For a society that is reportedly going paperless, I don't know, I have a whole lot of tree carcasses lying around my house at any given time. The beginning of the school year is a nightmare because for each child, about 9,000 forms, documents and notices come home for signing or perusing. Some are due back immediately and some are for events taking place within the next several days or a week. As awful as it is to be hit by a barrage of forms that need to be filled out and sent back right away, that's better than those that don't have to be back for a week or so, because THOSE are the papers that pile up on the counter, that must remain in sight lest you forget all about them. And for an indecisive person such as myself, included in that pile are the notices asking for help with the PTA, classroom parents, ordering school spirit clothing, etc. Then, every time you glance at them, you can think, "Do I want to do that? Do I have the time? If I hold onto these for another two weeks and agonize over them daily, will that help me decide?" (Answer: no, it won't.)
So I would venture to guess that the beginning of the school year is by far the worst for the sheer volume of paper that finds it way into my house and accumulates in small organized piles. But eventually, even those papers that are pleading for my help in one capacity or another go by the wayside as deadlines pass, by default excusing me from participation. And I can breathe a little sigh of relief as the pile slowly shrinks. However, in its place, new papers are growing. Others take the form of ongoing school homework or projects that you're supposed to be tackling daily or weekly. THESE are a nightmare in and of themselves, because I simply don't know where to keep them where I won't forget all about them, and of course if I keep them out, they run the risk of being spilled on by chocolate milk or something sticky. One example is the math calendar, where Colette is supposed to do some small math-related activity every day for a month. (Even if we forget about/put it off for the whole month, and then complete the whole calendar in 15 minutes on the last day of the month.) Still, it has to be visible and not get lost so that it may be returned in a timely manner.
That reminds me... I have no idea where her September math calendar went. We still have to do that.
And as your child gets older, the projects become a bit more involved and you're expected to take more time to complete them. Alexander received homework for social studies on October 1 that had a due date of the 11th. He finished it in about 6 minutes, complete with sentence fragments and lame pencil sketches. "You have 10 days to do this," I said. "You have to put more effort into it than this." Ten whole days? Where am I going to put this PAPER?! I found a spot on the refrigerator and affixed it with a magnet, where it remained until two days prior to the due date. The daily and weekly homework of two kids has been enough for me, and I know as they get older it's only going to get worse.
Of course, there are the papers that are for reference so they need to be kept handy. Student lunch codes, teacher web sites, math web sites, passwords, report card information, etc. I try to keep these all together in a folder in case I need them. Now if I could just remember where that folder is, it would be really helpful.
Finally, having a budding artist in the family means more paper than usual is floating around the house. And any parent who has a child who LOVE LOVE LOVES to draw knows, it's nearly impossible to toss any of it. How CAN you?? When Colette starts turning out one amazing picture after another, and I singularly appreciate each one of them as she shows them to me, they get herded into a little pile on the play table where they may sit for several days on end. At that point, I have one of three choices: I can either take the whole pile and stick it on top of the other nine thousand masterpieces she's done, which sit above the art supply drawers; I can toss it all into the recycling bin; or I can go through it piece by piece in an attempt to whittle down the pile to those that I really think are BEST. Again, this is a daunting task, because how does a parent trash anything their little Picasso makes? (Some of them really can be reminiscent of Picasso, too. You just can't make heads or tails of it.)
Well, obviously I can never go with the second option. What am I, some kind of heartless robot?
(Of course, I was BIG into drawing as a child and all of my growing-up years, really. My parents kept a small pile of my artwork. Apparently I didn't inherit their robotic tendencies.)
Anyway, in my head, I know that once, just ONCE in a while, I should go with option b. Such an opportunity presented itself just the other day. Colette has one of those little portable desk things that you can bring into the car or into bed with you and sit it above your lap for drawing or writing. Well, the one in her room was cluttered with all kinds of things, mostly PAPER. Since she doesn't have an actual desk in her room, I wanted her to be able to keep this little portable desk next to her desk and use it for her reading log at school. The only thing standing between me and that goal was the inch-thick sheaf of papers perched on top of it, full of drawings and stories and all kinds of two-dimensional cuteness.
I picked up the pile of papers and carried them downstairs with some other things. Holding the papers in my hand, I glanced in the direction of the paper recycling bin in the garage. Do it, do it, do it, a voice chanted in my head. Don't look at them! You'll regret it! RECYCLE!!
With every intention of heading toward the recycle bin, I suddenly found myself sitting down on the couch and looking at the first work of art on top. I knew it, I just knew it. I'm WEAK! What can I say? I have to give them a chance. What if the drawing to end all others, the one against which all other works of art in her young life would be measured, lay in this very pile?
Of course, it didn't, and yet, I found myself saving 3 of those particular pictures. For what? I could wallpaper the house at this point, and she doesn't show any signs of slowing down anytime soon. Some people take pictures of their kids' artwork, which is a good idea so that you only have digital files instead of whole trees taking up space in your house, but that just hasn't worked out for me yet. As a sentimental person, I like to touch the paper and handle it instead of just inspecting a tiny version of it. Similar to why I will probably always prefer reading a real paper book instead of looking at it on an e-reader. (Not that I have anything against those either.)
{One of Colette's short stories. The only words I can make out are "beer," "homies," and "I took your baby," but I'm going to hold onto it anyway. Mostly in case it's needed for evidence.}
For the paperless society that we supposedly have, it hasn't really earned a place in my house, try as we might. I suppose I could just take down all of the art and pictures on our walls and cover them with Colette's art work... along with my shopping lists, school forms, and assorted web site/password information. At least then I wouldn't miss any vital upcoming news.
And while I may be weak, my paper pile isn't just because of my own inability to throw anything away. When Colette looks up at me with those big blue eyes, holds out her newest picture that says "I love you" on it, and tells me so earnestly, "This is for you because I LOVE YOU! You can keep this forever," how in the world could I ever get rid of it?
I can't. And I won't... at least not until next recycling day.
