A Rare Family
I was out the door with my copy of The Artist’s Way in the passenger seat before I noticed grabbing it.
It was a sleepless night; partly because of the wine, mostly because the little one was wide awake from witching hour until the dawn bird’s first song. I woke up dreadful. Unfulfilled, angry, resentful. It’s the booze, the baby, most definitely the sleeping husband just laying there. Luckily the first chapter kicked in quicker than caffeine and forced me to find the core fault.
“Nothing has a stronger influence psychologically on their environment and especially on their children than the unlived life of the parent.”
I’m fatigued with each foot dipped in separate pools. It’s like I have 10 feet! and they’re all tripping over each other. One hour I’m submerged in my career, the next I’m negotiating crackers with a toddler to get in the fuckin’ car sweetheart. Negotiating isn’t my strong suit. Toddlers are like dogs, they sense your insecurities and they pounce. My daughter eats a lot of crackers, is what I’m saying.
I may be the matriarch of this schedule for my daughter but don’t assume I like it every day. The years go fast so hold on to every moment they say as if that will stop my tears on random Sundays as her independence grows. That does not help the constant push-pull heartbreak-happiness that your child is healthy & growing…away from you if you’re doing it right. Big eye roll to the stereotypical Mom advice that isn’t advice but a passive-aggressive veil to not talk about the dichotomies we’re so clearly living in. Let’s skirt by the loud disruptive screaming in the room that some of these early days just aren’t fulfilling. Some of these days feel like you’re trying to get that spring-loaded wiggle worm back in the can and sit still for a second. It doesn’t mean you’re an ungrateful Mother to admit that. Your child still feels loved by you and wants to “hold you Mama” when the last dusk bird coos her babies to nest at night.
My mom is my biggest mother example. She didn’t have the life of an unlived parent while raising and childrearing. Not that that hasn’t brought challenging conversations with her now that I’m an adult trying to raise a child, but thank goddess she showed me a Mother deserves a life of her own in addition to being a Mother and she needn’t grovel for it at every turn. The child will have to fall in line with that to some degree as a result. This is an unpopular opinion, I’m sure. It’s insinuated in multitudes that Mother is the ultimate goal instead of a welcomed layer bestowed upon the already multi-faceted woman. When I wondered if we couldn’t have children, Mother was the ultimate goal so I appreciate and understand that season. I was that season and could be again, this is not either-or. I guess I’m just trying to navigate this mother layer in tandem with the artist layer I’m just not willing to give up and I can’t pause any longer. I’m of the belief this will benefit my daughter when she stops bugging me about the crackers.
“A rare family, faced with the myth of the starving artist, tells its children to go right ahead and try for a career in the arts. Instead, if encouraged at all, the children are urged into thinking of the arts as hobbies, creative fluff around the edges of real life.”
I’m grateful I’m part of this rare family Cameron explains. The blank stares and polite changes of the subject have reinforced this in many conversations throughout my life so far. Like the ugly duckling who doesn’t know they’re beautiful because they’re hanging out with a different bird species. Now that I’m a Mother, I know this wasn’t a family default I was born into.
It was my Mother.
She crafted it. She fought like hell for it. Together with my Dad, they made our family’s environment a breeding ground for dreaming and acting upon it throughout their many lived lives as our parents. I was the child who got to witness worlds before I ever left the nest.
Keep those feet in all those different pools. Your child’s inner artist may look back on their rare family with gratitude someday. After the therapy sessions, of course.
