We woke up at 7:30, still tired. Babies loose, running, grabbing phone, BEEP BEEP BEEP, the sound of the receiver, making milk, babies start to cry, I just can’t make it fast enough. Alan not home, stayed in south bay, went for drinks didn’t want to drive. I’m so glad. I hadn’t heard from him before I went to bed, woke up at 2:00 A.M., his truck isn’t here. Start to worry, accident? Hospital? Then I see the text. Jack whining now, play area not big enough for him, he wants to be loose to run around the whole house. I go down and explain to him, “When you’re big enough to be free then I’ll let you roam the whole house, you’re too little now Jack.” I give him a hug and they are playing nice again. Jacks been really whiny the past two days, he’s drooling, I bet it’s those molars or canines, the doc said those were a killer. I start thinking about my brother Danny. I think about looking for crawdads and frogs in the creek. Playing war in the field, but most of all our weekends with dad. We woke up on the boat, it was early, we have to work today, scraping barnacles. (The boat always needs work, I have doubts it will ever be in the water again) First we go for a walk. We climb down the ladder onto asphalt. I can smell the turpentine, stain and porta potties. I can’t remember my dad ever being with us, maybe he had a graveyard shift and left us alone, maybe he was taking one of his famous shits that seemed to last an eternity. Danny and I would sit for hours it seemed wondering what he was doing in the bathroom for so long. Walk through the boat yard, the edge of the marina, climb down the rocks onto the edge of the bay. Walking and looking for crabs. They would scurry up the rock, see us and hide. We search the ground for interesting things the tides brought in. My face feels salty, my hair damp, stringy, I don’t know how far we walked. The marina had hot chocolate machines we would hit up after our walk. One day we were with my dad, maybe waiting for a bus. Danny and I were sitting on a large cardboard box. Danny fell off, I had a comb in my mouth, dad slapped me across the face because he thought I pushed Danny off the box. I had a scar on my right cheek for years. It’s faded now. Crying and mad I sulk, I tell my dad I would never push Danny off the box. He doesn’t believe me. Danny is quiet, probably traumatized. My Dad drops us off at home, our Mom acts like we’re lucky to be back safe every time. The crows are walking on the roof across the street. Alan’s home now on the couch, probably playing a game on the iPad. The babies are taking their nap. My coffee has gone cold and bitter. I wonder if I should make a fresh pot, Alan brought me home a new jar of honey. It’s quiet again, but the house is a mess, my body is so tired, and Alan has a hangover, Jacks teething. We need to find a way to feel better. All of us, except Fiona. She’s doing great. (To do’s: Clean kitchen, Walk Billy, Take a shower) We had each other, Danny and I. Our play dough sessions were out of this world. Making boats, cloths pin people, playing frogger and gin rummy. In the uncomfortable situations we would find ourselves we could at least count on each other. “Who’s getting a spanking first?” My mom said. Danny and I sitting in the back seat of the green dodge dart. I went. We didn’t know why we were getting spankings, I guess we were bad at a restaurant or store. Danny recently told me how scared he was when I put him on my pony Chu Chu and led him around. I didn’t know. I was always a dare devil and pretty tough. Even now I feel tougher than most and sometimes stick my foot in my mouth when I advise friends to toughen up. I guess that’s what an older sister does and is. Jack and Fiona are great buds too. Everyone asks me are they best friends. “Yes” I reply. I wondered yesterday when I took Fiona out for a girls lunch if she wished Jack was with us. When I got home Ramona said Jack had been very unhappy the whole time we were gone. I didn’t ever want to be apart from Danny. I went astray during my teenage years. A few years after our mom died Danny told me he was moving to New York. I cried for days. I was so upset, maybe unnaturally so. I couldn’t imagine my life without my brother. He is my only family, besides Alan, Jack, and Fiona.
Tag: babies
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I need to get alone time with each of the babies, especially Fiona to work with her language skills. I’m feeling really tired, starting to stress. I question the office visits and whether I was right to stop taking the pills. Dr.Scott said, “You should take Prozac.” He is my old OBYGN, I felt red in the face and mad. I thought he was being sexist. Then a year later, my new female doctor says the same thing. I’ve only taken them for 6 months. I am against pills. But when I started taking them my body was feeling physical pain. Broken uterus. Thought I was broken. Thought I had uterine cancer. Ovarian cancer. Was going to die, my fibroids were going to burst out of my belly. All the tests came back fine. Started taking Zoloft. PMS disappeared. But I don’t want to take anti-depressants forever so I had to stop taking them cold turkey. I had to make the decision and stick with it. So today as I’m feeling tired and in pain I start to question all my decisions. Or Am I just tired? Or somewhere in between? I’ve told very few people. The only light on in the house is my computer screen. I’m alone in the dark typing. Alan is not home from work yet, the babies are asleep. They went crazy tonight when I took off all the cushions and made crash landing pads on the floor. I was right about that pollen, it’s thick. The crows are back, cawing. The monitor is quiet, I have the right one this time. It’s hard to imagine now that the past four days I had boundless energy. Today I crashed. When Ramona arrived I laid down on my bed trying to figure out what I could cancel today. I decide to take Billy for a walk. Bugs were all around us. I brushed her coat first. Thick chunks of fluffy, black, fur flew onto the ground that still has pieces of Zappas poop. It was the first time we were up at the dog house since Zappa died. I had to get the brush. We walked on the trail, no other people around, no raccoon incidents. I had to remind myself to stop, take a deep breath, count to ten, inhale-exhale, when the thoughts come in, I let them pass through gracefully and exit my mind. This works, my body relaxes, especially my neck and shoulders. Then when I get back I decided to take Fiona with me on my lunch date. She seemed so happy and was a perfect little angel.
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“Time to go for a walk babies, do you want to take Billy for a walk?” I say. We just finished eating pasta for dinner, “This is how we wash our face, wash our face, wash our face, this is how we wash our face early in the evening.” I sing as I clean Jack and Fiona’s spaghetti sauce faces. I do a good enough job, grab both babies out of their high chairs, and carry them down the stairs, Jack slipping out of my arm, I make it to the bottom without dropping one, set them both down. I open the door to the garage, “Look Daddy’s home.” I say. Alan is putting out the trash. Jack and Fiona scurry around the garage, touching things they shouldn’t touch, playing with a half put together toy dump truck we got for their birthday. (Alan put the wrong screw in one of the wheels, it’s kinda messed up) I go grab Billy, she’s shedding like crazy, big clumps of hair. When I bring her down Alan has Jack and Fiona in the B.O.B. for me. “You guys need to learn how to do this” I say as I brush some of the clumps of hair off Billy. I imagine Jack and Fiona brushing Billy, loving her, taking care of her. She’ll probably be dead though before any of that actually happens. First we walk down the hill, “Billy’s sniffing, she loves to sniff, come on Billy, whoa!” she stops and pulls me backwards, “Billy, come on, you’re not going to pull me backwards on hills today, LET’S Go Girl!” I say. “Look at the trees guys, oh my god it’s going to be a bad night for pollen, can you feel the pollen in the air?” I say. Past the playground, is it really that bad? I really like the big Oak Tree. Up the next hill I’m laughing out loud. Smiling, thinking am I crazy? Crazy happy? Why do I have so much energy tonight? I imagine People think I’m crazy when they hear me talking and laughing while walking Billy and the babies. Before the babies came Alan used to always tell me, “Stop talking to yourself.” Now technically I’m not talking to myself, I’m talking to Jack and Fiona. I’ve always talked to my dogs. It’s natural. “Do you see the trees? The half-moon in the sky? The single dove on the telephone pole? Look at this pinecone. The sun, no wait the sun is already down. Babies, the sun is already down, but we’re lucky, we’ll make it home before dark. Oh my gosh, what if today was the last day we saw the sun? We had a good day at the park so I guess it would be O.K.” I think about it, the last day, that day will come. My new motto is “Keep on Movin’ Keep on Groovin’. Keep the wheels turning, that kind of thing. Yesterday it happened again, I got the babies down for their nap. I had to give them a bath first because I don’t use wipes at the park. They had dirt on their legs, food on their faces, just messy! I watched the other moms at the park wiping the hands and faces of their babies several times. Sometimes thoughts will appear in my mind, “Do they think I’m a slob? I’m really dirty?” Even Alan has made comments after meals that I haven’t cleaned their faces good and they are going to break out. Interesting huh? I wonder why people are so into cleanliness. Anyhow the babies were taking their nap, I had all my workout clothes on the floor because I was going to go through them and turn some into painting rags. I had to tell myself, “Just do it really fast” and I did. But then I came upstairs to get some water, I had decided I NEEDED to go to my studio and paint for a minute. Kaboom! The kitchen is a complete disaster, after the park I brought everything up and set it on the center Island. I find myself walking around in circles picking up stuff, putting things in the sink, in the fridge, in new piles of like items. “STOP!” I say to myself. “Grab the baby monitor and water and Go to your studio!” I can finish cleaning later. I get into my studio. I’m feeling super inspired again, is it the babies? Their passion for life? I don’t know but I’m feeling freedom. I paint fast and into new territories. I’m excited by the drawing I’m doing, the unconscious feeling I have when I paint with my few remaining usable paintbrushes, the palette I’m using. The colors show up in my mind, I mix them. The restraint I am commanding to not over work every single piece. Although I have a huge pile of overworked pieces. Its 5:30, I can’t believe the babies have slept so long. I finish up in my studio and go inside. All is quiet, but I realize I had the wrong baby monitor. Oh well, they needed that rest and I needed to work in my studio no matter what.
I hear the babies waking now. It’s 7:21 A.M. Friday morning. Linda from Early Start is coming at 8:00 to work with Fiona. I’m excited, it’s been a few weeks and I feel Fiona is doing really well. Last night in the stroller she was saying “Mama” It sounded so cute. She’s months behind Jack, he’s starting to make some very interesting sound combinations, I had dreams two nights in a row he was talking to me. Fiona will catch up, in time. I better go get the babies now and get dressed myself.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 