A steady stream of ants crawls down the window sill to the edge of the sink and back up again, round and round, I notice pain in my right hand and realize once again I’m gripping all my fingers except one, my typing finger. I type with one finger, my back hurts and I’m a perimenopausal woman. I’m finally starting to admit to myself I may be a manic depressive just like my mom, and share many more of her undesirable traits, especially in regards to how the male population views these stereotypical undesirable traits women tend to have. As Such. My need to be part of my community. My desire to create and share it with the world. My unconditional no holds bar to my babies. My constant need to protect myself and others and care about the world and people and animals, to feel that I am dying with the ignorance of humanity but to know that is just a reflection of how I am feeling at this moment. Something inside me is unsettled. Why? Why did I jump on all those Trains and Buses when I was young? But now I want to stay put. Nestled in a mountain. In a bird nest with my chicks. Why does my heart race? Why am I hit over the head and knocked out in my nightmare and I wake up panicked by a nightmare so awful it could never be repeated in detail to a single person? I have to go to my studio right now and paint. Before Jack and Fiona wake up from their nap. I have an hour and a half.
Category: art
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Just a housewife. Pickin’ up; the floor littered with Legos, Blocks, dirty clothes, every time I think I have it all picked up I walk by another dirty dish to bring to the sink and wash or bend down to pick up a piece of trash on the floor, blood rushing to my face, realizing my hamstrings are tight and I need to stretch. Putting it away, throwing it away, giving it away. Taking it. (Me: A Whore. It all comes down to fucking. Wet and Big. Vulgarity.) Time to vacuum. Vacuous. Space. My two year old son keeps saying something that sounds like fuck but I’m convincing myself it’s truck. And on the deck last night my daughter said, “People die” as she looked to the sky. I said, “are there people in the sky?” She said yes. Indulging myself I asked, “Is my mom in the sky?” She said, “Yes”. It’s Naptime now. Hummus, corn chips, cherry tomatoes, and ginger tea for lunch. Air hot, humid today. Time to take off my bra for the rest of the day. This morning after I dropped the babies off at Early Start, I walked Billy on the trail behind the school, green hills with patches of purple, dark shadows under the oak tree, the warm air tempting me to take off all my clothes and walk naked on the dirt trail. I used to hike topless in the nineties, protesting the fact that men can take off their shirts almost anywhere and it would be accepted, but not me, I’m not supposed to show too much cleavage, I’m supposed to keep my breasts covered with bras and tops, not too tight or I look slutty, not too loose or I look frumpy. The outlines or raised surface of my nipples to be masked, hidden. I was always self-conscious of my boobs. I finally don’t care anymore. There is a man cutting trees in the neighborhood, his power tool is so loud, I need to close all the windows before I go crazy. That is so much better. As I just made my way through the house, closing windows and doors, I picked up a piece of stuffing from pink bear, looked at surfaces that needed cleaning, wondered if I should stop writing and start dusting or stop writing and go paint something before the babies wake up. I have some decisions and considerations to make. Now and beyond. I am flying solo right now, no part time babysitter or nanny. I’ve had someone three days a week since Jack and Fiona were Eight months old. Between those three days and naptimes I’ve been keeping my head above water and have been able to write and paint. I’ve considered being an artist my job, justifying the expense of the part time nanny, plus being able to take breaks to keep my own sanity. But I make no money being an artist, I only spend money. My husband always used to say “Art is a hobby”, I would get so mad. But maybe he’s right. Maybe I should become something else. Maybe I should focus on raising Jack and Fiona and do art on the side. Be the ultimate housewife. It never dawned on me until after the last democratic presidential debate that I’m not accruing any social security benefits. (thanks Hilary for reminding me) I never thought about it too hard because I’ve always worked. Until now. I still work but it’s all under the table. No one knows what I do but my husband. Am I a kept woman? Am I a whore? Am I both of those things? Am I a ghost? Division of labor. Traditional vs. Non- Traditional. It’s fluid and multi-dimensional. I like cleaning, being a housewife, a mom. Raising Jack and Fiona. But I always feel like there’s more I could do. I feel like I should bring home a paycheck somehow. But how? I’m going to be a stay at home mom until Jack and Fiona go to Elementary School. That’s always been the plan. So the question is should I save money on the nanny until then? Or will I be giving up too much painting time? Time to myself? Free Time? Will I go CRAZY? Or am I already crazy? Maybe no one would ever hire me again? Maybe I would never want to work for anyone again. Well it’s almost that time. Jack and Fiona will wake up soon. I need to finish cleaning before they get upstairs, because they will be ready to make another big mess, and then the mess will multiple and take forever to clean!
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Hi, it’s me again. 7:30 AM Friday morning. Jack and Fiona will be up any minute, but right now I am enjoying quietness, hot coffee, and sunflower butter on toast. It’s been another wild week. Its possible Jack is phasing out of naps. Yesterday when we got home from Early Start (school) I put Jack upstairs in the guestroom, he seemed tired, I thought he would definitely take a nap. AS I was putting Fiona in the nursery two doggies came running in. They are my neighbor’s dogs, the cutest little things, and I knew they were friendly with kids because the owners have three kids. So I let Fiona hang out with them in the nursery for a few minutes and I got some cuddles in myself! Such sweet doggies, Billy’s a sweet girl but she’s not cuddly, she’s like a wolf dog, always on the job. Plus, she’s always covered in poison oak! After a few minutes I tell Fiona, “Time for your nap”, she starts crying, “My doggie”, “Fiona, we have to put the doggies out, those aren’t your doggies, they’re the neighbors’ doggies” Crying, “My Dog”, “That’s not your doggie” “Mine, mine, mine” “Awww, you want those puppies? Aww they aren’t your doggies; come on puppies you have to go home.” “Puppy, puppy, puppy” “They’re not our doggies, I’m going to leave the puppies out here” “No, NO, NO” As the doggies exit the garage I start laughing and so does Fiona! I put her back in the nursery to take her nap and she bawls. I tell her “I need to eat” then she says, “Me Eat” so I bring her down a yogurt pack and piece of cheese. She cries but does fall asleep.
I come upstairs, pour some granola over yogurt, go down to my studio, paint with one hand, scoop yogurt in my mouth with the other hand. I can hear banging on the floor. I get scared, what if Jack learned how to open doors. I go upstairs and Jack’s still in his room but says “Mama”, he’s wide awake. “Are you tired?” “No” he says. “you’re not going to take a nap?”, “No”. “O.K.” I let him out, he wants to watch bear, “O.K., you can watch bear and mommies going to do her exercises.” We cancelled our gym membership this month so we can save money. So I’m working out at home, I was going to do it while the babies took their nap or before they woke up! But now, while they watch T.V.! After I exercise, it’s 3:00, time for Fiona to get up. I go down and wake her up, she only had an hour nap, she would have slept longer but then she would be up late! Now that both babies are up things get crazy. First is food! They eat outside in the lawn, I give them fish sticks, O’s, berries, cereal, chocolate covered pretzels, they eat it all. I go back and forth between my studio and upstairs. I have the baby gate open and the garage door open so the babies can find me easily. They come down and Gasp! I’m painting faces, paints all over my hands. Jack starts moving the press back and forth. “I need to teach you how to print” I say. The babies are examining my studio, watching me be crazy and talk to myself. It’s dangerously cool. I finally “Finish” two pieces. I clean my hands and brushes. The babies are getting into the house paint closet, looking at golf balls and wooden tee’s, super excited, like they are on a treasure hunt. It takes me awhile to pry them back upstairs. When I get upstairs I notice milk and cereal spilt all over the good table. I say to myself, “This is what happens when I let toddlers free roam!”
But then Fiona grabs a piece of paper towel and starts cleaning up her mess. I say, “Do you want mommies help?” I go to help, she says “No” and continues cleaning. I control my natural urge to clean it good and let Fiona do her thing. She comes to me when she’s done! I tell her how much I appreciate her initiative and that she’s helping mommy, and realize this is the other part of letting toddlers free roam!
After I put the babies to bed last night I still had to clean the WHOLE house, dishes, toys, vacuuming. I didn’t sit down until 9:00PM! When I did I couldn’t believe I wrote in the morning, spent mid-morning at Early Start, most of it in our parents’ support group, exercised, painted, had absolutely no time to myself, I couldn’t even take a shower alone because Fiona wanted to take a shower with me! But when I sat down I was amazed at all that I had done in the past thirteen hours, but I know I couldn’t keep up this pace! Or could I? Anyhow The babies are awake now! It’s already 8:00AM. Oh and this weekend is my birthday!!! I’m going to be forty-five years old!!! Can you believe it?! I can’t!
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 