Or Papa. Or Grandparents or Guardian. Whoever is trying to navigate the intersection of art and children.
It's legit hard. Go ahead and give yourself a nice pat on the back. But before you do, double check your hands for peanut butter.
First of all, however you are doing it.. good for you.
Kids being fed semi-regularly? Nice. Fist bump.
Naked and running down the street (the kids, not you), maybe not a big deal, depends on the street. Gold Star anyway.
This isn't a post about how to do it all. I never figured that out.
A year after my husband and I were married, I gave birth to the busiest child the Earth has ever seen. Definitely.
Then I had another one. You know, because if you can't keep up with one boy, two will for sure be easier.
And then while the last one was still in diapers... I had twins.
There was an iron age people of West Africa called the Igbo. The Igbo believed that twins were evil and were sent to destroy civilization.
I can't imagine where they got that. (Also, there were 13 SOS pads in that toaster)
Mine were no joke. They once backed the van out of the driveway, rolled across street and bumped into the car on the other side. I was just stepping out of my studio to see my babysitter running after them (she had been changing her own baby's diaper). They were maybe 3. They were fast.
Then one day I forgot how hard all that was and had a 5th. Boy.
Which literally killed me. But, only for a few minutes before they got my heart started again and baby pulled out safely. It was a wild delivery and a great story.
Despite of and because of all the hard things every single one of those little humans has my heart.
For a while they had so much of me there wasn't much left for art.
I was okay with that. I was also maybe hiding behind my kids, too busy to try scary things like asking to be paid for my artwork.
My husband kept dragging open my art bins and built me a studio. He hired sitters and bought me supplies as Christmas gifts.
I was lucky in that way, to have someone who kept pulling me out of the current and onto my feet.
My boys are older now, 7, 12, 12, 15, 17 at the time I am writing this.
My choice to pursue an art career makes them proud. They are excited about my victories and commiserate in my setbacks.
Some parents manage big art careers in the nap time and bedtime hours. Some with a sitter, some on their own. Some with their children on their laps.
Some wait for quieter days ahead.
Whatever you do, however you do it, I'm sure it's hard. And I'm betting that some days it feels easier to give up.
If you are trying, really trying, you are doing exactly what you should be doing.
The art will come and will be forever impacted by the littles we love.
