Month: April 2018
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“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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Dried Flowers, lavender, buttercup, violet, brown velvet, and orange. They are flowers Fiona and I collected from the flowering plants of winter. She reminded me this morning they were hers too.
“Don’t touch anything in my closet” I said to Fiona.
“Don’t touch my dried flowers” I said.
“They’re ours mommy” Fiona said.
She was correct, we gathered them together and put them between paper and cardboard. We wrapped two rubber bands around the cardboard and paper and left them for a couple months. I didn’t think they would work because we put the flowers in fat and still juicy. Even the thick stems went in between the paper.
I’m working in my studio today. In the morning Jack, Fiona, and I went to a birthday party. It was over the bridge and in a loud place and we were late. All three of us, Jack, Fiona, and me had breakdowns and had to get out of the city. We all wanted to go home. I don’t like large trampoline parks very much. They are loud and chaotic. But I hope I haven’t influenced Jack and Fiona to feel like I do.
We arrived late because of road closures and detours, and we left our house too late.
“Hurry” I said. “Take off your tennis shoes, put on your jump socks”
Fiona decided she didn’t want to jump at all, she just wanted to eat a donut. Jack was shy and held my leg. But the music was loud. It was a large, crowded, space. The building is part of an old Army airfield. Jack and I looked up into the high ceilings, both kids stuck close to me.
On the way home, I stopped at the toy store. There was a sign on the window, “Everything Must Go”. I wanted to get them something they really loved so I could work in my studio for a while.
I pulled out some pictures I’ve been working on. What’s just enough I kept asking myself. Just enough line, just enough color. I found a bottle of sepia colored ink, poured some in a small jar and added water. My works all became brown. I’ve been working so much about the subject of bodies in space and emotions and constraints. Sometimes I want drawing, sometimes washes.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 