The dark shadow under the eastern side of the oak tree catches my attention as I sit here and ponder the question, “What do I have to do right now?” The babies are on a special day away at their babysitters’ house until 5:00pm today. I’ve spent the morning painting and working in my studio, getting work started on new stretched canvas, acrylic, working on the same painting over and over again, changing it and changing it, starting new work on paper with brown ink, teal acrylic paint, magenta, and pencil. Working on the collab canvas piece I’m bringing to Carl tomorrow, getting work ready for the unframed work on paper exclusive sale at Fourth Wall Gallery, $250 each. I still need to type up my information for each piece, like titles! Which I need to think about. I need to take Billy for a walk and take a shower. I’d rather sit here and write for a while and relax until I need to go pick up the babies. So what do I have to do right now? Am I asking the right question? What do I want to do right now? What can I do right now? What if I got lost between those three questions and sat here paralyzed, unable to move? In an alternate universe. Is the world shifting? Or am I shifting? Echoes of a basketball hitting the ground and the rim, motorcycles on the freeway, a blue jay squawking, car door shutting, front door slams, crow caws in. The world keeps on shifting and so do I. This morning I got sad. It was such a deep feeling I sat with it for a minute. It surprised me. Jack and Fiona were sitting in the kitchen, cheerios, toast, and milk in front of them. I said, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to the bathroom.” I’m sitting on the toilet and I hear a squabble then something fall. Then laughing, then more things spilling and falling. I can barely wipe my butt, I run to the kitchen and see milk, cheerios, cups, bowls, and toast thrown all over the place. Babies covered in milk. House just cleaned yesterday. As I see this mess my heart sinks, I feel as though I’m going to cry. “Get out of the kitchen” I say. “That really made me sad, that was bad, it’s not funny” They continue laughing for a minute then hide in their tent. Then Jack walks out and acts like he’s going to pee on the floor! I say “NO, go potty in the toilet” I cleaned up the mess and when they asked for more toast and cheerios I said “No, you should have eaten your breakfast, it’s in the garbage now”.
Category: Domesticity
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12:09 Monday afternoon. Nice summer day, babies eating lunch, watching a movie, “Inside Out”, Brilliant movie! I’m leaning in, watching a few clips, trying to get motivated to pick up the house, do some dishes, feed the dog. We spent the whole weekend home, playing outside in the yard, in the sandbox, playing with trucks, painting, in fact watching Fiona paint reminds me of honest mark making, spontaneous, experimental, everything I hold sacred. The browns she creates, beautiful. The mess she makes, unbelievable! The mess that I sit here in front of right now, the mess that is always growing, getting bigger. I can’t control it. Especially when I’m alone. It’s not possible. I say this as Jack dances on the table naked, picks up a handful of fries and throws them on the floor. He grabs another handful and eats them. My dog climbs onto the table to finish off the plates of food. My son climbs off the table and pees on the floor. I think about all the puppies I’ve had, how Jack’s like a little puppy. But a puppy I would scold, say, “bad puppy, go outside to go potty” But when Jack or Fiona do it, I just say, “Oh no! Why didn’t you go to the potty?” But I know the answer already, at least one of the answers, they don’t want to stop playing! They’re only two and a half, they probably don’t have the control and quick response needed to get to the toilet, but they also don’t want to wear diapers anymore. I picked up two poops in the backyard yesterday, one Jack, one Fiona. Then sprayed off their butts! Lucky it’s summer! At nap times they take off their diapers and jump in their pee. I’ve been thinking about putting tape around their diapers to keep them on. But I wonder is that taking something away from their natural development? I tend to look at all things they do in that way, especially messes. Tantrums and annoying whining behavior I have zero tolerance for, I’m getting good at navigating those, but the making messes and taking off their diapers and painting on their bodies, that stuff just seems normal to me. It also feels draining when I try to control their every move and not let them mess up the house! I don’t know, it’s just so much work!
It sounds like they actually fell asleep! I can exercise and take a shower, maybe get some picking up done. Maybe fit in a painting session. Fionas inspired me to paint!
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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.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 