the success of our art camp.   Don't fall for that.  Because I mostly learned that real water colors require real water color paper.  We had wet wrinkled messes drying everywhere.

Easter basket.  Nine year old

Finally, I shipped my wrecking crew off to an actual art class with trained professionals.  There was more painting and some pastels and more crap to hang in my kitchen.  As difficult as it is to believe that anyone could guide my children in the field of art better than me, the trained professionals apparently discussed some nonsense about perspective and light and shading.  Show offs.

Pastels. 9 year old's work is on top.  I had no idea that kid had seen the Hitchcock movie with the birds.  Apparently she has.  And apparently it haunts her. 

Water color on real water color paper.  9 year old's work on top again.  7 year old's work on bottom.  Is it wrong to be suspicious that the teacher may have helped sketch out the flower a little?

 I suppose they would have me believe they had the kids produce better art, too.  Whatever.