Art & Motherhood (& Sandwiches).

Yeah, so today I was reading Alison Bechdel's "Are You My Mother?" while I was eating my fried egg & Brussels sprout sandwich for lunch (take "today" loosely because I am am currently post bath nursing Iris & can't imagine that I will actually finish this tonight). Anyway.

Set the scene. Iris is napping. I'm at the kitchen table by the window & the poetry books. 

Nice November light today. Bare trees, pale sunlight. 

Sandwich. Fried eggs, two of them, sliced bread, cheddar cheese, last night's leftover battered deep fried Brussels sprouts...there they are.

(See, this is still a food blog!). Lots of mayo & sriracha. I've got a cup of cold coffee from the morning. 

I'm reading. I'm eating fast, because who knows when the tiny human will wake up. 

And I'm reading Alison Bechdel, & she's referencing Adrienne Rich on motherhood, & I'm seated right there by all of Adrienne Rich's books, & I wonder, can you really be an artist & a mother? And do either on properly, the way you really want to? Can I? 

I always believe that you could, but actually being a mother, I don't know. I can't even write this post. 

I personally am so self centered when I make art, & I think I really need to be in that place where I put art first to do it well. 

And now I put Iris first, & can barely complete a thought. 

I feel like having Iris is the most important thing I've ever done & I would rather do this than have my opportunity to be self centered & make art back, but still. Do I want the same thing for her? Or do I want her to be famous & fabulous & everything she could ever possibly want?

Does anyone know?  

I don't know why I had such a moment there. Maybe I should just focus on sandwiches. It was a great sandwich. The eggs were freshly gathered from our chickens & I fried them in butter in a cast iron skillet & melted the cheese on top in the pan. 

And ha, Iris is sleeping on my lap now, so maybe I'll just post this as is. 

Happy Friday night, world, here at the homestead we are having spicy duck soup & homemade biscuits for dinner. 

And listening to Britney Spears. And still contemplating the meaning of motherhood. 

Changing My Mindset. Loving the Interruptions.

It's a really interesting experience trying to write with a tiny person attached to my boob. 

Is it ok for my boob to be on Blogger? I hope so...today my boob was out in Marshall's & outside at the tables at both Whole Foods & Panera & in the car at Target & Old Navy. What's the internet compared to that?

There's my girl, with her post-boob snack smile.

And now she's goofing around on my lap while I attempt to write this. And then I decided to get off Blogger & play with my sweet girl. 

That's the change in mindset I need to work on. Because when I write I get very absorbed & don't want to talk & don't want to stop, but I can't be like that, I have to stop. I can't ignore a five month old tugging at my shirt & giggling. 

And now she's doing this. Post bath, post PaPa's lap, post post bath boob.

Of course she's on my lap, & not in bed, & dinner is just now ready, so now we are faced with the "do we move the baby & risk waking her or do I just sit here" dilemma. 

So I'm going to write a bit. Which is why I wanted to start blogging again, to give me something to do in these moments besides stare at Facebook. 

And for the hundredth time today, I've written a bunch in my head while doing other things. And forgot what I was doing or thinking & I'm realizing the tenses on these posts will never make sense, but I will never, ever get down a coherent thought without stopping. 

I guess I just have to learn to love the interruptions. 

Everything about being Iris' mama had been about stopping whatever I'm doing & putting her first. Which has been surprisingly easy for me. But it's meant that I haven't even attempted to make art. 

And she woke! And there was the oh so terrible sad face! And now it's much later & who knows what my original thought even was.

Fast forward to the next morning. It's midmorning nap time.

So maybe I will try to finish this up. It is pretty damn peaceful, snuggled up in bed on a November morning next to a sleeping five month old girl. Who even cares what I was originally going to say?

Sonething about art. And interruptions. And getting use to accepting them. Sure I had things I was trying to say that I forgot because Iris woke up & needed me, but then there are her little hands reaching for me & her fabulous smile,  & then I love my life right now.