I still feel there is hope. My sandwich tells me this, my glass of chardonnay, 2:20 PM on a Friday afternoon in June. Babysitter day, house to myself, paranoid they could come home early, that my solitude will end. I get scared. Quick, need to finish sandwich so I can go work in my studio before anyone gets home. 
I turn on my computer. A news flash, a woman, maybe an actress, someone I’ve never heard of, “Dies at 63”. O.k. I think to myself. A lot of women die around this age. A lot of people. I accept this, I need to accept this, it needs to be O.K. The inevitable death of everything. I finally watched “Where to Invade next?” By Michael Moore. I think about the Italians, how vacation is important, taking time to oneself is valued. Not how much a person works. Or in France how lunch in grade school is a class. The kids learn about food and table manners! 
I think about my art making practice, my writing practice. Do I push myself too hard? I worked today while the babysitter was here. I worked hard and fast. I had fun. I want to paint more. I am inspired, I have ideas. I won’t have a babysitter until Thursday. In my selections for my Book, Naptime paintings, I didn’t choose any that talked about babysitters or nannies. I felt like they were boring. I didn’t like how they read, and I don’t know why. I am uncomfortable because it’s such a luxury. But a necessary one. It sounds like in other countries child care is not so expensive and women avail of it. I feel guilty for taking time, as if I need to justify it. What did I do today? So much. I work all day, childcare and art business stuff. Totally engrossed, that’s how I felt today in my studio, but I went in there too late. Now it’s 6:00 pm, Fiona’s watching Peppa Pig, Jacks still asleep, and Alan’s on his way home. It’s June, 9th, 2017.
Category: being an artist
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Studio Time Thursday, beginning of Non-ish naptime paintings(because you still get the suprise naps)
Studio called, helped me, cupped me, marked me. Studio welcomed me back, still work on New Work for my Fall show and possible inclusion on my new website and book. Work on colors, new, or deeper colors. Try to take my purples farther. “Color is mood” someone said to me the other day. I say this to myself as I work. I start on collages in my notebooks. Ripp up old drawings I worked on this week.
Paint, add collage. Get excited. Print what is left on my plexiglass from yesterday when I did an art lesson on printmaking in Fionas class with the children. Again my true self emerged. I was my complete self teaching that class. Each kid made a beautiful print on nice paper.I was inspired today in my studio from the experiments yesterday in Fionas class.
The house is quiet, Jack and Fiona are still sleeping. Its been a misty day. It’s 4:30pm, June 8th, 2017
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Maybe I should work in my studio first. Jack and Fiona are in their room, not taking a nap. This is my official first post of my new work, I made my final First selection of writings for Naptime Paintings-The Book- (Still don’t know the full title). I finished selecting round one yesterday. I have almost twice as much as I need, my paintings are getting photographed for the book as we speak. I want to go paint for a minute. I paint over two paintings I painted yesterday. (I like them, but maybe they are too ambiguous.) I leave my studio after forty-five minutes. Jack and Fiona are done watching Peppa Pig, I leave dark grey and purple paintings. I added whites to lighten them, they become beings from another planet or faded out graffiti. They need more work. I worked on my Note Books too. I feel like I’m free, at least from needing any more images or writing for my book. I can write or paint anything now. I start thinking about conceptual projects I want to start. I work on my newer notebooks, the ones that will be finished next year. I have less time to work in my studio now that Jack and Fiona aren’t taking naps.
Fiona and Jack are naked now. Playing in the yard with the water hose. My house is a mess. I feel like there’s garbage everywhere. The sink is piled high with dishes. An empty milk carton fell to the ground and I just left it there. Something prevented me from bending down and picking it up. I just left it there. Maybe it is because If I pick it up and put it in the trash I am acknowledging all the other trash on the floor and the counters. I would have to start cleaning up. I’m not ready to commit yet. My neck is sore from moving Jack and Fiona’s beds yesterday and moving heavy chairs around the yard. They are playing nice, only occasional fighting over who’s turn it is to hold the hose. It’s ten minutes to five, only two and a half more hours and bedtime. I better start the cleaning before then.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 