Who, me?

This is our Hibaku tree seedling. Uprooted.

Kizuki has had her eye on it since it first sprouted.

She is fast. I just turned my back for a second. Uta screamed. It was too late.

Speaking of clean...

For a few days last week we stayed at my Aunt B's house. She was away on vacation and offered up her place to us for a little country getaway. Her home is much more fun when she is there too, but we still had a really nice time. Uta brought his bike and made full use of the turn around at the end of the street. On longer bike rides together, me and Kiki walking along side, we visited the horses and helped them get a taste for the greener grass on the other side of the fence. We spied turtles in the lake and listened to spring peepers as we slept.

Aunt B's house is spotless. Not only is it clean, but it is incredibly organized. It is a haven of labels, post it notes, and yellow pads with thorough lists written in neat tiny script. The order makes me very happy, and feels like a true vacation from the chaos of our home. Of course Uta , immediately upon arrival, got busy making crumbs and planting fingerprints on every sparkling surface. Sorry about that!

Thank you for a great time Aunt B!

Messy house

My brain is hard wired to our apartment. Every sock left on the floor sends a ripple of disturbance through the equilibrium of my mind. The sink piled high with dishes is like a knot of congestion in the very forefront of my thoughts. The toy boxes all over turned, contents trailing from room to room, makes me a definite frontrunner for complete mental collapse. I would be better suited to a monastic life. Hotel rooms, void of any and all personal affects, make me giddy with inner peace and contentment. I fantasize about moving to Japan for the sole pleasure of being forced to purge the majority of our belongings.

Cleaning our apartment is much like painting a bridge. Even before I can finish, daily life is creeping in on the edges, eroding my efforts. I never reach the end. Straightening up only creates an opening for a new mess to land in its place. I could very realistically spend every minute of everyday cleaning and not once, for as long as I have children underfoot (or a husband!), have a home that shows my efforts. Nobody is on board in keeping the place tidy. I try to tell them, neat apartment equals happy (and therefore nice) Mama, but its to no avail. The pursuit of order is hopeless. Meanwhile my studio space sits, collecting dust, as my life passes by, sacrificed in pursuit of a clean home. Something needs to change, and I’m afraid it is me.

The house can wait. It will still be messy if I spend the morning drawing. In fact, it will still be messy if I spend the morning cleaning. So why not draw instead? Drawing makes me feel connected to the world, integrated with myself, alive. The choice should be easy, but each day it feels like an insurmountable challenge to choose to draw.

Gold hat

Uta and I decided on a whim to be tourists in our own town. Kizuki was out cold in the carrier so we walked through the East Village trying on hats and sunglasses galore. We had french fries from Pommes Frites followed by frozen yogurt with over the top toppings. Uta no longer gets my full attention. Since Kiki's birth, he gets little attention at all. He has to be patient, and helpful, and wait. Mostly he doesn't seem to mind, he is old enough to understand. But I do feel bad for him. Some times out of guilt and exhaustion I find myself saying yes to things I should absolutely say no to. This is how Uta landed this gold sequined hat.

Nature boy

Thinking of you

Uncle J is in Vietnam. We are happy just thinking of how happy he must be. This is a picture of lunch on one of his first few days of travel, an elephant ear fish. Its easy to make J grin from ear to ear. Just give him a fish with fins in tact and eyes staring back. He'll hum with delight as he picks the bones clean.

Seeing the good

Uta has not yet learned to judge people. He likes everyone. As long as you are nice to him, he will love you unconditionally. I can’t say the same thing holds true for myself. Though I think I am a kind person, seeing only the good in people takes a little bit more effort for me. This is particularly hard when it comes to family. All I want is some semblance of normal. But normal is not what I’ve been given, and having expectations of any kind are counterproductive. Crazy is a member of my family, always has been, always will. Crazy has a place at the table, a seat on the sofa. I need to get over it already. Move on. I need to take my lead from Uta: see only the good, love without judging, and be a much happier soul.

Lift Off

Six months brings more change to a little baby’s world than possibly the sum total of the rest of their life. Already gone are the sweetly patterned days of sleep, wake, nurse - sleep, wake, nurse. Kizuki now spends a greater portion of her day wide-awake. (And yes, most nights she sleeps!) She is acutely aware of the world around her. She wants to reach out and touch everything. She is not crawling yet but she is far from immobile. She pivots on her belly like a spinning top and drags her body across the floor like a soldier in the trenches. Just yesterday, with straight arms and straight legs, she started lifting herself high up into the air. She does it without warning and comes back down in a flash, making it a little hard to photograph.