Naptime, the kettle just finished boiling, I pour the hot water over my stress relief tea bag, sit down, and take a bite of my chocolate chip cookie. It’s 2:37 PM Sunday afternoon, Jack and Fiona just went to sleep thirty minutes ago, the latest they’ve ever stayed up. I don’t understand how they have so much energy. Right before I put them down Jack was running in circles, Fiona kept walking away from me, when I said “It’s time for your nap” she said “no”. When I put them down I had no problems, Fiona wanted to keep her new pink sparkly Hello Kitty sneakers with her, she fussed when I took them off her, but both babies went right to sleep. They were tired even though when I asked them, “Are you tired?” they kept saying “No” and running in circles.
Today I woke up early, early enough to drink a hot cup of coffee and peanut butter toast, early enough to see the sky still dark, with light blue horizontal streaks, see the yellow and blue lights scattering the valley below, and the quiet shadows cast on the walls around me. A shadow of my apron strap twisting and turning, delicate like a ribbon. The shadow of my hand , my pen on the piece of paper on which I write. Early enough to notice my reflection in the window merging with the outside world creating another dimension, that slowly disappeared as the darkness of dawn turned into the light of morning. My dog resting on the carpet and the babies still asleep in their beds. These are the moments I can stand back, look, observe. The moments before the chaos, before the speed my two year old twins demand. They aren’t really two yet, we have two months to go. Am I trying to hurry time?
Last night on my way to bed I went in the nursery to turn off the lights and I found Jack asleep on the floor. Fiona was cozy in her bed with all her teddies. I scooped Jack up and lay him on his bed with his teddies. I imagined him going and going and going until he just dropped down and fell asleep. His feet never stop moving. He got a new pair of shoes today, they are spider man sneakers that light up when he walks. He was so proud and happy, he kept walking around looking at the lights flashing. He’s a good kid. They both are.
When I was looking for a pen to write with this morning I came across a 00 Kolinsky red sable paint brush from Utrecht. I can’t remember when I bought it, or what for. It makes tiny little marks, a place I feel uncomfortable going, into tiny little mark making, tiny little pictures. I want to experiment with this tiny little paint brush, maybe make tiny little marks on a big piece of paper. Tiny little moments, my tiny little place on this earth, my tiny little life moving quickly. Maybe making the tiny marks would be good practice for staying present. For being fully aware of each passing second. Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, and so on, how many marks would that be? Could that be? Do the tiny little marks make up one big mark? Will it teach me how much time I really do have when I slow down?
I don’t know what I love more, a quiet morning or a quiet afternoon, both are beautiful. Tomorrow is a studio day, I am really looking forward to it. I’ll start work on my DADA  drypoints and stitching, but I won’t post any photos of those. They will only be revealed after the show opens in May. When I looked at the picture I made on New Years Day, the one I am posting with this blog I was shocked. It was so moody, but I was feeling very moody that day. But today I feel better.