I haven't even rubbed my eyes before the first cry sounds out to announce the morning. I heave myself out of bed, still heavy with sleep, and go to comfort my daughter, who by the time I arrive is playing with her dolls. My son peeks his head out of his bedroom with a big grin. My baby cries. We get dressed and I feed everyone. I clean up. They want snacks. The littlest needs his nap. I clean a bit, I feed everyone again. And so the day goes.
I wonder, sometimes, where to make room for myself. I am careful to remind myself that I am still me when I am mothering. The chores, the songs, the kisses, the tickles and the funny voices while I read books. But somewhere, as I plod through the daily routines, even when I rush to and fro, a whole week can pass before I find time to sit down to write, if I am not careful.
With a husband who works long, long hours in the summer, I am always tempted to just make it through the day. Yet I feel the tugging in my heart to create. A few things have been helping me make room for the creative parts of me.
Find a park with a good bench and an easy view of the playground. I lay my baby on a blanket next to me and keep an eye on the toddlers while I journal.
The pomodoro method does not have to be a structured time at mydesk with a fancy timer. Often, I use the timer on a batch of cookies or boiling pasta to do a writing exercise. I sneak a lot of writing time this way.
Use a physical journal instead of my phone. My brother-in-law bought all the McMullen women refillable leather journals, so I carry mine around with me everywhere for jotting down all my randomest thoughts. Poetry-specific ones have a separate place that is also usually handy. This helps me when I do have time to not feel like I am starting at square one.
Being sensible of the limitations of my time and not expecting perfection. Someday my substack will have room for more polished, researched essays. For now, the slice-of-life will have to do.
Watching good movies, going on walks, reading books for pleasure. Underestimating the power of enjoying my life is something I fall prey to more often than I’d like.
Cooking the meals my mom made growing up. SO comforting!! And, ummm… she knew what she was doing, so they take like 30 minutes. That’s a win-win.
Lately, I’ve been thinking of myself as a hostess in my home. A hostess makes room for her guests. My home is as much for my children and husband as it is for myself. And I deserve a good experience in my home too. I look for ways I can “host” myself. Making tea, turning on my favorite music, giving the kids an activity so that I can color right alongside them… This mindset shift has helped me so much.
I am always looking for more ideas on how to make room for creativity in my home, so if you have any tips from your routines/rhythms, please share!
Publishing news: In case you haven’t seen already (I’m a little slow to this), Solid Food Press’s anthology, “Paradoxa,” is out in the world. It is gorgeous, and full of so many wonderful poems. You can buy a digital copy here. My poem “Imprecatory” found a home there. Here’s a sneak peak:
I’ll post the whole thing some time in the near future, but for now if you want to read it I highly encourage supporting the beautiful publication.
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This is wonderfully encouraging and comforting. Thank you so much for sharing. I think this is my favorite of your posts that I have read yet, and I look forward to reading more!
Thanks Julia 🤍 thankful to have this wonderful piece in the anthology
This is wonderfully encouraging and comforting. Thank you so much for sharing. I think this is my favorite of your posts that I have read yet, and I look forward to reading more!