I sit down with my coffee, I have a window seat. I watch buses and cars drive down fourth street. My index finger typing one letter at a time on my iphone. Dropped off car for oil change, a smile comes over my face. The gift of Pure unattached time, nothing that needs to be done, I can just sit here and drink coffee until they call and say my car is ready. A bead of sweat emerges on my upper lip as the heat of my coffee moves through me. When I first sit down and take that first sip, no one to watch, don’t need to worry Jack and Fiona are climbing on something, I almost cry, not from sadness but from the lightness and thankfulness I experience in this moment. The thankfulness that I am alive, that I get this small break, no stress. To look back on my crazy week. A week filled with potty stories, poop on beds and butts. Jack pooping in the backyard. I can’t find it anywhere. There’s poop and dirt in his butt crack as if he dragged himself along the dirt like some dogs do to get that last dingle berry off. Days of no naps, going into the nursery to find Jack and Fiona stomping in their pee on the floor laughing. Deep breathing. Stay calm. Keep my cool. Did it. It’s all going by so fast. They’ll be out of diapers by next Spring. Time goes by so fast. I am grateful I have the opportunity to experience raising children, against all odds. I love them so much. This will probably be my last moment spent alone in the next four days, we’re headed up to Mendo for vacation. My brother and his girlfriend are coming, and I’m so excited! It’s the first time Danny and I have gone on vacation together. The babies will be over the moon, they LOVE Danny!! All is good. I am thankful. I hope the world can pull out of this cycle of negativity and despair. I really do. I know how fortunate I am, just to be able to sit here and enjoy a cup of coffee.
Category: finding balance
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It’s a hot summer day, we’ve been playing outside in the water, my night-shirt wet from sitting on the ground. Fiona has gone into the house, is standing on a chair pushing the button that turns on our speakers, but the music’s not on. She’s singing really loud and moving her shoulders and arms. I walk in the house, take off my top, and turn on some music, I flip through a few stations and when I get to teen beats both babies ears stand to attention. Fiona doesn’t have her hearing aids on, I turn the music up loud. The doors are open, they are filming a Netflix movie down at the park, I wonder if they can hear us. We all start dancing, Jack and Fiona run out onto the deck and back in again, I’m tempted, but I would be seen for sure, not that I really care. After the first song is over Jack says “More”. We listen to three more songs dancing away, arms, legs, bodies flowing with the beat, the Teen beat. The music’s not bad for this sort of thing. I’m enjoying this, my naked body four decades old dancing with babies, boobs bouncing, I catch a glimpse of my reflection on the glass door. My body looks pretty good, I watch myself dance, I started watching myself dance in Elementary school. I would pretend I was sick, stay home from school. After my mom and brother were gone I’d dress up and dance. I don’t know where I got the idea, but I loved doing it. In my twenties I went out dancing every chance I got, especially to REGGAE. I loved dancing, since getting married I haven’t gone to see music and dance very much. There’s been family parties where everyone started dancing, my body wouldn’t dance, it’s as if the dance was buried, like the words sometimes, or the creativity. A self-consciousness takes over. But as I’m dancing naked, my oldish body, bouncing boobs, in front of my two-and-a-half-year-old twins, as they dance naked with me I feel a freedom that I haven’t felt in a long time. I almost danced naked out on my deck, I can hear the neighbors now, “Mommy they’re naked” I heard this the other day as some neighbors walked by and Jack leaned up against the railing naked, pushed his body up against the railing as if he was showing them his willy or going to pee on them. I was laughing so hard, I guess I wanted to do the same thing today, then I thought what if we all just walked down to where they’re filming, naked, with shoes on only and hats. We’ll just sit and watch with the other neighbors like nothing is unusual. Tempting. I realized last night at dinner, having so much fun with my sister in law, great conversations, then seeing an artist friend I haven’t seen in forever, who I look up to, love her work, she tells me she was a teacher for seven years and it was the best, she loved it. If you can help one person, if you can make a difference in one person’s life, that is the theme. What I realized was we may not be able to change anything, the people with the guns and the anger and the hate will always win over peaceful people. I used to get mad when I saw people posting on Facebook to pray for Paris or pray for Orlando or Sandy Hook, or the Refugees from Syria, or the kids being shot in gang crossfire, praying won’t do anything I said. But now I get it, all we can do is pray. We can try to change laws and make the world a better place, but it seems like there’s fifty percent of any given population that wants guns, or are racist against this group or that, that aren’t peaceful people. I can’t change them. I can only be myself, I can only help myself, and maybe a few more along the way. I want to go to Pride today and dance naked in the streets of San Francisco.
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Finally, I can sit down and begin to write. It’s 10:33AM Friday morning. Babysitter day. Everyone is at the park so I have the whole house to myself. I was able to finish cleaning last night after I put the babies to bed. I started in the afternoon. Vacuuming, with my new progressive vacuum cleaner from Sears, I got the model the professional cleaning ladies use, the canister style. Jack wouldn’t take his nap so I let him watch excavator videos on the I-Pad as I begun to clean. I kept thinking he’s so good. I woke Fiona up early from her nap, and even when both babies were upstairs I continued to do little chunks of cleaning, in between we ate snacks, played in the sand box, picked plums, then bath time and bedtime. I came up and still had to mop, as I pushed the mop over the tiles, and the wood I felt an ease inside me. A relaxation. Now as I sit here typing in my clean house I feel that same lightness. What is it about a clean house? What is it about a dirty house? And how come some people can live in a messy, dirty house, and it doesn’t bother them, but others feel depressed with a messy house? I know the mindfulness techniques, the ones where you try to let it go, not worry about dirty dishes in the sink. Or toys all over the floor. I try to do this but I can only go so long. There’s another Buddhist philosophy, or would it be Feng Shi? I heard that it’s not good to have tons of clutter under your bed, that it would clutter your dreams and make your life feel cluttered. I think that’s true. Maybe cleaning helps us purge and move forward from one day to the next. Be able to fully be in the present, instead of held back by yesterday’s dirty habits. The chimes are blowing outside, the birds are chirping, it’s a beautiful day. I already laid down some marks in my studio. I’m going to take breaks in between layers today. Write, take Billy for a walk, work on some etchings, those take time. I want some new ones for my show in September. I’ve got so much good stuff for that show. And I’m making more and more every day.
I’m over my worrying over who reads what and what they think. Today, as I started working in my notebooks I realized that I have almost fully embraced who I am. My studio showed me that. None of the things matter that I worry about, the cost, the trying to justify what I do, that I am an artist whether I sell or not. It’s no reason not to do it. There’s also no way to explain to someone who doesn’t have a passion that requires ridiculous amounts of money for supplies, makes a mess, makes no money, takes lots of time, and makes a person crazy. Or is the artist born crazy? My mom was an artist too. I miss her so much. I think I’d be less crazy if she were still around for me to talk to. Before my mom died, when people told me one of their loved ones had passed I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how they felt. When I went through losing someone so close to me, who meant the world to me, who was so much part of my life, unexpectedly gone the next day, it was a feeling that could only be learned through experience. There would be no way to explain that to someone who hadn’t gone through losing someone in that way. I think a lot of things in life are like that. We beat ourselves up trying to explain things to people who will never understand, unless they go through it themselves.
Well my technique isn’t working so well yet. I worked more in my studio and I feel like everything is already over worked!!! Maybe there’s no way to get around that. It’s just part of the process. It’s just past noon now. Starting to feel anxious because I know everyone will be back from the park soon. I need to make myself scarce, if the babies see me they might not want to take a nap. They are getting so big. They are starting to understand things I say. Yesterday I saw them sitting on a step in the backyard together, it was so cute. I wish I could have got a picture. They looked like they were contemplating life. Earlier in the day Fiona and I were swinging on the hammock and Jack was walking around it, Fiona said, “Jack, watch your head” which is quite an accomplishment for her. I was impressed. They impress me every day. I’ve learned too that with toddlers you have to be willing to say no and let them cry. They get over it so fast, but the more I give in to things like watching Mickey Mouse or eating candy, which are the two things they constantly whine about, the worse they are. They may keep asking all day long, but the more I say no the quicker they move onto playing something else, like going outside and playing in the sand box. It’s hard because I feel bad when they cry, but I know it’s just an automatic response for them, they are always trying to figure me out. They want to learn how to control me and they know using their emotions is an effective strategy! The sad face! I hope they had tons of fun at the park today. My alone time is almost over. I thoroughly enjoyed it! I need more of this.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 