A few days ago I tweeted:
Today I started and paused and resumed and stopped and attempted and gave in. #lifewithkids
— wordsremember (@beowulfa) May 12, 2015
I was speaking of art. You see, we have littles. And the littlest of the littles is just over a year old and is trying to figure out his place in the world, how much authority he has, etc. As the youngest (and last) child he has quite a bit more authority than the other littles; he knows, for instance, that momma (or “dadda”, as he calls me) may say no, she isn’t going to share her food, but if he stares longingly long enough that she will break down and give him some. He also knows that if he grabs my arm and then holds out his arms that I will squeal at the cuteness and pick him up for some serious cuddles.
Awesome, right? Yes, totally. I’m cognizant of all I have to be grateful for. There’s a child in between the last two that I don’t get to hold, so I try to remember that. But. There are some days he does it on purpose. He’ll be contentedly playing by himself or with a sibling, so I’ll get out my latest project or doodles and commence work. He immediately heads on over and starts the arm-pulling and arms-holding. So I pick him up. He stays there briefly and then goes back to whatever he was doing. So I try again. And he comes back. Conclusion? He hates art. Or just likes having my full attention. I’m an introvert (INTJ, to be exact) so I’m frequently in a mental fog, very involved in my own thoughts, and while I do make efforts to be fully present I think he gets annoyed at me. The other littles are old enough that they get involved in their own projects and don’t mind me being off in my thoughts. Anyway. It makes it hard. My siblings don’t have children yet and they’re always off being artsy and going to little coffee shops and artistic events and I frequently wish I had the freedom to do that. And I think it’s ok to feel that way, because it means I have the motivation to incorporate those elements into my life (in whatever way) and remain me. I also think my willingness to commit to this artistic journey would be less if I hadn’t gone through the motherhood experience. And I wouldn’t have the pathos. So, positives. I feel like I should throw in that I do love my littles and I enjoy life with them. I am so very thankful. I just think it’s ok to feel all the emotions. Parenthood is hard. It isn’t all roses. There are thorns. The end result is pretty cool though. And speaking of artistic journeys:
It doesnt matter how bad at something you are; it just matters that you’re moving in the right direction #inspiration pic.twitter.com/pBkb9nn81Q
— Galore (@TheGaloreMag) May 12, 2015
I found that so motivational, because my drawings look like the first one. In seven years I could be awesome.
So. Happy Friday!
