Rain always makes me gloomy. We’re in a drought here, so the rain hasn’t been around as often. Its annoying to be affected by the weather. The laundry never did get off the ground yesterday so I vowed to be productive today. Sunday I went to a baby shower and got to spend a little time with this woman who taught me early morning seminary. The older I get, the more impressed I am with anyone who teaches early morning seminary. Its one thing to be awake and coherent at 6:30am, its another thing entirely to be prepared to teach grumpy, sleepy teenagers about scripture. I’ve always admired this former teacher of mine so it was nice to talk to her. The first thing she asked was, “Are you working on your art?” Which seemed a bizarre thing to ask. “Um…no.” I said. And then I pathetically said “Well, I guess I’m writing a bit.” And then she proceeded to give me a pep talk about how important it is to do the things that give you a sense of fulfillment and creative release. “Its important for your children to see you do that.” she said. And I’ve been thinking about that ever since. I find it hard to strike the right balance. With 4 young children it is really hard to do anything for myself. I blog, of course but I sometimes feel guilty for ignoring my kids for 30 minutes or so while I try and post something. Its hard to know exactly how much of yourself you are supposed to preserve. They won’t be babies forever, and when they are older and self-sufficient and think I’m the biggest idiot in the world am I going to miss the time I could have been sitting playing with them or holding them in my lap? Of course. I don’t know if you could ever do enough. Every night I lay down and think about all the things I could have done better. All the wrong messages I gave my daughter. All the lost patience with my little 2 year old. “Give yourself 30 minutes a day, 3 days a week to pick up the sketch pad and draw.” My teacher said. That isn’t a lot. But then is drawing or painting the talent I want to work on right now? Is it even worth it? It is spring time in North Carolina which means the wisteria is out and everything is in bloom. Its a beautiful time for landscapes. When I was a teenager I fancied myself an artist. There was something so romantic about throwing some pastels and charcoal in a bag and setting out on a landscape hunt. I was modeling my mentor and friend who is an artist. A few years ago this friend of mine and I compared notes on our lives. I have always envied her chosen profession. Art shows, trips to Europe to study, painting under the summer sky in a big straw hat. It seems like such an enjoyable way to spend your life. And of course, she said she envied the joy and fulfillment I have as a mother. “It would be like winning the lottery if you could do both.” She said. I’ve thought about that a lot.
So the rain and that conversation about what I’m not doing converged to make me very thoughtful. And gloomy. I wonder if there is more I should be doing artistically. I enjoy painting and drawing, but I don’t think I’m an artist. As a teenager I tip-toed around the world of artists wishing I could be like them. But there was a moment when I was looking at this exquisite drawing, masterfully executed and I just knew. I will never be able to produce that. I’m just not dedicated enough. And it made me want to cry huge angry tears and rip something up. Becoming a mom was very natural for me and I fell in love with my infant son immediately. It surprised me how much it was like falling in love romantically. You carry this little creature around for 9 months and there is a sense of loving and connection, but it is nothing like when the baby is born. At least for me. It was like going from fuzzy black and white to color HDTV. All the sudden the creature was a little baby, my baby and he was so sweet and helpless and warm. All I wanted to do was hold him. Every night I lay down and I’m in awe that I’ve been so blessed with these four amazing children. But in gaining these four amazing little people, did I lose something about myself? Maybe. I don’t spend an hour on my hair every day anymore. And I don’t get to goof around writing songs or painting. I definitely don’t get to go out whenever I want to. It would be nigh impossible for me to go work on landscapes. Is that okay? I honestly don’t know. I guess what I’m wondering is if all those things need to be part of my identity right now? Am I myself when I have all those interests scattered around in the periphery?
