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.
Tag: art
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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.
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“We are not going to open that second bar of chocolate.” I say to Jack and Fiona. “This is our last piece.” We’re about to eat the whole chocolate candy bar Danny brought over on Easter. It has a picture of Jesus on the wrapper with a quote from Acts 2:24 N1V: “But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him.” I already have my pajamas on, it’s 2:35P.M., just put Jack and Fiona down for their afternoon nap. I started off the day calling my husband at work to tell him, “I’m really bad, I broke down, drank a cup of coffee, got some sunshine, and am watching baby Einstein on demand with Jack.” He laughs and says “Don’t you love it though?” He has another call and has to go. I set my cup of Joe, lukewarm now, on the shelf by the T.V. Jack grabs it fast. Coffee spills all over the carpet. After cleaning this I go back and sit on the couch with my thirteen month old son. We watch a show about hands, legs, backs, yellow, red, black and white. I enjoy this series, there’s things we study in art school. I imitate what they do on the T.V. show. I have my pen and journal with me, “Jack Look” I trace the shape of my hand. He’s not as interested as I thought he’d be, he only wants to put the cap from my pen in his mouth. Jack won’t take a nap. Fiona is asleep downstairs in the nursery. Jack is very tired too and he’s starting to get dangerous. I’ve read him Mouse Paint by Ellen Stoll Walsh, (A most amazing book!) taken down most of the baby gates so he has free range to run , run, run, gave him a bottle, still he won’t take a nap. He’s practicing going up and down the couch and it looks like some form of stomping or marching on the ottoman.
Jack finally gets so tired I can put him down and he falls asleep. I hear Fiona on the baby monitor. Both babies sound the same in their babbling, a quiet soft talking, one’s falling asleep, one’s waking up. I think I have time for a quick hot bath. I bring the monitors with me and sit in the bath with a candle lit. Both monitors sound alike, except Jack’s has the sound of whales which makes my bath experience all the more enjoying. The temp says 77 on both. My bath is nice I wish I could take two baths in one day. (But we’re in a drought) I go to get Fiona, sit her in the high chair and put on the hearing aids. I’m so excited to get alone time with Fiona. “That’s a raspberry, the color is red.” I say. (I learned this on the T.V. show Jack and I watched earlier) I cancel our reservation at Play center. I just know the babies will take their second nap just at the time we need to leave. No spin class for me today.
Shit, Jack is making really loud noises. Please take a nap Jack, oh pretty please. I’d love to have an hour baby free right now. I’d go to my studio and paint. I’m going in and out of feeling like I’m gonna die and I can do this. I made myself a green drink today with my magic bullet. It tasted as good as the $10 ones, it had Kale and Collard greens. Maybe I should have another one, I wonder if that will counter balance the coffee, chocolate, and sunshine? A moment: Jack just wakes up from his nap. (I don’t get any alone time with Fiona.) I think I was talking too loud when playing with Fiona. Jack heard us and let off a big old scream. Fare Thee Well (Dink’s Song) By Oscar Issac and Marcus Munford. (From the Inside Llewyn Davis soundtrack.) Comes on Pandora, I LOVE this song. The babies are running up and down the hallway, going out on the deck in the sun, taking all the books off the shelf, it’s a lovely feeling. They are having a great time, I’m listening to good music watching my babies thrive. Then before too long, “Thump, Cry.” Fiona, “Thump, Cry. “ Jack. One hit’s their head on the baby gate, one falls off the deck furniture. Close the gates, close the deck door, shrink their area in half. Make it so they can’t get hurt. The cycle starts again, hunger, crying, diaper changing, feeding, getting prepped for a nap. They are sound asleep now, its 3:04, time to sneak into the studio! The End
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 