IMG_4888
Motherhood Journal

Motherhood journal #8

Woke up at 5AM
had BR alone. Loved it
then drew an orangutan
I liked his eyes.
it’s wednesday and my heart is heavy
two kids and me until 9PM with no plan
it’s a perfect setup for a failure
for a mildly depressed person.
I try some distraction–tried to sell a few things via online forum–but it made kids antsy. they know when mom is not present.
I try art time. It tires me out–manically closing the caps on all pans and tubes two kids keep opening, wiping excess paints off a mat, pulling a paper off one child’s hand so the other stops yelling–kids love it. “Mommy, I like painting.”A new discovery.
it’s only 11AM.
Next plan is to try out my new system, e-bike and a trailer.
I am super excited.
I load the kids in a trailer and release thee locks on a bike. The new locks are made of connected sticks of steal. They don’t bend. Watching me struggling for ten minutes, older one is done with her candy and a special cookie. Baby starts crying. I can not hook the trailer on a bike. Baby cries more. I call TH and he tries to explain, but I can not make a picture from his words. A woman comes by. She has been hearing my baby for a long time. “I have a two ear old, and I can not. the baby cried for a long time. I think he wants to come out,”she says and
I am now holding the baby and she listens to my husband’s instruction.
Boom! she figured it out.
So I go
with two kids behind me. It feels great. I am not scared.

nicomarreros
Art Local

Rhapsody

almost half past January O
dont need new words

snoozing three alarms in one minute interval
must it begin this way

under a bed in a child’s room
some stones and glasses
take it or leave it for tomorrow
as the snow on the mountaintop never melts

i come, i tried
then why two empty busses
circumvent a broken chair

dont trust your sighs
your mother has told you

THE PAINTING and THE TITLE by a Peruvian artist nico marreros.

front picture 15.12.15
Art Local

Handprinted Cards

As a second part of my workshop at A l’heure sensation, we had two week intense printmaking to prepare for Noel. The works above are are produced by two women while talking talking talking about children’s temper tantrum and precarious job situations we all have in this city. I don’t need to go into the healing effect of art, community, and humor, do I? Tuesday evenings in a company of other women had given me a sense of hope that I could not have gotten elsewhere.

IMG_3715
Community Art Project

Fragrance of Orchid

Tuesday night at L’heure la Sensation, we had a finale of a five-week-long workshop on orchid and bamboo drawing. We carved out a stamp for our names written in Korean and “signed” all our drawings. No one was scared to pick a spot to place a red spot. We all learned to listen to and trust our intuition. Let us not forget “attaque”– a short moment of taking a breath in, setting our minds on our path–and fearlessly “deroule”!

Thank you, everyone in my first class in Geneva.

Gate A-4

A poem that warms my heart this morning

Live & Learn

naomi_shihab_nye

Gate A-4 By Naomi Shihab Nye:

Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: “If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.” Well— one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.

An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,” said the flight agent. “Talk to her . What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”

I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly. “Shu-dow-a, shu-bid-uck, habibti? Stani schway, min fadlick, shu-bit-se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be…

View original post 408 more words

Parenting

Don’t bother me

I shoo them away in the morning—
to rebalance myself—
my three roommates.

I sit in an unclean apartment
pretend I live alone
I can go through the whole day without opening mouth
Listening to experimental music

I think of shootings in Paris

Last night I went into my daughter’s bedroom
hugged her
told her
“Even when things are tough, when you are frustrated and scared, you know that mommy is always here, I will wrap you like this with my arms and squeeze you tight.”
She nodded
and we fell asleep holding hands

I hear French president’s speech—he will close borders—on my laptop in my corner studio. At first I think no one can go into the county and I wonder if we can go to church on Sunday, our church in France. Then I understand he was talking about immigrants—

Those who have been walking—
readjusting expectation of how life should be—
them,
not us.

Daily Inspirations

The Green Effect

Hope and Faith

Faith cries an instant I walk away from him. He does not walk alone yet, but what he does really well is glueing himself to my legs and moving with me. He grabs on my trousers while I am standing cooking or walking to a toilet. It feels as if I am wearing stone pouches on my ankles to get more muscles on my legs.  He moves with me and I have to very careful when I lift my legs while taking steps inside the kitchen so he does not slip on a hard ceramic tiled floor. When he falls, he makes sure I read the situation as a misery. He lies down flat looking at the ceiling, waiting to be picked up. 

I don’t do well with the sound of baby crying. One time when I was tired from lack of sleep and suffering from lack of energy I was on the verge of losing it. Faith and I were hanging out in the kitchen with him clinging on my leg as usual (we don’t really move from one room to the other easily) and I had to get my phone in hallway. I tore my legs from his grip and ran. Billowing wail followed. I was standing with my phone, and looking down on the floor when the drama was being put on. A little actor was performing his best act of tragedy. I just could not watch it any more. I did not want to hear it any more. 

I too started wailing. Louder than him. Tub full of water is unplugged and there was no way to stop it. 

Three, four, five minutes passed perhaps. I looked at Faith. He was playing with his wooden train. He learned that he can live on his own without our bodies touching. I won!

Today after I pick up Hope from school, we go to the lawn by the lake. Green makes my anxious toddler calm and clingy baby confident. I tell them to sit together while I get more bread from the stroller which is twenty steps away from where we are. When I get back with a stroller, I see the two discussing about natural science around the topic of types of grass grown in Lac Leman region. These are the precious moments and since they come and go so quickly you gotta be on your guards all the time to catch them.