Wednesday 29 June 2011

'Arts and minds

Trampled down by the drudgery of unfinished housework and a 'to do' list that appears to have over-eaten, I am reminding myself of the days when my heart soared and I felt inspired.

We've done a few walks recently with the two littlest boys. Little One in a carrier on my husband's back; Tiny One in a sling on my front. We waited for the right conditions: decent night's sleep, dry weather, no one too hungry, no one too grumpy. The walks were glorious.

One was up a hill behind our house, round the top and past the reservoir. The last half-hour of the two hour walk was murder on my under-used legs and my dragged-down shoulders. But the physical exhaustion was worth it for the mental elation. A walk! With the kids! There was wind in my face, a hill beneath my feet, nothing but nature and space all around me, and inside I felt like Maria spinning on top of her 'Hills are alive'. Best of all it showed us both it could be done - that the boys would let us walk, would sleep or look around, but not moan incessantly to get out or get home.

One was up and down beautiful valleys and hills; a whole morning in the warm sunshine. We saw birds, streams, a ruined stately home, lizards, grasshoppers, a ruined mine, glistening water, trees of every ilk. I'm not sure how long we can do this, for though our strength carrying the boys will increase, I think their weight will increase faster. How long will we have to wait while the Little One's too heavy to be carried but too little to walk? I hope not too long. I have to be able to get up a hill to blow out the cobwebs and put the skip back in my trudging feet.

Another, disparate inspiring day was had about a month ago now, when our county held its Open Arts event. We managed to get to just one exhibition, little boys in tow, in the house of an artist. There were six exhibitors in total, including a crocheter (that can't be the right spelling!), sewer (always want to put a hyphen in 'sew-er' to remove lavatorial connotations!), illustrator, and several artists. I even spoke to some of them. I could hardly speak to anyone about it afterwards though. It was like that moment in Sleeping Beauty when, after 100yrs of sleeping, someone clears the jungle of vicious weeds and finds the castle again. I haven't done any art for 13 years, even though it was my raison d'etre for so long. About five years ago I dared to pick up a pencil and found I couldn't draw any more. But seeing that exhibition and talking to artists who believed in me despite not knowing me or my non-existent work... part of me woke up again. It's pretty scary, but I think I might be able to train myself back into doing it. And the sewing is a part of that.

Am I rambling? Time to get back to that merciless 'to do' list.

Thursday 23 June 2011

Twice was nice

Happy Birthday dear Little One! Well it was a few weeks ago but I'm only just getting around to posting.

I can't believe he's two. I remember his little squashed-up face lying serenely next to me in the cottage hospital where he was born. Breastfeeding while his little hand held my finger so firmly in his grip. Lying his little strong body against my folded legs so I could look into his big eyes and wonder about him. His confused face when we tried to tickle him (he's not very ticklish). The weeks of whinging that preceded the first crawling, when we realised our little lovely had bundles of energy and was desperate to be on the move. Him tottering around and laughing on the cricket pitch that we use as our extended back garden. Him perfecting the perfect take-off and landing to a jump but not managing the off-the-ground part in the middle of it. His first word ('bye') that took so long to arrive. His little teeth emerging with very little protest. His growing obsession with builders. This list could go on and on.

We are so head-over-heels with him now. We love the effort he takes to string two- and three-word sentences together. His amazing ability to throw and kick in the right direction, and even to catch. How his little teddy is getting more of a personality (and bodily functions!) every day he plays with it. The way he tells us off. The fun he has with his brother, the Big One, and the tenderness he shows to his other brother, the Tiny One. Him laughing at jokes (he was a serious little baby) and making them. The drama he bestows on finding a fly indoors. The pure joy he experiences outdoors, with space and freedom all around. His beautiful face, his slight but purposeful body, his funny little dance.

He had a lovely birthday, with his beloved grandparents there, a picnic, a sandpit, only one small meltdown and lots of (but not too many) great presents. And he understood the specialness of the day and the specialness of him. It was lovely to see. I am so enjoying seeing him growing up, and trying to remember to savour every moment and milestone as they pass by and vanish.

Thursday 9 June 2011

You do something to me

Here is a baby card for a friend's new little boy. But I'm just using the picture to introduce a few thoughts about my own baby boy. My Tiny One.

Oh he is so lovely. He has the cheekiest, silliest smiles. The Little One didn't smile as much as a baby so the Tiny One's smiles are so much appreciated. They usually make me giggle, and a little giggling goes a long way.

He smells delicious. Bury-your-head-in-his-hair delicious. I sink my nose in his big, soft, cushiony cheeks and smell him while I dance with him. I dance with him a lot - he's not too good at getting to sleep on his own, so the ever-familiar mummy-jig comes out of my hat regularly.

He is solid yet delicate. He has a bit of strength and control but is still so baby-like. Today I caught him trying to control his arm as he swiped for something on his baby gym. I think he is very clever.

He has beautiful eyes. I thought the Little One's eyes were just glorious, and they are - so round, big and blue. But the Tiny One's eyes are shaped like almonds, with lovely curled lashes, and a strange, bewitching colour that could either clear to blue or thicken to brown.

I feel like I am getting to know him. I know he is getting to know me. He lights up when he sees me. He relaxes into my hold. If he's getting a little tetchy on his own and he sees me, he goes up a few gears to crying because he knows I'm the one to tell how he feels to, and I'm the one to help.

I think I am falling in love.

Wednesday 8 June 2011

Thinking allowed

The Little One has been with us for two months now. I spent a lot of time yesterday feeling low because I was thinking about all the things I cannot do with two children under three. All the things that would have been populating exuberant blog posts full of successes and challenges. Things like...
  • I cannot cook or bake as much as I'd like. I wish I could be making stews and exotic salads, scones and quiches regularly. But having said that, there's an oxtail stew spending four hours softening away in my oven right now, and I made a lovely birthday cake for the Little One at the weekend.
  • There is never enough time for anything. It was my dad's birthday a fortnight ago and he's yet to receive his 2/3 sewn present. It was the Little One's birthday but he ended up with shop-bought quiches for his birthday picnic and none of the number '2' biscuits I had planned, making me feel thoroughly incompetent (I know I'm not, but every time I have a plan and don't achieve it I feel like a failure). But having said that, I made quiches (shop-bought pastry, but still) the following night for dinner, and I did make the cake. And I suppose sewing any kind of present with a just-out-of-newborn baby and a toddler around is not half bad.
  • I've been late for all the presents I should've given in the last month. There's a seven-year-old child of a friend yet to receive April's present, there's my dad, and a good handful more. But having said that, nothing would've been late if I'd have just bought the presents, and things are starting to move again on the sewing front.
  • The house keeps descending into what my mum called 'A Bomb Sittit' (but once I'd grown up I realised she was saying 'a bomb's hit it'). But having said that, I did get it vacuumed before the weekend. And a grimy sink here and there is not the end of the world.
Oh I could keep on with this list for hours. But today's me has been adding 'having said that' to every item, because today's me is feeling much better. I've achieved a lot more today, not least the oxtail stew. But I've also been remembering to count my blessings. Some of my friends and acquaintances would do anything to have a busy, slightly out-of-control, baby-filled life like mine: theirs are baby-less. And I keep feeling like a failure for not getting the vacuuming done, or for not making the scones I had planned, but then I remember the reason my time's been full: three lovely boys. Three boys who I've been spending time with. A Big One with whom I spent an hour the other night chewing the cud of life when I 'should've' been ironing. A Little One with whom I've been bouncing balls, setting up toy farms, reading stories and going for pottering little walks when I 'should've' been doing the housework. And a Tiny One who I keep feeding then sitting with making him give me more and more cheesy grins when I 'should've' been hurrying to get on with things.

What I should've been doing is exactly what I have been doing. Domesticity can take a slower pace for a while. And domestic tasks can certainly wait. We are getting there with both. But I'm here already mothering these three boys and there's no more successful way to spend my time.