Believe in Me!

Believe in Me!

Any one not buy my book yet? Naptime Paintings, Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist. Please buy it now. Go to www.jenniferhynesbooks.com. If you need a piece of Art check out The Fourth Wall Gallery. https://www.fourthwallart.com/ The last day of my Art Show is Saturday January 20th, 2018. I will be doing a talk on Motherhood and how it has affected my life as a Painter, or something like that. We will make you a good deal. Think of it as an investment, I am going somewhere. I believe in myself. Will you believe in me too?

I feel good in my healthy body. I am writing my next book, I paint what I want to paint, it’s good. I know the art I have hanging in my house is breath taking. I know I have a bunch of stunning, framed pieces in the garage. I have a terrific book I just wrote in color with pictures. It’s a beautiful book. Things must be sold at the right price at the right place at the right time. If I borrow money when will I pay it back? If I’m honest about the expense of my projects right now, that I’ve already started my second book, that I have painting  to do, a whole new direction I want to explore. I need money for that too and since I haven’t sold anything how can I justify spending money on art supplies? Or even spending time down there in the studio. Again, we’re back to the same thing. Fuck! I’m giving myself bad anxiety. What if I sold all my frames? I’m going to park somewhere and try to sell my frames and paintings. Where can I park? Crazy talk! Time to go to the studio or take a hot bath!!! Buy my book!!! 💖💖💖💖💋💋💋💋💋 come to my talk at the gallery too! Buy a painting!!!

listening Skills

listening Skills

No internet. That’s good. I was just about to go fiddle around on there instead of writing in my only few minutes to spare today, Jack is watching The Lego Show and Fiona is in the bath, it’s been quite a week. Wait, it’s almost halfway into the next week. Days blend into one another, weekends don’t change for me as far as needed engagement in life, lives of others. I wonder about the other moms at the gymnastics class that yell down from the observation deck “That way lily”  and before they get that out they yell the kids name a gazillion times trying to get their attention, “Lily, Lily, Lily” distracting all the other kids, so pretty soon all the kids are yelling up “Hi Mommy” and half the kids aren’t paying attention to the coach, so then all the moms start shouting down to all their kids and it’s extremely annoying. How do they have the energy to be engaged with their kid even when they shouldn’t be?  Fiona does great at gymnastics, she listens to all the directions and pays close attention to the coach. Fiona can’t hear and listens to directions better than Jack. Jack takes a while to warm up, even on his second visit today. He started sucking his thumb. Finally, he jumps in, but not reserved -no- balls to the walls, skips the listening part 50% of the time. “Slow Down Jack, you’re gonna get hurt” the Coach says over and over. “I can do it by myself” He tells her when she gives him direction on a backwards roller move. “No Jack, I’ll help you” she tells him. He finally listens. I had to not yell “Listen to the teacher Jack” from the observation deck, that would be inappropriate. I’m not like the other moms. I study my sign, they look at smart phones, in between watching their kids and telling them which way to run. At home, after Fiona got home from school I was trying to spend time with her, Jack immediately started acting out; grabbing her toys we were playing with, not listening when I said “NO”, being obnoxious. “I have to go put away the groceries” I tell them. “Play nice, keep your hands to yourself.” The groceries have been sitting in the hall since Jack and I got home, I haven’t had time to put them away yet. I’m carrying up the last set of bags and I hear a door slam, over and over again, then a bang and a cry. I run down, there’s a big gap between the first cry, it’s quiet, that’s usually a bad sign. Jack has a bright red bruise slash across the bridge of his nose, it looks painful. My paintings on the floor, he slammed the door so hard the painting fell off the wall and whacked him in the face. He’s so full of energy and moodiness. He’s shy and gregarious. He’s super sweet, caring, and loving, but difficult. He fell asleep and Fiona and I had a nice rest. When he woke up he told me he slammed the door on purpose, to keep Fiona out of the room. “It could have been your eye” I said, “It could have been Fionas’ hand”. I don’t know, I’m afraid he’s going to be the kind of kid that does dumb stuff, out of frustration or for thrills. I can’t wait till Thursday and Friday to get some time in my studio. I’m going to do my radio interview this week and I have a talk I’m doing at the gallery on Saturday. Things to look forward to outside of the world of Motherhood.

Happy Doesn’t Pay the Bills

Happy Doesn’t Pay the Bills

2008, I first think Obama, then it says Time For Change in a circle boarder with three paws and it says PETCO. Then I think that’s the year my mom died, and I realize 2008 was a long time ago. I grab a scoop of Billy’s dog food, that’s what I came in the pantry for in the first place. I ripped off the cardboard tag of the re-usable shopping bag. That date, 2008 has stuck in my mind all day. My clammy cold feet mind. I got a call from a woman from Readers Magnet. Before I called back I looked up the info about this company. “Beware of this Scam” it says when I type in the company. I take every criticism I read on the internet with a grain of salt. When I talk to the woman she gives me her sales pitch and tells me a bunch of new stuff about selling books. It gives me anxiety! But it’s informative. She talks about E-commerce and Pay Pal. Selling my books, myself straight off my web site. No Amazon. She also talked about SEO’s which I am befuddled by from my last interaction with SEO’s and advertising on WIX, the perverts the word “mom” brings out of the wood work. I don’t know how to sell my books or paintings or if anyone will ever buy them, it leaves me with the same question, how much time, energy, focus should I do on the marketing and selling side of things? I just want to write and work in my studio. My art show hasn’t panned out any big sales, I just get feeling like this sometimes. Things were so different in 2008, before 2008, there was a big change, for me and for the United States with Obama being elected. My mom died right before the Inauguration. She missed a time of hope and optimism. Even after she died I kept focusing on art and painting, getting into graduate school, I felt like the time would come when I could do what I love, which it has. I am doing what I love. I love painting and writing, and my life as a mother and wife and person in the community, I couldn’t be happier or prouder of myself. But Happy doesn’t pay the bills or store the art or pay for the publishing costs, only cash will. It’s not a choice, I won’t ever stop writing or painting, but, Do I let go of my dreams of my work I produce to cover the costs itself? And what about the hustling I need to embark on to try to sell my book and paintings? The time and the money, it’s overwhelming. With my disposition the only thing I can hope for would be a Gallery and a Traditional publishing company to pay me and sell my work! And that’s just a pipe dream, right? I mean what would I have to do?

Twin Life

Twin Life

“Are you giving me a ticket?” I ask the parking ticket lady, I can see it’s too late for her to not give me a ticket, she’s already punching in all the info.

“You can wait in the car” she says.

I get in my car, engine running, hazards on, Fiona in her car seat, Billy in the back, windows fogged up. Its raining.

“I messed up, I’m a bad mom” I say as the parking lady hands me my $65.00 ticket.

“I knew I shouldn’t have done it, it is raining so hard I just wanted to run my son to school without getting Fiona out of the car. ” I say.

“I’m sorry, but this spot is dangerous, a parent got hit doing this same thing while taking her child out of the car seat. Since she was parked in red insurance didn’t cover her injuries, they said it was gross negligence since she parked in the red” she tells me.

I was scared getting Jack out if his car seat, the way the cars come around this intersection. I imagined a car whacking me as I was leaning into the car, I wondered what that would feel like on my legs, would they break? Would I recover?

As I drive Fiona to school I decide I will never do that again, hurry, cut corners, Park in red.

The whole reason we were hurrying was because we all overslept, Fiona missed the bus, Jack wouldn’t get dressed or get in the car, it was raining cats and dogs, just one of those mornings.

They are still sleeping right now but will be up soon. I need to make the breakfast and Fiona’s lunch. Jack doesn’t have school on Tuesdays or Thursdays so I need to figure out what to do with him. I want him to take Billy for a walk with me. I wish we could do that without any crying or complaining. He’s hard to bargain with.

I feel like crap. I have a headache and was up all night with hot flash after hot flash. Ugh. I wish I had a babysitter today. I wish I could paint today.

I just heard foot steps. It’s almost 8:00. I need to hurry now. My head is killing me.

Twelve hours to go.

Messy wake up call

Messy wake up call

Lights on, don’t know what time it is. “I peed my bed” says Jack. For a minute I suggest he sleeps in our bed for the rest of the night. We both think thats a bad idea. I get up, take off the peed sheets, blankets, and pillow, remake his bed and go back to sleep. Sore throat keeps me in bed longer than usual. I hear laughing and screaming, it sounds like it’s coming from outside. Pry myself from under the covers. What are they doing? Go upstairs, cold air rushing in, patio covered in white. Jack and Fiona naked, freezing. Alan yells, how bad what they’ve done is. The whole carton of new milk empty, splattered all over, whip cream container, six yogurt drinks all empty. Take Fiona and Jack in, put them in a warm bath. “I put milk on my body, mommy, we poured it on our whole bodies, our butts, my penis” Jack says. “On my butt and on my vagina” Fiona says. “Will Daddy still be mad?” Fiona asks. “What you did was very bad” I say. I dress them and we go upstairs and have breakfast. We might need to put a lock on the fridge. Alan says we don’t need to have candy in the house, they don’t need it to survive and they do this sorta shit when they’re spoiled. It all started with a game, Pie Face they got for Christmas. I may have put the idea in their head yesterday about a food fight. We were talking about pie face and I said I was going to get them each a can of whip cream and they could have a whip cream fight. They loved the idea. I think its my fault they got into the fridge this morning and had a food fight.

Quiet Observations

Quiet Observations

A tea stain from a splatter on thick watercolor paper. One dark line encloses light pink, a red drip and green at the bottom is all I can see of a painting above my head on a shelf. One time I told my friend I was wanted to propose an installation piece to an arts foundation. I said it was going to be a display of heads on a shelf. She said I sounded crazy and they might think I’m talking about real heads. I saw a centipede yesterday while I was walking up the hill with Billy. The bug was crawling through a trickle of rain water. It was yellowish with tons of little legs and white antennas. It was a beautiful creature. Trampolines, video games, loud music, it was too loud at the amusement center we took Jack and Fiona this morning. I’m not good in situations like that. I had to wait in the car. I took a lavender soak when I got home to make me feel better. I concluded that I will never like loud places with flashing neon lights and I shouldn’t feel bad. I also realized I will never be O.K. with being in a car with my whole family if they continue to all ask me questions at the same time. I never will, and I am going to tell the kids this, I’ll just tell them it makes me grouchy so when I say “quiet time” it must be quiet time. The alternative is to listen to my head phones? But then I feel rude. But it may be the solution. “Mama’s freaking out guys, Mama needs a break, I’m gonna listen to music for fifteen minutes”. Is that weird? Should I do it? I don’t like feeling bitchy and annoyed.

Gloomy January

Gloomy January

On the brink of nuclear war is what the headline says today. I sit at my computer screen in early January it seems dark and gloomy. My house seems like a mess, dirty things everywhere. The kettle pops. I pour boiling water over my chamomile tea bag. Socks on the floor, groceries on the counter, left over breakfast on the table, overconsumption, waste. I sit at my computer; my dog moves to be right near me. It’s quiet. I stop panicking just a little. I’m shaky and nervous that my husband will bring Jack and Fiona home sooner than expected. I look out the window and notice the sky behind the bare branched Sycamore tree looks like winter. Jack and Fiona’s birthday is in less than two months. I had my first facial today since before they were born. The esthetician reminded me I was lucky to ever have had one, that it’s a luxury to be able to have a facial. My skin feels so good, my inner body is still tense, I can’t relax inside. I feel panicked. Catastrophizing. A seriousness and a sadness. I need more time alone to think. To paint. To meditate. To do nothing. These are luxuries too. Quiet, alone, time. The kids and I have been having a great time together. We love each other so much. They are wonderful human beings. I love spending time with them, being their mother. Feelings and moods take over. I feel guilty for wanting more alone time and we could be on the brink of a nuclear war. I still need more time even if the worlds ending and I love being with my kids. Dizzying. I miss my studio.