Raggedy Unicorn Unitard

“I’m gonna wear it” said Fiona.

She really is too, I think to myself. No matter how raggedy and torn the unitard gets, it’s Fiona’s favorite.  The other day I pushed the purple, lavender, unicorn unitard behind a unicorn backpack on a shelf in Fiona’s closet. I just couldn’t risk her wearing that thing again the following day. I pulled it out again because I knew if she wanted to wear it she would ask me where it was until I found it for her. This time she pulled it from the laundry room.

“That’s wet” I said.

“It’s O.K.” she said.

“Come here, let me feel it” I said.

Fiona came over and when I felt it I couldn’t believe it had dried so fast.

“O.K.” I said, “You can wear it”

I have my favorites I love to wear. Today I have a pink sun dress over a white t-shirt, Birkenstocks, and a bandana on my head. No bra, when I looked in the mirror before leaving to pick up Jack I thought I looked like a real hippie. I didn’t change, I wore that comfy outfit to Toys R Us. Just like my old wolf shirt, I used to wear that thing everywhere until my husband told me I needed to throw it away.

I let the kids watch T.V. today for two hours so far. I painted. Strange narrative paintings. Really different. Everything’s an experiment. I just started thinking about my higher than normal lipids in my blood. I feel like a piece of plaque is going to dislodge and plug an artery because I got a bad cholesterol test. I’m trying to accept that’s just my lot in life.

I sat outside in the back yard earlier and contemplated this while I let Jack and Fiona watch T.V. I justified my parenting style, let Fiona wear the gym outfit, buy Jack new toys, sit when I need to sit, because I could die of a heart attack. Most people could. I’m just older and my kids are younger than normal. I think about that stuff.

Then I went to my studio and painted strange paintings.

Now I need to make a strange dinner and decorate strange cookies with my kids, but not eat any because of my cholesterol, or eat some because of my cholesterol?

Questions.

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About Dirty Laundry Blog

Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist