Socks, Angry Birds and the Moon

Day Nine: Studio, Meeting with Saara and her Children:  Rulla- The Children’s Cultural Centre, Saara’s work place, Charity Shops, Picking up from Nursery, Shopping, Home

We watch Puss in Boots and then a documentary about the first man on the moon. Naoise tells me that it is sad that people die in space and even a dog died in space and its bones are still floating around somewhere up there. He tells me that it can be scary going to space that you have to be brave.

I wonder what is the right thing to do. I wonder if honesty is the way to freedom, to authenticity. I still edit. I wonder which is the kindest way to write something. Ethics do concern me. I do care. I do care about privacy. Once it is said it is written. Unlike a drawing once it is published  it cannot be rubbed out, there is a permanent trace.

Looking after a child is far from easy. Looking after a child and attempting to create and make something whilst negotiating a foreign place, culture, language, is even harder. Maybe I have one good day, one bad day.

Looking after children can become about the minutiae of life.

Socks. Socks are a big thing in my little boys world. Socks need to be put on exactly correctly, no crumples, toes in the right position, pulled up, straight. Socks must have just the right texture, soft, no details, no spots or dots or bits of thread that he might feel on his skin. He has favourite socks, socks that have a detail of a helicopter on them. He also likes his star wars socks, though I think they are now getting too small.

Naoise put his socks on and off. On and Off. On and Off. On and Off. On and Off. On and Off……it must have been at least eight times. A ritual of frustration, annoyance and stress for him and for me. I counted to ten many times, breath in, breath in. The clock ticks fast when Naoise becomes difficult, and my heart pounds.

The simple act of putting on a sock become’s a highly stressful and emotive thing.

Naosie finds a way through the problem. He wears his crocks, its too hot for socks. I pack his trainers and disgarded socks just in case he changes his mind again. Which he did. We had another sock off on a park bench in the centre of Tampere. For a while I carried bare footed  Naosie on my back. We were running late to meet up with Saara, the artist who will be coming to complete her residency in the UK in October. We always seem to be running late. How I long for order, efficiency, less stress and more fun.

I recognise Saara in her hat and her little son in the blue pram just ahead of us. I call her. It is lovely to make new connections. Naoise is not so sure. I see he is just tagging along. We head for Rulla. Its a childrens cultural centre, which I am keen to see and thought that Naoise would find fun. Oh how misguided parents can be.

I think it is a lovely place, there are play workers a big beautiful dolls house brimming with homemade people, furniture and goings on, a circus installation, an indian elephant to ride. There are art materials. There is lots on offer and its all free and there is nothing that I can think of as an equivalent to this wonderful resource that we have in the UK. Its nothing like a Sure Start Centre.

I watch as a mother feeds her baby under a big large brown cloak thing which forms a tent over her babies body and her own. I think that this is a bit strange.

Naoise is not at all impressed, he thinks that Rulla is for younger children. He is too big for this. Saara’s son is afraid of the big yellow paper mache sun with a human face. He cries into his mothers arms. He cannot look at it. I can see why a sunshine with a face might be scary in a two year olds world.

The sun does not have a face and although the sun is warm and shines, she too is not always happy. Sun does not always mean happy, OK. We cannot always be shiny, happy, yellow, bright, people.

We can attempt to make a shiny happy world for our children to encounter, but it is not always so.

So we abandon Rulla and head out into the sunshine. Saara reminds me of the work of looking after a young child. Dressing a child in clothes, nappy changing, picking up, placing in a pram, pram pushing.

The plan is to go to a flea market and a playground. The mission does not begin well. Naoise starts asking to go home; ” I want to go home, I just want to go home, please can we go home, I want to go home NOW”. But we have just got out, forgotten about the stress of socks and crumples and met our new friends and the day is bright and the possibilities of fun and adventure are endless.

I WANT TO GO HOME NOW. Breath, and breath again. Naoise tugs at my shirt and then tugs at my hair. It is such a horrible and distressing situation. I have only just met Saara and she now is witness to me and Naoise both struggling. I try ignoring, being strict, a stricter voice, a kinder voice, an understanding, empathetic voice, a consequence.  I try speaking to Saara about something else, but he tugs and tugs and tugs.

I just want him to stop. I implore him to stop. I think back to all the parenting advice from my Sure Start strengthening families courses. I look to Saara for help, but she has only just met me and this is a bit intense. She does not know what to do either. She asks if Naoise is scared of her. Oh dear. Oh dear. I don’t think he is scared. I explain that each day Naosie has wanted to go home, and asks to go home.

I feel for him. I really do………..in the end we change the plan. Saara will come and visit me at my home in Takahuhuti instead of me visiting her. She is a kind, kind woman. She understands. Naoise changes immediately , lets go of my hair and top. His hands hurt from all the tugging but he is happy. I am sad, I would have so loved to visit Saara and her family in their home, but never mind there is no time to be sad when you are looking after children. There is no time to wallow in your own needs and wants……just more frustrations to bury.

Naoise still wants to go home, but I jolly him along and we manage a couple of small charity shops instead of the flea market, a visit to the photography gallery where Saara works. Naoise loves the free bread that is on offer and we are given some to take home with us in a paper bag. Naoise is sorry, he is so so sorry, and he buys me a couple of things in the charity shop to make me happy. He is so so so sweet and we both find forgiveness and I am so impressed with his kindness and generosity. My son is lovely. LOVELY. I LOVE HIM SO SO SO MUCH.

It is challenging meeting new people, maybe I expect too much. Maybe I miscalculated. We need to be more compassionate and considerate. We both need to be kinder to each other, there needs to be agreement. We need to better negotiate this collaboration.

This city is big and we come from a small town, in a small valley with a cuddle of friends around us. We are cuddled and protected by the arms of our friends and the snug of the hill. I am not surprised Naoise constantly wants to go back home to the bubble of Takahuhuti, where its just him and me and calm and quiet and nothing more that is new and different.

Where for me the city is full of possibility and adventure, maybe for him this place is scary and big and makes him feel little and vulnerable. I don’t no, I don’t no. I just try and try to make it better. Sometimes I feel scared and anxious and nervous about meeting new people. Maybe I need to talk to him more, prepare him. He needs to know what the plan is. He needs to be a part of the plan. He told me last night that he didn’t even know what printmaking was when we planned to do that. Mmmmmmmm more explaining, less explaining. I am not sure. I am all muddled up with how to go about this experience. I have lost my way……..everyone keeps saying have some fun, but maybe the harder you try at fun the harder it is to find ?

We collect Saara’s elder son from Nursery, some shopping for groceries, a trip to the loo and a bus home.

I manage to talk to Saara about Tove Jansson  She tells me that her favourite novel is the one about Tove’s relationship with her partner, it is called Fair Play. The novel Saara tells me is about work and love and respect.

We discuss many things, childcare, making art, the subject of our work, families, language, jobs, residencies, life before and after children. She tells me that she thinks France is more family friendly than Finland. Maybe the grass is always greener on the other side. She also tells me that artists she knows that have children do not seem to discuss anything to do with the challenges of parenting and art making.

At home we drink peppermint tea three times over and attempt to talk about art between looking after the children. Nappies to be changed, cars to be pushed, apple juice to be poured, chocolate puddings shared………it is busy but fun. Saara’s youngest son plays with my dolls from the charity shop, he keeps calling the mother figure a clown.I am so glad of her company. Saara’s partner arrives to collect the family in the car, as the journey back to her house via bus is long and its hard work looking after a 2 year old and a 4 year old on a bus.