Quiet Wednesday morning. Foggy outside. I breathe a sigh of relief. I have twenty minutes until Jack and Fiona start waking up. My breakfast consumed, my coffee drunk, time to sit and write. Time to relax and prepare for my day. Time for me. Today is a studio day. I am looking forward to it. As I just went to that thought I stood still for a moment, my mind started to race, a conflict arose in my thoughts, “I can just paint and work on my projects” then “No, I need to organize my work, my studio” Paralyzing. What is the solution I wonder? Split my time in half? We’ll see. It’s another case of single-mindedness vs. multitasking. I’m good at multitasking but I’m not really a multitasker. My mind gets boggled and I go into fight or flight mode. I’m better suited doing one thing at a time, focusing on one idea. I’ve been doing this with the babies a lot. When I’m spending time with them, that’s all I do, read them books, sing goodnight songs, eat dinner. I am getting good at being fully present, no preoccupation. It’s been great. I think it is very important at this stage because the babies are going through rapprochement, a developmental stage between 15 and 24 months where the child moves away from the parent but then comes back. It’s the time when they are learning they are no longer connected to their mother, that they are an individual. When they come back for reassurance I find it’s very important to really be there, to give them my full attention, my full support. I noticed when I try to just give a quick hug or am too busy to sit down on the floor with them when they go through these little tantrums things just deteriorate. But if I get in there and am totally available the tantrum stops and they are off playing nicely again. They just need that little bit of extra support to feel confident. I’ve also become an expert in not being a permissive parent, meaning I’ve learned that at night when I make dinner Jack and Fiona are expected to eat it, if they don’t want it, they start playing with their food, I put them down and if they go to bed hungry so be it. I used to worry so much, bring snacks down to the nursery, but I realized I was sabotaging myself and the babies. Eventually they will learn that they need to eat at dinner time. I also have learned that there are times when they are going to tantrum no matter what, for example when putting on clothes, sometimes they get really fussy. I tried the choice system, but sometimes there’s no time for that and I just say sorry, time to get dressed and let them fuss as I put on their clothes. There is definitely an art to parenting sanely! Speaking of which the babies are starting to wake now! Time to present myself.
Category: being a mom and an artist
-
Little Handprints slip away, day by day, getting bigger, leaner. Did I take enough handprints? Have I captured enough of the baby stage? It’s almost over now, the baby stage. I felt something yesterday I never thought I would feel, as I watched an acquaintance of mine, another mom at Fionas school, take care of her newborn baby, with his little infant cries and his squishy infant face, I actually longed to hold him, to go back to the moments Jack and Fiona were first born, to hear the little grunting in my ear as I burped them, to feel their little heartbeat on my chest as they slept. Before Jack and Fiona were born I would decline any and all offers to hold someone elses baby. I had no interest in babies or even a desire to have one, not like the women who said, “I knew I wanted kids” or “my life wouldn’t be complete without kids” I never felt like that, not ever. Until now.The Experience has been the most difficult and challenging thing I’ve ever encountered. I’ve had to become a thousand me’s to be enough for the role I find myself in. I give and give and give. This in itself is huge, to give yourself up, to learn to become a mom, a wife. To learn how to think with the mind of four instead of one, but to protect myself and care for myself just as vehemently, to give myself what I need, to still follow my dreams.
I’m doing it, I’m learning how. It’s an ever challenging battle, not easy. Last night Jack and Fiona stayed up late, 9:30pm. But they ate a great dinner and were in good moods, the day actually went smoothly, as if what I wrote, my hope for a peaceful day manifested. I’ve been finding this happening often, things I write become true, like the day I was prepared for mass chaos, that’s what I got. I’m not saying it’s that simple, But could there be something going on? Something to do with intentions? Intentions being aired out in a public sphere, no where for them to hide? They become me? My world? OR am I just learning how to deal with toddlers better, it takes me a few days to catch up to them they change so fast.Anyhow we went down to the nursery, had bathtime, pajama time, crazy time, book time, then to my delight- snuggle time. For a brief, maybe five minutes, both babies cuddled next to me, one on each side, kneeding their blue blues. It was so sweet, not fighting or pushing each other away, just quiet cozy bliss. Then it was over, Jack got up first, started pulling my hair, then Fiona started messing with Jack, then they wanted water. “Ok guys, time for bed, mommy’s going to bed now”
Just thinking about intentions and things coming to fruition I’d like to talk about my career as an artist. It’s wonderful! The creating, the making, the learning, the other artists I spend time with, it’s the best. But there’s alot of difficult parts to being an artist. The main one, that I’m sure I don’t need to tell anyone who’s been reading my blog is that I, and I know many artists are in this same boat, am very emotional and sensitive. World events, I’ve been trying not to pay attention to the bombs that have been going off in Turkey and Indonesia the past two days, or the continuing crisis of the refugees fleeing Syria, not because I don’t care deeply, but because it depresses me so much. It sends me in a tail spin if I study world events too much.Studio time can be both gratifying and torturous. Less torturous now than in the past. I’ve learned to really let go, to move on and to understand that it’s all process.
The business side of being an artist is the hardest part. It’s time consuming and costs money. It’s hard when I don’t have any money coming in. I always think, “If only I made money” For some reason I’ve always felt that would make things better. The only way to make money as an artist is to sell work. The only way to sell work is to have my beautiful paintings on display! So that is my intention. I want to start selling. I need to. I have wonderful things, they will bring years of enjoyment to their new owner. I can say this from personal experience, my husband bought some work from my friend and artist Heather Wilcoxon. I look at her paintings everyday, I love them. I love all the art in my house. People should start buying art. They won’t regret it.
BUY ART!
Well, dawn is becoming morning, sky getting bright, house getting light, Friday! It’s still quiet, babies still sleeping. Today will be a good day, I’m not even going to stress today. It’s an art day. I think I’ll make breakfast for Jack and Fiona now and a second pot of coffee. The one I made this morning sucked! Too weak!
Anyhow, I usually don’t do this, talk to you like I’m talking to you, or use the word you in my writing, but this morning I’d like to wish you a very good day or night, a very pleasant weekend, and to thank you for reading my blog!
-
Here I am, I’m right here, awwww, a great sigh of relief. Second cup of coffee, not as good as the first, maybe I won’t drink it. House quiet, sky dark outside. A baby doll looking at me, a rocking horse, shadows of light fixtures on the ceiling. Another sigh, relaxed, calm. How can I bring this sense of peace into things once Jack and Fiona wake up? I’m going to try, take deep breaths and smile. “Turn that frown upside down” I’ll say this to the babies when they start having their meltdowns. Wouldn’t that be one of those annoying sayings your mother said to you that made you even madder?
Clown Face. Round Face. My face. Your Face. I’ve been doing a lot of reading on the Dada movement. I realized I am Dada. I have always been interested in Kurt Schwitters and Jean Arp, two of my favorite artists. But as I am going back through my college textbooks, re-reading the section on Dada I realize I was either highly influenced by these artists or I was just born a Dada and had a natural affinity with them. They paved the way for me to do the art I do today. I’m really excited about the SFIAF Dada anniversay show, not only that I am included, but to experience the show and performances. I think the GAP collaborative fits great in the theme of DaDa, we are Dada.
The babies are Dada too. Infact Hugo Ball said this: ” My proposal to call it Dada is accepted….. Dada in Romanian means yes yes, in French a hobby horse, in German, a sign of absurd naivety.” He continued at a later date, ” childhood as a new world, and everything childlike, and fantastic, everything childlike and direct, everything childlike and symbolic, in opposition to the senilities of the world of grown ups….. The distrust of children, their shut-in quality, their escape from our recognition that they won’t be understood anyway. Childhood is not at all as obvious as is generally assumed.” (Painting and Sculpture in Europe 1880-1940 p. 367)
Jacks so Dada.If I could put plastic up in my entire house and turn the whole place into part art studio/ part food lab/ part yoga studio we’d be in business! I wouldn’t have to say no anymore. We could just experiment and make things all day long. Then I would have one room that was just one giant bed, we could all just crash on the floor when we got tired.
But we return to hard surfaces and sanitation issues. Life in the real world, not the childrens. But I can try to keep the childlike freedom alive inside myself and cultivate it as something to cherish in Jack and Fiona.
Dada Lives!
Babies still quiet, but I better get their lunch and breakfast done before I go get them this time. Yesterday trying to do it all with babies I almost caught the house on fire. I burnt two sausages, pancakes, smoke filled the house, Fiona tantrumed, grabbing my legs and falling on the floor as I tried to cook breakfast. It was not good. Today will be different. Today will be good. Today will be peaceful.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 