Creating for Joy

One only needs to observe children in unedited play to agree with the statement that happiness and creativity go hand-in-hand. As children, creativity is effortlessly woven into everything we do. It is only in the process of ageing that we are conditioned to suppress our creative notions in favour of societal expectations. By the time many of us reach adulthood, our creativity is safely locked away, only to be looked upon when we make time in our overly busy lives to do so.

That wasn't so with my own parents. Both relied upon their creativity for their income. Both welcomed us into their places of work and encouraged us to experiment without fear of failure.

My father earned a living making rustic log furniture. I spent many hours in his workshop, hammering nails into scraps of wood and playing in the mountains of wood shavings. It was unusual for a girl of my age to have mastered the tools that I had, but my father loved that I wasn't like the other girls. We shared an unshakeable bond and I grew up knowing that he was my biggest fan. Despite this co-dependent relationship, he also taught me valuable life skills that shaped my practical thinking and enabled me to be able to figure things out for myself, never having to ask or depend upon anyone to be my crutch.

My mother was a jack of all trades, but a constant element in all her pursuits was her reliance on her creativity. She had a closet that we affectionately referred to as The Stamp Room. It had been a shoe box of card-making supplies that had overflowed to take over an entire closet and eventually a whole room in our house. Even as she progressed to other crafts, we still looked forward to afternoons and weekends in The Stamp Room. She sold craft supplies and creations at markets. At some point she established a craft shop within a local mall. A few years later she was an art teacher at a nearby primary school.

The skills that I learned from my parents are the reason why my creativity hasn't been locked away, only to be tapped into when life gives me a few minutes to spare on a hobby. My greatest aspiration is to pass on to my daughter the habit of growing that creativity on a daily basis. My wish for her is for that creativity to be an invaluable resource, a life-skill and a source of happiness.

As a child growing up in rural Africa, I wasn't even aware of the existence of some of the modern toys that many children grow up relying upon. We only had access to screens for educational purposes and even then, the technology was backward and unreliable at best. We extracted no joy from this time staring at a screen.

I got my first mobile phone toward the end of my school career and it was a hand-me-down Nokia 5510 that had been passed from my father, to my mother, to my older brother, and finally on to me. It didn't even have a sim card at first; I was content to play Snake on my own phone when the weather hindered our outdoor play intentions.

We grew up in a different world and we learned to be imaginative and resourceful. Our lack of the possessions that many other children of that era would have deemed necessary, was a blessing that granted us a childhood with a certain element of enchantment.

When I first learned that I was expecting a child of my own, I was somewhat anxious. I was living in an environment very different from the one I grew up in, in a country far from the family and friends that had made my childhood so magical. The only thing I was certain of was that I wanted to somehow provide a childhood of character-building experiences that closely mirrored my own. My most fond memories are of times spent outdoors with friends or family; a priority that has taken a backseat in modern family dynamics.

I didn't want the same fate to befall my family and so I set my sights upon creating engaging activities and toys that would encourage imaginative open-ended play right from the start. I spent hours cutting, sewing, pasting and creating, to set myself up with all the educational resources I thought I needed to set myself up to be the thoughtful mother I had envisioned.

Then my baby arrived. And everything changed.

During the newborn stage, the countless hours of wake provided ample opportunity for me to reflect on the most monumental memories of my own childhood. In my over-exhausted state I repeatedly recalled memories of time spent observing my father working in his workshop, memories of accompanying my mother to her craft workshops and markets, and time spent outdoors making up games and inventions with my brother.

My parents had been self-employed and there was never a time when they were needed, but not available. My brother and I were undoubtedly the greatest priority in their lives; my mother and father epitomise what all parents should aspire to be, what I should aspire to be for my daughter. I want her to grow up knowing that I am there when she needs me no matter what.

And so the trajectory of my crafting was altered and a small business emerged.

We had been gifted a plastic bucket swing, which I absolutely hated, but I had kept it because it reminded me of all the time we had spent flying around on a backyard tyre swing as children. I also kept it because I wanted to provide every opportunity possible for my daughter and I, or my daughter and her future siblings, to spend time together outdoors. The sensible compromise between my nostalgia, and the dislike for this plastic monstrosity, was to replace it with a more favourable alternative.

My daughter's swing was made on the same day that I found the blog post with simple instructions for a toddler swing. In my excitement, it was a hurried attempt with the materials and tools I had on hand, but that very swing has withstood the elements and daily use for over a year and is still going strong. It was an enjoyable, yet frustrating experience. Those who have had the intense displeasure of using a sewing scissors that has been procured by other inhabitants of your home, for projects involving material other than fabric, know that there are few things more annoying than not being able to rely on your tools.

I bought a new scissors before making the next swing.

I relied upon the step-by-step instructions of that blog post for the next few swings, but the process became more personal as my confidence grew. As the orders increased I developed systems and routines to streamline my swing-making, all while taking into account my daughter's fear for any noise-making machines and her need for almost constant interaction. My business was born during nap time and it grew after bed time each evening.

I love selecting fabric for the swings. At first I only used weatherproof canvas, but I have since experimented with faux leather, corduroy and an assortment of other durable upholstery fabrics. Quilting fabrics are available in the most beautiful prints and are suitable for swing cushions. My daughter often accompanies me on these fabric expeditions and has been known to influence my purchases. I find joy in her fascination for the fabric prints and in observing her gravitate toward and explore certain textures and designs.

Fabric cutting and pinning is done between play, or during the rare moments that my toddler plays independently. Let's be realistic and acknowledge that this does not happen very frequently, so most cutting and pinning takes place at night.

I use oak dowel to support the structure of the swing. The cutting is done with a reliable old hand saw; a tool quiet enough to use during nap time. The bench-top sander and drill, however, are not so quiet. I only manage to get the wood-working done when my daughter is on adventures out of the house with other family members. As a mother, I have learned to make very efficient use of my limited toddler-free time.

Sewing is another swing element that needs to be completed when my daughter is out of the house. When I am absolutely pressed for time I move my sewing machine to the furthest point from her room and I sometimes manage to get sewing done behind closed doors while she sleeps.

To finish off the fabric part of the swing, safety and branding labels are ironed on to the swing seat. This requires the use of baking paper to protect the hot surface of the iron. Luckily the crinkly paper is a great source of amusement for my daughter and usually keeps her occupied long enough for me to apply the labels.

Wood treatment is a sensory experience. I apply beeswax to the wood and give it time in the sun to be absorbed. My daughter loves the scent of the beeswax and willingly participates in this activity.

Swing assembly takes place outdoors. My daughter loves spending time in the garden and has also started showing interest in threading the rope through the wood dowel and beads, although she is quickly distracted by our dog, passing butterflies, or the allure of the sandpit.

My absolute favourite part of making these swings is collaborating with families to create a custom swing and then receiving pictures and hearing stories of the joy that they have brought to families, especially over the past year when many families have spent time in lock-down. The joy of swinging, like music, is one of the few universal pleasures that can be enjoyed by children all around the world, regardless of socioeconomic background. A simple rope is all it takes to create the most basic of swings, yet it brings the same thrill as one which is carefully handcrafted by a small business owner.

My small business started with the simple purchase of a new scissors and has grown sufficiently to fund the purchase of a heavy-duty sewing machine, more efficient wood-working tools and branded packaging. Creating this small business has afforded me the greatest joy of all; being able to stay home and have the opportunity to at least attempt to be the kind of parent that I was so privileged to have.