Random Thoughts upon Visiting MoMA

“She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn’t take them along.”  ~ Margaret Culkin Banning

Yesterday, my husband and I accompanied two friends up to New York City to spend time at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA). We sent Jax to daycare at his usual time and my mother, his Nana, picked him up at his usual time because we would not be home until close to 8:00 pm. Being away from Jax all day was good practice for my upcoming 4-day trip to New Orleans (which will be our first time apart more than 1 night).

Art evokes so many emotions. In the span of 3 hours or so, I felt nostalgic, confused, afraid, uncomfortable, sad, uplifted, and amazed—it’s no wonder I ended up with a nasty headache toward the end of the day!

Nostalgia resulted from paintings of mothers breastfeeding. I missed my little nursling. Confusion, well doesn’t most art produce confusion in its admirers? Why did the artist depict this in such a way? What was the artist thinking? How did X end up looking like this?! Fear, sadness, anger, and discomfort came upon viewing art such as the AIDS wallpaper, the Guerilla Girls exhibit about discussions of women in art (really, the lack thereof), and photographs of homeless people in the Ukraine. Weird sidenote: I found myself searching, among the images of naked Ukrainien homeless women, for C-section scars.

One of the first things I noticed upon entering the museum was Yoko Ono’s Wish Tree. Following instructions, I wrote down my wish on a tag and tied that thing so tightly onto a branch. Sorry, tree. Another sidenote: The Wish Tree really needs some rain or a kind soul with a  watering can.

It’s funny how even though this trip was supposed to be all about art appreciation and not consumed by thoughts of my son, I never stopped thinking of him. Art and love are so bound together. So many paintings and photographs, even sculptures, reminded me of motherhood and of raising my son. My husband kept grabbing my attention whenever he saw something he thought Jax would like, such as the green helicopter suspended from the ceiling. There were a few times we said to each other how much we thought Jax would enjoy the museum. But then we came to our senses and realized the many dangers of bringing our grabby toddler to the home of precious works of art. The shrill screeching of a kid strapped into a stroller in one of the exhibit halls reinforced this.

When we got home, Jax was sitting on his Nana’s lap in the rocking chair on our porch, looking teary-eyed and pink. Nana said he didn’t like bath time. We concluded that bathtime is the beginning part of our bedtime ritual, and he didn’t appreciate that mom-mom (as he now calls me) wasn’t there to get him ready for “night-night.” Our reunion was cute, though. He clung to me and wouldn’t let go. Even this morning, when I tried to get out of bed to take a shower before work, he wrapped both arms and legs around me and held on so tight. Makes me feel a little more guilt/anxiety/sadness about leaving for 4 days later this month but also excited for another happy reunion where I feel immense love from my child. During those 4 days when I’m missing my kiddo, I’m going to try to focus on his little arms and legs wrapped around me, holding on.