In my random internet wanderings I often find myself looking at others work and the price they attach to it. Some horrible work is grossly overpriced and subsequently has very few customers. Then there are those precious few with wonderful work at steal prices that are swamped and favorited beyond belief.
Out of Europe I came across a woman who sells these atrocious post cards super cheap and a thought was born. My random doodles with my son are more appealing and could easily be sold on there.
So now I have a strong interest in stockpiling my doodles to possibly open shop with later on. Definitely not this semester but maybe in the spring when I am only part time with school and craft time can take its rightful place of three times a week again.
I look forward to busting the supplies out of their dusty corners around the apartment and creating a wall of work to slowly sell off.
My mind love to go into great detail of everything I will do and eventually buy. At the top of the buy list is a new sewing machine and locking drawers to store my supplies in.
The sewing machine is so I can make those ridiculously expensive winter coats and clothes that I adore for my children. Gorgeously deep red cloak coat with a cute patterned lining over a unique animal designed dress for my daughter. For my son I see this deep blue pea coat with charcoal satin lining detailed with trains either on the buttons or embroidered somewhere on it. I could stitch their Halloween costumes in no time and eventually they'll be proud owners of all the Avengers outfits and a cut stuffed animal collection.
I think hubs will be calmer about my slowing down with school if I am bringing in my own disposable income. Already I know I feel a little more like my old self and a little gleam of pride is trying to shake off the years of self doubt and fear.
Maybe all this will help that dream of owning my own art studio a reality. This beautifully lite room of tall windows, wooden trim with bamboo floors, low shelves cluttered with my nicknacks and thumbnails, and a nice controlled storage room to keep all the supplies and pieces in. There's always a slight crisp fall feel to the air in there even in the summer and the light is always golden. To see this refuge materialize one day will make all the hardship worth it.
Part of my mind has this impression that it will happen when the children have flown the coop. This only adds fuel to the need to ensure my children grow up strong and self sufficient with the ability to take the hits life has to give and keep going.
So I think it is no longer a short lived fantasy but a burning desire and plan to have my shop up and going come spring.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Tacked. . .
On to my wall there is this list. A master list of house chores and to do's. It has been dutifully collecting dust on its beautifully printed surface with my rare, carefully pencil cursive. This list is a bane of my existence for the foremost reason that I forget it has corporeal form till I have piles of college work to complete.
Two hours and twenty-seven minutes before an assignment is due and I want to tackle that list. Shake off its dust and gladly check off multiple items. I want the air to tickle my nose with the fumes of cleaning supplies and angry dust bunnies trying to escape the awaiting trash can.
All these "I wants" but only procrastination answers them.
The rambunctious children are asleep and the sudden silence is almost deafening as the baby monitor continues to hiss only of their snores and night whimpers.
Maybe I'll pull a two-am'er so I can purge that kitchen of all traces of filth and then collapse into a deaden slumber of accomplishment followed by a coffee heavy morning of computer coursework and recharged babies.
People always talk of spring cleaning but for me it is always fall cleaning. I want to clean burst open my windows and doors to welcome the crisp autumn air edged with the scent of drying leaves and completely absent of that dreadful humidity.
It is my favorite season and often I wonder if I am living too far south. Even now in upstate South Carolina, which is drastically further north than south Texas, I feel like I am still too far south. I hate the heat and humidity.
The one year I got to be somewhere with real winter, I loved it. I went cheerfully walking in Chicago with a wind chill of -11 below. I embraced the stinging cold and the glaringly beautiful snow. When the thaw came I was ready to cry at the loss of the quiet windswept days speckled by fluffy snowflakes with a belly freshly warmed at a quaint French bistro in a sleepy town along the train tracks.
So away I must go to toss together that assignment and a batch of dark chocolate chip cookies that my hubs has requested come popping out of the oven as he walks in. I think I'll finish them in advance and just pretend to pull them out as he opens the door. Fool proof I say.
The master list and its thickening layer of dust can wait one more day.
Two hours and twenty-seven minutes before an assignment is due and I want to tackle that list. Shake off its dust and gladly check off multiple items. I want the air to tickle my nose with the fumes of cleaning supplies and angry dust bunnies trying to escape the awaiting trash can.
All these "I wants" but only procrastination answers them.
The rambunctious children are asleep and the sudden silence is almost deafening as the baby monitor continues to hiss only of their snores and night whimpers.
Maybe I'll pull a two-am'er so I can purge that kitchen of all traces of filth and then collapse into a deaden slumber of accomplishment followed by a coffee heavy morning of computer coursework and recharged babies.
People always talk of spring cleaning but for me it is always fall cleaning. I want to clean burst open my windows and doors to welcome the crisp autumn air edged with the scent of drying leaves and completely absent of that dreadful humidity.
It is my favorite season and often I wonder if I am living too far south. Even now in upstate South Carolina, which is drastically further north than south Texas, I feel like I am still too far south. I hate the heat and humidity.
The one year I got to be somewhere with real winter, I loved it. I went cheerfully walking in Chicago with a wind chill of -11 below. I embraced the stinging cold and the glaringly beautiful snow. When the thaw came I was ready to cry at the loss of the quiet windswept days speckled by fluffy snowflakes with a belly freshly warmed at a quaint French bistro in a sleepy town along the train tracks.
So away I must go to toss together that assignment and a batch of dark chocolate chip cookies that my hubs has requested come popping out of the oven as he walks in. I think I'll finish them in advance and just pretend to pull them out as he opens the door. Fool proof I say.
The master list and its thickening layer of dust can wait one more day.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
To new beginings
In all things there is a desire for a particular form. In me there is a raging need to feel free at all costs which is not a possibility. I have assumed the mantle of motherhood and with it the responsibilities to rear healthy, functional human beings who will cherish the precious time we have in this world and to at least try to leave something to be missed when they pass on.
They are both young and too malleable to the chaotic forces that surround and live with in us. I am at the beginning still of learning the delicate juggling act that parenting, college work, and household chores involve. In my mind I like to think I am not failing them since I cannot offer them all that I would like even of myself since I am a moody, impatient, and often confused human from an equally imperfect household. If there is one thing I have learned thoroughly from parents is what I don't want to be. I do not want to live my dreams through my children, sustain on soda, sugar cereal, and hamburger helper, realize to their hurting core what poor feels like, and crumple in the face of change whether it be for better or worse.
As my thoughts form and progress my needs blur to theirs and freedom exists in the sudden smiles of personal accomplishment and joy from my children. Society in all its media forms has this viscous undertone toward women who loose themselves in their children and continue to stigmatize them as they try to find their new self image as their children out grow independent.
My children are young and their needs dominate my world but that is as it should be. Society with its face pace and rigid demands isn't going to pause to learn the different cries of my infant or translate the babble of my toddler.
I regret to say that society has worn my down so much abut being a stay at home parent that I went back to college before I was ready. Now I struggle to accommodate my children, husband, housework and schooling which has lead to lowered cleaning standards and too much tv streaming all day. Yet despite this struggle I feel like I have a little ground again to tell society to back off and leave me to my family. I am done with your parenting books, articles, inflammatory news, and any other medium used to perpetuate the exhausting mommy wars.
In due time, I will have my personal time to disappear into hours of intense painting or immerse myself to the exclusion all else into marathon reading and my children will creating their own paths. Their future selves that wake to each day confident in themselves and the lives they have forged inspire my to burn the wick at both ends to make that possible.
To any parents that stay home with their kids, I give you kuddos for carrying on if you too have lost sleep and peace of mind to the nuthouse of society's judgements.
For those on the outside looking, don't assume the frazzled and rushed stay at home parent is just being lazy and careless. Take a moment to comprehend the daunting task of teaching yourself how to parent at the same time putting it to practice while forgiving yourself mistakes. Not many people are raised with the knowledge of how to raise another. We are taught mainly school and work skills with the hope that some functional social skills are gleaned along the way.
They are both young and too malleable to the chaotic forces that surround and live with in us. I am at the beginning still of learning the delicate juggling act that parenting, college work, and household chores involve. In my mind I like to think I am not failing them since I cannot offer them all that I would like even of myself since I am a moody, impatient, and often confused human from an equally imperfect household. If there is one thing I have learned thoroughly from parents is what I don't want to be. I do not want to live my dreams through my children, sustain on soda, sugar cereal, and hamburger helper, realize to their hurting core what poor feels like, and crumple in the face of change whether it be for better or worse.
As my thoughts form and progress my needs blur to theirs and freedom exists in the sudden smiles of personal accomplishment and joy from my children. Society in all its media forms has this viscous undertone toward women who loose themselves in their children and continue to stigmatize them as they try to find their new self image as their children out grow independent.
My children are young and their needs dominate my world but that is as it should be. Society with its face pace and rigid demands isn't going to pause to learn the different cries of my infant or translate the babble of my toddler.
I regret to say that society has worn my down so much abut being a stay at home parent that I went back to college before I was ready. Now I struggle to accommodate my children, husband, housework and schooling which has lead to lowered cleaning standards and too much tv streaming all day. Yet despite this struggle I feel like I have a little ground again to tell society to back off and leave me to my family. I am done with your parenting books, articles, inflammatory news, and any other medium used to perpetuate the exhausting mommy wars.
In due time, I will have my personal time to disappear into hours of intense painting or immerse myself to the exclusion all else into marathon reading and my children will creating their own paths. Their future selves that wake to each day confident in themselves and the lives they have forged inspire my to burn the wick at both ends to make that possible.
To any parents that stay home with their kids, I give you kuddos for carrying on if you too have lost sleep and peace of mind to the nuthouse of society's judgements.
For those on the outside looking, don't assume the frazzled and rushed stay at home parent is just being lazy and careless. Take a moment to comprehend the daunting task of teaching yourself how to parent at the same time putting it to practice while forgiving yourself mistakes. Not many people are raised with the knowledge of how to raise another. We are taught mainly school and work skills with the hope that some functional social skills are gleaned along the way.
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