The Last Lesson of 2024: What Paint Night Taught Me

You know how we're all trying to create those special family traditions? The ones our kids will look back on and say, "Remember when we used to...?" Maybe it's cookie decorating, or matching Christmas pajamas, or in our case - attempting a family paint night. Because who doesn't want to be that Pinterest-worthy family who creates beautiful art together while making precious memories? (Pinterest moms are either lying or have secretly replaced their children with robots. And our paint night? Well, let's just say it went exactly as you'd expect when you mix kids, paint, and optimistic parenting.)

Picture it: YouTube tutorial ready, fresh canvases laid out, everyone gathered around the table. We had this perfect vision of a wholesome family activity - all of us following along, creating matching winter scenes, making memories.

Then there's our middle child. If you have a middle kid, you're probably already nodding knowingly. They just hit different, don't they? The ones who look at any set of instructions as more of a loose suggestion, maybe even a challenge. While the rest of us were dutifully following the tutorial's step-by-step instructions, he decided to go rogue in true middle child fashion. Because heaven forbid he do anything the same way as everyone else - I'm pretty sure middle children emerge from the womb already planning how to do things differently than their siblings. His artistic vision? Covering his entire hands in black paint.

Oh, and our youngest? Somewhere in the middle of this creative chaos, she decided her face was the perfect canvas for her artistic ambitions. By the time we noticed, she was proudly sporting a mustache and goatee, grinning like she'd just unlocked the secret to Picasso's genius. My husband, already doing this solely because he loves us (painting tutorials aren't exactly his idea of a good time), gave me that look—the one that says, How is this my life?

Both of us wanted to lose it. The perfect family activity was derailing right before our eyes. But then it hit me - why? Why were we so bothered by him quite literally putting his own stamp on things? What good would scolding or criticism have done? Would "Why are you doing that?" or "That's not how you're supposed to do it" have made the moment better?

Before we started, I'd set just two simple rules: focus on your own painting, and if you have something to say, it has to be positive. No criticism tonight. These rules weren't just for the kids - they were for us parents too. And here I was, having to remind myself to follow them. Isn't creativity supposed to be, well, creative?

It's funny how quickly we parents can jump to conclusions, especially with our children. Maybe it's because they've trained us to expect the unexpected - to brace ourselves for that classic middle child plot twist that's surely coming. In those first few minutes, watching him cover his hands in paint, we thought he was just being defiant, just trying to derail the activity. But that's the thing about kids - they often have a vision we can't see yet. While we were following step-by-step instructions, he was taking the scenic route to creativity.

And you know what? In the end, his canvas transformed into a Christmas tree - not the one from the tutorial, but his own unique version. Those black handprints we were so worried about became part of something bigger, something completely his own. He took the basic concept and made it uniquely his, proving that sometimes the path to the destination doesn't have to look like everyone else's.

As moms, we often get trapped in this cycle of trying to create perfect moments. We plan, we organize, we envision how things should go. We scroll through social media, seeing these picture-perfect family activities, and somehow convince ourselves that's the standard we need to meet. But real life isn't a curated Instagram feed. Real life is messy. It's unpredictable. It's black paint on hands when you were expecting pristine brush strokes.

Maybe the real joy isn't in getting everyone to follow the same steps or create the same picture. Maybe it's in watching your kids be brave enough to do their own thing, even when mom and dad are secretly having mini heart attacks about the mess. Maybe it's in learning to let go of our own expectations and embrace the beautiful chaos that comes with raising little humans who aren't afraid to be themselves.

Here's to the kids who color outside the lines, who paint with their hands when everyone else is using brushes, who make up their own dance moves when everyone else is following the choreography. Here's to the parents trying their best to let go of perfection and embrace the beautiful mess of reality. And here's to all those "failed" family activities that turn into the stories we'll be laughing about for years to come.

As I write this in that strange limbo week between Christmas and New Year's, I'm looking at our five canvases lined up on the shelf. Each one tells its own story - especially that uniquely creative Christmas tree from our middle child. That night taught me something I'm carrying into the holiday season: sometimes the best moments come when we let go of our expectations and trust our kids' process.

So as we head into a new year, I'm taking this lesson with me. Maybe 2025 isn't about perfect family activities or Instagram-worthy moments. Maybe it's about creating space for each person's version of creativity, even (especially) when it involves paint-covered hands and unexpected detours.

As it turns out, my middle child was right all along - there's more than one way to create something beautiful.