Red wine. News. Red wine. Call Me.

I’m warmer now, I have on the heater and am drinking a glass of red wine. My children are sleeping, it’s 3:39PM. I hope I have enough time to write: before they wake up, before my husband gets home. Chills run down my back, the top of my left hand is icy cold, outdoors is gloomy and cold. (this weather doesn’t suit me) The trees are losing their leaves, I can see through one tree to the next revealing a complexity of colors. I’ve already decided to order pizza for dinner, haven’t been to the store, don’t plan on going. Especially not after drinking wine. The other day I’m in the grocery store, no bra, painting clothes on, paint on my hands. “Do you know if they have any more pies?” a lady asks me.  “Yes, I think there are some in the freezer.” I say. She is uncomfortably familiar to me, am I like her? I wonder. She seems a little crazy, she looks a little crazy. I continue shopping and over by the yogurt area the manager comes up to me to hand me the pie. I tell him, “She’s over there, in the blue shirt, brown hair”. I think he must view us the same, we are oddly similar, even the store manager sees it.

We got on the ferry yesterday, Jack, Fiona, Alan, and I, the Sunday Ferry to the city. I hold Jacks hand, he pulls me from one end of the ship to the other and again and again. We don’t make it past the Ferry terminal, we eat, have coffee, and I buy a few books. It’s too hard, even with my husband there. One minute Jacks right beside me, the next minute he’s somewhere else. It’s nerve racking. We wait for the 12:40 Ferry back to Marin. On the way, back I read all four of the new books to Jack and Fiona. I feel good, I’m a good mom. No ipad, iphone, not for us. I feel like a rebel, a revolutionary, just because I have good old fashioned books. I decide I won’t be taking any more excursions like this for a while. It was a good experience, but just too stressful with toddlers.

I worked in my studio for a short while today, I could go all day if I had a babysitter. I need to. I am so distraught. I need to work, do the only thing that makes sense to me. The ever-present struggle. Today I felt a strange feeling, maybe not so strange, not so unusual. I felt that way when everything changes, the way when something is changing, when it starts to be hard to know who I am. I’ve been reading the news, not participating in any discussions, but staying informed. It’s grim. So Grim. I am practicing sitting with my feelings, living with the uncomfortable feelings. I can’t do anything about any of it, I can only weep and sink into a hole of sadness and despair. I started reading a cheesy book of cheesy quotes before I go to bed, the kind of quotes that talk about how great my body is and how lucky I am to be alive. It helps. Focus on me, each moment, be grateful. I am. I love the babies so much, and am finding myself torn between wanting more time to myself, them driving me crazy, and feeling totally depressed because of how fast they are growing and how those babies are gone, except from my memories and the pictures we look at.

As December moves on maybe I get the sadness from my mom’s death, it’s right around the corner. I don’t want to go to the stores or drive around city streets, feeling the rush and madness of the holiday season. I’m all for getting together and drinking wine, I even want to write x-mas cards and buy a few presents. Meet a friend for a holiday breakfast with Mimosas! But it’s too crazy out there for me. This year I don’t even care about God, I mean last year I was so concerned that I am an atheist and my husband’s families Catholic, and “Oh the tragedy” But this year I don’t even care about that, at all. I’m an atheist, I don’t believe in God and that’s that. I don’t feel guilty about Santa, Jack and Fiona can think what they want. We’re having fun with Santa stories and imagination, and that’s all it is. But it feels like one holiday after another. I feel like x-mas last year wasn’t a year ago. Oh no, and now I want more wine.

O-Well. I feel better. Definitely Better. Warmer. It’s getting dark already. It’s only 4:12pm. This weather doesn’t suit me. Winter is hard. This winter is hard. Wine is good. Wine is good. Red wine. Dark thoughts. I started wondering if China fired a bomb could it hit America? I am really concerned for the world. I almost called an on-line psychologist today, just to talk. I felt I needed to talk. Can you believe I have no one to call? No one to talk to? I need to sit with these feelings. I need to live with my uncomfortable feelings. They are part of me. They are part of life. I shouldn’t have read the news today. Maybe I shouldn’t read the news for the next four years. Am I crazy? I have no one to talk to. No one like me. I shouldn’t be drinking red wine. I’m a bad, bad person. O-well. Call me.

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Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist