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Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes

  • The Brambles

    December 25th, 2015

    6:48am Christmas morning, the house still quiet, babies and husband sleeping. I sip my warm strong coffee as I look out at the winter sky. I needed this time to be alone, to be clear from the brambles of domesticity and dicussions. To have some distance, if only for thirty  minutes from dirty pans and my constant nagging to my husband, “don’t leave out the tinfoil, it has a sharpe edge, is that you water glass? The babies are going to knock it over. ” I want to stop, stop trying to control everything, make sure everythings picked up, let things get spilt, but the moment I do, as the clutter starts to pile up on the kitchen counter, as the stink starts to fill, as the dirty diapers start to overflow and the smell of shit permeates my nose , My want to just let things go collides with my disgust and unease with the mess. So I have to clean, wash dishes, pick up toys constantly. I keep telling Jack and Fiona, ” if you didn’t throw all this food on the floor I could be hanging out with you right now” But they don’t understand. They pull at my legs to pick them up or cry from the other side of the baby gate. This week has been exceptionally difficult. Jack started the week off with a vicious diaper rash, screaming everytime he had a poop, and yesterday Fiona got it. She felt awful, her high pitched wailing went on and off all day. It was really difficult, with conversations Alan wanted to have while the babies were crying, I’m trying to get food in the babies bellies. I’ve burnt dinner every night this week. 

    Now it’s Christmas morning. There’s no tree with pretty lights or presents in a pile from Santa. I feel bad because I know it’s not the scene Alan wants for his kids. But I tried. We gave the babies each one toy yesterday, Jack a super cool car ramp and Fiona a doll house. They loved them, although Fiona felt so crappy she couldn’t really enjoy much. But Jack is on the mend, he played with his new toy for hours. He got so wound up as the cars wound down the twists and turns of the ramp.  He would be perfectly content with that toy and that toy alone for the next several months. 

    I’m not going on about this again, but they have too many toys! 

    So Wednesday night When I took The babies down to bed, Jack showed me how he could climb out of his crib. He was so proud! So when Alan got home from work he converted the cribs to toddler beds! Fiona didn’t think much, maybe because she’s been sick, she just went straight to bed. Jack on the other hand was so excited by this he had a hard time going to bed both nights. He keeps getting out of his bed, walking over to Fiona’s bed, “ona, ona” walking to the camera “mama mama” and getting back in bed. Or climing and standing on the half rail. 

    Wow, the sky 

      
     
    It’s beautiful! It’s 7:20 and I hear Jack waking. I’ve done something really bad this week, I had left their sippy cups in the car and was too lazy to go get them so we regressed into bottles in the morning. It’s so easy! But I better go back to sippy cups this morning! 

    Hello Christmas Day! Alan is awake now and I need to go get babies. Good bye beautiful solice of the dark quiet morning, hello brambles of dishes, shit, piss, toys, nagging, and crying. Hello also to hopefully a few smiles and Joys! I’m feeling healthy and good   at least! 

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  • I swear I’m not a debbie downer

    December 23rd, 2015

    Wound up like the inside of a golf ball all bound together until it’s broken open, the strange looking fibers revealed and unravel leaving a mess on the floor. That’s how I feel, it’s what Jack and Fiona go through multiple times a day, it’s what marriage looks like sometimes. Then it gets re-assembled, things get reasembled, but I’m never going to be the nice new perfect golf ball again. I’m feeling aggro this morning, Alan just left for  work, the babies are still sleeping. My body aches and I feel like crying and getting drunk right now. That is life, but this, can I cuss today? Just this one time? This Mother Fucking Holiday Season is Fucking taking it’s Mother Fucking Toll on me. Don’t worry, I’m going to meditate all day today in my studio stitching  on silk and cotton fabrics and painting in soft lovely watercolors. Lindsay is working today and I need a break. I laugh as I write that because she probably needs a break too. Yesterday was exhausting. We decided to take the babies on an adventure to downtown San Rafael. It took two hours to get out of the house. This is normal, this is one of those sticking points between the primary care taker in the family and the breadwinner. There are so many steps to get twin toddlers out the door, so much preparation, I feel like I can’t relax for one minute. The minute I do Jack and Fiona have emptied a drawer or climbed something new that they couldn’t climb the day before. It’s really stressful, but only for me I feel like. Anyhow we get to forth street, I need to get fabric at Dharma, Lindsay needs a new vape, then we’re getting Indian food for lunch. We start off at the pet store. There’s a baby rat, a hamster, fish, and lots of nice interesting people working in the pet store. A customer before me bought five dozen crickets      And a container of worms. Was she going fishing? One girl at the register couldn’t add, she needed to call her boss out to figure out how much the crickets were. He had a faded tye die t- shirt, long grey hair, round rimmed glasses, a friendly voice and a nice smile. There was something about him that reminded me of my drifting past. Did I know him? Did I used to hang out in pet shops? We left the pet shop and walked into the vape shop, it was filled with vapers, I thought the babies probably shouldn’t be in here and right at that moment the guy said “they aren’t allowed in here”

    “O.k. I said”

    “I’ll meet you at Lotus”says Lindsay. 

    I take Jack and Fiona by the hands and we cross the street.

    “Hurry, run” I say as I teach my kids how to Jay Walk. 

    We walk into Lotus.

    “Hi Elvis” 

    He can’t believe how much Jack and Fiona have grown. I used to take them here when they were babies, when they would sit in the stroller or be content in a high chair. 

    They are super excited to be back. 

    “Elephant” Jack says, pointing to all the Elephant sculptures.

    “More elephant”

    We take our usual table way in the very   back corner. Lindsay arrives and we order dosas, biryani,  popadoms, chickpeas, it’s a beautiful meal. We do our best to get Jack and Fiona to behave, which is an impossible task. We sit and eat for 2-3 minutes together before one of them gets up and walks to another table, starts whining when we make them come back, then another 2-3 minutes of peaceful eating, then I take one of them for a walk to watch the cooks in the kitchen or look at bags of fennel seeds and rice and jars of curry in the store. Then back again for the final course of mango lassies and chai tea. This holds thier attention until they suck the last bit and have orange mustaches . 

    When Alan got home he told me about the nice lunch he had today with some work people, how delicious the food was. I envisioned him and his collegues sitting, drinking, eating, in a non-kid friendly slightly darkened restaurant. With comfortable chairs. I imagine him sitting the whole time, maybe going to the bathroom once or twice. Relaxed. Then I glance back at my lunch, food strewn everywhere,  mass chaos, like that table of drunken annoying college jocks, the other guests having their holiday luncheons, maybe wishing we weren’t there walking around looking at the pictures of India hanging over their tables while they eat. Anything to keep the babies quiet. 

    My back and neck ache, my eyes feel dry and stingy. I hear the babies coughing and waking now. The day is just getting light but I feel I’ve been up for hours. My shoulders are scrunching up into my ears. 

    Damn this holiday season. Damn you. 

     

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  • Hello old Friend, it’s so good to see you again.  

    December 22nd, 2015

    The brush barely touches the fabric , the stain of color penetrating into the fibers uniting as one. I stop myself from adding any more paint or water. I have a feeling of impatience brewing inside me, to go down this road again I need to have patience with the work, with the materials. Knowing I can’t stitch as fast as I paint, knowing I must let the paint dry between layers. This is what it must feel like to be a race horse at the start of a race, a wild animal in a cage. I want to work more, faster, finish something. But That’s not how it is now. I need to bring my meditative mind into my studio. 

      

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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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  • Random Tips for twin parents

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