I’m sure Van Gogh would have understood. There are times when eating can wait. Dinner can wait. But art – all that creative energy and impulsive need to pour out emotions into one form or another – sometimes, that cannot wait (at least in our home).
So, this evening, I had one child making clay pots (picked up an amazingly basic potter’s wheel for NZ$10 from Whitcoulls today!), another doing spin art and Alice flitting between the two.
Meanwhile, I was on damage limitation, facilitating and diversion tactics (chalk drawing on the driveway and play dough with Alice).
It was rolling on to 6pm when I started to think about dinner. Young Alice came up to me, grabbed my leg and demanded noodles (she is yet too young to be satisfied with art and air alone… in my case there was a little wine consumption and chocolate nibbling going on). All my previously good intentions of going out for a jog where thrown out the window when a text to hubbie went unanswered. He got in touch after six, having had a full on day. I busied myself cleaning up the spilt water and noodles from the kitchen floor (thanks Alice), emptying the dishwasher, loading it, taking in the washing off the line, folding it, picking up 101 toys, paper scraps, sweet wrappers, clothes, shoes, hairbrushes, hair bands… watching over a bath etc. etc.
Thank the heavens for hubbie – who comes marching in the door at 7pm and gets the dinner rumbling (whilst responding to requests to, ‘See my clay pot Daddy!’, ‘See my spin art!’ and ‘Daddy, I love you!’). And then there’s me – devoted wife and mother – a brief hug in the kitchen, a brief kiss and… wishfully hoping there will be a little time for love making later…