It was about 8 p.m last night when I was on my computer
A visual image that looked like a dinosaur's eyeball being held for ransom was staring back at me. As I skimmed quickly, worried that my son had acted on a double dog dare while out with his class on a field trip to the dinosaur exhibit, I see that what's been sent to me is just a teaser, if you will, of all that I could have... in the form of a thumbnail of my son's 5th grade art work.
Yes, it was a dragon's eyeball, done by my son in art class. And if I liked, I could have 500 of these same images of a bulging Bob Costas-like retina made into a comely necklace to dangle between my breasts. Such a conversation piece. If I wanted more, I only had to say the word and click the mouse with credit card number at the ready, and I could be the owner of Coasters Pen Holders Water Bottles Key chains Magnets Mouse pads Coffee mugs Travel mugs T-shirts Clothing Gear Mobile Phone Cases Art Snap Jewelry Aprons/Smocks Tote Bags Cards Folded Cards Flat Cards Postcards Books & Prints Canvas Art Art Prints Notebooks Sketchbooks Portfolio Books Home Office Mouse pads Water Bottles Cutting Boards Pen Holders Coaster Sets Ceramic Tiles Fun Stuff Magnets Key chains Ornaments Bookmarks Quilt Blocks Bag Tags, all made from my son's artwork.
With a push of a button.
Can you believe that? My child's artwork can live on forever. On me. Every single piece of it that we now currently try and find a place for -- the non-karma believing ones among us just jam into recycling for next Monday's pick up. Up to this point, my MO was to shove everything under the futon in the guest room. Sometimes I have the time to slap a year and child's initial on the back before adding to the dust-laden compressed pile under the slat boards.
It feels as if it were only yesterday that I crammed Wisconsin Modern Nude Cows, 2nd grade, by Auggie under there. Anyway, I needed to respond to this email's offer of, “Resolve to catalog your child's inner expression! Follow along and track his emotional development through the years.”
Ignorance is something that sounds better to me, I don't want to plotchartgraph mother issues, but I only have ten days. If I don't activate registration by the deadline, all uploaded images by the school will be lost.
I think I have to go and take myself for coffee to Starbucks to think about this one. Maybe even dinner with a friend for advice. A movie might help clear the head. Drinks after? Could be a good call. I don't know what to do, and what I'm left with is a feeling that inspires me to create and upload my own works of art on this website. I'd call it Litany For My Son's Lost Online Body of Artwork, a series: by Alexandra, 2014. Each slide would depict a stage in my grappling decision, essentially step by step as I work through my shit and arrive at the final process. The last slide shows me fully naked, only clothed in dangling *ArtbySon* jewelry, dog tags, earrings, aprons, and tote bags.
How could a parent say no? By the time I completed the order form, it was well after 1 a.m. But then, I slept the sweet sleep of those that have done the right thing. Yes, I'll have to take on two additional part time jobs to pay off the dent on the credit card -- still worth it, because I will soon be a living breathing walking art museum of my son.
I'm his dream come true, that's what the company tells me, anyway. "Every young artist wants his own online art gallery, preserving their masterpieces for all time!“ I wonder, when did they have this one on one time with him? He never whispered such lofty ambitions to me. As far as I knew, he only dreamed of that $59 soccer ball we saw at Dick's.
Okay, *ArtbySon* and Company, I bought it. And his artwork. Here I am, baby, come take a good look. Look hard, though, I'm somewhere underneath the lead dog tags made in China and the made in Cambodia umbrella with matching tote bag. All done in glorious bulbous dinosaur retina.
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