Saturday morning. Fog came in last night. The cool air feels nice. Jack and Fiona resemble children more than babies. They’ve taught me how sweet strawberries are. My studio time is short, I don’t waste moments. It suits me. The indigo watercolor, the re-purposed prints, the collage. I can feel it now. Want to paint. Need to take Billy for a walk while the babies are napping. 8:21 A.M. Mini Chunks. That’s what I’ll call it. “Jenny Hynes guide to getting it all in” The Mini Chunk System. Yesterday I forgot to leave downtime until 7:30PM. I had to clean the house for our visitors, Linda and Tracy from Early Start. I kept thinking I was almost done. Looking at the clock, 11:00, wash dishes. 11:20, wash pots, pans, bottles. 11:37, and I still have to mop the floor. No Coffee Break before Fiona’s evaluation. Felt like a real Domesticated Animal. I peel off my apron, damp and dirty from housework. 12:00 PM, babies’ dressed, clean diapers, house clean, wearing a dress, lipstick, hair pins, but no bra. Couldn’t wear a bra, too hot. Looks slutty, hippyish, I don’t know. Wouldn’t go out in public. Babies and I having a great time while the nannies away. Even though Ramona only comes two days a week it’s a big difference than no days a week. It’s nice to have my house back. It stays cleaner, (which probably means I spend too much time doing) but it feels good, the babies hardly cry at all, only whining, especially Fiona. That’s because they can’t say what they feel, want, or need. That’s my project. I need to really focus on learning sign language and teaching Fiona words and explaining how she’s feeling. The babies seem to be taking a nap now. Time for Billy.
Tag: art
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The fan above my head brings a slight chill to my hands. It’s hot outside this afternoon. So quiet at this moment. Peaceful. Jack and Fiona are sleeping soundly. I feel completely at ease, things are different now. I know what I have to do, what I need to work on. My husband texts me: “I’m going to check out Sprouts. Do you want anything?” (It’s a new grocery store down the street) I reply, “I’m so jealous!!!Bring home some yummy foods for us and the babies!” I also gave him a list of vegetables for the juicer. I’m excited about the new grocery store. There are days when I just say, “No” or “nothing” or “whatever.” My poor husband. I painted today. Made two pieces I really like. Inspired by a group I joined on Facebook called Asemic Writing. I was intrigued by the images people were posting. “The word asemic means “having no semantic meaning.”( Wikipedia) “The meaning is left for the reader to fill in and interpret.” I listen to the babies babble on the monitor when working in my studio. The frequencies of their voices influence my paintings, the lines, the colors. Sometimes I am relaxed, the babbling is sweet and content. Other times I am on edge, I can’t tell if the babbling will turn into a cry, its high pitched, whiny, and piercing. Jack and Fiona inspire my painting and writing practice. I’m paying close attention, letting them explore, giving them beet tops to chew and examine, room to room, drawer to drawer, replacing dangerous items with fun finds. I watch them get delighted. I come upstairs after I put them to bed and am upset. The first thought that comes to my mind is why didn’t Alan help pick up? There are diapers, magazines, tortillas, toys, everything is a mess, have to clean it. I start picking up the diapers and magazines. A smile comes to my face. I don’t mind that Alan didn’t help anymore, I’m not upset I have to clean up by myself, I’m only thinking about how much fun they had and what they learned when the mess was being made. All my paintbrushes are hard. My studio is a mess. I am very productive. The paper I’m using now is imbedded with information. Age has discolored it slightly, given it an antique look and feel. The smell of musk released as I wet the paper, gives me a feeling, a reminder of people no longer on earth. A memory.
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I throw a jar of diluted black watercolor paint on my paper, I’m thinking about Fiona hitting a little old hammer on the glass table and I’m inspired. I walk into the library to check on my babies. She’s lifting it up, “No Fiona! Oh my gosh you guys.” I look in the drawer where she got the hammer, there’s a box of wall fasteners and nails too. I send Alan a text: “We still have a lot of childproofing to do.” It’s a never ending scavenger hunt. We ended up not going on our great adventure today. We stayed home and were adventurous instead. The babies took two naps, I had two sessions in my studio, time to write and take a bath. We had lots of good times together. We read books, played outside, ate breakfast and lunch together. We cuddled a ton, learned new words, sang songs and listened to music. (I think that might be why it took them so long to go to sleep, they were processing a ton of information) I hear Jack cry, I look out on the deck and can’t see what’s hurt him, pick him up. Fiona cries two times, like yelps, I realize it’s the screws on the deck, they’re burning their little feet. The sun is strong today. I wonder if they can make the connection. I kiss their feet to show I understand what happened.
I open the special roll of paper I was gifted. Nervous to use any because of its history and age. I have the creative spirit flowing today. I feel myself getting on the hamster wheel. I need to calm down. The paper is beautiful and strong. I work in layers, watercolor, collage, acrylic, listening to the babies babbling on the monitor. I am very productive and like what I’ve done, but then I start to overwork and get stressed. STOP. I’m not painting again for a few days I tell myself. Now its morning and I want to paint again. Maybe just one quick session so I don’t get all tangled up. I asked Ramona to come for three hours this morning so I could paint. Now I’m thinking I should do chores, cleaning, purging, putting away laundry. That brings me to my list. My constant should and shouldn’t. I could divvy up my time, One hour in my studio, one hour with Billy, One hour doing chores. But then am I fully present if I’m pressuring myself so much?
Thinking about staying present, made me think of perception and how that affects things. I thought of the lists I make and how they interfere:
- Don’t eat any more sugar or drink any more coffee.
- Don’t enjoy the sunshine.
- Don’t look at Facebook or check my e-mails, turn off my phone. Forbid myself or only allow myself at designated times. (This rule is impossible because then my phones off when I want to get a great shot of Jack and Fiona.)
- Don’t think negative thoughts about myself or anyone else.
If I say I’m not going to do that anymore isn’t that one more thing I’m adding to my list? Forcing myself to be a certain way, think a certain way that’s not coming naturally. Hindering myself from staying present. Putting pressure on myself constantly. The next thing out of my head was going to be something that started to give me anxiety. I almost did it again by thinking, “I need to get off the hamster wheel.” That’s what the Zoloft prevents. That’s crazy. I thought there was something up when I started making my lists again. I noticed that I had stopped making them as well. So now that I know this about myself how do I flip the switch off? One idea, go to the studio when Ramona gets here and work as long as I need to! The chores can wait.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 