Shaven legs, been using lotion. Drinking lots of water. Eating well, tummy feeling full, gorged on cake and watermelon. Drinking tequila, can’t get drunk. Only drank one, nursing second one now. Felt free, listening to Sweet Home Alabama, put on a sexy dress, sweeping floor, dancing, saying, “Hi jack! Hi Fiona.” Smile, giggle me, them. This is my dream, to be carefree and fun loving. Always have been, except when I’m down. Take last sip of Tequila. Make a second? Feeling good now, babies asleep, Alan asleep on the couch. I hear a little bird chirping, the hum of the freeway, a saw, someone doing DYI. Kids at the park saying sentences, I can’t make out what they are saying. A car door here a dog barking there. My stomach hurts a little. I’m too conscientious to get drunk or eat anything else. When the babies wake up I will get a closer look at the neighborhood. Billy needs a walk, I’ll wear a hat and sunglasses. I’ll make another margarita. Drink more water. 1/2 a shot of tequila, 1/2 a shot of lime juice and ice in a little tiny goblet. Yum, the new margarita is good. The trash is full. The flowers in the interesting crystal vase with a geometric design of cuts, making triangle ridges that we got as a wedding present that I didn’t like at first but now has grown on me are dead. The water is murky. If I smelt it I know what it would smell like, pond water. There are a few flowers that have survived. Yellow with long tiny petals and two white and purple lilies. The painting of my mom’s dad, he wore a check suit and was a used car salesman, not in the painting. It’s just a portrait, but in the old black and white photographs I’ve studied, he wore check suits. The painting is in a dark corner of the room. The dominant sounds are the birds and freeway, things Fiona couldn’t hear without her hearing aids. Now I am feeling tired. I don’t know about a walk, I’m leaning towards a bath. Or paint! I could totally go paint right now. I’ll bring the baby monitor and my margarita. I’ll just paint super-fast. Just for fun. Then If I have time before any one wakes up I’ll take a hot bath. If they wake up before I’m done painting I’ll take the babies and Billy for a buzzed Sunday afternoon walk on time change day. Good Bye.
Category: Art finding balance
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Dirty Laundry everywhere. Haven’t been able to keep up. Jack and Fiona, diaper blow outs, four days, change their cloths. Hate the piles everywhere. Wash, Fold, Put Away, Sort, Give Away, Buy, Too Big, Too Small, Too Much, Too Many. Little Tikes, V-Tech. Balls and Bottles. On the floor, cheerios, banana, drops of milk, crust of sweet potatoes, the dirty tray with burnt sweet potato, more dishes in the sink. Time to purge. The kitchen counter is grimy, it makes me irritated. A housewife has a right to vent. “How can I make you happy?” My Mantra. As they whine now, “What in the world is wrong with you guys?” I say. “What, I don’t understand?” Ok, it is the plastic container of Mentos Jack got, Fiona wants. Take it away from both babies, both cry, both get over it. They need a few cuddles, now they are playing. Sun shining, a beautiful Sunday. Not scared of getting sick anymore, time to get out of here. Time to go on some adventures, Three bandits. The Bandits don’t want me to write today. Plop, cry. The dead giveaway of a fake fall.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 