The Audacity of Creation

"What are you going to create today?"

I woke up to that question on Sunday. I had spent much of the previous day proselytizing to my partner, Blake, about my plan for a new, more creative life.  Unsurprisingly, there had been some family fall-out from my previous post - the one where I talked about how I wanted to quit my job as a stay-at-home-mom and live a different life? Yeah...there needed to be some clarification. Not that Blake would have a problem with me getting a job out of the home - he definitely isn't that guy.  He needed to hear, though, that the blog was less about any anger about my current role, and more about my yearning to do and be what really makes my heart sing.

When I was in New York about a week ago, I joined my dear friend Susannah at her support group, AA. OK, not that AA, but you probably guessed that. They call themselves Audacious Artists, and they get together once a week over breakfast to talk about their careers in creativity. They have loosely based their meetings on The Artist's Way. A lot of the conversation when I was there centered around what had happened that week in their lives, but before they left, they each took a turn to speak their goals for themselves for the next week.

I don't know a lot about The Artist's Way. I checked it out at the library a couple of years ago, and was disheartened about the level of commitment it appeared to require, as well as put off by the quasi-religious New Age vibe it has going. But I was inspired by this group and what they have going on. A couple of their members couldn't make it because they are appearing in Broadway shows.  The group is clearly doing something for people, and in a way that is supportive and non-judging while still holding its individual members accountable.

If New York taught me one thing it's that this is something I want for myself: a group of like-minded individuals pushing each other forward. Blake and I are lucky in that we provide that kind of support to each other on a daily basis.. But we have discovered we wouldn't mind having other input. Between the two of us, we know a lot of writers, actors, poets, dancers and artists of all types. We're starting a group of our own - Audacious Artists Albuquerque (AAA?) if you will.

So, first thing on Sunday morning Blake asks me "What are you going to create today?" And this seems like as good a start as anything. And also a little terrifying.

Can I create something every day? What right do I have to think I can do that? Who the hell do I think I am?

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” Marianne Williamson

Today I created a blog posting. Yesterday Blake created a perfect moment with our children. What amazing things could happen if we ask ourselves that simple question every single day?

Here's to audacity. The Audacity of Creation.

An Essay Needs a Conclusion

I think I might quit my job.
I'm bored.
I don't feel challenged by it.
I think my talents may lie in other areas.
Here's the thing, though. My job? Stay-At-Home Mom.
Can't really "quit" being a full-time mom, can you? You could job share, maybe. But you never, ever just quit. Or if you do, you become the subject of afternoon talk shows and psychologically grueling first novels.

And the truth is, I don't want to quit being a mother. I love being a mom, I love my children - of course I do! But, come on, I'm an acronym - SAHM - and I really don't want to be labelled that easily. Never have wanted that. No one's life is that simple.

The past few months have been a transition for me back into the creative world of theater and art. I got cast in a play, a fairly big part in a fairly famous play. It's community theater, sure, but it's an opportunity to practice, to polish my skills, to use the degree I studied long and (sort of) hard for. And it's been a truly rewarding process. I feel like I needed to grow up and experience more of life to really open up as an actress, and finally I'm at a place where I can do my chosen art at a level I am proud of.

However, my art required me to be away from my kids 4 or 5 nights a week for six weeks of rehearsals, and now that we're in performance I'm away at least one night a weekend. This is a huge change for me, and for our family. We've all adjusted, but it hasn't been easy.

Then, last weekend, I went even further. I took a solo trip to New York. A play I had a hand in writing was being produced as part of a minor festival in an old and storied Off-Off Broadway theater.  I was in New York for about 36 hours total - I saw the play produced, I met friends new and old over several drinks, and had a delightful dinner with my in-laws at an Afghan restaurant in the East Village. It was a whirlwind. It changed me. Or more correctly, it reminded me of who I am and what I want to be and do.

I flew back to Albuquerque on Fathers Day, had a delightful date with my partner without the kids (his one Fathers Day request!) and then went to the theater for that evening's performance. I was exhausted, but high on the idea that my life had, for about 48 hours, been about nothing but Art.

I woke up on Monday morning with an Art hangover and a Reality cold shower. I didn't want to be home taking care of my kids. I wanted to be hanging out with smart adults talking about theater and creativity. I was angry to be here. Naturally, I felt a crushing sense of guilt.

Now what?

I wish I had a good answer. These blogs are essays and, as any high school English teacher would tell you, essays need solid conclusions.  Don't they?

One question I was asked over and over again in New York was a variation of "What are you writing now?" My answer was either "nothing, really..." or "there's a blog," or the unfortunate cop-out "I have kids." None of these answers were honest. I do write this blog, but I don't write it regularly enough for it to be a Blog. I have received unbelievable encouragement from friends and family and truly surprising praise from people I've never met. I see that this blog and it's voice has an audience, and that if I committed more time it could really be Something.

But, whenever I am asked why I don't write more often, I take the coward's way out. I blame my kids.

My kids are not keeping me from writing. The truth is I'm entering essay territory where there are no easy conclusions. If I don't know where I'm going, how can I ask others to get in the car?

But, maybe you want to take that risk. Who am I to stop you?

We may be heading off the familiar Moms-who-blog road. I'm warning you now.
But, look, I'm more than a mom. We all are. We are, in essence, creators.
I'm heading out on a new journey toward Shamelessly Imperfect Creativity. This essay - without a conclusion -is the first step.

Mother of the Year...or Year of the Mother...or Motherf*&%#er That Was a Year

Our little girl's first birthday is tomorrow.  It seems like as good a time as any to reflect on what has turned into the most challenging year of my life.
"Really?" I hear you saying.
Harder than when your mom had breast cancer? Yep.
Harder than when your parents got a divorce? Yep.

Ask anyone with more than one child. They will back me up.I hear all the time about how much harder it is to transition from one child to two (as opposed to becoming a mom for the first time.) No one told me that when I was pregnant with her, but that's part of the conspiracy. Only occasionally does the Truth come out, usually from complete strangers.  One couple in Boston on New Years Eve struck up conversation with us while waiting for the train. They were out celebrating their anniversary. She said one thing: "Going from two to three is even harder. Don't do it!" Then they both laughed. Bitterly.

Better get a back up birth control method, stat.

So, why was this year so challenging? A fair question, and difficult to answer. I think it is a confluence of a number of factors:

1. Three is the New Two
     You hear it all the time: Terrible Two's. Guess what? It's utter bullshit. My son was a sweet charming person when he was two. He cried when he got physically hurt, but he did not throw tantrums. He shared toys willingly with his friends. He would sit for an hour and look at his books. Then he turned three and all hell broke loose. He wants everything his way, and NOW. He's surly. He screams for no apparent reason. He hits people and throws things. I've considered looking into an exorcist.
But, the truth is he is becoming more fully himself. He has more of an emotional vocabulary, and has discovered that he feels sadness and rage about what he can't do yet on a pretty regular basis. Not that this fact makes it easier to deal with high pitched screaming in the moment. And that leads me to...

2. Girls are Different than Boys
     There was a time I would have been loathe to admit this. And maybe it's just that my girl is different from my boy. Whatever the case, my daughter is a much more, let's say, expressive person than her brother was at this age. The screaming. Dear God, the screaming.  It's been this way from the day she was born, or else I would think somehow she felt she had to scream to be heard over her screaming brother. Screaming, screaming, screaming. She is also less willing to wait for what she wants. And with two children needing my attention, someone always has to wait. Hence, more screaming.
I'm glad she feels free to express herself, I really am. I want my daughter to know she can be loud and demanding if that's her personality. I don't want her to be the nice quiet girl I was, seething with opinions and rage on the inside.Which, in turn leads to....

3. Me. Mine! Mine! My Life!
I've been a full-time Stay-At-Home-Mom for almost two years now, and I'm going just a wee bit crazy.The thing about a challenging year is, you figure out where your limits are. A short list of what I've discovered:
I'm a happier person if I get to take a shower every day.
Happier still if I get out by myself to have a beer with a friend, go see a movie, or do a little shopping.
Sometimes, I don't want anyone touching me.
I am still in love with my partner, and more importantly I really like him. I want to talk to him without interruptions, go out to dinner with him, sleep with only him in our bed. 
I need things that are just mine. A play to direct. A blog to write. A class to take. Friends.

The long and the short of it is, all of us have more fully become ourselves this year. And discovering yourself is always more challenging than going with the (stagnant) flow. And, of course, I wouldn't take a minute of the last year back. I have a beautiful, funny, happy daughter and a new relationship with her. I have a family in a way I never did before. And I have a whole new acceptance for the Mother I Am.




Maybe I don't get a Perfect Mother Award with a sparkly tiara. I yell and cry too much for that, I think, and my house is pretty much always a mess.
But I can buy my own damn tiara, and wear it every day if I want.
I'm Shamelessly Imperfect.
And I'm back.