Month: June 2015

10.28am

The dog next door is barking. Woof woof. The main road busy with traffic. Naoise getting out of the shower, his dad is looking after him. Woof Woof.

Its sunny but breezy not really the barbecue weather I had hoped for. The clouds are big white fluffy shifting clouds. Clouds that you could imagine pictures forming in.

Syd woke up late, he was saddened that we only had half an hour together before departing to his dad’s for the weekend. I made it a good half hour and it seemed to me to last a long time. I could see that he was in two minds about going away, I don’t think he really wanted to go.

I made him breakfast, tea, cereal, toast with the french biscuit spread.

The house is a disaster the allotment is wild. Each calls for attention, to be managed, to be nurtured. They don’t speak, they don’t interrupt as a child does, but they do demand attention. An illusion of control and order is a requirement of each place. Inside. Outside. Domesticated.

Sleep was hard with two children in my bed. Syd and Naoise cuddled up close. Syd is big now and in the early hours I was awakened to squeals of squashing by Naoise. Sys’s body is heavy his legs cuddle and crush.

I took an image of the children at 5am. They looked so beautiful cuddled up in each others warmth. I was careful to crop out Syd’s face from the image, he does not want to be represented here. I hope he does not think I have been disloyal by publishing an image of his hands.

Need to think about how to involve the family more, for them to feel comfortable and apart of this project, to move from my journey to our journey. A friend yesterday remarked that ” my marriage was all over Facebook”, this made me feel uncomfortable, I felt defensive, I am not married…..I try to be honest and protect. I doubt the conflicts and resolutions and difficulties and challenges that go on in my home are any different to those that go on in any other house. Relationships/living with another, caring for children, its all work, hard work. Juggling balls, picking up pieces when they fall, glueing and mending broken plates, soaking soiled pants, washing dishes and floors.

Mum is back in Scotland. The sun was shining when she arrived. The mice hadn’t decimated the kitchen and the sheep hadn’t broken into the garden. She sounded happy. She loves the wild north. Today she hopes to walk along the sand. To dream. This is her retreat. Her wild home.

Beep Beep Beep Beep…..beep beep beep beep…….

Patrick wants to discuss the plans for the day. The day must begin.

13:58pm

It has taken all day to get to this point. Slow, slow, slow. Sometimes the sun shines and then it is grey. It feels as if it may rain. Its breezy. Its warm but not too warm. I am wearing a cardigan this afternoon.

Couldn’t get Naoise up today, he wanted to sleep and sleep. Then he had a shower, and he wanted to shower and shower. When at last I got him dressed, he kept shrugging off his clothes. When at last I got him to sit at the breakfast table he wanted cheese on toast but he wouldn’t eat that, then he wanted honey loops but he didn’t want to eat that. I gave in. I got him to brush his teeth.

He scootered and I ran beside him. We were late, but not too late, the doors to the school were still open.Patience. Parenting requires the upmost patience. I do not always feel patient. I fear the clock ticking, ticking too fast. I can never keep up, we are always late. Being always late makes me feel ineffectual.

The lolly pop man talks to me. I explain to him how difficult Naoise is in the morning, he smiles and nods and smiles.

I wake and he is asleep. The sun streams over his blonde hair. His skin is pale, almost translucent. I look at the freckles on his face. I look at him breathing. I listen. He looks so fragile. He is moving as he is breathing. He is heavy and relaxed. His finger nails are long.

The children have chalked onto the playground surface. Signs and symbols. These chalked marks are intriguing, a language, a counter language to the painted graphics. The tarmac is skin. The tarmac is the surface that my sons feet tread on. The playground is held within the institution. It is held and contained by the high wire fence.

He is outside playing. I am  inside the house working. I hang out the washing, there is so much, it does not all fit on the line. I clear up the dishes from breakfast. I wonder how I will ever tame the wild piles of plastic, the unopened letters, the pairs of shoes, the lego, the bags, the books.

The birds are singing. Last night I went for a walk with Syd. It was so wonderful to spend some time with him. We saw swallows and fat lambs and rabbits, lots of rabbits bounding away from our presence.

Syd talked to me about his dad, we talked about where we were living  and where we might live if we did not live here. We talked about the ear piercing that he wants for his birthday, I told him that I only got mine pierced when I was 22.

The birds are singing.

A train rattles past.

Cars on the road.

The wind moving through the leaves of the trees.

Bikes and scooters and wellies and walking boots and red flip flops.

Only six weeks till its the summer holidays. Only six weeks to pull this place together, make it neat and tidy. Tidy and Neat.

Beep Beep Beep Beep…..beep beep beep beep the buzzer sounds.

https://youtu.be/NDZj1UIwnH4

 

9.28am

A caotic morning of conflict and dissent.

An unplanned drive to drop Syd off at high school.

A disagreeable younger child.

A dangerous double scooter run to Naoise school.

A lorry blocking the pavement.

An almost collision by me into a parked red car.

The lollypop man thought it very funny.

Your scooter is too small mum he said.

I am riding on Syd’s stunt scooter in parallel with Naoise on his. Its a bad idea, the pavement isn’t big enough for two of us traveling at speed.

A discussion in the playground, my friend has had an incident with the sentry guard teaching assistant too……gladly no guards on duty today just a smile from the kind mature woman.

We got into school, I did try to encourage him to go in alone, but he still needs me to walk him down the corridor, hang up his coat, give him a cuddle and a kiss.

 

There is the institution of school, there is the institution of motherhood. There are rules and fences and boundaries. There are high fences and windows placed so high that you cannot look out.

The sun is shining. I talk to my neighbour about the weather on his way to feed the chickens. He tells me that there was a wild storm the other night.

I was away.

Last night I slept all the way through. I did not wake once. Its so good to sleep. To sleep all the way through the night.

Faith Wilding saw my talk at The Motherhood and Creative Practices conference, she sat on the front row of seats and smiled at me when I showed the picture of Naoise having a tantrum. Afterwards she spoke to me with kind and supportive words, she liked what I was writing she said it was very strong and poetical and that I should feel no shame. 

I need to explore this idea of shame.

Griselda Pollock warned against self hating and questioned the theoretical framework of the Mother/Artist…..she wondered what had happened to Woman that was an Artist.

The buzzer on the oven is sounding beep beep beep beep…..beep beep beep beep.

 

10.26am

Back in cradle valley. Got home late after journeying back from  the Motherhood and Creative Practices conference. Got in drank wine.  My head was full of information and inspiration and hopeful encounters from this amazing supportive event. I needed a glass of wine to settle my head.

I went upstairs to the attic and checked on Syd, stroked his head and pulled the duvet up over his body.

I got in bed with Naoise. He had pyjama bottoms on but no top. I stroked his back, his skin is so soft. I clasp his hand in mine. I fall asleep, its good to be back home in my own bed. Back home with the children.

I woke at first light, slipped back to sleep then was woken again at 5.30am, Naoise had had an accident and needed a shower. Naoise was so pleased that I was home and wanted to chat ….it was far to early in the morning. He was telling me about an iPod game that involved feeding baby dragons. His conversation woke up the whole sleeping household with shouts of disdain and do be quiets.

We wake again just before 7am, Patrick brings me coffee in bed. Thick as tar. I sip and wake. Naoise does not want to get up. He does not want to get dressed. ” I don’t want to got to school today mum, I want to stay at home with you” 

Patience so much patience is required. I ignore, seems to be the only thing that ever works. I lie and pretend I have a meeting today so I will be working from the studio. I have no meeting, I am at home, trying to rest and organise some teaching work.

Naoise asks for more cuddles. I agree to his request as long as he promises to me that he will get dressed after one last snuggle. He lifts the sheet over my head and creates a tent for us to hide under. I get hime dressed. We eat breakfast. We eat honey loops together. We try to eat honey loops with chop sticks, which is a lot of fun but very time consuming. It is Naoise who suggests we stop and just use our spoons.

Naoise had wanted to go to school on his scooter but unfortunately his dad has gone to work with the car keys in his pocket and the scooter is locked into the boot of the car.

Instead I grab some bread to feed the geese….anything fun to get him out the door and happily to school.

We leave the house……Naoise asks for a ride on my shoulders, I ask him if he could film us walking together, he agrees, he seems pleased to be in control of the camera. I am trying to let go, trying to give him joint ownership of this project. I want him to be my collaborator. I want this to be fun. I want this to be about our journey not my journey. I need it to be about our journey together. I want him to hold my hand. Mothering is not all difficult, walking to school is one of my favourite things.

https://youtu.be/9_JjOYIyqHc

We get to school. The teaching assistants have become sentry guards. They don’t want me to come into the school with Naoise, one teaching assistant places her body between me and Naoise at the door. She is trying to stop me coming into the school with my son. I explain that I haven’t seen my child for four days, ignore her and go on inside regardless. I have to be very strong and assertive to make my needs and my sons known. I hate the institution of education today……I hate that they are trying to make my child “grow up” too soon. When he is ready he will go happily in alone. There is no need to speed up a separation, there is not. He will grow to be independent in his own sweet time.

I ran in the fields. The grass has shot up. Thick. Green. The lambs are fattening. The fox glove flowers are almost out. I run past the cherry blossom tree almost all the petals have dropped to the pavement below and the leaves are rotting to brown.

beep beep beep beep the oven buzzer calls that time is up…….beep beep beep beep

 

 

 

 

Heading backwards to the north.
I wish I was heading forward rather than back. Heading back.
Head.
Yellow fields of rape.
No leg room.
Drinking a cup of Yorkshire Tea.
Tea doesn’t grow in Yorkshire
I probably should write nothing say nothing…just enjoy this gap this rest..
Close my eyes dream…
The Motherhood and Creative Practice conference was amazing. So much to think on. So great to see friends and make new connections. Let it sink in.
Just be.

I haven’t abandoned my family….it’s a refuge at a conference about mothering. I don’t feel as if I’ve abandoned anyone. I just like the word abandoned…because of the abandoned pram…I’m tired now from listening and talking and hugging and getting inspiration and feeling together with a supportive group of artists and academics…all is hopeful…I’ve drunk two glasses of wine..smoked one cigarette……I’m.returning to stay with my friend..I’m.holding some flowers for her….I’m holding.

I hope the flowers are enough to show my love.

I held hands. I heard voices some were loud…some emotional…

A hand a mind a heart a theory an encounter with others sharing.

Walking to the train this morning I photographed an abandoned black pram. forgotten or collapsed and no longer in use the owner disposed of it on the street, sucking  cups and detritus below….

Trying to find the venue for the conference I met a woman heading to court to.do jury service, I thought she was showing me the way…but she wasn’t. She wanted to talk about believing and god…she asked me if I was a believer. I listened I responded to her I told her that I was an atheist.

I got lost.

Today I didn’t want to be lost I wanted to be drinking coffee with friends, talking it easy…I found the place it was fine I even had time for coffee in a paper cup…

This is easy I sit I negotiate place. Elephant and castle…I.have driven around your roundabout many times.

The woman beside me is talking to her mother your getting a bit controlling please stop she is recounting a story…

Grab on too.
You haven’t got any control, it’s ok if your going to latch onto me.
I feel uncomfortable writing this woman’s story this overheard conversation

Hello hello it’s Patrick trying to ring I can’t talk not here…have to watch where I am, watch the stations, watch for catford

Messages from mum…Naoise in shower…
Message from Patrick…Naoise wanted to say goodnight.

I feel bad she hasn’t got anyone else(woman beside me talking to her mother again).

I wonder if the pramwill still be on the street. I’ll photograph it if it’s still there.

Things are temporal, you can’t catch everything…all the information comes in..seeps in…unable to filter..

Natalie Loveless….work with a smart phone….

A man talking to himself…doing sums…people staring at phones but his screen is a calculator.

I wonder what he is counting?  Why he is counting out loud?

8… It should be 16…

The abandoned pram was gone…

Spoke to Naoise said goodnight….spoke to.syd he thought I.was at the South Bank not the Elephant and Castle, so did I,….I had a romantic idea that I would be staring at the river Thames. Instead I continued to get lost all day, down a rabbit warren of corridors…