On making time to create.

I’ve been waiting for the right moment to create.

Waiting for the kids to play independently without the need for an umpire or for the peaceful writing space, ideally equipped with a vintage wooden table and a candle.

I’ve held my breath waiting for a breath between work projects, moving continents, (ongoing) recovery from anxiety, for that weekend away by myself in a picturesque AirBnB. I’ve purchased notebooks and pens; I have all the pretty stationery and subtle fragrances candles.

I’ve pinned images of delightful sewing rooms and peaceful Pilates home studios. I’ve turned to the right places for inspiration; followed, read, watched, and even been on courses, but it never seems to be the right time to create.

As I stand next to my son at the kitchen counter, I realise that I am busy creating all the time. My art may not be published or may never receive Insta likes, my art is unlikely to beat any algorithm, but my art is in the daily task of motherhood. While whisking eggs to create a simple brunch for us, my son was making a cardboard wardrobe for his sister’s doll’s clothes and we were surrounded by the freshly bottled home-made elderflower cordial that my mother is churning out like a factory’s conveyor belt.

Creating was happening all around us.

I make a mental list of my creations so far that day; it is only 11 o’clock in the morning and I have already created a zillion plates of food, the garden has a paddling pool surrounded by water toys, the careful positioning of the tee-pee and blanket will provide shade if my kids choose to need it. They could also use the line of washing that is drying as shade, if they wish! By the back door there is a box that boasts, everything a child may need in the garden on a hot day - sunscreen, hats, drinks bottles, and swimwear.

This all seemed to be an interruption to my own precious time to create, those undisturbed moments to create a Pilates class that my clients go WOW to, or to scribble the fragmented thoughts of the week onto paper - now that was the creating I was called to do! It seemed that those moments of creativity would be snuck into the margins of my everyday mothering - the job I’ve been entrusted with, the stewarding of two growing lives. If I could only see it from an altered perspective, instead of putting my creativity into neatly boxed compartments, could I see it as a chance to create alongside my children? Was it possible to rub shoulders at the kitchen counter as we all worked on our own creations, our together creations, high-fiving each other and providing encouragement and celebrating each others’ gifts and dreams?

Would I be able to shift from the need of a having a perfect space to create, to creating where I was and in the moment, showing those around me how to find enjoyment in the making?

Would I see that the making of a scrambled egg brunch was just another way to create, it may not be like the music of words floating across a page, and it was definitely a lot more floppy than the abdominals I was looking for through Pilates, but it its creation, our children were nourished and comforted, and it put the ‘h-angries’ at bay for another hour or so on a warm Saturday.

So here’s to scrambling eggs as we continue in the creativeness that we were born to express.