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Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes

  • A Monday in June

    June 12th, 2017

    “Peppa and George are fast asleep”, I hear from the kitchen T.V. 7:29 AM Monday morning mid-June. Fiona is on break this week, no school. Jack has a stuffy nose today, I keep him home from school too. Last week I receive an e-mail from Yoga Works, it’s an invitation to a “10 Day Yoga Challenge”. I’m excited, I set up my free online membership, I can do videos on-line Tuesday and Thursday morning at home. I imagine myself in the studio Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Then I realize that Fiona doesn’t have school until the following week. I wonder if I could get away with bringing Fiona to class with me. It would be so inappropriate, everyone goes to the studio to get away from domestic responsibilities. Fiona is good at Yoga though, I think. Maybe she’s the one kid and I’m the one mom who could get away with it? No, not a good plan. Now, I sit in my living room Monday morning, Jack and Fiona watch Peppa Pig, then a Phonics video. I feed them juice boxes, crackers, fruit roll ups, blue berries, raisin bagels left untouched.  I decide in my mind, in my heart of hearts to do the online classes here with Jack and Fiona, or at least Fiona, Jack can play in the sandbox.  I’ll make it an activity we do as a family. Just need to have the will power. It’s a gorgeous morning, rays of sun shines through the blinds. Something Alan said as we were driving yesterday pops in my mind, “It’s been a crappy summer so far hasn’t it?” he says. I ask, what do you mean?  He explains the weather has been cold and windy. I feel like it’s always windy here in the summer, I say “No, I think it’s been a good summer so far.” But my glass is always half full. I hover on a plane of half full glasses ready to catch me when I fall, when I start drowning in the other half. I always have something pulling me back.

    Part of today, I feel or think, is a free roaming, anything possible, (except if it requires leaving the house) kind of day. It’s just me and the babies until at least afternoon. I can make my own reality, as a mom. Yesterday, after our morning and lunch out, when we got home, Fiona wanted to take a nap and Jack wanted to play in the sand box. Alan took Jack and Fiona in the Jacuzzi, Fiona took a shower with Daddy. When she got out I put on her jammies, gave her the new book we got at TJ Max. I laugh because I’ve trained my kids to love going to TJ Max looking for cool discounted toys. It’s been a fun activity for us through the years! Consumerism, pleasure center. I let Alan know one person needs to read a book to Fiona and tuck her in, one person needs to bring Jack his clothes to the sand box and hang out. I go to the sandbox. It’s a beautiful afternoon. The sky is blue with a slight breeze that rustles the fig leaves. It’s quiet for a while. I can hear the birds singing, then the breeze comes. When the leaves of the fig trees trap air, I can hear what the airs looks like between the leaves. It vibrates through my body.  When it stops, contrast in the silence it leaves in its wake. “Jack did you hear that?” He acts like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. When the symphony starts again I ask him, “can you hear that?” he evades the question, he starts playing with an excavator, pushing an old battery.  I relish in this moment; the birds sing, the quiet play I am invited to with Jack. I feel I am in his private world.

    Now Fiona watches the Wiggles in the kitchen and Jack watches Blippi on the i-pad. Clouds cover half the sky and a cold air comes in the house. I make a second cup of hot coffee I drink it now. The table is covered with everything, empty juice boxes, books, playdough, pens, games, I have two kids with only shirts on. I have two “screens” on, the words and music merge to create one constant background noise. The sun peers onto the deck, I want to go outside. Now Calliou is on, I have Jack and Fiona both in the kitchen. This will be the last show, I promise. When I was sick the other day I watched T.V. all day. I woke up Saturday morning, well I didn’t sleep very well. I had a severe allergy attack Friday night and bad cramps, then Saturday I woke up wiped. I missed my friend’s birthday brunch. Alan wasn’t too happy I was out of commission, I’m guessing. I’m inferring really, just by mood. He took Jack and Fiona to the bouncy house and a pancake and bacon breakfast. I did a twenty minute on the bike, showered, put on comfy clothes, ate a piece of pot chocolate (for the cramps), vacuum the living room, set up the couch with clean sheets and pillows, turn on the circulation fan, close all the blinds and windows and doors, turn on a sci fi movie and rest. I sat on that couch and watched the movie, then Oliver Stone’s “Untold History of the United States.” Yesterday morning I took Billy on a walk up the trail, I feel well rested, It’s  so good to be up here. Billie’s leg is better. I have a euphoric moment, I think I found the Golden Ticket, resting! And not feeling guilty about it. To listen to my body and take care of it, not let outside influences affect my needs, not affect the way I care and love myself. These are goals.

    Last sip of second cup of coffee. Still in Pajamas, Jack and Fiona are watching Blippi again on the i-pad. I start to feel guilty. I’m a bad mom. But I’m such a good mom. The past day I begin to teach Jack and Fiona to say, “No, don’t touch me, I don’t like that.” I teach them that they own their bodies. That their bodies are in their private space. I ask them every time I give them one of my automatic heard rubs or hugs or any automatic touch adults do to children to show affection, I ask them “is that ok?” I find out Jack only likes his back rubbed at night when he’s going to sleep, but my head hug is sometimes welcomed, especially if he can wipe his snotty nose on my shirt. So far Fiona says she does not like any of the automatic touches I give her on her arm. I am uncomfortable with most random touching too. I don’t like when people touch me or get too close to my face. I want Jack and Fiona to know they have the right not to be hugged or kissed or grabbed or held when they do not want it. The powerlessness small children must feel when a parent grabs them and holds them when they don’t want it must be freighting. Sometimes it’s necessary, to be strong held by an adult, of course, but maybe if they have the words to say, “I don’t like that”, even when it has to be that way, they will feel more powerful and confident, not helpless.

    It’s soon time to start playdough, painting, playing outside, baths, lunch, and naps. Jack needs a nap today with his cold, to get better quicker. I hope I have time in my studio today. I hope I follow through with my Yoga plan. That’s all. Those are my only hopes for this Monday in June. It’s my reality. I can grow my day as I see fit under the circumstances. I take a nice breath, I feel relaxed and the bit of anxiety I felt about letting Jack and Fiona watch three hours of T.V. and eat junk this morning has dissipated. I  will join Jack and Fiona on their road of growth today, watch the sun shine through the clouds and fog, find small adventures to have in the garden together, enjoy our day together.

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  • Everything Dies Anyhow

    June 9th, 2017

    I still feel there is hope. My sandwich tells me this, my glass of chardonnay, 2:20 PM on a Friday afternoon in June. Babysitter day, house to myself, paranoid they could come home early, that my solitude will end. I get scared. Quick, need to finish sandwich so I can go work in my studio before anyone gets home. I turn on my computer. A news flash, a woman, maybe an actress, someone I’ve never heard of, “Dies at 63”. O.k. I think to myself. A lot of women die around this age. A lot of people. I accept this, I need to accept this, it needs to be O.K. The inevitable death of everything. I finally watched “Where to Invade next?” By Michael Moore. I think about the Italians, how vacation is important, taking time to oneself is valued. Not how much a person works. Or in France how lunch in grade school is a class. The kids learn about food and table manners! I think about my art making practice, my writing practice. Do I push myself too hard? I worked today while the babysitter was here. I worked hard and fast. I had fun. I want to paint more. I am inspired, I have ideas. I won’t have a babysitter until Thursday. In my selections for my Book, Naptime paintings, I didn’t choose any that talked about babysitters or nannies. I felt like they were boring. I didn’t like how they read, and I don’t know why. I am uncomfortable because it’s such a luxury. But a necessary one. It sounds like in other countries child care is not so expensive and women avail of it. I feel guilty for taking time, as if I need to justify it. What did I do today? So much. I work all day, childcare and art business stuff. Totally engrossed, that’s how I felt today in my studio, but I went in there too late. Now it’s 6:00 pm, Fiona’s watching Peppa Pig, Jacks still asleep, and Alan’s on his way home. It’s June, 9th, 2017.

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  • Studio Time Thursday, beginning of Non-ish naptime paintings(because you still get the suprise naps)

    June 8th, 2017

    Studio called, helped me, cupped me, marked me. Studio welcomed me back, still work on New Work for my Fall show and possible inclusion on my new website and book. Work on colors, new, or deeper colors. Try to take my purples farther.  “Color is mood” someone said to me the other day.  I say this to myself as I work. I start on collages in my notebooks. Ripp up old drawings I worked on this week. 


    Paint, add collage. Get excited. Print what is left on my plexiglass from yesterday when I did an art lesson on printmaking in Fionas class with the children. Again my true self emerged. I was my complete self teaching that class. Each kid made a beautiful print on nice paper. 

    I was inspired today in my studio from the experiments yesterday in Fionas class.  


    The house is quiet, Jack and Fiona are still sleeping. Its been a misty day. It’s 4:30pm, June 8th, 2017

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  • A journal: 20 Days during the Pandemic. Getting back in the studio. Daily Writing and Studio Practice September 21st to October 10th 2020.
  • Blog
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