It’s hard finding morning time for morning pages. I resolved to do them at night, after the boys went to bed. This made sense because that is when my personal day begins. They were tedious to write in their entirety; I found myself consistently checking my watch at twenty minutes. Maybe twenty minutes would be a more ideal measure of time for me? When I have a 3 hour workday, I’m anxious to get work done, so I have to remind myself that morning pages are indirect work. And the pages, they worked to an extent, but this week has been emotionally-charged and turbulent. Both boys have been sick and Damon pulled a muscle in his back on Friday. Added deadlines and housework have commandeered my time and attention.
I was surprised to find myself writing repeatedly about feeling the need to take the family out of the house for a year. I have strong wanderlust, and I always have, but it feels particularly strong right now. Still, it won’t happen anytime soon, it’s too expensive and I’d prefer living on a boat, which we can’t do (even if it were affordable) until Chas is out of diapers. Imagine that! (Although I know it’s possible –there’s a link out there somewhere I saw once, a photograph of fifteen-odd cloth diapers hung to dry on the mast of a docked sailboat. So inspiring!)
I did the artists date several times this week, a total drug in itself. I have a new travel set of watercolors that fits nicely between diapers and toys in my bag. And a new moleskine notebook, this one with graph paper, that I may begin doing morning collages. In the evening.
What suprised me most this week? Realizing just how important it is to PLAY. Something I thought just might make a little difference apparently makes a BIG difference. I have been trying to remember what I enjoyed doing most as a child:
1. going exploring through the neighborhood, catching reptiles and bugs.
2. drawing. a lot.
3. interviewing my stuffed animals, recording the interview on a portable tape recorder.
4. collecting rocks.
5. watching horses, trying to be with them
6. gardening.
7. taking care of wounded animals.
8. roaming the vet school stalls at TAMU after kindergarten.
9. drawing. a lot.
10. reading. a lot.
11. hanging out in my room
It gave me hints. I realized why I enjoyed being a student in dental school (being bookish, being in a santitized building, feeling important to other people). Why I wanted to be a veterinarian when I was little (and being reprimanded by my grandparents, since it didn’t afford the salary of a medical doctor), why I will always want to be around horses and livestock, and farm, and garden. Read. Explore. I enjoyed reconnecting with my young self through this exercise. It gave me direction for the future (I’m on the right track for now, I think).
I want to read how the rest of the AW bloggers are doing but, oh well, there’s no reading this week. I’m being forced into ignorance. Can’t say it’s my fault this time.
Sorry to hear all your boys are down for the count. I think your creativity is still flowing regardless of the reading/writing time shortage — that cat painting from the last post is amazing!
I am finding myself enjoying your blog more and more. You have such a beautiful way of sketching your kids–using color and quick lines. It is also wonderful to read some thoughts from another mother whose personal day begins in the evening. I find I pack those hours full!
You have quite an eye for beautiful details… And I have to ask-because of the stockmar crayons and the little doll–do your kids go to a steiner school?
Thank you. Both of you.
I am beginning to sketch regularly again (after about ten years!), and it feels so good to have a record of what my eyes have seen (in a language apart from words and photos, the drawings provide another valuable perspective).
As for the details: Ford’s not in the Waldorf school here, but I have an appreciation for the natural, open-ended toys you find in the steiner schools–the textures and smells: beeswax, hardwoods, wool and fabric Yum!
I love your story about the cloth diapers on the sail boat. In my mond, cloth diapers are a powerful thing. Several years ago while walking home from my teaching job, I spotted a long clothesline with a large laundered load of cloth diapers and rubber pants on it. As I walked by I took many second takes to catch a glimpse, and really absorb the sight, and for many months after, thought about those diapers. There really is something about washable diapers for a baby, especially the old fashioned kind. Maybe we as adults relate to our own past through knowing it was washable diapers that we all wore.