I start to get that feeling deep down in my gut, like I could cry. I hate everything I’ve made so far. I only had two hours to work and I’ve gone through an hour. I’m panicking, I’ve been working on the press. I decide to mix some paint, I mix some white with thick medium, some yellow. I start adding paint. I start some new pieces, with paint and collage. The creativity finally starts flowing. I stop self-critiquing, I start arriving in the moment, enjoying myself, liking what I’m making. I cover up a lot, next time I won’t cover up so much. I want to keep working but times up. I think about the week ahead and realize it will be difficult to get back into my studio. I woke up this morning at 4:30 to Jack wailing, I gave him Tylenol and a bottle of milk. I thought I should go work, but I was too tired. Before I had the babies I was in my studio every day. I worked for hours at a time. My biggest concern was not being able to work. But as the months went by and I saw how fast the babies were growing I took comfort. I knew one day soon they will be doing their own thing and I will be doing mine. This makes me sad too, if I was younger I would have more babies because it is a wonderful experience. But then I would never get into my studio. It always feels like time is running out. I need to get back to meditation.