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Posts from the ‘Kerry’ Category

Kerry: When the magic went away

I was arguing with my beloved the other day about time (my good, old, elusive friend time) and how when my beloved “gives” me time, I use it to clean, because I don’t want to live in a pigsty. But he’s right, it is my choice. And I threw out some comment about the bathrooms not magically cleaning themselves. Oh how I wish they did, but they don’t. Anyway, I got to thinking, playing around with that idea really, and wondered if my family would have any sympathy for me if the magic went away. Really, as usual I’m feeling under appreciated and overworked. But hey, for the first time ever, I got both babies to take naps in their beds at the same time…right now. Wonder if that has anything to do with my beloved not being here to help. (He’s working overtime this week for Christmas money.) So, here is a creative burp, a little piece of my cynical sarcasm come to life before my eyes.

When the magic went away

I had grown so accustomed to the little fellas taking care of things, imagine my shock and dismay when I found the letter of resignation folded neatly and taped to the bathroom mirror. “Dear mistress of the manor,” it began.

We are sorry for any inconvenience, but we feel stifled in our current position of scrubbing toilets and bathtubs. Lately we are feeling under appreciated for our efforts and feel the distant calling of the warm sun and the gentle surf. We have mutually decided to permanently vacation on the beaches of Mexico.

Good luck with the house.


Ipsy, Twint, Spirap and Jaffer  (Those are not our real names of course, but will do for these purposes.)

Hmmm…what business did four little house elves have sipping margaritas on the coast of Mexico? Didn’t I take care of them? I left out little goodies and saucers of milk which they claimed was their favorite. I hand stitched them little clothes in the latest elfin fashions. Now what would I do? I felt overwhelmed and dismayed.

Where could I find more magical elves? Was there some sort of directory? And, God forbid, what if the tiny ladies who folded all of the laundry and put it neatly away decided to follow their muses and head off to New York to become famous artists? This was out of control.

I sunk down to my knees and began to sob. Would the terrible turmoils of being a house wife and stay at home mom never end? I suppose there was still a bright side…somewhere. I still had the invisible nannies to rock the babies back to sleep in the middle of the night. Unless of course they deserted me too…to become groupies to some hot, young band who played only for the ears of invisible maidens.

When I signed on for this, nobody told me this could happen. I read the fine print in the contract for housewives and there was definitely nothing in there about desertion. Did the little buggers have a right to leave? I’d always assumed they’d be there to take care of things. What were my rights in all of this? Could I sue? Was there some kind of fairy tale lawyer I could call? Sure, in that same directory with the elves for hire. Right.

And my family wonders why I get so cranky.

Kerry: Long time gone, catching up

It has been a while. Really. A long time. But now it’s time to get real again. Had my baby boy. 9 lbs. 6 oz. (same as Babygirl 15 months ago) The birth was traumatic and painful, but I’ll save that for another day. When they (the doctors) said the baby might get too big and get stuck in the birth canal, they weren’t kidding. Next time I’ll pay better attention. There won’t be a next time of course. Hubby’s getting snipped. But baby is beautiful and healthy and I seem to be recovering nicely, so all is well in the land of chaos.

I tried to pretend I didn’t have to write, didn’t have to be creative. I’ve put off painting for so long now, isn’t it easier to just let it go? Not really. I paint in my night time dreams, when I sleep long enough to have one. And I thought I could hide the fact that I sabotage myself and any free time I have. Now I’ll just be the “man” and own up to it. I did not just say that. Do men really own up to anything?

And I wanted to come across as the happy housewife (gag) with a remarkable relationship and children who love me. Ha! And ha again. I have learned, once again, how much my fourteen year old hates me this month, and how my relationship is held together by the frayed threads of a tattered past, and how my seventeen year old aspires to be a high school dropout, living with her illegal alien boyfriend in some ghetto apartment, and how my little angel Babygirl can throw tantrums with the best of the two year olds, refusing to speak in words, expressing herself only in screams.

So my last post was a rant against my significant other, against my life, against everything. I simply wanted to run away. I deleted the post the next day. I figured I should heed that old advice “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” I haven’t had anything nice to say for quite some time. I felt I could not trust my fingers, trust my mind, so I stayed silent. But I’m back. Even if it is merely to write a few words about my day, about the never-ending chaos that is my life. I used to embrace the chaos, smile, laugh a little and get on with it. Has three years in pregnancy and post pregnancy made me so bitter? Or is it my outstanding relationship and darling, loving, helpful children?

And a side note: the experiment in meditation: can I meditate while breastfeeding? No. I can however fall asleep quickly and awaken with drool on my chin, only to burp the little one, switch sides and do it all again.

This weekend we are having a birthday BBQ for my disgruntled teen who turns fifteen. We bought her a trampoline so our house would be “cool” enough to invite her friends to. We have spent $480 and the past two weekends taking her to a driver’s ed class so she can get her permit next week. Oh boy. We bought her a queen bed to replace her twin so she could feel grown up. All in the name of love? Sure. I figured we should spend some time and money on her so she didn’t feel left out when the new baby came. Avoid that jealousy thing. I failed.

Babies are a handful. Babygirl gives her new brother kisses by head butting him. Babyboy has his own issues, like not gaining enough weight, not having enough bowel movements, and spitting up too much. We take him back to the pediatrician every week to get weighed. I’m supplementing the breastfeeding with formula. I never seem to make enough, or something. But breastfeeding is so good for the little ones, I hate to give it up entirely.

Babygirl takes naps in her crib now. A positive, which leaves me a little time alone…to breastfeed and bottle feed the new baby. But, like now, Babygirl has been going to bed earlier, all by herself in her crib, and the little man sleeps, so I have a minute.

I have to wonder if art will again become more important than a nice hot bath? I know I can’t hide forever. I get e-mails from artist friends and the guilt builds up inside of me. It seems like a spend so much of my day hanging on the edge, waiting for that next something to smack me upside the head. Embrace the chaos, embrace the chaos. I’ll just keep telling myself that as I dream of cute young men, margaritas and the beach on the coast of Mexico.

Kerry: working on art

So happy! Babygirl slept for like a whole hour in her playpen and I actually spent that time working on art. It wasn’t so bad. I’m experimenting with pastels on paper, and haven’t quite found what I’m looking for, but at least it’s a start. While I was digging out the pastels, I came across some watercolors I was once working on. Now, watercolor is not really my thing, I like oils, but when I was expecting Babygirl, I had to find another medium because the oils and associated thinners are extremely toxic and can be absorbed through the skin. So I checked out a book from the library and started playing around in watercolor. Mostly I made a mess, but I wonder if I can remember anything. It might be fun to try that again.

Mostly, I can’t seem to get my mind away from finding a bigger house. Maybe I’m doing that nesting thing, and with new baby coming soon, and no place to put him, I can’t help but dream of more bedrooms. So, I’m being positive and looking online at larger houses, although really we don’t have enough time to move before new baby comes, and I don’t think I could, being as pregnant as I am. Who wants that hassle on top of the backaches and heartburn? I can still dream.

And maybe tomorrow there will be time for art again, but I’ve decided that I have to stop feeling guilty about not dedicating more time to my creativity. I am a mother first, and there will be time again. It is what I love, so I have to believe that. Right now, it might be enough to rest when I can and dote on Babygirl before her little brother arrives. My children are, after all, my biggest and best creations.

Kerry: Excuses

Wow, isn’t it great being so pregnant…not really. The good thing, it’s almost over and I can meet my baby boy and get my body back. I can’t wait to bend over again. Picking up baby girl’s toys has become quite a chore.

I had a moment yesterday where I actually dug out my big sketch book and took out the oil pastels and stared at the colors…they smelled so good, and then I put them away… in a more convenient place of course. I told myself that baby girl would wake up any moment and I would barely get started, and the mess would not be worth the limited time, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do anyway. She slept in her playpen for about two and a half hours. Wasted time.

I spend so much time making excuses for not doing what I love, the biggest of which is no time and no space. But really, if I truly wanted to, couldn’t I make the time and the space? I battle myself over this constantly. I’m afraid I can’t get it back, that “flow,” that losing oneself in the art. The last time I tried to paint, there was nothing, just a sense of how much can I finish before baby girl wakes up? And I don’t like the painting. I was going through the motions. More excuses.

I think I need that studio space: a place to get messy and leave it all out if I have to. I suggested hiring someone to finish the basement room, and ironically, my husband spent a whole weekend day working on it. And then it stopped. Maybe he needs another nudge. Secondly, I need some dedicated time. My husband works evenings and is home most mornings, unless he can get overtime. We have discussed the option of him watching the baby so I can have some time. And he does, occasionally. I usually use that time for showers and cleaning, but I think my priorities must change if I want to preserve my sanity. I’m running out of time before baby number two arrives and I’ll look back on these days as filled with free moments (well, maybe).

Maybe I need to stop making excuses and do whatever I can to create. Use the kitchen table to paint on if I have to. Maybe it’s time to explore some new techniques…go really abstract…fast and furious, anything to get something new done. It might be worth a try. I might find inspiration there.

Kerry: New Voice

Hello all. I am an artist, writer, mom, wife, and creative person hoping to contribute something meaningful (i.e. my personal stories and hurdles) about living a life of creativity while being a wife and mom to four kids. At this point I have two teenage daughters and one thirteen month old baby girl, and am pregnant (31 weeks) with my first little boy. It is an exciting and tiring time, and any moments I can find to paint or be creative are little miracles. I have lost my studio space…the spare room became the nursery, but I have hope that the unfinished room in our basement will magically finish itself. Before one of the older girls lays claim to it, I hope to deposit my volumes of scattered art supplies into this treasured empty space, with the intention of getting serious about creating art again. We’ll see how that works out. Anyway, I’m glad to be here, contributing…another voice in the artistic and creative world. I refuse to give up that part of me and will continue to fight (or to pine away) for the time I need to express myself.

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