In January of 2023, I dip a paintbrush into watercolor for the first time. My heart flutters and my hand pauses just above the paper. The makeshift artist's corner of our dining room table was set up as seen on Andrea Nelson’s Instagram. The paint brushes in all shapes and sizes stand brush side up in a red solo cup set next to two mason jars full of water. One is to get excess paint off the brush, and one is to truly cleanse the brush. The palette with its rainbow assortment of colors watches me like a maître de from the front of a prestigious restaurant, wondering if I’d even have the money to pay for the five star meal. I wet the palette with the water from a spray bottle to activate the colors, and suddenly the maître de is smiling.
All the supplies lay in front of me like soldiers waiting for their orders. But my thoughts wavered and my heart felt heavy, frozen thick with fear. What if I fail at this? What if I don't enjoy it? Why did I spend an entire gift card to the local art store on this stuff when I could have spent it on my children?
Then, calmly, and from very far away, a voice whispers "But what if this creative outlet becomes a masterpiece you can frame? What if it makes you happy?" My hand daintily grasps the paintbrush and places the cerulean blue onto the water drenched area. The color blooms across the paper. Immediately my heart floats with wonder and excitement. I know I'm on the right path. Maybe I'm a painter as well as a mother.
In June of 2023, I push the publish button on my Substack for the first time on a piece of work I was (and still am) proud of. I was admittedly more nervous than dipping my brush into watercolor, because now my art was going be out in the world for all to see. Well at first, it would only be my mom as an audience. Maybe a couple of good friends. Or maybe no one.
In the front of my mind, the harsh voice resurfaces, clouding my brain. What if my mom hates it? Or my friends don't read it the way I wanted it to come across?
That soothing voice melts out of the fog, a balm to the negative thoughts, "What if you put your art into the world, and even one person can be helped by following your journey? What if everything you are trying to put into words about your journey resonates with more moms like you, lost but on the cusp of rediscovery? And what if it makes you happy?"
So, I did it. I pushed the exalted and revered button, and the feeling of wonder and excitement make my heart float again. My mom sent a text telling me she missed reading my writing. My friends text me that they resonate with what I'm talking about. Maybe I'm a writer, and a painter, and a mother.
When the countdown to 2024 starts at 11:59:50 pm EST, that excitement potently swirls around me again. Hope is soaring through my body as my husband and I sit on the couch in our living room amidst some blankets and bowls of snack foods. The kids have been tucked safely into bed for a few hours now. My heart flutters as we count down together "five … four … three … two … one … " and I can't help but feel that sense of wonder, just like when the paintbrush swirls color onto paper, and my fingertips push the Substack publish button.
Before 2023 I didn’t make time for creativity because in motherhood, taking that time to myself felt extraordinarily greedy. As the children grow and the days become more of a routine, the feeling of creativity bubbles inside me. Writing in a journal and in a notes app, and creating a space at the dining room table for painting were just the beginning. Pushing the negative thoughts back, and creating while my kids watched instead of trying to carve out those minutes by myself felt empowering. In creating while they watch, I show them that creativity doesn’t have to be done only in the quiet portions of the day while no one is watching (and everyone is silent). It became apparent that it’s a gift to create with people I love surrounding me. No matter the noise or the mess that follow. I can paint while they eat snacks, and write beside them as they bathe, and they see their mom totally enjoying more of the little things.
In 2024, I'm speaking my dreams into reality, and working toward those dreams one small step at a time. Even if the essay doesn’t get published or the painting isn’t worthy of hanging in an art show, that’s okay. The start of a new hobby, and the journey through to the finished product is where the joy is. Happiness is putting down the distractions and picking up the things that soothe my soul. And in that journey, I am saying hello to becoming more than a mother.
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 "Hello".
**Huge thanks to my writing mastermind group - without their encouragement and editing, this post would not have been released, hidden away in my writing files.**
I love this and love your paintings 💜
I resonate with so much of this... though I'm still in that season of trying to find little bits of time for myself since my kids are still small and needy. I love your watercolors too! That's something I want to make time for once my kids are a bit older.