Yesterday I had a lovely visit with the Susanne, winner of the purse! We had such a great, if too quick, visit and a fab cup of coffee.
:: The sun was streaming through her front window. ::
:: Her children delighted and entertained. ::
And although she got a new purse, I'm pretty sure I was the lucky one.
I'm still struggling to find the balance around here between all the parts of me. The me that homeschools E. The me that need to maintain some semblance of order around the house. The me that need to be attentive to the needs of not just the wee people and wee pup but also the grown up in the house too. The me who's creative synapses are firing in a million different directions right now. The me who is actually producing some amazing stuff.
The problem I'm still having though is that when that me who creates and invents takes over it's a little bit like the Bugs Bunny cartoon where he drinks the potion and becomes Jekyll and Hyde. I feel a little beastly right now. I'm knee deep in a project that needs to be completed by Tuesday and it's going well. I'm so pleased with it. Resentment is mounting though. I mean, when I'm on a roll, I don't even like to stop to eat or go to the bathroom. People, I resent bodily functions when I'm in this state. I mean, how ridiculous is that? It's like I'm temporarily inserted into a manic state, and let me tell you, it's not really all that fun for me or my family. Yesterday I showered (novel idea) and I was in such a rush that I forgot to put on deodorant. And that's not the worst part. The worst part is that I realized I hadn't put any on and I chose to ignore the fact based on the fact that stopping what I was doing and trekking back upstairs would be too much a waste of precious time. I'm starting to understand why some artist are such social misfits (read: total nutters).
The rest of my life is falling apart too. The kids and the dog and the adults in my life have been sadly neglected. The house? Oh the house. It's a disaster. The laundry has sneaked off and multiplied itself under my very nose. The clutter has crept back in. There are (and I kid you not) fabric scraps tracked through the whole house. I keep finding them absolutely everywhere.
I think I need to stop reading blogs like Soulemama and Angry Chicken. These women! I love their blogs (and their work) truly, I do. Problem is they seemingly do it all. Their blogs are full of lovely photos depicting happy children doing crafts (!) and project updates and beautiful studios with stacks of neatly folded fabric on display and recipes for actual food they serve their family and (AND!!) they write books. Beautiful books all while nurturing their families, sewing things for their shops, photographing every lovely moment. Don't they ever have meltdowns? Don't they ever serve grilled cheese with carrot sticks and apple slices for dinner again? Don't they ever look around and want to scream at the piles of project and the long list of other demands? Don't they ever scream and have to apologize after? Is the sun always shining in their world? Maybe it's all just carefully edited. Maybe they are just as nutters as me from time to time. But clearly, peaking into their worlds is not helping me cope with mine.
Here's what I need. I need to find some real mama craft blogs where after a day of harried sewing/cooking/cleaning/fight-breaking-upping they sit slightly slumped and glassy eyed on a couch full of unfolded laundry and drink a glass of wine before shuffling into bed, which for the record, is unmade.
