Momcafe

I was searching hard trying to find a book for my husband’s birthday I knew had to exist. First I tried “parents and creativity”, then “artists as parents.” No go. There were books on raising creative children, and bios of artists who happened also to have kids, but no how-to books on how to be both creative and a parent. My husband, a contemporary artist and dedicated dad, was struggling to find space in his life for art, while juggling a job and the demands of being the world’s greatest Papa. But in the world of books it seemed no one thought of these things as compatible. I settled on one about making art with toddlers, and wrote him a card telling him we’d have to write the book together once we’d figured it out.

But I wrote this guiltily, knowing my experience of parenthood and creativity has been quite different from his. Choosing to stay home with my baby meant my days were split between being busier than I’d ever been, and having more time than I could ever remember having. My brain felt soggy from waking uncountable times to breastfeed, and yet, there I was all day long with this tiny little creature who both demanded all of my attention, and also just laid around a lot. There was time in the day where I could imagine doing something- I felt desperate to be doing something- if only it could fit into those unpredictable little gaps in the day.

So I started making things. I began hand-sewing simple projects that could be set down and picked up and didn’t take too long to finish. They weren’t much to look at, but they were keeping me sane. I made a funny little bear out of an old sweater for my friend’s two-year-old, and a wool felt bunny for my teething baby to chew on. I learned new terms like “blanket stitch” and “appliqué” and dug out an old bag of knitting needles to make a hat for my baby- full of mistakes but functional and cute. I started to spend nap times getting to know our old sewing machine, which until then had only been dusted off for quick clothing repairs ending in tangled bobbin threads and plenty of expletives. Now I was actually making things, things that could be used or played with, things that hadn’t existed before my mama hands had set to making them. I was creating.

And rather than being incompatible with parenting, I was finding my way through the early days of mothering by filling up our days with creative projects. Together, my baby and I played with yarn, made toys and sewed gifts inspired by his scribbles. As our home filled up with more ribbon blankets, sock animals, bean bags and homemade blocks than we knew what to do with, I felt myself settle into what is ultimately the biggest creative project of them all, being a mama.