Sunday, 22 January 2012
It's been nine months since my last couple of posts. And before that little bit last April, there was a gap of almost a year.
I've figured it out. You see, I read other people's blogs and they have babies and there are pictures of them (the babies) sleeping on their (the parent's) lap and the person is knitting. And they say things like "I just can't help it - I have to do something creative every day." They live creative lives.
I don't ask myself how. That I know: there is no such thing as super-mom, -dad, -whoever. You trade what you want for what you can do. Baby got new hand-knit socks, but I'm not even going to think about posting a picture of the giant dust bunnies under the bed who will stealthily come out at night and eat said socks. Right? (Everyone nod in recognition :)
However, I have asked myself why. As in, why don't I? Apart from hectic last-minute hours of sewing presents, I've barely stepped foot in the studio. Granted, half the time the past year-and-a-half it was full of crap from our floor renovation, but it's not like I went down into the depths to retrieve my sewing because, you know, I needed to make something. Apparently I don't. And this made me feel less of a crafter, less....genuine.
I've gotten over it :)
And that's 'cause I've figured it out. Mr. S.'s Nana (who sadly passed away almost a year ago) said of me, before Safiya was born, that I was going to be a mother "like a hen to baby chicks". I had no idea what she meant. I was hoping it was a compliment, but I could tell by her tone that it wasn't, not exactly. It's taken me a while, but I get it now.
Have you ever tried to take a chick away from a hen? Hens are vicious. And it's true, I'm that kind of protective and watchful over my children. But you know what else? That's all hens do. They eat and they take care of their chicks. And that's me. All my energy, creative or otherwise, goes into my baby. And that's just the way it is.
Until one day the desire comes back. That restless feeling starts. Fabric bins are sorted for no other reason than to feel the fabric and see the wonderful colours.
The last time that happened was the beginning of this space five years ago: Valentine's Day, 2007. Safiya was two-and-a-half years old.
Zinadine's almost two. So if you see the odd sight of a hen clucking down the road, needle in hand (wing?), a cloud of fabric scraps trailing after her, don't worry, it's just me, flying the coop :)