Creative Juices

I want my son to be a creative guy.

I believe that every last one of us is a creative soul and if you don't happen to think you are it's because some mean and stupid person made you feel that way when you were young.

Not way, no how for Mr. Oliver.

His creative soul will be given many mediums for expression.

I was thinking this just now as we sat on the kitchen floor. I was slicing apples for making apple chips and to keep him entertained put out a few pots and chopsticks.

He has a thing for rhythm so we often entertain each other by banging on things with our hands.

And so it went with the chopsticks. Fun, laughter, rhythm and yes, noise.

And so it will go I think.

Creativity isn't clean and pretty and properly volumed. Its messy, loud, and perhaps even ugly.

After a long break...

I want to write again.

I have long believed writing can be therapeutic. Creative writing, venting, poetry, letters to friends can all feel good and clear the webs.

Sometimes it can be helpful to hear responses from people with shared opinions or opposing points of view. Other times just the process of getting it out can make things more clear.

Alice Walker wrote about how writing saved her life. She's described times when she has been backed into dark corners and how picking up a pencil and just writing has carried her out of the dark.

I want to write again.

When I was in high school my close friends and I had a few shared journals that got passed around. When I was around 7 or 8 I got my first journal, a diary, at the time. My years of journaling stopped sometime in my twenties. It started when there was a man more regularly by my side at bedtime and in the morning. Those were my frequent writing times. So, its faded. But...

I want to write again.

I have so much to write about at this point in my life.

I am Oliver's mother. And I love it.

It's the most beautiful, meaningful thing I do every day.

At times I am bored. I miss my work. I miss my team. I miss going out at night, catching up with friends, dancing, drinking, sleeping and all that good stuff that we take for granted until they aren't so easy to do anymore.

At times I am lonely. In the early months it was so easy to scoop him up and go do something. He was lighter to carry and slept so much of the time.

Well, the times have changed.
He has opinions.
He is awake more.
Its true that all of these things make being with him more fun.
The joy of discovering the world through a baby's eyes, your baby's eyes, is unimaginable, pure, gorgeous, lovely...maybe beyond words.
But its also been limiting. I get out less. The day slips by and his schedule, which has come to be important on many levels, rules my day. The lack of sleep gets to me more now than before.

I think the honeymoon phase has past. I think the first 8 months as a mom, I was blissed out. I am still in love with it and with him but the beer goggles are off and I am feeling the impact of my life being out of balance.

Not enough working out.
Not enough creative time.
Not enough sleep.
Not enough time with my love.
Not enough sex.
Not enough time following my whim as to where to go and what to do.

This is it. I am in a huge life transition and the rest of my life will be determined by the choices I make, the patterns I get into in this new me.

So, all those not enoughs are just me defining, writing, getting out into words where my imbalance is. And now I can do something about it all.

I've begun recently to take steps.

I joined a gym with child care.
I've been talking with my love more about what he can do to help.
Action is started.

It's pretty funny that my first time writing here in so long is about the challenges I am encountering rather than all the amazingness that has been this year with Ollie.

That'll come.

For now though, I'll write my way out of a dark corner.