finding the artist in the mom

While I was at my love fest happy camp surrounded by artists and crafters, I had this question in the back of my head the whole time: How do mothers of young children make it work with the whole artist thing?

Becoming a mother was kind of a shock for me (I expected it to come perfectly naturally-HA!). It has taken me years to feel comfortable in my mother skin and it has been hard finding the balance of expanding myself with talents and passions with becoming the kind of mother I want to be.

There was one night at Squam where all the teachers and guest artists were in a panel on the stage and we got to ask questions. I raised my hand to ask my question (a little reluctantly, since I noticed that the majority of the women on the panel weren’t mothers), but time was short and I never got to voice it. So I began talking about it during classes and at mealtime with the women who were at my tables. We started discussing our varying experiences and these are some of the things I came away with…

*It’s not easy, but it is doable.

*When you want to live a creative life, you DO it, no matter what is going on. You find beauty and art in all creating, whether it is a painting, a quilt, or dinner for your family.

There were several women I talked with who had been avoiding becoming a mother because they weren’t sure if it could “work” with the lifestyle they pictured for themselves. I encouraged them to take the leap (it all comes about naturally when you have babies in your belly—people end up talking about motherhood around you), because even though it has taken me while to get here, I understand that when something is hard, it makes it more worth it. While children can seemingly cut into your hopes and dreams for yourself, they actually widen your perspective and deepen your values. They truly make you find beauty in places where you would have never dreamed to look before.

*A lot of the panel discussion focused on the job aspect of an artist. (Isn’t that everyone’s dream—to get paid for your talents and passions?) There was talk of creative jobs and quitting your blah job to focus on art. I found myself trying to mesh it into my lifestyle, but there was really no way to. If I want to make something, I have to do it with kids running around my legs begging to join in. I have to learn to create when the moment arrives and leave the mess in the kitchen until later. I have to learn to make it work when my primary focus and job is Mother and there is no getting around that.

That might sound negative, but it isn’t. Really, it was an a-ha moment. When Penelope said something like, “We do this every day. We paint every day because that’s who we are. We are artists and that’s what we do,” I realized that being an artist is part of WHO you are, and if I’m a mom, I can still be an artist.

On Sunday at church my son wanted to testify of what was in his heart. He decided to walk up to the podium in front of the entire congregation by himself and speak his truth. He was nervous, but he got a bit of his heart out through his mouth when he said, “I know this church is true. I know that Heavenly Father is watching out for me when I’m scared.” And he told me later that he wanted to say that he knows Heavenly Father answers prayers. My creation has his own creations. He not only thinks and speaks for himself, but he creates new depth in me that couldn’t be there without him.

*I keep trying to separate my children from this blog and it never works. This blog is supposed to be about my personal perspective but the truth is, my children are too integral a part of me—there is no separation. It is all part of the art of life and my children are like colors in the painting—when you take them out, it is not as beautiful.

drumroll please...

and the winner of the JLR prize is

MARY

Enjoy!

Now all the resta y'all go buy yourselves some Johnny Lloyd Rollins and hunker down with it playing nice and loud.

happy monday:)

girl, girl

That's right, folks, the doctor announced yesterday that we have two more girls coming our way. We were all very surprized since for some reason we had boys on the brain. Luckily the one little guy in the house said, "Wow! That's GREAT!" Isn't he the best boy EVER?

So any ideas for girlie names??

*this is the last day to enter the giveaway

time to pre order!

I have three new hostess aprons to choose from! If you pre order, you save $5.00 and only pay $35.00 for each apron you order between now and November 1st.


Cayenne Hostess Apron now available for pre order on my website and at etsy.com


Sweet Basil Hostess Apron now available for pre order on my website and at etsy.com


Pepper Hostess Apron now available for pre order on my website and at etsy.com

*The fabric for Pepper has been on backorder and I haven't been able to get enough to make a sample apron, so you'll have to imagine it and trust me that it will be adorable. As soon as the fabric comes in, I will make a sample apron and photograph it for you.

**Flowers will be sold seperately. I am working on some flowers and also flower kits will be available for a little less if you feel so inclined to make your own.

Have fun Christmas shopping!

spreading the love (with a giveaway at the end!)

The first chord I heard of Ray LaMontagne’s I was hooked and then I heard his voice and lyrics and I was in love. I played him for Jake and he said, “He sounds like Van Morrison or Elvis Costello or something.” My reply was, “yeah, but way better!” His songs make me feel something so deeply. (And we get to see him next month live! Yippee!)

It’s great to find someone who has a familiar sound, a sound that you’ve always loved and keep going back to, but they’ve made the sound better than the original. (Did that make sense?) That’s how I feel about Johnny Lloyd Rollins. I got introduced to his music through one of my best friends in High School (he’s her brother!) and now I’m a drooling, adoring fan.

I’ll give you a few links if you want to check him out…click here for yummy video of him performing Let's Be Poor Together, here to go to his myspace and listen to more music, here to go to his website, and of course youtube has lots of videos to choose from.

Here’s what a few critics have said about him:

"He's been compared to Paul McCartney, Johnny Cash, and, of course, a young version of the King. That's just it. You can't pin him down."--Jenny Block, D Magazine

"It's like the tunes of Buddy Holly, Elvis and Roy Orbison in a blender set on puree."--Shannon Sutleif, Dallas Morning News

"He puts a Beatles-y twist on Texas roots songs, or perhaps vice versa, with a penchant for smart lyrics and even smarter chord changes."--Jonanna Widner, The Dallas Observer

Beatles, Smeatles, they’ve got nothing on Johnny in my book. Way to take the great from the classics and put a modern twist on them to make them even better, Johnny!

Johnny recently sent me a couple CDs and I thought I would share the love. If you’d like to win his CD, Let’s Be Poor Together, just leave a comment in the comments section before Monday (9/29) morning at 12:00am and you’ll be in the drawing. Good luck!

cracked open

So much unfolded on my retreat that I’m overwhelmed when I think about trying to write about it in one fell swoop. Plus it would be one long boring post, so I’ll just start writing and see what comes out…

I was so excited *!SO EXCITED!* that I didn’t think twice. Until I got into my car and pointed the wheel northwest…then I realized that I had never actually met one soul there and I got nervous. My first meal there, I walked into the cafeteria with my head high and a smile on my face (it felt like my first day at a new high school), and got a tray full of yummy food and sat at a table all by myself. By the end of the night I had made some fast friends and had fallen in love with Jonatha Brooke while she played by the bon fire.



I painted and learned new techniques and looked within and watched carefully and listened closely. I stretched emotionally and physically (holy cow, that was a loooong walk to the cafeteria for a pregnant girl—like 20 minutes through the woods—both ways, three times a day!). I dug deep and pieces of me are changed—hopefully permanently.



On the last day I got “cracked open” as Jen Gray put it, and during the Superhero class while I was working with the sweetest partner ever, I was supposed to be talking about someone I admire and listing reasons why I admire them. One of the people I chose was my husband and I started crying when I was talking about his character and why he is what he is to me. For the rest of the day I was a bit more fragile. That night was the Squam Craft Fair and lots of the people who were selling their beautiful things had attended SAW, but I walked through the aisle and came to an artist who was new to me. I was taken back by his colors and subject matter and his paintings felt like some of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Then I looked down on the table and there was one painting laying there and when I took it in, I started weeping. I took off to the bathroom to get a hold of myself, and after I was composed decided to return to get his information and as soon as I saw the painting again I started. Crying. Again. The humiliation! Rory (the artist) gently said, “Why are you crying?” and I may have gotten out something like, “…it’s so beautiful…the colors…your brush strokes…I can’t…it makes me cry…” while fanning my face and pointing to my heart that was hurting and mumbling apologies for my embarrassing behavior and pointing out that I’m hormonal with two babies inside me. After getting a few things out of me while I wrote my information for his mailing list he asked me why I have a hard time calling myself an artist and I gestured toward his painting and said through tears, “Because I can’t do this.” He started talking about creative expression and how all art is different and that I am an artist even if I don’t express myself the same way he does. He was very sweet and wise and was the perfect ending to all I had learned about myself during the previous few days.



So here’s to my new adventure as an artist! I suppose I was born one and will always be one. Let’s see what unfolds as I choose to stop listening to my gremlins and become the artist I’ve always wanted to be.

Squam

This is my new journal for Squam. It contains my own little personal pep talk:



My gear is all packed for Squam Art Workshops! I had to get some new canvases—mine were all too small. (I like that they’re going to make me think bigger.) Right now the canvases are all sitting in a happy pile in my car waiting to ride up to the Lake.

I’m so excited to meet all these women who I admire and who I’ve been gathering inspiration from online. Now I can do glean inspiration and techniques and ideas in person. Plus I have my own little room and I get to walk wooded paths along a lakeside for several days. I’ll let you know what I unfold about my own personal journey. I wonder if they have any artist advice for young (I guess that’s debatable considering they consider me “advanced maternal aged”) mothers who are about to have five children. I may have to figure that one out on my own…

"I'm sorry, Honey, but the tooth fairy has ADD."

#2’s front tooth has just been hanging there. Seriously, it was gross—total snaggletooth. Every time he’d smile, I’d say, “Honey, you’ve got to pull that thing out.” But given that each child has such a different personality, he wouldn’t do what I had grown used to #1 doing—pulling her own teeth. Last time he insisted that I pull his tooth on Sunday at exactly 2:30—get it? Two Thirty/ tooth hurty? It ended up taking like an hour, so the joke didn’t really stick. So last night when I was kissing him goodnight I said, “let me take a look at that tooth.” And I twisted it out as soon as I got my hand in his mouth. He didn’t even know what had happened until he saw me standing there smirking, holding the little problematic thing and waiting for a reaction. “What!? What did you do? Did you pull it out?!?” And all at once everyone was out of bed shouting and jumping and telling tales of the tooth fairy.

The last time #1 pulled a tooth from her own mouth, Jake happened to be out of town. I was doing everything by myself and being pregnant couldn’t take my ADD meds. Unfortunately I didn’t feel very sprightly and playing a fairy that collected teeth for a living kept slipping my mind. The mornings were full of disappointment and talking about what could be holding up the tooth fairy’s progress. Could she be on vacation? Maybe she’s been sick in bed recovering. What could possibly keep the tooth fairy from coming to recover stray teeth from under a pillow? About the fourth morning my sweet daughter came downstairs and announced that the tooth fairy hated her so I took action and called Auntie Jessica (otherwise known as my personal assistant in times of need) and asked her if she would please call me and remind me that night before she went to bed. When Jessica called I got out a pen and paper and wrote a teeny tiny note in the littlest writing I could muster (fairys are small) that explained her absence. (She had indeed been recovering from a sickness that resulted from handling a cavity-ridden nasty tooth that some little boy had left under his pillow and she had forgotten rubber gloves that particular night. She thanked #1 for keeping her teeth so healthy—what a good girl!)

Upon hearing of my neglect, Jake went up and placed a dollar in #2’s tooth pillow, pronto. (This probably gave #1 even more of a complex that the tooth fairy favors #2.) Hopefully Jake will be around when she looses the next one. What? I’m only one person. I can’t do it all. Although being the fairy does sound fun, it’s not always practical after a long day.

social stud

Apparently I am a little out of it as a mom. When #1 came home with the assignment to cover her book, she said that we had to “buy a book cover.” I thought that sounded ridiculous when we had perfectly good brown paper. I was reminiscing about doodling whatever my heart desired as my teacher droned on about stuff that I thought was too boring to hold my attention. It was like a little history lesson on it’s own to study my brown paper bagged books at the end of the school year.

After refusing to BUY a book cover, I had a furious, crying child on my hands, explaining that everyone in her class had already bought their book covers and only one boy had covered his in brown paper. I pointed out that Martha Stewart said that we could use the comic section of the newspaper or maps to make it more interesting–she even made the suggestion that we could use contact paper and make them even more durable. What a concept! But no, my daughter told me that these fancy new fangled book covers had lots of cool designs that you can choose from and some of them even smelled!

Through all the crying and anxiety, I slowly started to realize that this was a social issue. She wanted to be like everyone else. I pointed out, to no avail, that I had a barn full of cool stuff and that we could decorate her brown book cover and make it super cool. But it’s hard to get others to grasp my vision of things, especially a stressed out 9 year old. So last night after she had finished her miles and miles of homework, I ran out to the barn and secretly covered her book in brown paper and got to work covering the brown paper before she could see it. When she found me in the middle of it, the crying began anew so I told her we could finish it in the morning.

This morning I got things ready for her before she could join me in the barn. But inevitably she found me out there and through lots of tears, the conversation went something like this:

B: Do you want red letters for “social studies” or would you rather have these black ones. Or we could do a combination of fun letters. Calm down.
A: I like the black ones. *deep inhale with side of blubbering*
B: okay. Take a bite of your cereal.

B: Here are a bunch of fun decorations and rub ons that would be cute. Do you like any of them?
A: I like this one, but not this one. I like this owl and these tickets.
B: We could put this one here like this, or up here like this.
A: I like it like this.
B: Okay. Take a bite.

B: It needs something red here, I think. Would you like a tag or a flower? Or we could do buttons.
A: I like buttons.
B: okay, are your shoes on? Go get your backpack ready the bus will be here soon.


And when the last “a” finished her name on the label, the tears were gone and she was beaming. “I love it! Everyone’s going to wish they had a book just like mine!” She didn’t want to put it into her backpack; she wanted to carry the book proudly, fancy side out for everyone to see.

SIGH.