Dont’ get me wrong. My darlings give me plenty of hope for the future. Their future. I have every confidence that they will continue to flourish socially and intellectually in their lives. Truly I do. But right now I’m talkin’ bout my future. I don’t feel the need to live vicariously through my children one little bit. I have had a great time, for the most part, so far in this life and all I can do is hope they get to have as much fun as I’ve had the opportunity to have. I will do whatever is in my power to help them out with that.
1.5 hours of solitude manifesto
- don’t waste too much, or any, of your time cleaning or doing housework, or preparing food for other people
- drink two cups of coffee
- take photographs of anything
- eat something that takes little preparation
- check emails
- stare out the window
- listen to the wind chimes and bird sounds float through the air
- listen to the wind and the leaves blowing on the trees
- don’t talk on the phone
- don’t spend it all on the computer
This morning was a real bitch. Beenie went from pleasant to wild fucking crazy-ass full throttle tantrum because I wiped the snot off her nose with a damp washcloth. Was that wrong? She acted like I punched her in the face. Writhing, screaming, pure tantrum wonder. I wouldn’t have minded too much if we hadn’t been trying to get out the door to school. Mimi, luckily, was 100% on board, already dressed, in a very pleasant mood. She was good to go, and Beenie refused to put anything on. The clothes she picked out to wear were suddenly no good. So I held her down and dressed her as she snotted and squirmed and screeched — pants, socks, shoes, shirt, jacket. Being fought the whole way. I am disturbed by this in many ways, especially because I want them to have non-traumatic associations getting ready and out the door in the morning to go to school. I need this to be uneventful and kind of fun. Oh well. I guess it can’t all be whine and roses, eh? I strapped her into her car seat, still howling and now completely covered in snot. Mimi climbed in and smiled. She could have cared less Beenie was throwing a fit. Funny child. Got ’em to school on time, somehow, and then it was as if nothing horrible had happened. Beenie used the potty when we got there, I got their jackets hung up in the cubby hole, Beenie sought me out to give me a kiss goodbye, I kissed Mimi and here I am, at home. It all changes so quickly, the emergency of things. I have a half-hour left. I’m gonna draw something.
20 Fingers, 20 Toes 
Oh God, you had the audacity to wipe her nose? What the fuck is wrong with you, woman!!
Your mornings sound disturbingly close to mine.
A week and four days later the boy still has a runny nose… that’s it. I think we’re stuck with it for the winter. And he screams every time I wipe it.
Welcome to three.
Three sucks raw, rotten, mongoose-shat eggs.
I think you’re nice to use a wet washcloth. My kid gets toilet paper because I refuse to further the tissue industry. What a scam that is.
I wish I had read your “don’t spend it all on the computer” three years ago. Every waking second that is child-free, it seems, is spent that way. As though somehow I will come flooding back to myself if I check the latest news, emails, blogs, and nonsense.
Two cups indeed. Photos indeed. Easy prep food indeed. hell, eat really bad stuff ‘cuz they’re not watching. Or really good stuff. Pie.
Saw these paintings and thought of you! Must see the 8 paintings in the ‘Mothers’ series:
http://www.nicolaverlato.com/work.html
mmmmmm….. PIE!