Pomegranates and Babies, crayons and book project, sunday no time to be down, action is fluid

“Wait just one minute babies, I’ll be right back” 

I return with my two new books I started working on this week. 

We were sucking seeds out of a pomegranate when I had to see what the stain of juice would look like on the pages.  

“Do you guys want to color??” 

I bring out their box of crayola and notebooks, one owl cover one elephant. 

I color and smear stain on pages in my books, the babies eat crayon tips  between coloring. 

“Not in your mouth, we’re not going to be able to color anymore”

I say this but don’t mean it. I don’t want to stop. I woke up late and haven’t had time to work in my studio or write. I need this. I let Jack and Fiona do what they want for five more minutes so I can play in my books. I figure a little crayon never hurt anyone. 

My mom duties soon return. I have six minutes before the pasta’s boiled. Jack, Fiona, and Alan are watching an episode of Masha and the Bear. It’s 5:14pm Sunday evening. The sky is getting dark, I sit in a house of safety, love, and comfort. I always get annoyed when people say “be thankful for what you have” but right now I am just that. I don’t know what else I can do, I don’t know how I should feel. I’ve been trying to not worry lately, especially about things I have no control over. I have no control over terrorists or any terrible things humans do to each other. I feel sad for all the people suffering. I don’t do prayer, but I am thinking of the people, hoping for the best. 

I forgot to put the timer on and overcooked the pasta! 

It’s 5:31 now and pitch dark outside. Time to feed the family, make bottles, and move into the night. 

If I did say a prayer it would be Buddhist 

“May all beings have happiness and the cause of happiness.
May they be free of suffering and the cause of suffering.
May they never be disassociated from the supreme happiness which is without suffering.
May they remain in the boundless equanimity, free from both attachment to close ones and rejection of others.

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About Dirty Laundry Blog

Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist