To making things we love
Morning light streams into the kitchen, hitting the dining table that my husband and I purchased when we were newly married seven years ago. The table now more closely resembles a workbench splattered with paint and crumbs, faded rings from hot coffee cups left too long, and errant dry erase markings that, apart from the whiteboard, do not actually erase at all.
As Ashlee Gadd says, “Creativity is happening here.”
My mom got me a fancy planner for Christmas with space to write up to eight yearly goals and break them down into monthly action items. Though it feels irresponsible, I have chosen only one goal for now: write my morning pages.
I have committed to writing every day whether or not I wake up before the kids. Whether or not I feel like it. Whether or not there are a million other things I should do instead (isn’t that always the case?)
So on mornings like today, when premenstrual insomnia kept me up half the night and we just got back from vacation and our schedules are all off kilter, I write my words while my daughter draws.
My four-year-old, Nadia, reaches for a new crayon. I chuckle at the sight of her. Her hair is crazed from sleep and her refusal to let me brush it; she holds the crayon in a balled up fist that I know her teachers will try to break her of once she starts kindergarten. Best of all, she is wearing the cherry topping hat from my ice cream sundae Halloween costume. She looks like a red teletubby.
“I’m making things I love,” she tells me as she draws picture after picture. She draws a rainbow, X’s and 0’s, snowflakes and fireworks, a road, a line, a heart, a cross for Jesus, a giant slide, and in big block letters: MOM.
In my own notebook, I’ve cataloged a list of to dos, a series of gripes and complaints. It’s part of the process, I’m beginning to understand, writing down the gunk to get to the good.
My daughter, she starts with the good.
I’m making what I love.
Hmm. Can it be that simple?
In my mind, obligations come first, enjoyment is secondary. What should I write? What should I do? What must come first? I must complete my task list before I do something fun. Most days my task list lingers; I never make it to the fun.
What if I don’t need to earn the things I love?
What if I can start with the good? Schedule them in, even?
One of the exercises in The Artist’s Way invites you to list out 20 things you enjoy doing and then make a date with yourself to do one of those activities each week.
If my daughter can delight in roads and lines and cherries, surely I can come up with 20 activities I might enjoy.
I start my list of deliciously impractical activities I love:
Ice skating
Hiking
Steaming hot jacuzzis
Roller blading
Scooter rides with the kids
The beach
A captivating memoir
Zumba dance classes
A one-on-one conversation with a dear friend
Writing
Fire pit gazing
Swimming
Hot baths while watching a crime show
Latin music Peloton rides, bonus points if it’s Tunde
TS Eliot
Writing cards
Reading my words out loud
The upside down rides at SeaWorld
Celia Cruz and Shakira dance parties with my kids
It turns out there’s a lot I love after all. I take out my fancy new planner, give thanks for five-morning a week preschool, and write in for Friday morning: Aly Artist Date, 9:30-11am, SeaWorld. (I live 20 minutes from SeaWorld San Diego and have annual passes.)
It feels so irresponsible, scheduling play before work, before the task list is done. As a writer and creative I want to make more things I love this year: blog posts and newsletter drafts, encouraging notes and prayers–maybe even a book.
As a person, I want to make a life I love: filled with exercise endorphins, Latin beats, meaningful connection, family adventures, and deep belly laughs.
In 2023, I am committing to start with the good to make a life I love. I don’t have to earn the fun; it’s there for the taking. Regardless of my output or productivity, whether or not I feel like I “deserve it,” I am allowed to play.
“You know what I love more than the things I putted on my list?” my daughter asks me as she scoots her chair closer to mine.
“Mom!” she squeals as she hugs me tight. I squeeze her back then pick up my pen to write:
This, this moment right now. Creating with my girl with the crazy hair and sweet words, making things we love, together.
I am grateful for this life I get to make, the love I get to choose.
So cheers to making and doing things we love this year
To scheduling play
To micro-delights
To daily joys
To childlike wonder
Cheers to making a life we love.
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How about you? Can you list 20 things you love? Can you schedule one activity you love each week? Can you find one micro-delight in each day?
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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Cheers!".
