Life in Black Crayon

When Things Aren't Always 

What They Seem

I won't make it a secret that, as a child, I spent a lot of time being sick with something. But, when I wasn't sick I was creating. I was that kind of child that most parents wish they had. I was relatively smart, very creative and quiet. ( I wasn't a great napper but I won't get into that now. Any mischievous moments I had were when I was supposed to be napping. Just saying that I wasn't absolutely perfect.)

My mom would have described me as a lazy baby. I would much prefer to describe myself when I was a baby as laid back. I think I know myself better so I can say that, right? 

I started creating and crafting at a very young age. My mom still has the baby I cut out of a magazine. I do not know what age I was when I made polka dot pajamas with tabs for my cut out baby. I believe it was way before the age of 4. I was a wiz with scissors at a very young age. I had seen and played with paper dolls so I figured I'd make my own. 

I was always doing something with paper, glue, scissors, beads, clay, tape, glitter & telephone wire, markers & crayons... - you name it. I made things out of cereal boxes, magazines & newspaper. Odds are if it's in your recycle bin now I made something out of it then. I miss the times when things weren't so readily available because it made things way more creative, in my opinion.

Flash forward to my teen years.

I can't remember when or why this conversation came up. I was in my mid-teens when my mom commented on my slightly morbid obsession of using black crayon on many of my early childhood school crafts.

I was stunned. I never thought that color meant a thing at that point. I never thought about it. I loved most colors so it really did not matter "in my world".

So my response went something like this - "Are you serious? Black was morbid?" "Do you really want to know why I used black?" "Did you ever notice that when I did crafts at home I almost never used black?"

So my mom waited for the reason I was such a morbid black crayon using child. So do YOU really want to know why? It was my "lazy" laid back nature to not run for the crayon pile when the teacher poured out the crayons on the table. I'd get there when the crowd cleared. I honestly couldn't be bothered to wrestle for crayons at school. I had plenty of my own colorful crayons at home to use later. So, all that was left were the black crayons. I made do. I always thought I could make beautiful things either way. 

I never in my wildest dreams would think my own mother would put me in the morbid category.

There were many laughs to be had on this one. I felt at that very moment that most people were reading things about me that just weren't there. I still feel that way.

So it's, sort of, one of those "don't judge a book by it's cover" moments. Or should I say "don't judge your child by the color crayon she uses".

So when you think you know me there are very high odds that you might not. So if you have a question why not ask instead of revisiting that black crayon moment.

I reflect on my black crayons often. As a matter of fact, a few years ago I was in a glass fusing class when the teacher told us it was time to grab pieces of colored glass from two big containers. I will tell you what I said to myself that very moment - "I will NOT be the last kid to the crayon pile. I WILL NOT!" I got up from my seat and beat everyone else there. How lazy am I really?