Confessions of a Clay-Stained Parent
Confession #852…Pottery, parenting, and showing up fully for both—with muddy hands and a full heart.
In the old days—the Nine-to-Five, back-to-back meetings, colour-coded calendar kind of days—I was constantly juggling the impossible. A corporate job that demanded everything, parenting that deserved everything, and a creative spark quietly waiting its turn.
Emails blurred into bedtime stories. Meetings bled into mealtimes. I was always “on” and never present. Always feeling a little behind, a little undone.
Like I was failing at everything.
When I stepped away from corporate life to become a full-time ceramic artist, author and small business owner, I made myself a promise: I would not blur the lines again.
So now, I live by a kind of sacred compartmentalisation.
Writing and pottery are my profession. Parenting is my joy. And they all deserve my full presence.
Clay Time is Work Time (Even If It’s Covered in Mud)
Yes, I run a handmade pottery and art business from a cosy studio in rural New South Wales. I make ceramic mugs, vases, trays, art pieces, and write and illustrate children’s books that feel like home. And yes, I do it with messy hands and a full heart.
But this isn’t a hobby—it’s work. It’s real, intentional, gritty, creative work that involves long hours of handbuilding, refining, glazing, kiln loading, and sanding, not to mention late nights spent storyboarding, writing and painting. Running a creative business means designing, photographing, packing orders, replying to emails, writing newsletters (hello, Whistleblower crew!), and showing up online and in person.
My kids know that when the apron is on and the studio door is half-closed, Mum’s working. They understand that creative work is still work.
But They’re Always Welcome
The studio isn’t a no-go zone. It’s simply a space with boundaries and beauty.
Hot kilns. Sharp tools. Shelves stacked with fragile bisqueware and drying pottery pieces.
But also: magic. Transformation. Earth and fire.
Curiosity doesn’t kill the cat—it empowers it to discover more.
And I want my kids to feel that empowerment, even if they’re not shaping clay themselves. Role modelling hard work, persistence and perseverance is never a bad thing.
So when they pop in with wide eyes and questions—“Did you really make that bowl?” or “How does the glaze get all shiny?”—I stop and show them.
Because watching their mum in her element, joyful and focused, is the best lesson in creativity, resilience, and self-worth I can offer.
What I’ve Learnt from the Work-Life Wobble
Back in my corporate career, work-life balance felt like a myth. I was forever multitasking and forever behind. There were no boundaries—just blurred lines and burnout.
Now, as a creative small business owner, I get to do things differently.
My days have rhythm. Studio time. Family time. Cooking time. Storytime.
This structure lets me show up for both parts of my life without guilt or resentment.
It’s not perfect. But it’s real.
And my kids are learning by example:
That you can do what you love and still work hard.
That creative careers are valuable.
That mums can build empires out of mud, and
That our voice and words have value and power, so use them wisely.
Mud, Magic, and Mum
My studio is more than a workspace—it’s a symbol of freedom and choice.
It’s where I rewrote the rules of motherhood and work.
It’s where I built a handmade pottery business that supports my family and fills my soul.
And it’s where my kids see grit, grace, and glazed magic in action.
They may not be throwing pots or trimming clay just yet, but they know their mum made a life she didn’t need a break from—crafted with muddy hands, clear boundaries, and whole-hearted joy.
Are you a parent and maker juggling creative work with family life?
I’d love to hear how you find your rhythm—or your glorious chaos. Leave a comment or send a message—because we’re all in this together.
Until next time,
Nawsheen, your friendly homebody artist from Murrumbateman.
