Foot Troubles

My book is listed under parenting right now. That’s not what I intended. I said MOTHERHOOD and FINE ARTS AND CREATIVITY. I just panicked over this and ran to my i-phone and sent two emails to the publishers that I want it to say: MOTHERHOOD, INDIVIDUAL ARTIST, and CREATIVE NON-FICTION. I’ve learned so much about computers, numbers, and codes, during the publishing process. I learned when you publish a book you gotta be real specific. It’s just the nature of the beast. I’m half-crazy now. If I was half crazy before does that mean I’m totally crazy now? I’m texting the gallerist asking her if she wants to peddle books with me!!!! I’m totally crazy!!! Amazing. And yesterday, when I said I was going to go with the flow, oh my god. I tried, I did the whole deal, a pancake lunch, a scooter around the city park, a trip to wild care. It was hot. And we were all tired. There was complaining every step of the way. Luckily, we all felt the exact same, me and my two kids, three-and-a-half-year old’s. I was horrible. I ate French fries and a crazy garden burger. Jack banged his forks and spoons and the lady next to us told him to hush. She turned out to be super cool. She helped me and wanted to talk. She showed me her swollen feet and showed Jack the Velcro straps on her shoes. Jack was being bad. When we got back to the car I saw this lady, a homeless woman I see a lot, but she’s usually looking down at the sidewalk. She whispered, “Any Change”. I thought I knew what she said, but I asked, “What?” She repeated, we made eye contact.  I grabbed ten bucks outta my bag and handed it to her. Her feet were super dirty, red, and swollen. Her face burnt from the hot October sun, she had those red sores. The ones you get from tweaking and picking the skin off your face because you feel like there’s little bugs in your pores. I think we could be the same age. She said, “Really? Are you sure?” I said “Yeah” She walked up the street, past the place Jack, Fiona, and I just had our horribly behaved lunch, and looked back at me several times saying “Thank You”.    When we got home my foot started to ache a bit. Then more, and more, and, more. The only thing I can equate the pain with was when I had a miscarriage. It was like my foot was convulsing in pain. I locked Jack, Fiona, and I in their bedroom. I laid down on the book reading futon. I tried everything, warm water, elevation, resting, deep breathing but it was like a nerve was being twisted and my foot was turning inside out. It started to swell and turn purple. I was freakin out. Jack started acting bad. He unlocked the door and ran upstairs to get into the fridge. I had to go up. I hopped to the stairs, and crawled up, one by one. I sat down and opened several string cheeses for Jack and Fiona. I took two Tylenol and after an hour the swelling went down, and the shooting pain dulled. Today the doctor said I had to have the surgery to remove my ganglion cyst growing outward, creating a whole new landscape on the sole of my foot. I’ve had it for years. My doctor told me to avoid surgery as long as I could. He said it’s dangerous and I could get an infection. But I can’t handle another flare up like the one yesterday, unless they give me some heavy pain pills. It was that bad.

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Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist