The art of a good weekend

Every parent fights the unending flow of precious art created by their progeny. At first, you save every scrap of paper with a scribble, every malformed piece of clay that for the life of you, you can't figure out what it's supposed to be. Every pasta bracelet and necklace. It'll bury you faster than a silo full of shelled field corn if you're not careful.

I don't know how parents of multiples keep up with it. Wiley parents find ways to get rid of some of the materials that come home in reams from school without the little tykes finding out. Most of us get caught at least once. Once caught,  you're back in the thick of wading through construction paper and quizzes marked with stickers.

But this weekend, my kid gave me some art that'll be on my wall for the rest of my life. I recently went to Newfields to take in the Van Gogh exhibit, so clearly I know good art when I see it, and the art that Ali gave me for my birthday is good art. 

It's a mashup of our trip to California, and she painted it over the summer. 

It's meaningful to us, but probably not anyone else.  We can see the red cathedral that was at the end of the longest canyon we hiked; the painted hills, the devil's golf course, the dunes where snake havens were sprinkled along the trail, mountains we went to for the sunset where it looked like a shark's dorsal fin was poking up, the waterfall, the redwoods and that damn lake with the sailing stones that weren't there. 

It's just perfect; not perhaps in all the technique, but for the time and work she put into memorializing the trip because she knew it would mean a lot to me. And it means a lot to me because it meant a lot to her.

She was acting kind of squirrely off and on, and once when I was at her summer apartment, she nearly lost her mind when I went into her bedroom to put down whatever I'd brought to her. Turns out, the painting was in there and had I looked around, I'd have spoiled her surprise. Jeff was in on it and had bet her a dollar that I would cry when she gave it to me.

They were both watching me like a hawk, and I was fighting pretty hard. Ali demanded her dollar, and Jeff paid up before the tear fell. He demanded she pay up. She gave him back his dollar.

"Wait. I just gave you that," he said. "You still owe me a dollar."

"You gave it to me, so it was mine," she retorted. 

We had to get her back to Purdue, and we drove two cars or they'd have fought all the way to West Lafayette.

We got her all settled in and finally got to meet Justin, one of her two roommates. Both boys. None of her grandparents would approve, but these are the boys she met as a freshman and who have been her great friends ever since.  Along the way, Jason (in the middle) became her boyfriend but they are a really fun and silly group of friends still. 

At one point, before Ali scored Grandpa Reed's car, Jason scored a car. When he gave the others the news, Ali nearly danced around and did squeal, "We've got a car!" as if  she was part of a three-person commune and they all shared everything equally.

All three of them spent their first two years on campus relying on bikes, buses and the kindness of strangers for rides, so the idea of having a car was heady stuff. Now, they have two, so they should be set. They still plan on taking the bus - there's a bus stop just steps from the apartment - or biking most days. 

But grocery acquisition, other chores, maybe even a visit home, will be lots easier. 

They have a three-bedroom, and Ali has the biggest bedroom and a tiny balcony of her own. As much as they have fun together, I'm pretty sure she's going to make that balcony her own little sanctuary. In good weather, at least. The first year we left Ali at her form, I was afraid that she'd get hurt. When she started hanging out with Jason and Justin, I worried less. Her sophomore year, I was still a bit fearful but it was easier.

This year, with the sound of their laughter in my ears, I was optimistic. I think she may just have the best year since she became a Boilermaker. 

We had a lovely breakfast at The Gallery before gifts and Ali's return to Purdue Friday, then I had sleepover Book Club on Saturday. 

I'd tell you all about it, but what happens at Book Club stays at Book Club.

Today has been a day of sorting through birthday cards and texts and messages from family and friends, and maybe just a little bit of recovery from a lovely day spent mostly in a pool with lots of delicious drinks and yummy food.

Not a bad weekend.