The gentleness of heaven broods o’er the Sea;
Listen! the mighty Being is awake
(That’s Wordsworth that is.)
Thirty Second Therapy
Studiologue
Nothing to show for myself except a new paper cut. But…I’m brewing.
Mothership
There’s a piece of old Judeo-Christian wisdom that says do not despise the day of small things.
The day of small things — these small people in my life, this is their day. This is their day to receive the first, hearty and essential building blocks of love and identity and language and trust and eye contact and discipline and play. This time in their lives is irreplaceable in a charged way that no other season of their lives will be.
Recently, I have been considering this day of small things for me too. What can I do today, even in a ten minute slot, that is an investment in my next, less hands-on-mummying season?
I can’t afford the time or energy to not be extremely cognisant about what I select and I’ll readily admit to being ridiculously over-ambitious and often unable to strike the right balance between feeling personally fulfilled and doing a fantabulous job as a mum (NOT that they are mutually exclusive but that’s why it’s such a complex dance).
It got me wondering what wisdom my fifty-year old self might have for me in this season of small satellites. When I am fifty, what things will I be so glad that I did? What things will I berate myself for having mistakenly thought were so important?
I got all social network about it and asked the parents of grown-up children what advice they would give to their younger, small-child-rearing selves. A couple of my other friends (viral!) asked their networks too and here are some of the wonderful words of wisdom that were happily eaten up by us hungry younger ones:
Be consistent. Never lie, like if you say “if you do that, I will…”. Do it. Explain why, never discipline in anger. Show lots of love, have lots of fun. Pick your battles.
Do the dishes later… Play with the kids when they ask 
Don’t neglect the needs of your husband.
Don’t sweat the small stuff. In the grand scheme of things, your kids will remember your acceptance more than your performance.
Spend more time looking into their eyes than judging yourself about perfect order. Savor their realities in each moment because they will change. Give yourself a break and be able to say later that you were really present with them in each phase, to the best of your ability.
I would be softer–love them and discipline them, but gently. And enjoy!
Well I would say try and enjoy them as much as possible, time goes so quickly and when you are so busy and tired it’s hard to appreciate them. Leave anything that can be left and savour them.
The early years are foundation building years. Be confident as foundation builders- dig deep, choose the stones carefully. These are also years of discovering the depths of yourself – allow God in to rebuild you. He is the master builder. He is pretty good at dealing with failure! Then- ENJOY- celebrate the ordinary- make it extraordinary. I remember feeding babies in the dark and cold and thinking “you will never have this particular moment with this child again!” Oh yes-action is usually better than reaction!
As the default setting for mothers and women in general is ‘guilt’ then you need to ignore that for a start. Be sure to remember that you only have to be ‘good enough’ ( see Bowlby) and TRY to enjoy as much as you possibly can because as my mother-in-law used to say ‘your children’ are only lent to you. I used to think ‘what rubbish’ but now I know what she meant! X
It is without doubt that a mother (and let’s not forget fathers) is aiming to accomplish at least two things! 1) to rear a child that can function without issues around anxious attachment to their principle attachment object, usually mother in the early years and 2) that they complete the three phases of emotional development during the first 6 years of their lives, BUT don’t despair they ate given another opportunity to complete these building blocks during their adolescence! If you REALLY want to look into this on depth then I recommend ‘The Presenting Past’ by Michael Jacobs. It was a bit of a ‘bible’ for me when I was training with Relate [a counselling service]. The three stages are: Trust and Dependency; Authority and Control; Sexuality and Rivalry. When you think about 0-2, 2-4, 4-6 it is fairly easy to recognise these phases of development, I think!
My threepennyworth of advice would be: Hang in there! Forgive yourself your mistakes. Where there is love, they will know there is love. A lot of the time “it’s only a phase” as my mother so often said. I used to find that maddening but by the time I’d got to my fourth child I realised she was right.
Happy, thank you, more please!
Beautiful People
My pal Shayla and her sparkling daughter, Ruby are in the new Explosions in the Sky video.
The production team got genuine photos from 1952 and then recreated the scenes to play out the moments just before and after the picture was snapped. Great concept and artfully executed; their careful attention to detail really pays off. But the real draw for me is seeing my luminous friends being all glowy and gorgeous on film. High fives all round!
Studiologue
I’ve been working on ever-so-secret projects of late and so there is not much to show for my studio time. Here are two line drawings from my notebook that I Photoshop-blasted for the sheer satisfaction of it.
The Seed in the Fruit
A girl is born with all of her eggs already formed in her ovaries. It’s a powerful symbol of the fact that as you parent your child, you are also parenting their future children.
This is me, aged five. I love this photo because it carries many truths in it: A snapshot that somehow sucked up the mood, themes and feeling of an entire chapter. My Dad’s thumb, the tecnicolour vividness, the seaside holiday, the effort of my parents to make special memories for us with their limited resources [they succeeded], my serious and slightly solitary nature–always fiercely-oddly costumed. Apparently when we used to go to the beach I would immediately strip off, don my white Mickey Mouse sunglasses and red wellington boots and walk off alone to see the sights (except, it sounds like I was the sights!). My poor dad would have to track and follow me for many breakwaters with his binoculars.
At that age there were a lot of things that I insisted on. Little particular peculiarities like having to run out of the bathroom before the loo finished flushing or having to have EXACTLY the same portions as my bestbest friend and cousin, Alice. I don’t suppose it’s that unusual to have such foibles at that age but I do remember just how passionate I was about them.
I am so grateful to my parents and aunties and uncles who all sweetly accommodated the things that I insisted on because it wasn’t naughtiness, it was just part of my character. Now my sweet, tender Bang is five and he is complex and ritualistic and very insistent about certain things. And I am exercising that gift of patience just as I was shown it, time and time and time again. It helps that I understand entirely.
Hoops
After we went to watch marching bands, I delightedly went to the shop and purchased myself son a hula hoop.
He soon got bored of it but for a week, I practised and practised until I could keep the thing up. I was so doggedly determined because when I was little, I was *always*always* the one who couldn’t do fancy things like hula hooping or roller skating or pogo sticking or double dutch.
But being the phasical creature that I am, it didn’t end there. Oh no. I’m hooked. Or hooped. When my kids go to bed, I practise tricks like the corkscrew. And, what is more, I have become a hoop evangelist: Now all the cool cats come over and spin some plastic.
I think I like it because it is so mesmeric — a bit like doodling. I’m doing quite a lot of thinking during my hoop time these days.
Cristóbal Schmal illustration
1. Don’t assume that you have to propel the hoop or hold it up using your hips. No, no, no. Spin the hoop around your anchor-like core. It’s much more about your upper abs than your Beyonce hips.
2. Your movement should be more rodeo rider than belly dancer.
3. Bigger hoops are easier. Heavier hoops are easier.
4. Keep practising like a full-grown-fool in your yard– if your body accidentally does it right enough times, your clever muscles will start to magically remember the right way for you.
5. If you’re trying to do the corkscrew move, the key for me was to lift and spin with the hoop. The spin is the thing.
A Thought About….127 Hours
I saw it last week and found it very moving. You know when the helicopter comes at the end? I think that is what death is going to feel like.
I Been and I Seen
Oysters at Abel’s On the Lake
Verdict: I’m no Don Draper.
Marching Bands at the Honk, TX Festival
Verdict: Marching bands are still one of my favourite things. Marching bands make me cry. My event photography needs some work.
My Favourite Baby Deliverer
Verdict: I warmly recommend Austin Area Birthing Center and Samantha was fantastic.
King James Poetry Reading at the Harry Ransom Center
Verdict: A little dry as academia is wont to be at times. The exhibition itself is great though, I’d recommend it — lots of great typefaces and lithographs, mystical paintings, unusual Bibles and the original King James itself. And Chagalls!
A Bug Hunting for Eggs
Verdict: Hunting skills need improvement.
Peacocks Adorning Easter Morn
Verdict: Held deep in green being gifted royal colours — perfect. Brought to mind one of my favourite short stories by Flannery O’Connor.
Hannah Stoney is a British artist and writer.