I find myself lying on the carpet, listening to the clicking of buttons tossing in the dryer. I hear the hum of the dishwasher, chirping of the blue jays outside and an occasional roar of an airplane. The baby monitor is quiet, Jack and Fiona are taking their afternoon nap. I want to lavish here on the floor, but I also want to paint today. Ramona arrived feeling very bad, I sent her home with a bottle of Nyquil and told her “Go rest! Straight to bed.” Ramona never takes a sick day. She is one of the strongest people I know. When I give a recommendation for her I say, “Ramona is like a ray of sunshine, she is a baby whisperer, when she arrives you’ll be able to fully relax, sleep, or do whatever you need to do, you’ll know your babies are in good hands.” With no babysitter on a babysitter day I have to figure out how to fit it all in. I had a productive morning, kitchen is clean. I already took Billy and the babies for a hike. “Mam excuse me do you have a dog with you?” asks a very clean cut, shaven, park ranger as I push the B.O.B. towards him. “I thought she could be off leash?” I say. “Get your dog and I’ll take your information and explain.” He says. My legs go weak, I feel like I’m in big trouble. “I thought dogs were allowed off the leash after that sign?” I say as I put on Billy’s leash. “Yes, the sign is in a bad location. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, I did not see you take your dog off the leash.” He says. I only took her off the leash a few feet early. I always keep her on the leash on that trail, not because I want to obey laws, but because it runs behind houses and Billy has a taste for cats. Today I took her off early because I’m pushing the B.O.B. over a rocky uneven trail, and Billy is stopping and sniffing everything pulling me backwards. During the hike I decided to let the babies have a taste of the trail. I’m teaching them to hike, the unfamiliar ground, dirt, mud, rocks, ups and downs. Jack runs along in his little baby shoes. Fiona stays close to the stroller. She’s not quite as confident as Jack on the trail. There’s poison oak to watch out for, hills to accidently roll down. If I lose track of Jack here the coyotes will take him. I have so much to teach them. I decide to go to my studio and try to paint for however long that monitor stays quiet. No pressure just to be creative for creativities sake. I examine the work from the previous day. I see something interesting, the orange paper with the trees on it looks like gauze when it’s back side up. I want to play with that. I prepare some paper. I rip up the orange paper by hand and adhere it with soft gel gloss. I hear Fiona cry a little. I get scared, I’m inspired, I want to work. She’s quiet again. I keep working, I draw with a pen, “Doodle.” I read that doodling is great for relaxation and helping with anxiety and depression. I’m having fun, the baby monitor is quiet. I add yellow and white paint. Just for fun. I get three pieces I like. It’s time to go back upstairs and get ready for the babies to wake up. I make fish sticks and mac and cheese. I’m happy to see Jack and Fiona. We play, eat, and get ready for bed. They go to sleep easily tonight. We had a good day. I go upstairs, Alan has brought me fresh spring rolls from Royal Thai. I just have to feed Billy and I can relax. It’s Walking Dead night. Yea!
Tag: motherhood
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I peer over into the play area, “They’re doing great.” I say to myself. Then Jack runs over to the fence that separates him from the kitchen stairs. I look at him, he smiles. I get up and go down to hang out with them for a minute. “Whatcha doin’? whatcha into this mornin’? ew I smell a poo! Jack did you poo? Let’s go change your diaper. We’ll be right back Fi.” I say. My new favorite thing to do in the morning, drink coffee and write. This kitchen is a mess. A real mess. I’ll clean it. I’m a mess too, I didn’t take a shower last night after the beach trip and there’s sand in my toes. The beach is a magical place. The ocean waves, there’s gotta be waves, the sound they make, the smell of the salt and seaweed, wood, burnt or decaying. Dead remains of seagulls, crabs, fish, whales, and sea lions. Shells and rocks and the sand. The sun and the wind. Old piers, old buoys, pushing our feet into the deeper, colder, wetter sand. Fear that Jack will run into the ocean and join the aquatic world, “You’ll get swept away Jack! Don’t get too close to the waves.” I say. I feel bad I didn’t bring Billy, but she’s a liability. I’ll bring her next time, when we go, maybe this week. We’ll go to one of my special spots where there’s never any people. Billy can run and play and I’ll put one baby in the frame pack, it has space for our lunch and diapers. I’ll carry the other baby. It will be work, but I think I’m strong enough to pull it off. Jack might even be able to walk part of the way over the sand dune. I can’t wait to get back to the beach. I love watching the babies investigate. Fiona stays close to me, she likes examining the sand and things that are nearby us. Jack takes off, looking at piles of seaweed, visiting other people on the beach. Stealing other people’s food. He goes over to this man with his 2 year old yesterday. They are having their snack, Jack grabs one of their crackers right in front of them and puts it in his mouth. They also have beach toys that Jack wants to play with. One time the man took his kid on a little walk and the moment they left their area Jack ran over to try to get something of theirs! Fiona got her new hearing aid molds, she wore her hearing aids all weekend long. She’s so much happier. I think I was right last week when she was whining so much, I think she was missing her hearing aids. She knows now that she can’t hear without them. Which is probably a good thing for me, maybe she won’t pull them out as much. But there must be an element of loss for her. Last night I kept the hearing aids on even during bath time. Very risky of course but there’s so much language to learn and sounds to hear during bath time. When I was putting on her PJ’s I told her I’m taking off your hearing aids now, after they were removed she touched her ears and looked sad, I felt what she went through at that moment, from a world of hearing to faint muffled sound.
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Our night lasted until 8:30, at which time we asked Gordon, the bartender at the Silver Peso to call us a cab. “Forty somethings like you, no offense, want a flat yard.” Says the real estate agent sitting next to us at the bar. Why would I take offense at being called forty something? I’m thinking. I am forty something. Should I be offended at myself? Before we started talking to our neighbors Alan and I were having a great time people watching. We get to the bar after leaving the restaurant and taking a stroll around the town. I feel like I’ve never been to a bar before. I order a vodka with grapefruit. I only had one delicious cocktail at Picco because I can’t drink a lot and I really wanted to get a drink after. I take a sip, it’s a one drink kind of bar. It tastes like pure vodka. There is a drunk woman next to us yelling at a guy, “You don’t even know how to order a beer in French and you studied French, I studied Spanish and I know how to order a Cerveza.” He’s gets very quiet. She gets upset, stands up and walks to the other side of the bar to talk to some other guy. Alan said she is the bar slut. I said “How do you know?” He said “Will ya look at the head on her.” It was entertaining for a minute. Then the scene seemed depressing. I twiddle my fingers until our cab comes. The babies were sound asleep when we got in. It was the latest we’ve been out since they were born. I wanted to see them so bad! I go in the nursery this morning, both babies are awake. I take them up and give them a big hug. I take off their pajamas and dirty diapers. Jack starts running around banging cabinets and drawers and peeing on the floor multiple times. I clean up the pee and dress both babies in outfits for the day, our Sunday trip to the beach. “Berries, Berries, they love to eat their Berries.” I sing over and over again. Sunday morning. Coffee, bottles, banana. Alan’s making eggs, bacon, sausage, and mushrooms. I take care of Jack and Fiona and type a few words, between questions, “What time did they get you up this morning?” Alan asks. Or between reading The Little Blue Truck. I Put the babies down to play, sweep up the cheerios, strawberries. Butter our toast. “Do you want to start serving out the plates?” Alan asks, “But your bagels not ready yet.” I say. “MMMMM” thanks honey, “Good breakfast.” I hear gentle little pre-words Jack and Fiona make in the play room while I eat my breakfast, drink coffee and write. Alan sits at the Island drinking his tea, eating his breakfast and looking at news on his iPhone. Perfection.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 