I love my body. 43 years old, the true collector of memory. Everything I’ve been through stored inside, marks on the outside. Scars, brown spots, wrinkles, varicose veins, dry heals, hair, a tattoo, looser skin than a decade ago. On the inside old aches meet new aches. Time to get a mammogram. I feel so exposed. My ovaries are swollen and painful, my uterus is complicated. I am glad both babies already had their morning poop so I can sit here longer. I’m tired, maybe the 2 shots of tequila yesterday wore me out. The coffee doesn’t seem to be helping me, it’s just leaving a gross taste on my tongue because I used too much honey. But I’m still drinking it. My mind is foggy this morning just like the sky outside. The babies are having fun playing together. I feel lucky. I need to stretch my body today. Drink lots of water, take a bath and go for a walk. My bodies tired. My back is sore, I was kneeling this morning with Jack, I went to stand up but he was so heavy I fell to the side. It’s like doing dead lifts everyday all day long. My body is getting so strong. I feel the babies are growing restless, they will be wanting my attention soon. I will need to make breakfast and clean the kitchen. I wish this coffee would give me some energy. I used to think If I was super healthy, ate raw foods, no caffeine, kept my body super pure I would feel so much better. I always felt like I needed to change. Now I feel that way of thinking just puts too much un-needed pressure on myself.
Category: finding balance
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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.
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“WOOF” “WOOF” “WOOF” I hear. “BILLY” I yell out the back door. She’s not there, sounds like it’s coming from the front. “Billy! Come here! Sorry Nancy!” I say. “She was in my yard, I tried to let her out but she jumped over the fence.” Says Nancy. “I’m so sorry” I say. Nancy starts walking up to my front door. I haven’t had time to pick up the dog poop, I’m so embarrassed, it stinks. Nancy walks up the steps, “Don’t get too close, we’re infected with the flu.” I say. “I just wanted to let you know Billy was drinking from our fountain, it has stuff to kill mosquitos.” She says. I think it will be O.K., since the stuff doesn’t kill birds. I don’t have any of those cute pictures or videos everyone posts with their babies and their dogs. Billy’s not that kind of animal. The vet says she might be part wolf because of her long legs and wolfy personality. I think that’s why my mom chose her. Vikki saw Billy’s picture on the Clear Lake SPCA web site. “Jenny I found my dream dog.” She tells me. “I’ll take you to get her.” I say. It’s a three hour drive up to Clear Lake, on the 101. We drive past the exits for Guerneville and Mendo. It’s beautiful up here. My Mom is really nervous, when we get into Clear Lake we get lost. The shelter is closing soon, my mom is panicking. She starts to cry. She recently lost two dogs, Riply and Mingus. Riply survived way longer than she was meant to, my mom even had a leg amputated to cut off the cancer. Riply lived a whole year after that. I never saw my mom so depressed and sad after Riply was put to sleep. We drive down a long dirt road and arrive at the Clear Lake SPCA. My mom only got to enjoy Billy for three months, she died that December of a massive heart attack. Alan and I took Billy and Zappa to live with us. Zappa is old and incontinent so she has to stay outside in the dog house. Billy sleeps outside too. It’s been hard to keep her in the yard. She likes to go after the Raccoons and coyotes. The other night when I put her out she was all wound up, in the morning she had a gash across her face. I don’t know if it got caught on a fence or a raccoon’s razor sharp claw. The first couple of weeks after the babies came home when I went outside to be with Billy I would cry. She looked at me like I had betrayed her. It was just me and her for so long, we’d get up in the morning take a long hike. We were always together. This morning Jack fed Billy a piece of toast all by himself. Billy loves the babies now, as long as they are in a high chair or stroller. It’s really hard to give so much love and care to so many beings at one time. To make sure they each know how much I love them. To give equal attention to everyone, including myself and my husband. Sometimes I feel like I can’t do it, like I’ve run out of words and feelings. There’s such a strange area of doing all the things that need to be done, loving all the creatures that need to be loved, and just being present. It’s easy to get lost.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 