by leah piken kolidas

I knew that managing my art life with a young baby at home would be challenging, but what I didn’t count on was how much the lack of sleep, with a baby who likes to be up at all hours, would take a toll. But here I am, in the middle of Art Every Day Month, and I am creating every day. At first I felt stressed about keeping up with the art, with the challenge, and wondered if I was over-doing it. But the truth is, that making time to make some art every day is a much needed moment of peace and beauty in my day.

What else have I learned this month? I learned that it’s helpful to start a piece during the morning nap and then finish it after dinner. I learned that having a pair of latex gloves is enormously helpful when painting, so I can have clean hands at a moment’s notice when I’m painting during nap time. I’ve learned that making inkblots is still enormously satisfying and quick on those days when I have little energy left. And I’ve learned that staying up late to catch up on things, in most cases is just not worth it!

My husband was curious to see if my art would be impacted by having Annabelle. And it has, but again, not quite in the ways I’ve expected. He thought I might be making more art about babies, but instead I’m creating more art about being up in the middle of the night and the moon, that pours through the windows during late night feedings.

What I’d like to say to other creative moms of young babies, is that carving out time for your creative self is still important. I think it’s one of those things that can easily slide as we focus on simply surviving and getting a shower in most days. But still, I think having a means of self-expression is an important way to stay in touch with the you that is not just a mother.

That said, I’m also love creating just for Annabelle, a little board book of things she loves, a fleece jacket, and someday soon, some homemade finger paint we can play with together! I can’t wait for the years of creative play we have ahead of us. In the meantime, I’ll keep on carving out those moments (and longer chunks) of time to be creative, just for me. I think in doing so, I’ll be even more alive and available for her.

Leah Piken Kolidas is a mixed-media artist living near Boston with her husband, their daughter and their four cats. She blogs and runs creative challenges at her blog, CreativeEveryDay.com and sells her art at BlueTreeArtGallery.com. She is a fan of silly socks, laughing loudly, her daughter’s smile, fresh paper, and sleeping.

by jacqueline drake

Easier said- than actually done right ? For some of you that might be an easy task. You might actually thrive in complete and utter chaos – and then there is the rest of us. That chaos that Iʼm speaking about is our crazy busy lives we have with our children, spouses and the rest of the family and community .It is in these demands, wants and needs that is the actual fabric of our lives. So we strive to find a balance in being a mom and an Artist and being able to weave this chaos into a beautiful masterpiece.

As mother- artists we also have the greatest opportunity to be that central beacon of creativity and calm that our families come to rely on. So my questions to you are these – How do we get there? Why is it sometimes so hard to get there? How do we become that calm Zen Mamma in the storm? The answer actually, is not so foreign to us as mother artists. We simply need to Create -to find it.

That Peace happens when we are creating a beautiful piece, or making collages or when we feel so inspired to pick up our cameras right at that very moment. It is from stringing beads to painting a large canvas to clipping and collaging photos. the act of creating falls into a slow methodical state. It is this methodical state that we all go into while we are creating and we find a great sense of calm and groundedness.

There are many words that people may use to describe this place where their minds might go when creating something. Some people call it in the Flow or in The Zone. My favorite comes from the a Zen Buddhist teaching, from the book” The Tao of Painting” , “Wu Wei “-meaning to silence the mind and then the work is allowed to express itself. I have found that there is no other form of therapy, counseling or even exercise that can give me that kind of grounding peace in my hectic life.

After studying many years in the healing arts and going back to art school, I developed my own unique and intuitive style in my own creative process. and it is in this process that I find inner peace and the centering that my family and others need me to be. My technique is finding that space and then taking it a step further and making it into a prayerful mediation. I then set an intent. Some might call it a mantra, or even a positive affirmation. In Sufism it is call Remembrance. I then use that when Iʼm painting to return me to that place of centering and calmness.It is in this place that I truly am connected to a divine energy and source.

It is so wonderful to know that us, as creative mothers have this abundance source of calming, centering and grounding energy so we can be that beacon of creativity and to help us get through the day and to weather all the storms that come along.

by kristin noelle

Making art and working with my hands have been lifelong loves and ones I’ve delighted in sharing with my kids (now 3 and 5). Peak in my windows almost any day and you’ll find one or more of us drawing, painting, building, taping, clipping, ripping, shaking, mixing, or baking.

The less obvious expressions of my creativity, however, have often been my lifelines in the challenges I face as a contemplative woman (read: person who thrives on quiet time alone), mothering two young, and appropriately active kids.

Here are four of my most treasured creative practices:

1. Nurturing wonder:

Like gratitude, wonder shifts my awareness away from the challenges that have accompanied life with young kids for me: fatigue, autopilot syndrome (the necessary repetitiveness of tasks sometimes turns this on in me), self pity.

I nurture wonder by trying to pay attention to both smaller and bigger details than I might otherwise see: the tenacity of the ants who search for food in our home; the way light streams through windows differently depending on the season and time of day; the colorations of flowers and leaves; the full orchestra of workers required to plan and build the house down our street.

When I look closely at any such thing, and consider the beauty or miracle inherent to it, I feel grateful and glad. I feel energized to create a life for myself and my kids where wonder is part of the air we all breathe. Is the ground by which we find ourselves supported.

2. Playing with answers:

Kids ask a lot of questions. And it’s a natural instinct to either give them an answer, to say, “I don’t know,” or to offer some version of, “Mommy needs a break from questions now, kay?”

I’ve discovered, however, that a little creativity in the midst of question-asking transforms my question fatigue into something more like wonder.

When my kids ask me a question, whether I have an answer or not, I often ask them if they have ideas about it. If they don’t, I prime the pump a little bit – either with a plausible answer, or with something that’s beyond the range of plausibility. “Do you have another idea?” I then say. We often launch into full-on brainstorm mode, where all three of us are coming up with numerous hypotheses for why there’s a dent in the car next to us, or a hole in the road, or a worker doing something with power lines overhead.

I leave sessions like this awe-struck by the human mind, and by the ways kids and adults can think creatively when pushed even gently to do so.

3. Tangibly valuing my work and self care

Young kids are appropriately needy, and I quickly and whole-heartedly…and at times with great overwhelm…accepted this reality.

Trial and error proved that complete neglect of MY needs, however, was bad for everyone involved. So I’ve made a practice of tangibly valuing my work and self care even in the midst of this intensely self-giving season.

For me, this has meant negotiating 20-30 minutes of solo meditation time in the morning while my husband watches the kids; a half hour of “room time” each afternoon for all of us, even when my kids were done needing to nap; two afternoons of babysitting so that I can write and make art not only when I’m tired in the evenings; saying “no” sometimes when an otherwise healthy, requested activity would take more from me than I feel I can freely or joyfully give.

These are all things that have taken creative thought to fit in and make habitual, and all things I consider integral to the health and happiness of me AND my kids.

4. Maintaining tension with my ego.

Sibling spats are one of my biggest triggers of anger. Recognizing my anger as an ego flare (i.e. I’m personally offended that you don’t have adult-level impulse control, kids! or Why are you making life so hard for me? or I feel so out of control of the situation when you fight like this – how dare you make me feel this way!) has led me to apply my creativity *often* to holding tension with my ego. Almost every day I’m trying to give nods of recognition to my ego in the face of sibling spats while simultaneously taking deep breaths, choosing a calm voice over the instinctual one of indignation, working to pull away from the situation in my mind and view it from the outside, at a much more cool distance.

My average of success at such things has room to improve (!), but I’m finding so much satisfaction in the efforts I expend to think creatively about how to avoid ego-traps, and how to get myself out of them once I’ve fallen in.

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I hope that in all the art we create together, all the art I sell and make a living from, my children learn alongside of me that creating a mindful, wonder-rich life, where respect of self and others are part of the very same whole, is one of the greatest beauties we could ever hope to know.

Kristin Noelle is a writer and illustrator. Her blog, Trust Tending, uses music, words, and art to nourish Life beyond fear. She lives in Los Angeles, California with her husband, young kids, and five chickens.

in the spirit of nurturing creative moms, we are giving away 1 Free Month’s Subscription to Care4Hire.com to help you find a fabulous caregiver to support your family’s needs!  finding help and unfettered time to lean into your creative life is invaluable.  to win, simply leave a comment on this post by sunday, june 26th and one winner will be announced on this post on 6/27… good luck!

by maya donenfeld

When my first child was very young, he was used to having my undivided attention. Upon hearing the phone ring, he often fell apart. I began avoiding the phone, but sometimes it’s necessary. I came up with a solution: a special box that was kept out of reach, buy near the phone. It contained stickers, tape, and odds and ends that I knew he’d consider treasures. It worked! By the time he was bored with the box idea, he was learning to share me with the occasional phone call. It was this memory that inspired my daughter’s new ART BOX.

Although my life is vastly different than those early days of mothering one child, I’ve found myself having the same challenges of needing to get something done with a little person at my side. A phone box of sorts came to mind. Since many of my to do’s right now are creative, I decided to make my daughter a “once in a while”   art box filled with fresh and exciting tools and supplies for creating next to me. What artist, young or old, doesn’t love fresh art materials!? I took an old shoe box, painted it, made a label, and stuffed it with the following:

Tubes of water colors and a mixing palette

Her first acrylic paints

Brushes

Small canvases

Scrap of wood

Blank wooden pegs

My girl is six and quite an accomplished little artist, so I had to choose supplies that would feel different than her other art stuff… grown up and sophisticated. She’ll use these with me.

I plan on bringing out the box only when I have to get a project done and for special occasions. I want it to feel exciting and enticing. My hope is that she’ll feel a sense of pride in her ability to do her own “work” just like mama.  My goal is that the moments when I feel pulled in two directions: artist/mother – will sometimes become opportunities to work side by side with my child. Inspiration and collaboration are bound to happen when we’re together. This little box contains much more than yummy supplies. It holds potential… and an invitation to be together.

Maya is a mother, wife, artist, maker, gatherer, and reinventor who lives in rural New York with her husband and two children. They ramble in and around their old 1850’s farmhouse and the surrounding  meadows, creeks and forests. 10 years ago they moved out of the city to raise their family closer to nature and the seasons. She’s grateful for the beauty of where she lives every day, and has found sharing it only deepens the appreciation. Her designs reflect a desire to use sustainable resources woven in with inspiration from  the natural world. She’s passionate about encouraging others to find their unique creative voice and gain confidence in making things with their own hands.

read more about Maya’s life and art at her blog maya*made

by corinne cunningham

It’s 9:30 on any given morning in our tiny apartment. The kids have finished their favorite PBS line up, and the TV has been turned off. I’ve taken a shower while playing referee two rooms over.  My camera bag is filled with the essentials for an adventure: camera, wallet, cell phone, and snacks a plenty.

The morning has started off with stuffy noses and attitudes coming from all parties. It takes a half an hour to dress my two year old daughter and nearly four year old son in sweats and sneakers.

They hem and they haw and they say they want to stay home and watch television. Or build forts. Or play with trains. Or drive their mama to the brink of insanity with bickering and sibling rivalry.

An outing is not only an option, it’s a necessity.

We slink to the station wagon at a snails pace. One child complaining that the sun is too bright, the other annoyed that the first would dare to talk. But I know this is good for them. For me.

Kids wrestled and buckled into car seats, I finally back out of our parking spot and as I turn briefly to check on the whereabouts of the other parked cars. I catch eyes rolling in the backseat, and feet kicking each other.

And we’re off. We drive down familiar roads, and my mood lifts as the kids settle in and listen to Laurie Berkner and they start to giggle as they sing that they have choc-o-lot in their pock-o-lots.

We arrive at our destination, a farm with expansive grounds for hiking, horse back riding, and dog walking. It is a hidden treasure that our family of four has cherished for the past few years. Just beyond the dirt parking lot lies a walking path lined with trees that welcome each season. My favorite time to visit is October and November, when the leaves burst with color and then give way to under foot leaf crunching goodness.

As soon as their feet hit the ground the kids know where to go. And I let them bound ahead of me as we all breathe in the fresh air and sunshine. My son is a connoisseur of sticks and rocks, and within the first five minutes of our hike he has loaded his arms with the cream of the crop. My daughter searches for the perfect acorn, she pockets a dozen.

I’m on a mission as well, and am in search of my tree. My son knows which one it is, and points to each tree that we pass with a grin and says “Is this your tree, mommy?” and I always reply, “no, Fynn, it’s just up ahead” and my heart warms. We pass seedlings that need leaves to cover their tender bottoms as blankets, and the kids touch their tiny branches tenderly. We witness magic.

When we come to my tree, no matter the season, I feel free. The branches reach out in a lopsided fashion, the trunk calls for sweater covered back and a good book to keep it company.

And it’s there that I find it, guaranteed. I find my creative soul. My energy. My want to sit and write and create and dive into depths that I don’t even know exist. It’s my spot. We all have one. The place where everything comes into focus and clarity is within reach.

by tracey clark

by michelle ensminger

This summer my family did something we’d never done before—we hosted an art exhibit in our home.  And not an exhibit for just any artist.  This exhibit was for our 7-year-old son.

by jo packham

Art is something that has a different “definition” for each of us. For some of us it is painting on a canvas, for some it is creating collectable pieces of jewelry, for some it is the sanding and rubbing of wood until it is as smooth as glass.

And Art is something that is created for different reasons for each of us. For some it is a hobby; for some it is our livelihood; and for some it is just the most practical, inexpensive, and creative way to get the job done.

That is what Art was for my mom … only I don’t think she ever realized how artistic she really was. She was creative yet practical and she was extravagant in a very frugal sort of way. She always reminded me that we were never to consider ourselves “poor” … broke maybe … but never “poor” and she loved a beautiful home so to have what she wanted she simply found a way to create one that she could afford all by herself. My mom painted every room in our house every year … and always a different color. She did not  have the financial resources to hire someone to do it for her so she taught me. I think I was only six when my mom put a paintbrush in my hand and showed me the proper way to load the brush, how to put the paint on the wall so that there were no streaks, and always how to properly clean up after myself.

I didn’t mind painting with my mom. She needed the help and it was better than when I had to clean out closets for her or scrub the kitchen floor. And I loved the immediate satisfaction of seeing a room change right before my eyes.

In fact painting my room with the skills my mom had given me, all by myself, is one of my fondest memories. When I was about 11, I announced to my mom that I wanted to paint and decorate my room, all by myself. I took my money from picking peonies, got on the bus, and went to town. I bought several gallons of chartreuse paint. It has always been my favorite color. I then proceeded on my journey to purchase a cotton candy pink bedspread and matching pillow shams, ruffled cotton candy pink drapes for the window, and a cotton candy pink fuzzy bathroom rug to put by my bed to keep my feet warm on winter mornings.

I went home and while my mom was at work I painted my room, including the ceiling the brightest boldest happiest chartreuse green you can ever imagine. I let it dry, hung my drapes, made my bed, and stood back to enjoy my “work”. My mom was stunned by my new room, in fact every time I left for school she would close the door so that when she walked down the hall she would not have to see what I had done to a room in her home. But she never said a word and I loved that room, I still love that room. It was a safe happy place for me all through my teen years. It was my own personal shelter in the storm … and I had created it all by myself!

I taught my children to paint just like my mom taught me. We painted Sara’s bedroom every year. One year we took cans of spray paint and grafittied the walls, one year it was light pink, one year it was all white, one year it had gardens painted and imaginary windows.

When Justin was in college he moved in with his girlfriend and one Friday morning he called me with a sound in his voice I had never heard. He asked me if I could drive to Logan NOW and because it was so unlike him I got in my car and left. When I got to their new home I pulled up in the driveway and tried to remain calm. It looked like a vacant building that should have long ago been condemned. What was left of the grass was brown and filled with weeds, the screen door was falling off its hinges, and the there was little paint left anywhere on the outside of the house. I walked in the living room and Justin and his girlfriend were sitting on the couch very close to tears. I said, “Sweetheart, is this your new place?” and he looked at me with a look that tears a mother’s heart apart and said, “Mom, I think I have made a huge mistake here.” After a little discussion I learned that they had rented the house because they wanted to have barbecues in the yard with their friends and they wanted a place that was “theirs” to fix up.  But, oh my hell, you should have seen the inside of that house … it should have been torn down.

So I cheerfully and confidently said, “Not a problem … everything can be fixed with a new coat of paint”. We went to Lowes and bought a different color for every room, and they were having a special on “Persian” rugs so we bought those too.

We went home and in 2 days, 4 of us painted that house from top to bottom, inside out. We even painted new enamel in the bathtub. It was fabulous. We did have one minor set back while painting the living room – which was quite large. We had 4 gallons of paint mixed, Addie started at one side and Justin started at the other side. When they met in the middle they discovered that the clerk at the store had mixed two different colors of paint … that did not look good together … so one half of the room was taupe and one half was kind of this golden pee color. I asked the kids why they hadn’t noticed and they simply said they thought they would dry to be the same color. So we went back to Lowe’s, had them remix 4 new gallons, and started again. This time starting them both in the middle of the room and moving to the sides.

When Sara and Brett were 5 months pregnant with the twins they bought a new house. It was all white and Sara hated it … she just couldn’t live in an all white house so we painted it … all of it. The night we got started Brett was standing in the kitchen with “that look” on his face. He said to me, “Jo, this is a really big house”. And I said, “Just look at one room at a time, one wall at a time – DO NOT look down the hall, We will get it done before the babies come.” It took us 2 weeks but it was done when Sara went into labor 3 months early.

Since then, among other things, Justin and I have painted the ceiling in our store Ruby & Begonia to look like aged copper, Justin has painted his latest new apartment, and I taught my 4-year-old grandchildren how to properly “load” a brush and how to paint the walls so there are no streaks. There are walls in Sara’s house that they have painted all by themselves and they are so very proud of their “art work”.

Art for my mom was in the form of sewing clothes that could not afford to be store bought and painting her home to be colorful and beautiful, always fresh and new.  It was practical, a necessity, always a labor of love, a time-shared, memories made, and her own individual artistic expression.

For her daughter, her grandchildren, and her great grandchildren it is the same.

by lisa ferrante

Today my morning started out like any other and then we had about a two hour speed bump (more like train wreck!)  My oldest daughter wouldn’t wake up no matter how many honey, sweeties and pumpkins I whispered into her ear.   After  finally  coaxing her out of bed with the smell of blueberry waffles she became upset because one of her waffles had a burnt edge so she refused to eat them but first she managed to get blueberries and syrup all over her last clean uniform shirt. My little one decided   to  pour her milk all over the floor and  then happily jump in it like a glorious puddle of rain. When I went to go get some paper towels to clean up the mess she went into the bathroom two feet away and proceeded to smear an entire tube of toothpaste into her hair and everywhere else her little hands could reach. She proudly comes out to tell us she smells minty! My oldest was now going to be late for school so I put a hat on the little ones head and we’re off! We get her to school just in time. When we  get  home I try to pry the little ones hat off that is now glued to her head with hardened toothpaste.  Bath time   ( ok,  now we’re getting somewhere!) We laugh and make bubble faces until she announces Mom I pooped! Just another magical morning in the Ferrante house!

You see my Mom died when I was five. This led to many years of imagining and sort of creating the mom I wished I could have had. I would imagine this playful, loving, silly mom who loved nothing more than spending time with me. I was not fortunate enough to have this but I was fortunate enough to realize that I could be her to my little girls.

Because I’ve had some hard times in life i’m blessed to know the difference  between  a real problem and a series of crazy events that when you take a minute to look at are quite funny.  I’m no saint, far from it but I try to live my life with few regrets. Sometimes we have to just laugh and think of it as a moment that will be over in the blink of an eye. My babies will not be babies for long. Pretty soon you’ll have nothing but free time to create and you’ll crave the beautiful chaos , the magical moments even the poop in the tub! The time I crave to paint will be replaced with the time I crave being with my children so enjoy it while it’s right in front of you looking at you with big blue eyes and fairy wings!