Yesterday was the end-of-year event for J's class, where we parents presented our children with prayer books for which we had made the covers ourselves.  We also wrote inscriptions for the books, which we had to read out loud in front of everyone, and I've rarely felt so lame.  The other parents had written these long, graceful inscriptions about G-d and prayer and Torah and life, and the one I wrote was . . . well, it was remarkably prosaic and brief compared to the masterpieces the other parents read aloud.

I just can't seem to get the hang of the sweeping, artistic public gesture that comes so naturally to other people on occasions like these.  I am not a sweeping, artistic sort of person.  In fact, I am completely devoid of all creativity.  I cook only from recipes and sew only from patterns.  I'm the person who's good at keeping the art supplies organized, not the person you want to paint the mural.  I'm the person who catalogs the books of poetry, not the person who writes them.  And, I'm a little resentful of this expectation that just because I'm a parent, I ought to be able to turn out something artistic and beautiful; I don't really need to be reminded like this that I have no discernible talents, and it hurts to realize that I've made something ugly for my child to cherish for the rest of his life.

It would be the greatest thing ever if I could just learn to accept my plain old non-artistic self.  Instead, though, what I do is go home and cry about my lackluster, not-good-enough siddur cover and wonder if my no-frills inscription means that I love my child less than the other parents love theirs.  And then J comes in and says, "Well, you did just stick a bunch of pictures on it.  But it's fine!"  I wish I could just shred the damn thing and pretend like this whole project never existed.

Comments

[CTG]

Pooey, I'm sorry! I think what you've described above is exactly the reason I haven't joined any parenting groups and I dread when libby and marvey go off to school. I can be creative for myself, but not when pressured. And if I may say so myself, being the organized one is a talent all of its own, and a mighty impressive one if you ask me.

Also, I remember when I was in kindergarden all the parents would come to the school and help us make gingerbread houses for christmas, I've seen pictures of the one my mom and I put together (horrid, scary, haunted gingerbread house), but I don't REMEMBER that the result was awful, I remember that she was there, and I remember that we made it together.

[breana]

Get down with your brief self! I often HATE group prayer because the people leading it always seem to be attempting to OUTPRAY each other rather than actually communicated with God. I would have written, "You are the awesomest kid ever and I am lucky to have you." And you know he adores you, even if you don't write reams of poetry (thank God, as I would probably stop reading your blog if you filled it with sappy poetry, unless it was sarcastic iambic pentameter, or diryy limericks, in which case BRING IT ON) or design the costumes for the school play. And I'm sure the book isn't ugly, you're just feeling a bit insecure about it. He'll love it because you made it for him. You're fantastic!

[breana]

Also, people all over the INTERNET love you. How many of those other parents can say THAT?

[whylime]

I would have totally done sarcastic iambic pentameter, interspersed with dirty limericks. But that's just me. Don't let the overachievers get you down. The only person who counts is J, and he liked it just fine. He probably liked it more because it wasn't super embarassing.

[Frank Lee]

Do you love J any more or less when he gives you imperfect projects? He's more likely to notice and be upset by your self-criticism than by a silly project. After all, if he sees your impossibly high standards for yourself, how will he learn to believe he is capable of measuring up? The fact that you care so much is more proof that you're a good mother than any physical project you could ever give him.