Thoughts on Making

alongside and within and outside of my motherhood

I recently read an essay titled Who Gets Quality Leisure? by Anne Helen Petersen. I so enjoyed this deep dive into research and (somehow) men’s golf. The essay is a thorough exploration of typical gendered differences of leisure time. This excerpt specifically has me thinking:

“Women’s leisure is bound-up in family time, it takes a lot of invisible labor to plan and thus can feel more exhausting than restorative, they feel guilty about taking it because a good mom is a present mom, they’re more likely to modify it to accommodate the needs of their partners/children and thus it’s often not what they actually really want to do. It is “contaminated” leisure.”

Creativity has always been a primary form of my leisure in my life. As I’ve entered and spent more and more years in motherhood, I realize just how much more “contaminated” my leisure and creativity have become. Gone are the long chunks of time spent knitting, painting, and creating. Parallel play has become the name of the game.

Creativity alongside and squeezed into life with my kiddos

I’m in a group of fabulous creatives working through the Artist’s Way, and it’s spurred me to explore my creativity and connect with my inner artist. As I’ve written letters and lists to and for my inner artist following the tasks in the book, I can’t help but see how intrinsically connected my motherhood and creativity have become. Making babies, making milk, making crafts… it all overlaps. My contaminated hours are sacred too. I’ve created so many beautiful pieces alongside my kids. I’ve shown them that mom is a person too who has hobbies and a rich creative life. I’ve also made them countless hats, sweaters, and blankets… honestly, they benefit most of all.

Been busy making… cute kids, blankets, outfits, and dolls

I’m taking this weekend to go on a retreat of all my favorite things: group processing about motherhood, quilt making, and rest. A weekend of uncontaminated leisure. All my meals will be cooked for me. I will sleep soundly and undisturbed by my poor-sleeping third babe, and my boobs will likely be leaking milk all weekend. But I’m going. Give me all the uncontaminated leisure please.

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A poem to my inner artist:

I’ve been making for as long as I can remember;

creativity, a lifeline.

A creator in me

imprinted by my Maker.

Confidence, connection, community, curiosity

Calm

Yarn manipulated by needles

Flowers poked into vases

Embroidery floss threaded through fabric

Chalk and pastels boldly dragged across cardstock

Watercolor playing across a paper

Words manipulated to resonate within another

Plants watered, potted, and propagated

Recipes with whole and intentional ingredients healing me

Babies formed together and grown within

Postures and shapes strung together to the pattern of breath

Different times of life,

different forms of making

A Donna’s Day book through a long pre-teen summer

Knitting club and countless donated preemie hats and blankets in high school

A Christmas tree like I saw in a magazine; a spot of shimmering light and hope in the dark.

Creative jobs and side hustles through college and grad school

Coping and expression through trauma-healing; color and shape: an expression where words fell short.

Quilts for my babies

A house decorated and arranged transformed to a safe haven

Gifts for others: new babies, families experiencing illness and loss, a mom feeling lost.

Words prayed and spoken into being

parallel to the gift being created

“May the recipient of this gift feel seen,

unconditionally loved,

mended and held.

May they know they deserve exceptional beauty.

May they experience bone-deep warmth.”

In motherhood,

creativity forced to take new forms

stretched to new bounds

languished and starved.

Knitting at the basketball court

Embroidery while in carline

Collaging and watercoloring alongside my kids

Words jotted down on receipts and sticky notes

Finding fringe hours

making in the margins

Contaminated creativity.

My inner artist saved me

long before other tools, resources, or coping skills.

It is time I refound her

lavished love on her too

Given her more than contaminated time.

Inner artist, you deserve

my confidence,

experiences of connection and community,

Protected, long blocks of time for curiosity,

calm.

Again.

I’m learning to woo you

through daily morning pages

weekly artist dates

routine creativity and accountability groups

hopeful yearly retreats.

Finding our way to one another

creating out of deepest integration

and embodiment.

Making myself

as I find myself

once again.

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A collage I made during trauma processing and healing in early motherhood

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Prompts to ponder and play with

If you want them

• How do you feel about your balance (or imbalance) of contaminated/uncontaminated leisure time? What would you like to change? What could that look like for you? Are there any practical changes your like to make like carving out time on your calendar or planning a particular activity?

• Write a poem or letter to your inner artist. Did what you write surprise you? Did you learn anything as you wrote?

• Use the collage above… are there any words or parts of the collage that stand out? Could there be a journal prompt or jumping off place here for you?

• Grab some magazines, rip or cut out images that spark interest, excitement, and creativity in you. Glue them down on a piece of cardstock and hang it somewhere to remind you to woo your inner artist.

• What are your favorite forms of leisure and self/soul care? Make a list and prioritize some of these activities over the next week+