Linda: “All of my kids' drawings end up in the trash can”

The kitchen table is once again covered with colorful artworks. Glitters, paint splashes, and a rainbow of markers. Jade, who is four, has fully immersed herself in decorating a cardboard box that now proudly serves as her 'princess castle'. Sven, my six-year-old, has focused more on creating a dinosaur that, according to him, 'can eat everyone'. It's Wednesday afternoon, and as every week, it's time for the big crafting fest.

From toilet roll dolls to A3-sized paintings; everything finds a spot on the table

Grandpa and grandma often come to babysit on Wednesdays. As soon as I get home, the crafts are already waiting for me. Grandpa had his hands full with Sven, who always wants to know everything about dinosaurs and how they lived. Grandma was mainly busy with Jade, who prefers to pull out every glitter from the cupboard. While I listen to their stories, I see the pile of crafts growing. From toilet roll figures to paintings on A3 size; everything finds a spot on the table.

Storing it is simply not an option

But at some point during the week – usually on Saturday morning when I'm vacuuming the living room – the inevitable moment comes. I look at the artworks and feel a slight knot in my stomach. Keeping them is simply not an option. The kitchen cabinets are already overflowing with previous masterpieces, and I have yet to find a solution that tackles the growing problem. So, with a deep sigh, I grab a garbage bag and start loading the colorful pile.

That album has become a small piece of art in its own right

Of course, I first take pictures of everything. Each piece gets its moment of glory on camera, so that I can paste it into the photo album later. That album has become a little work of art in itself. Pages filled with memories of finger painting, glued pasta, and googly eyes that seem to stare at me from the paper.

They live so in the moment

Yet the nagging persists. Every time I tie up that garbage bag, I feel guilty. As if I'm throwing away a piece of their childhood. But when I ask Sven and Jade about their crafts from last week, they usually look at me with a puzzled expression. They live so in the moment, so in their own world of fantasy, that the old work is already forgotten.

The rest of the crafts go into the gray bin

Sometimes I keep one. One of those crafts that's just a bit different, where I see a bit of their personality or cherish a special memory. Those go into a separate box in the attic, along with the first shoes and the hospital bracelet from their birth. But the rest? They end up in the grey bin, while I hope that the photos are enough to bring back those moments later on.

As if I had just admitted to setting their toys on fire

Recently, a friend asked me how I manage to keep everything. 'I don't,' I said laughing. 'Most of it goes away.' She looked at me in surprise, as if I had just admitted to setting their toys on fire. But what else should I do? Start my own museum?

Every week a new pile and a new garbage bag

It feels like choosing between their creativity and my own peace of mind. I want to give them the freedom to create whatever comes to their mind, without worrying about where to put it afterwards. And so, next week they will create something new again. Something with even more glitter, even bigger dinosaurs, and even more colorful princess castles. And me? I'll just get the trash bag out again, take pictures, and accept that knot in my stomach.

A rotating exhibition of their finest creations at home

One day, Sven came home with a large piece of art from school, a collage of leaves and branches. His eyes sparkled as he showed it. 'For you, mom,' he said proudly. That evening, I decided to hang this artwork in the hallway, where everyone could see it. Jade thought it was beautiful and started working on her own masterpiece for the wall the next day. Thus, a rotating exhibition of their finest creations came into being in our home.

It's about the memories

Yet the bulk of crafts remain a challenge. The ritual of cleaning up and letting go is simply part of it. I've learned that it's not about the tangible result, but about the memories we create together. Every drawing, every painting tells a story of that one afternoon full of imagination and fun.

It's not the crafts themselves, but the moments they represent

Sometimes, when I flip through the photo album, those stories come back to life. Then I hear the laughter again, feel the sticky fingers of Jade proudly showing off her glitter, and see Sven's concentrated face as he brings his dinosaur to life. It's not the crafts themselves, but the moments they represent that are dear to me.

Only the memories remain

So I keep taking pictures, keep tidying up, and keep enjoying the creativity of my children. Because in the end, it's the memories that remain, long after the paper has decayed.

LINDA