quiet

i want to maintain this blog but then weeks go by without an update. i simply can't write happy when things aren't happy, i'm not that skilled. this is perhaps why i could never be a columnist or an actual writer paid to write on demand. this is not news. i've put some effort into happy updates and not complaining but all this life stuff keeps happening.

i keep living my life like someday there won't be big, huge, uncomfortable things happening but there always are and it seems i'm constantly grasping for truth and solid ground. i'm sure there's something to law of attraction and yet so much of it still eludes me and i don't discredit the concept that i'm inviting each of these experiences into my life but they just keep piling up and i don't know how to stop and i'd like some respite now, please.

i want to write about how my husband isn't really on board with unschooling and i feel like i'm failing my children and my seven year old wants to go to school sometimes so much that he excitedly asks me if i'd send him on the bus, too. i don't want to send him at all.

i want to write about how my hips and pelvis are hurting again, how pain and numbness shoot from my leg socket down to my right big toe, which twitches every now and then in the most concerning way. how the ringing and deafness in my ears is also uncool and when do i decide to go to the doctor and do i start with a chiropractor and who will watch my kids and how will i pay for it, anyway?

i want to write about how my best friend doesn't want to participate in life anymore, so much, that there's nothing anyone can do. if help is acknowledged at all, it is refused. all glimmers of hope are simply glimmers - they don't offer long-lasting solutions and it's not up to anyone but her to find and utilize solutions anyway. i want to talk about how mental health and depression are often treated in unhelpful ways, especially when you're poor and without health insurance. i want to talk about how rates of suicide attempts increase after treatment even if some studies suggest that two-year follow-ups show some promise. i want to talk about how helpless i feel, standing by and basically waiting for someone to take her own life because her only options are being hospitalized again or homeless again, neither of which she wants and understandably so.

i want to write about how sad i've been and still seem to be and how much puppies suck and how being an instrument of peace isn't just difficult but seems impossible when raising little boys who don't seem to care much what women have to say.

i need to get over this internalized criticism that i can never be happy or all i do is complain. it's simply not true. i'm awesome and i recognize and point out the bright side a lot but i can't do it all the time. i know what it's like to be unable or unwilling to find it, though, so i'm amazed at the miracle it is that i can even do it some of the time.

i long for quiet and i also avoid quiet. just one of the funny conundrums that remind me not to take this life so seriously. quiet is hard to find in a house with multiple small children. quiet is stolen in moments, all too fleeting, not quite satisfactory enough. quiet is where stillness resides but right now i'm in the season of raising children no matter how i want to cultivate stillness. it is a time of rapid growth and seasons inevitably change.

i try not to think about how things might be if the house were actually quiet.

when my children are grown, when my husband is gone. these things keep me up at night and make the art of staying in the moment a moment to moment victory.

this isn't going where i thought it was. my very loud kids are ready to exit the tub so i leave you with a progress pic of one of my newer pieces and some modest mouse lyrics just because.

as life gets longer, awful feels softer

and it feels pretty soft to me

the view :: modest mouse

you may also be interested in the backstory or my first art video, both which can be found here.

breathe. open.

i am learning how to breathe. how to be.

how to actually open into experience rather than fall into it and look back as i stand, telling myself, "yeah. i meant to do that."

my "plan" had been to stock my etsy cart in march. i had been working on SO much stuff. like. i'm hoarding my paintings, y'all. i don't want to do this but sometimes i do.

a few weeks ago i sold a painting that pulled on me until i pulled it off of etsy and replaced its listing with a print. a facebook friend asked me about it, it had been months and months since i decided to keep it. when she asked, though, i realized it had lived with me long enough and "what did you see, my darling young one?" found it's home.

i let go and yet i look at these paintings and i know i have to open even more.

i didn't list anything on etsy in march. i updated a few things on society6 but really my focus wasn't on online sales, at all. i had this idea that sometime this year i'd like to approach galleries or submit for my first show. within days i saw that metallo gallery was accepting submissions for their third annual microscale show. and just like that i did something that seems so easy for some people and like such an unnecessarily big deal to me - i don't even know why i quantify it like that but i am always acutely aware that i sort of make a big deal out of everything. point is, i started working towards submitting. including some older pieces and some that i didn't even start until mid-march, i did it. i got in - i showed the owner ten pieces and he said he loved them. he said i could bring anything else that i finished between now and then. it took a lot for me to tell myself that it wasn't really some joke where everyone was going to laugh when i showed up.

i pushed through. i went to tucson. i came home and painted and this week i'm delivering the paintings. in my head, i'm jumping up down, squealing like joy has never been sucked out of my experience before.

it is at once familiar and new and i know it is never easy to take those first steps. it is a feeling much like hope when there seems to be none, until, in the quiet, we can exhale. we can trust.

in learning to be open, i am learning how to inhale. to breathe. to be.

this is a long drive...

a week ago, today, i was on my way to see modest mouse in tucson. i was apprehensive about it for several reasons, the main one, i think, ironic as it is, was being alone with my own thoughts. for that long. did i mention i was by myself? i kind of didn't want to have a breakdown of emotional sobs on the road, you know? and i didn't.

no. that came afterward at the hotel and on the way home. /sidenote.

also, i just couldn't even believe that it was happening. like shortly after i bought my ticket my mom and some friends were like, "omg i can't believe you're going on your own, aren't you scared? that sucks, being at a concert by yourself sucks, it all sucks."

i had to breathe a lot and remind myself that usually, at concerts, i'm either with a girlfriend or i'm the third wheel. i have had plenty of those experiences, and well, they can kind of suck, too. going alone was some test of strength, sure, but it was also maybe a little badass and besides, i couldn't have seen modest mouse with someone that didn't really like them or only marginally liked them. that would have sucked way more.

it had been hard to get really excited, though. the week prior my youngest had been the sickest any of my kids have ever been. eight days of pure stomach virus hell. it was horrible and had taken away any and all emphasis on trivial things like what i might wear or when i would pack. even two days before the trip i wasn't sure i could actually do it. was i feeling sick? oh, the panic of not having packed yet, and of course, my house was a mess because i'd been doing laundry, caring for sick baby, and sleeping for eight whole days. everything else was a non-priority. it was really good practice being in the moment.

it had to be one breath at a time, regardless. i just couldn't believe that i was "going to see modest mouse" until i was standing in front of the stage that isaac brock was on.

it's not a great picture. i don't care.

then that happened.

afterward, some dude at the show, that was definitely high, asked me if the show was life-changing and i was like no but when i got home i realized the whole trip was. of course.

below is a visual tour through more than 900 miles and two days by myself followed by a miss happypants announcement...



yeah, these directional pictures all have modest mouse lyrics on them

hotel congress. some online reviewer was right. "historic" here means "old and gross" but also charming.  

(again, not a great picture but also SO great.)

the next day. this happened.

i met the fabulous tara catalano at ikea but didn't take photos of our adorable selves because, well, i'd slept three hours (maybe) the night before and wasn't adorable.

my husband was worried about me driving home on such little sleep and i spent a little too much time at ikea so i got the added bonus of meeting a long-time livejournal friend, as well, and staying the night in phoenix before completing my circular trip.  

saguaros are exciting even if you're from NM

so is window rock. 

i can't believe it's been a week. i haven't fully unpacked. i haven't done laundry.

but i totally assembled and put away my ikea haul.

i also started painting with wild abandon. it's like this. some people get massages or go on retreat. some might visit with long-time friends or have date nights. others may eat right and exercise. this was my self-care. a solo road trip, seeing my favorite band for the first time, and a hellacool shopping spree in my favorite place, without kid-interruption. meeting some cool people and seeing friends was a bonus. the whole thing was my bliss.

even though it was exhausting, it provided the fuel to get some new stuff started and finish some old stuff.

(new stuff)

(old stuff, newly completed)

since i got back i've also been preparing some old stuff and some new stuff for the third annual microscale show at metallo gallery. i drop off my artwork next week! 

pretty stacked canvases

my first gallery experience + my artwork on the postcard = way exciting.

reception is may 4 from 4-8pm and the show runs until may 31. 

local folks click on the link above for directions and other info!

 



the night before easter for worst case scenario mom

this easter eve i realize how march is already gone and all those papier-mache eggs i'd set aside for the boys and i to paint are still on the kitchen bar. the only easter decorations about are the bunny ears with cottonballs the kids and i made last night at the bookstore.

earlier i went to petsmart (because omg, the kids could stay with my husband and i could think and ask salespeople questions and analyze dog food because i was having an inner conflict about corn and wheat and grain-free diets) and on the way home i realized i had to decide if i was going to do easter baskets or not. i'd picked up some of those shrink-wrapped washcloths that expand the first time you soak them, the last time i was at the dollar store. i bought them specifically for use as basket stuffers, fully intending to have had my shit more together by now, but that was all i had.

i made another stop for pastel m&ms.

even earlier today, during lunch, my youngest put his head down on my lap and fell asleep. he woke up when we were leaving the restaurant and told me he felt sick in his throat. he's had a dry, intermittent cough and nasal stuffiness all night and i worry because it's what i do when my kids are sick and especially when it involves their ability to breathe.

he only recently started to blow his nose. he used to tell me he couldn't and i thought it meant he didn't want to. cleaning his nose, myself, became a regular event that involved a flashlight and within the last month or so i noticed that his nasal passages narrow in a place that they maybe shouldn't. making an appointment with an ear, nose, and throat specialist is on my list of things to do and i worry that i should have just done it already.

before i can put the easter colored m&ms in the plastic eggs i bought at target, on clearance, after some other easter, i have to prepare the humidifier in his room and discover that it's in my room, where it's been for weeks, still with water in it.

as i'm washing it another level of worry and concern comes over me and the internal dialogue is something like, what if there's mold in it, oh god, are those sea monkeys in that water? how can i really make sure it's clean and not going to deposit all kinds of bacteria in the room? shit, did i just get water in that opening on the base with the big, red "no water" symbol?

i spray some homemade hippie cleaning product in it, wipe it down, rinse it, smell it and convince myself that it will be okay and that i have stuff to do and that i absolutely can't fall asleep even if i was looking forward to the second night of at least six hours of sleep in what seems like forever. then i remember how exhausted i am and how having kids really means you won't ever sleep again. ever. like, it's not even funny how true that is. of course, we also recently got a puppy. a super sweet, super adorbs little puppy that has woken me up at least twice, but sometimes as many as six times per night for the last three weeks. except last night. last night was the first time i slept continuously for 7 hours, in long, long time. before we got her, all winter long, it seems, if i wasn't sick someone else was and i've been working and painting and spreading myself thin and sleep has been last on my list of things to do. tonight it was right up there but my baby is sick. also i have things to do.

it's past midnight and i'm heating up a cup of coffee because clearly, my only option is to stay up all night listening to him breathe so i have plenty of time to not only write this blog post but also do some much-needed photo-editing. but first i have to assemble the simplest easter baskets ever.

having hardly planned baskets for the boys, no, i did not plan a basket for the pup, i just so happened to bring in the little cardboard basket because it was full of plastic eggs and then remembered i'd bought a couple of pup treats at petsmart earlier. ba-da-bing.

anyhow, as i'm filling the plastic eggs with m&ms i get all squicked out because they're made of plastic that has been sealed in plastic bag inside of a plastic bin inside my garage for a year or more and omg the toxins. i'm telling you, my head is crazy at night. especially when my babies are sick.

worst case scenario mom.

i used to tell my oldest that's what he could call me. the safety and well-bring of my children are at the top of my list and when either is threatened or potentially threatened or even pretend threatened, i jump to the worst possible outcome.

the worry is nothing new. it's like, lifelong. i remember getting miffed that my grandmother called me a worrywart before i'd even started kindergarten (even then i knew the truth could hurt).

 

mostly i manage it. i remember to breathe. i get all zen. i tell myself that everything is as it should be. i take vitamins and supplements, though hesitantly.

i also try to piece things together to make them make sense. in my head i sound like a hypochondriac or maybe a little like house.

i got this image of dr. house from weheartit

 

this one came from tumbler and i don't know how to link to the specific post
 

to get over my possible overreaction i breathe and consider keeping plastic easter eggs filled with m&ms in my purse or kid bag, at all times, so i have a treat when my kids ask for candy from quarter machines and don't understand that i say "no" because my worst case scenario brain totally imagines all the snotty, butt-picking, handsy-mouthy kids that use those machines, whether putting quarters in properly or sticking their slimy, dirty hands up the slots trying to get something for free.

cheap plastic seems safer.

they're all going to laugh at you

i want to buy a dress. it's not a dress i need, it's not even a dress i'm sure i'd wear but it's a dress i'd like to wear.

it's a dress that i imagine i could wear whether i just stayed home all day or if i had some super fun place to be. the dress embodies fun and that's not a word i use lightly.

in fact, i don't even like the word.

anyway, if i could dress like my paintings, i might wear this dress.




rising international dress, photo courtesy of zulily.

part of me is convinced i could totally rock it but there are all these voices reminding me that there's a good chance the dress will be ill-fitting. if i order one of two sizes it could either be too big or too small, i'm curvier than a mannequin and of course the pattern and color of the actual dress could vary considerably so i may have this image in my head and be sorely disappointed when it arrives. also. there's something about it that reminds me so much of elementary school. so much of this has come up lately in my paper journaling, too, so it's been on my mind i guess - my grandmother used to dress in her own unique way and i always, at once, both respected her for it and was embarrased by it.

by middle school, though, i was like, whatever, and influenced heavily by mayim bialik (blossom), soleil moon frye (punky brewster), and melissa joan hart (clarissa explains it all) i was pretty much striped stockings and blue hair from then on.

but then i went through even another period. yeah, the goth. by the end of my mid twenties i was just so completely OVER the way people looked at me and thought their thoughts. fully aware of the irony that is dressing for attention and also emitting negative vibes, i decided to find my inner hippie, instead, and it was all flowers and long skirts from then on.

so anyway. this dress. is at once, both frivolous and dangerous. it jostles the hippie boho homeless chic look i adopted circa 2003. it says, hey look at me, and not just like i'm stealing something but like i'm a circus clown.

i both love it and am afraid of it.

 

the truth is, people have always "laughed at" me. laughed here also means gawked at, criticized, rolled their eyes, said something mean, etc. it happened because my mom used to dress me funny, because i chose to dress funny, or maybe because i'm just damn funny.

very recently i bought myself a tokidoki unicorn at barnes and noble. i was behind a completely uppity professional older woman in line. or rather, she cut in front of me, since from behind i imagine i looked very much like my 14 year old self, wearing chucks, a funky hoodie, jeans, and holding a wildly happy plush toy and that pretty much meant i didn't count as much of a person in all of her importance.

after she so rudely made it to the cafe counter before i did, my unicorn may or may not have made funny faces at her. then i came home and posted this on IG.

 

clearly, i am a child.

whether i buy this dress or not, everytime i leave the house i am running the risk that someone is going to "laugh" at me. i still don't know if i'll take the leap and buy the dress but my inner fairy lady is leaning towards "DOOOOOO IT!"