Motherhood and Creativity

Motherhood and creativity, two warring things that clash and fight against one another. It is incredibly easy for motherhood to overshadow and annihilate creativity. Get too obsessed with ideas on what motherhood should be, what kind of mother you are supposed to be, and lose sight of creativity. Place your creativity in a box, bury it deep, because mothers are meant to only be mothers, right? Wrong. Mothers are meant to be creators. And it is important (albeit seemingly impossible at times) for you to make space for yourself. Create that time and space for creativity to flow, to let it out. Without creativity, writing specifically, I go insane. I chip away at myself as mom guilt surfaces, and I wonder if this is ok. If you have had those thoughts, squash them. Mom guilt is an evil thing that likes to rear its ugly head when we, as mothers, do not follow the rules we think we are supposed to. Enough. Creativity can flourish with the unique things that motherhood brings to the table. With what motherhood brings to the table. As much as they interrupt the process, children enhance your creativity; you just have to let them. Children give us a window into our own childish passions for creativity, and if you are struggling, you are allowed to find that part of yourself. You don’t have to be in mom mode one hundred percent of the time.

I have two children: nine and six, athletic, big personalities, and creative minds to match. My nine-year-old draws and writes his own comic books. He is obsessive about it, constantly drawing and writing in every spare moment that he can find. I pray that drive never leaves him. And it makes me remember the days when I was a child and wrote that way. Filled up the margins of my notebooks with poems and built worlds on thousands of sheets of paper. At some point, I lost sight of what was important. And he brings that back into focus. I want to recapture that obsessiveness. He is a guiding star showing me back to my passion which he throws himself into with such abandon. We found a drawer for his stacks and stacks of paper. And he tells me endless stories until I reach my limit on my capacity to listen to them. Because I have my own demons, I am fighting.

My six year is a dancer. He loves to dance, ballet and across the ice. He is gender creative and every day braves the world exactly as he is with complete confidence. He draws pictures beautiful pictures and hangs them up on all the walls to display. For him, it is all about the praise he will receive, the applause. He loves the attention that creativity brings him. He is not a writer, though, not yet, or maybe not ever. But he too fills up the spare spaces withdrawing, albeit not as freely as his older brother, his passions lie elsewhere — in the way he practices his jumps and spins over and over again.

I am a proud mom of both of them. And every day, I do my best for them, and every day I feel like I am failing them and myself. Writing is a big part of my soul; when I’m not writing, I’m dying inside. A chasm opens its mouth and tries to swallow me as I move through life, only half me. So, here’s the important part: it’s ok to make time and space for your creativity. I am that mom, who in the summer, takes her kids and a picnic to the park and sits for hours on her phone while my kids play. Yes, I am judged. One time rather harshly by another mom, when I was a newly single mom after leaving an abusive relationship, I was trying to recapture something that I had lost — a fundamental part of myself. I taught myself to write on the phone because it’s fast and portable. I can become enthralled with it, I love writing on paper and filling in the blank spaces of a notebook, but I have had to learn to adapt as a mother.

I also stay up late or get up early to find that time for myself, where in the dark (like now at three a.m.) the house is silent. So I can write the words out that I have been pushing to get out without interruption. Nothing works when everyone is interrupting me. I send them, without guilt, for an hour to play video games and eat snacks, with a strict do not bother me message. Just one hour to sit down and write. Trust me, you as a mother are allowed to do that too.

My kids always know the absolutely perfect (or worst) moment to interrupt my process. A story idea, a spark, and I scramble to write it down. My kids are distracted, busy playing with Lego or watching a show…until I start writing. They have radar for the precise moment that is the absolute worst possible time to interrupt me. They interrupt fight scenes with “I’m thirsty,” crafting spaceships with questions, and flying dragons with well-timed fights and tears. Right then, I need to be there with my character and their story because they are demanding my attention, and my children know that they aren’t the center of it right then and there. I get frustrated with the process. This is why I plan better; make sure they know this is not a good time to interrupt mom.

Even when I am exhausted, and the dishes have piled up on the counter and the laundry in the baskets…because folding laundry is the bane of my existence. My house is not sparkling clean, because let’s face it, I am not that mom. I am not the mom that I thought I would be. I am a mess and exhausted all the time. And the one thing I have to do that is more important than the housework is writing. I am not the crafty mom or the mom who volunteers at the school. I am the mom who forgets permission slips and forgets to send things to school. I follow my kids’ schedules for after-school programs and am constantly running around trying to catch up. I used to feel like a failure because other moms make it so easy. Pinterest makes it so easy.

I have spent too long dying inside trying to be the mom I thought I should be. So, the laundry sits clean in the basket for days, and the kids know how to get their clothes out of it. I make them help out with chores and do dishes in my spare time. I make the space and time to follow my dreams and passion because that is the most important. My kids know I love them. I know now that it necessary for me to make the time and space to do things that I need to do. So, I can write those stories. Even if it’s just a flash fiction piece or poetry that I self-publish on Medium. I am finding that passion, through watching my children throw themselves, with complete abandon into all the things they love without any thought of anyone else. That is what my children have shown me. That is what I am trying to recapture. So, in my spare moments, rather than worry about the house, I will fill up the pages of my notebook and type out words, and let the creativity flow. Because that is what I need to stay sane and happy.

No matter where you are on the motherhood journey (and I know you have probably heard this before and doubted it as I did), you are allowed to take care of yourself. In fact, it is the most important thing. If you have a partner, it is ok to ask them to shoulder the tasks right now to be free to be creative (just don’t complain about how they do things). Your value is not tied to a clean house or how much you volunteer, or how good a mother everyone else thinks you are. Spoiler alert: there will always be people who judge you. Do not stress. You will watch these little people grow up, and I know that I always want them to be as free as they are now with their passion and creativity. So why should it be any different for yourself? Be kinder to yourself, and let your creative-self flow free. I promise that is the best thing you can do. Time to explore space, fly with dragons, and travel to new worlds.

Originally published on Medium.