Ramblings of the Sleep Deprived
I wish I could say I'm sleep deprived because I'm super mom, breast feeding a child. Better still a person who worked a job all day and then came home to not only cook dinner, but do all the laundry, gave the kids a bath, baked brownies (or cupcakes), cleaned house until the couch squeaked, read bedtime stories, and rocked the kids to sleep. No, that would not be me. Just thinking about that scenario not only gave me a panic attack, but also worries me that there are those super moms (or dads) out there which in turn makes me feel guilty.
Nope, that's not me. I'm just a lady who conveniently forgets to take her night medication which leads to long hours awake. I honestly like it to some extent because I can listen to music, talk to the night owls on Twitter (you know who you are), and just dream. Since having children, AKA chaos creators, I find I can't work in my field anymore. What's my field? Um...microbiology/research? Wait. No, that got derailed when I found out I was pregnant. Oh yeah, I remember. Art. I created art. I look at my jury slides ten years out and wonder how the hell I sold anything. I'm so beyond that now. I primarily work in miniature. Yes, I was a glutton for punishment. Yes, I actually love working in miniature. This picture is of a porcelain box that is literally has a design area of less than an inch. Hand dyed silk ribbon and thread, Swarovski crystal, and antique glass seed beads on bengaline. (Don't know why tinypic is color shifting for me)
This one is 1-1/4"L by 3/4"W
But I digress.... Fact is, I have branched out in so many ways I haven't been able to just focus on one thing. I use my time late at night to just let my mind wander with a sketch pad in my lap. Sometimes it's 4:00 AM by the time I realize I really need to get my ass in bed. Fact is, I miss creating. I miss sculpting dolls. I miss working on needle felted animals. I miss quilting, knitting, spinning, and the like. I've turned into this assistant of sorts. I'm the one who makes sure all the permission slips get signed, the homework gets done, the patches get put on girl scout vests, and worse yet: I've turned into a shuttle service taking the girls from school to various girl scout activities.
God, don't get me started on my volunteer PTO time. Parent teacher organizations aren't what I remember them to be. I swear in our town you need to have some serious networking skills and/or a business degree. I get the sweats in the presence of some of these power women. Plus, I find every time I come up with an idea, they sit there and stare at me. At first I thought it was because my ideas were stupid. Fact of the matter was they were just ahead of their time. Whatever I'd suggest in the Fall, would invariably be used in the Spring and someone else would take credit for coming up with the idea.
I'm now the girls fashion consultant/craft store. Neither one of them wants to try on clothes. I'm just supposed to figure out what would look trendy and if I couldn't find it cheaply (Thank you Target!), I wound up creating it. Take that, Hannah Montana!! I'm always the one to purchase craft supplies I knew damn well I would need some night for a surprise school project due the next day that I discovered at 7:00 PM at night when bed time is 8:00 PM. Oh and let's not forget the surprise snack I have to provide for the class that I wasn't notified about. Honestly, I don't expect the teachers with all they have to do to be reminding my children over and over again. It just irks me that my children couldn't be bothered to remember until SURPRISE! Yet watch in amazement how I pull pom pom balls, glitter glue, googly eyes, jingle bells, fabric, yarn, and beads out of my ass at the last minute! You'd be surprised what I have in my stash. Imagine the look on my face when K tells me she needs...get this...origami paper! Origami paper? Really? Not just cut up construction paper into the shape of a square? No? Ok, I got this. Voila! I walk into my studio, pull out a tin of not just any origami paper, but different sizes, colors, patterns, and even Hello Kitty origami paper. (No, I didn't let her use that. It's mine, I tell you, mine!) I swear K's jaw just dropped as she ran, hugged me, and called me the best mommy ever! Yeah, I embellished that a little. Hey, it's late damn it!
So where was I. Oh yeah, being my girls' micro-manager. It also means I seem to be the only one they listen to when discipline has to occur. I mean, my husband tries, but he still doesn't understand that yelling = ignore everything you yell or say for that matter. So when I'm trying to work in the basement studio, up to my eyeballs in straight pins and fabric, tenuously trying to pin a fuzzy to a postage stamp, overhead I hear:
"Hey! Knock it off and get ready for bed!" (screeching and running from one end of the house to the other)
"K, go get your pajamas on now! E go brush your teeth, NOW!" (Neither kid has broken stride and has started poking each other based on one yelling 'Get out of my room now!' and the other yelling 'I'm not touching you! I'm not touching you!')
"You two had better get your butts in gear before I take away <mumble>" (Oh yeah, no change whatsoever)
Now, he's really starting to get pissed because they clearly aren't listening to him, so I stop what I'm doing and listen carefully. I just know he's going to snap one of these days and I won't hear that exact moment if I kept working.
I hear some sort of loud noise, and then one of the girls starts crying. From what I can ascertain, E did some sort of Taekwondo front kick to K in retaliation for K stealing her stuffed dog. Then I hear:
"See, that's what you get when you're screwing around and not doing what I said."
Which just makes them both cry because the other won't say sorry. By then I've already gotten up and made my way up the stairs. I walk down the hall, flip on the light where both kids are crying. I stand there, hands on hips, and just give the oh-my-god-you-didn't-just-pull-this-on-my-watch look of death. I make a loud sigh, and say,
"Really? You two want to rethink this?"
I swear to God, they will stop mid-tear and haul ass without one sound. You'd swear I beat them to get that reaction. No, it's the fear of what mommy could do. Granted, they've only called my bluff once, and it was a very long week without books, toys, or anything in their room but furniture and clothing. I'm the meanest mom in the world, but they never hit me again after that. So, every single fucking time I go into my studio, I swear the girls try to kill each other in the slowest, most annoying way possible in front of their dad.
I never have more than an hour to myself during the day, and for some damn reason my body decides it's time to have a migraine whenever I do decide to work on something. The only time I have is from 11:00 PM until about 2:00 AM and I can't do anything that requires super concentration. I've fucked up more projects during "dead time". I've just decided to use that precious time to breathe. Sure I may sleep-in later, but I refuse to give in to sleep and instead dream of the things I want to create.
Because, ultimately, I refuse to wash dishes.
Nope, that's not me. I'm just a lady who conveniently forgets to take her night medication which leads to long hours awake. I honestly like it to some extent because I can listen to music, talk to the night owls on Twitter (you know who you are), and just dream. Since having children, AKA chaos creators, I find I can't work in my field anymore. What's my field? Um...microbiology/research? Wait. No, that got derailed when I found out I was pregnant. Oh yeah, I remember. Art. I created art. I look at my jury slides ten years out and wonder how the hell I sold anything. I'm so beyond that now. I primarily work in miniature. Yes, I was a glutton for punishment. Yes, I actually love working in miniature. This picture is of a porcelain box that is literally has a design area of less than an inch. Hand dyed silk ribbon and thread, Swarovski crystal, and antique glass seed beads on bengaline. (Don't know why tinypic is color shifting for me)
This one is 1-1/4"L by 3/4"W
But I digress.... Fact is, I have branched out in so many ways I haven't been able to just focus on one thing. I use my time late at night to just let my mind wander with a sketch pad in my lap. Sometimes it's 4:00 AM by the time I realize I really need to get my ass in bed. Fact is, I miss creating. I miss sculpting dolls. I miss working on needle felted animals. I miss quilting, knitting, spinning, and the like. I've turned into this assistant of sorts. I'm the one who makes sure all the permission slips get signed, the homework gets done, the patches get put on girl scout vests, and worse yet: I've turned into a shuttle service taking the girls from school to various girl scout activities.
God, don't get me started on my volunteer PTO time. Parent teacher organizations aren't what I remember them to be. I swear in our town you need to have some serious networking skills and/or a business degree. I get the sweats in the presence of some of these power women. Plus, I find every time I come up with an idea, they sit there and stare at me. At first I thought it was because my ideas were stupid. Fact of the matter was they were just ahead of their time. Whatever I'd suggest in the Fall, would invariably be used in the Spring and someone else would take credit for coming up with the idea.
I'm now the girls fashion consultant/craft store. Neither one of them wants to try on clothes. I'm just supposed to figure out what would look trendy and if I couldn't find it cheaply (Thank you Target!), I wound up creating it. Take that, Hannah Montana!! I'm always the one to purchase craft supplies I knew damn well I would need some night for a surprise school project due the next day that I discovered at 7:00 PM at night when bed time is 8:00 PM. Oh and let's not forget the surprise snack I have to provide for the class that I wasn't notified about. Honestly, I don't expect the teachers with all they have to do to be reminding my children over and over again. It just irks me that my children couldn't be bothered to remember until SURPRISE! Yet watch in amazement how I pull pom pom balls, glitter glue, googly eyes, jingle bells, fabric, yarn, and beads out of my ass at the last minute! You'd be surprised what I have in my stash. Imagine the look on my face when K tells me she needs...get this...origami paper! Origami paper? Really? Not just cut up construction paper into the shape of a square? No? Ok, I got this. Voila! I walk into my studio, pull out a tin of not just any origami paper, but different sizes, colors, patterns, and even Hello Kitty origami paper. (No, I didn't let her use that. It's mine, I tell you, mine!) I swear K's jaw just dropped as she ran, hugged me, and called me the best mommy ever! Yeah, I embellished that a little. Hey, it's late damn it!
So where was I. Oh yeah, being my girls' micro-manager. It also means I seem to be the only one they listen to when discipline has to occur. I mean, my husband tries, but he still doesn't understand that yelling = ignore everything you yell or say for that matter. So when I'm trying to work in the basement studio, up to my eyeballs in straight pins and fabric, tenuously trying to pin a fuzzy to a postage stamp, overhead I hear:
"Hey! Knock it off and get ready for bed!" (screeching and running from one end of the house to the other)
"K, go get your pajamas on now! E go brush your teeth, NOW!" (Neither kid has broken stride and has started poking each other based on one yelling 'Get out of my room now!' and the other yelling 'I'm not touching you! I'm not touching you!')
"You two had better get your butts in gear before I take away <mumble>" (Oh yeah, no change whatsoever)
Now, he's really starting to get pissed because they clearly aren't listening to him, so I stop what I'm doing and listen carefully. I just know he's going to snap one of these days and I won't hear that exact moment if I kept working.
I hear some sort of loud noise, and then one of the girls starts crying. From what I can ascertain, E did some sort of Taekwondo front kick to K in retaliation for K stealing her stuffed dog. Then I hear:
"See, that's what you get when you're screwing around and not doing what I said."
Which just makes them both cry because the other won't say sorry. By then I've already gotten up and made my way up the stairs. I walk down the hall, flip on the light where both kids are crying. I stand there, hands on hips, and just give the oh-my-god-you-didn't-just-pull-this-on-my-watch look of death. I make a loud sigh, and say,
"Really? You two want to rethink this?"
I swear to God, they will stop mid-tear and haul ass without one sound. You'd swear I beat them to get that reaction. No, it's the fear of what mommy could do. Granted, they've only called my bluff once, and it was a very long week without books, toys, or anything in their room but furniture and clothing. I'm the meanest mom in the world, but they never hit me again after that. So, every single fucking time I go into my studio, I swear the girls try to kill each other in the slowest, most annoying way possible in front of their dad.
I never have more than an hour to myself during the day, and for some damn reason my body decides it's time to have a migraine whenever I do decide to work on something. The only time I have is from 11:00 PM until about 2:00 AM and I can't do anything that requires super concentration. I've fucked up more projects during "dead time". I've just decided to use that precious time to breathe. Sure I may sleep-in later, but I refuse to give in to sleep and instead dream of the things I want to create.
Because, ultimately, I refuse to wash dishes.
I can't tell you how many times I've stayed up FAR, FAR too late because I don't want to wash dishes but I promised myself I'd wash them before I went to bed.
That and post bedtime is the only quiet time in our house. It's just to precious to end.
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