Please let the quiet slumber of Jack and Fionas’ nap last a little longer. Give me a bit more time to relish in the peaceful sounds: the humming of the overhead fan, the creaking of the house, the fridge, chimes; sounds different and sacred, meshed together calmness I desperately need after the day I’ve had. Morning comes, as I wake to Fiona coughing incessantly, then calling out “momma, mommy, mommmy, momma”. I decide to get her, bring her upstairs with me, but as I go to the door I hear Jack crying what sounded like, “I want my pizza, I want my pizza, I want my pizza” I stood next to the door. Should I, shouldn’t I. It’s only 7:00AM. I decide to go upstairs and have my peanut butter toast and coffee first, maybe they will fall back to sleep I say to myself. Jack and Fiona quiet down and I enjoy my little morning coffee break. I make them breakfast as usual and go down to get them. They great me with smiles and stories about things they remember from the days before. Things seem normal, I’m not worried. I think about taking Fiona to the doctor for her cough, but that doesn’t stress me out. “I wanna watch Mickie Mouse” Jack starts saying. He has barely touched his breakfast, same with Fiona. I reduce my expectations, turn on Mickey Mouse and lay on the floor with the babies. We enjoy this time together, who cares if we’re learning to tune out, we’re together and we’re resting. I have a nagging, I know I can’t just stay home all day, we need groceries, I’ve been putting it off. I ask the babies if they want to go to the park. “No, no park” Jack says. I’m can’t believe it. “Do you want to go to the store?” I ask. “Yes” they do. I tell Billy “Stay here, we’re just going to the store”. We get our groceries and some new toys from T.J. Max and go home; I let both babies loose while I unload the car. I start to take things in. I start with the new toys, putting them in the babies’ bedroom, thinking it might keep them occupied while I put away the groceries and make the lunch. Right off the bat fighting occurs, “I want that!” then crying, hitting, pulling, annoying behaviors start to unfold. “Oh my god!” I say. I am looking at shredded blinds, splinters, pieces hanging off, pieces on the floor, all these thoughts running through my head: should I cut the whole thing off? How can I clean this? Who did this? Did the babies do it last night and I was too tired to notice this morning? What will Alan say? How mad will he be? Oh my God, Billy did it! She was so pissed I left her behind today. I start picking up the mess, Fiona helps me, picking up pieces of wood and putting them in the bag. I break off the broken slats of wood and roll the blind up far enough so the carnage isn’t visible. I vacuum and put the nursery back together. I hear Jack upstairs, “Oh my God!” he says. “What?” I yell. Silence. I grab Fiona, “We gotta go see what Jacks doing” I say. As I’m walking up the stairs I call out, “Jack, what are you doing?” He tells me he’s getting water. I see he’s sitting on the edge of the sink with his feet in. I put Fiona down and rush over, he has his feet right next to broken glass, I scan for red, pick up each soft, little, precious foot, no cuts. I look down and I see why he said “Oh my God”, Billy has gotten into the trash, there’s wet, stinky, coffee ground covered, banana peel, garbage strewn across the floor. I barely managed to get it swept up, lunch made and unsuccessfully served, and Jack and Fiona down for a nap before I snapped. I got them down just in time for my workout and hot shower to take the morning edge off, just in time to keep my sanity and not fall into some type of permanent fog of stress and disbelief. Just in time to realize that, that’s life, yesterday my dog was amazing, today she’s a damn bitch. Just in time to accept my children as being needy and needing my whole self, not just a portion, not just a side glance while my face plants on a screen. In time to have the break I need to appreciate life for it’s bad days, hard days, art days, and beach days. Just in time to say to myself, “I might not have time to paint today, that’s o.k., I can wait until I have time.” I hear Fiona waking now, Jack will be right behind her. I am here ready to slip into the evening routine, whether they are sick and needy or fun and healthy! I will be grateful for either and adapt to whichever it is, fully available as Mom.
Category: Difficult times
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It was between 12:00 and 12:30PM when they fell asleep, Jack and Fiona have been sleeping for over two hours. I have the un-packing done, organized the beach gear (Which there is A LOT of!!) rinsed off the sand toys and beach blankets, took a shower, worked in my notebooks (which was SO fun and gave me an incredible idea) and have finally come to sit and write. A weed blower just stopped blowing, I feel a calm, clear-headedness that was not present, is not present now again as the weed blower is loud in my right ear and causes me anxiety. Anxiety which has gotten increasingly better over the past several weeks. It turns on and off breaking my concentration. Changing my mood completely. Now it’s quiet again, I can hear the faint sound of chimes, voices from far way, then the loud weed blower comes on again. I wonder when the babies will wake up. They must be very tired from our trip. The river water still on their mind. The butterflies, bees, flowers, rocks, fog, trees, strange rooms and other peoples’ things, shelves full of games, Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit to open up and investigate, pulling out stacks of questions and answers, fake money and little houses, I don’t have the energy to stop them.
Jack and Fiona woke up from their nap soon after I begun to write this yesterday. I go in to the nursery to see calm, smiling, babies, blue blues in mouths. Within seconds though, “I wanna watch Mickey Mouse” says Jack. “Mickey Mouse in here”. Fiona has a poop, “I need to change Fiona’s diaper” I say. Fiona goes to a corner and leans into it. She stays there for a few minutes, then slides down to the floor sucking her thumb and Blue Blue. “Mickey mouse, I wanna watch Mickey Mouse” Jack repeats over and over again. I finally get Fiona on the changing table, when we’re done she grabs my legs from behind. I can’t move. She’s been doing this lately. I just stand there and wait until this mood of hers passes. I take deep breaths and meditate. “I wanna watch Mickey Mouse” Jack says again and again. Fiona begins to move away from me, she finds the box of pens and paper. We all color, the babies color their tongues, arms, Blue Blues, the floor, “only on the paper” I repeat several times. “Put the caps on when you’re done with the color, the pens will dry out” They completely ignore me. Fuck it, I turn on the T.V., Mickey Mouse is on now. On live T.V. with commercials and everything. Jack is engrossed. That’s all I wanna do, just sit and veg out to T.V., but that’s not in my immediate future. By the time I get to sit and veg it’s 9:00PM and I’m wiped. I just want to spend every day at the Beach, it’s the only safe and relaxing place for the babies and I. The house is a cluster fuck.
I hear the stove clicking; Fiona is messing with the knob. “No Fiona” I say and the clicking stops. I’m going about my kitchen duties, putting out raisins, berries, yogurts, then picking up what falls on the floor, I smell something burning. I see smoke coming from the stove, Fiona was able to turn on the middle burner, the griddle, it has a cover on it. Smoke is coming up all four sides. It’s hot, I lift off the cover, turn off the stove and turn on the fan. That’s scary, that’s a house fire waiting to happen or a bad burn for one of the babies. In the same hour Jack’s outside playing in the backyard, I go to check on him and smell gas. He’s turned on the BBQ grill but it’s not lit, only GAS filling under the grill cover. Someone lights a match and BOOM! What the fuck. Between these scarier than shit things they get up to there’s crying and whining and grabbing my legs, and hold me, which I want to do but with twins it’s almost impossible. Jack falls, “Mama” I pick him up, soothe and cuddle him. Fiona starts crying, pushing Jack away from me. It’s really hard. And when I had made the dinner last night, but Jack just wanted more hotdogs, even though he had an amazing chicken soup in front of him and I’m trying to eat my dinner and Jack starts crying and wants me to hold him. Alan says, “Mamas boy, Jack asks and mama gives him whatever he wants” I get so mad. “What did I give him?” I ask. I haven’t given into him except for holding him and I’m mad because ALL day I’ve had to navigate between crying and unhappiness and falls. Feeding times and going places, getting places. I’m at my final straw. Alans just making a joke, he doesn’t mean anything by it, but the statement makes me so mad.
When I take the babies to the nursery, I just lay there, I read one book, but that’s all. I’m so tired, but I also need some time to be with Jack and Fiona in a calm way, in an easy way, to re-boot. As I lay down in their room they un-wind more and more. They start relaxing, I rub their feet and backs. I start to dose off and Jack puts his face in front of mine, “Mama, Mama” he says. I think about the trail down to the river on Sunday, picking blackberries. Jack and Fiona thought that was so cool and for the rest of the weekend everywhere we would go for nature walks they would ask me, “Blackberries?” Being careful not to let them eat other berries, possibly poisonous berries! I need to teach them how to forage. What to eat, what not to eat. That’s where we thrive, out in nature. Not inside houses. The beach is the best place to be. I hear a blue Jay and a finch outside chirping. It’s almost 8:00AM, I don’t hear the babies yet. I think I might just feed them breakfast in the car on the way to school. Get them to school nice and early. Gain a bit of time for myself. A breather.
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Old blue paint. Mixed in the past. “oh cool, I can use this” to get me started. To be a gateway to the days’ work. To start off my time in my studio I have today. Time I’ve been short of for a while now. I have a sitter today. I worked in the morning on projects organizing crap on shelves and nooks. Deals purchased on Amazon we don’t need. Extra packages of boogie wipes, butt creams, potty watches, instruction manuals, an infra-red camera, nuts, screws, coins, things I try to put out of reach. “I’ll deal with it later” I keep saying, until the box of things gets moved to another location, somewhere hidden. “I’ll do this project later” I say. Until there’s boxes of miscellaneous things in every closet, up high. Forgotten, replaced with a purchase of the same exact things because we’ve forgotten we already have them.
I came in my studio today, finished organizing my art supplies, I have allocated 1/3rd of my studio to my babies. “I’m such a nice mom” I said to myself. To give up part of my studio, my only me space left, even though it’s not taken seriously. “Just a hobby” That’s what some people say. “You have been so happy without a nanny. The babies make you so happy.” He says. “Yeah, I love it but without help I won’t have any studio time, time to paint.” I say. “But you could give up art and still be happy”
I sit here today reeling with feelings of sadness and confusion. What do I want to paint? What for? Well especially now, took the Room show down yesterday and didn’t sell a thing. How do I prove my value and worth when some view everything in monetary terms? Art feeds the soul. It’s who I am. There’s no reasoning with it. There’s no understanding any of it. The only thing to do is to do and let the chips fall as they may. I think I’m doing my best. But I don’t know. I used to come into my studio so excited and so optimistic, I had goals and ideas. I guess I might again tomorrow. I feel like just planting a ton of tomato plants everywhere.
I’m gonna work now. I can’t let other people define me. Even though they do. Such gossipers.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 