my egg tooth

it has taken me
a lifetime
of butting my head
against walls
to finally
grow
my egg tooth
which erupts now
in all it’s glory
a narwhal
tusk
miracle
jutting from my
smile
as i plot
my escape
my
own
rescue.

okay. i really like this idea.
however i needed to argue with fidgit about whether or not mermaids have gills.
he says because they have boobs (indicating mammal-hood) they must not have gills.
i say that there is no way they could live in underground kingdoms without having gills and that maybe the boobs are ornamental. i do not remember ever seeing a mermaid breastfeed…but maybe their culture is as stupid about that as ours is and mermaids are forced to breastfeed in secret….
nevertheless!
i really like my words.
the picture might need work.

in other precocious kids news, poppy (who is a bit of an ass man) was shouting into my bottom while i was doing dishes, then assuring me the sound would come out my nose.
i thought it was hysterical.
i apologize to future romantic partners of my children.

and now misha is asking for a picture of her as a mermaid. i should have seen that coming.

the longest night

this profound amount
of broken
that is me
my heart is on
the fault line
holding me together
& tearing me apart
i wait
to be
rescued
from me
knowing
all along
no one is coming
& that
my fantasy can no longer
sustain me
maybe i should just
go ahead
& break apart
an egg
a seed pod
a cocoon
releasing the me
i should have
been.

happy solstice!
this is another art journal page that started one day & was finished another day. started on a bleak day, finished on a brighter day. i swear the waxing moon fucks me up. my moods hop around like rabid ferrets.
plus the crap with anger & sadness about death & divorce anti-versaries.
but
it is a new day. the shortest day. the longest night. kind of like a new moon, the world is full of possibilities as days grow longer again.
i look forward to the quiet of winter to work on my art, writing, and momming. (just between you & me, i really need more work on my momming…but tend to wander off to work on the art & writing.)

seven hundred years

sometimes i feel 
like i have been alive
for seven hundred years
i barely
remember 
yesterday
so for all i know
i’ve been alive
forever
&
i wonder
if i’ll ever look back
on these days
of struggle
of isolation
from the comfort
of a soul mate’s 
embrace
look back
in wonder
& awe
how did i ever survive
such desolate
times
to feel peace 
in my heart
while remembering
a time when peace
was a fantasy.

this, and a few more pages to come, were written yesterday when i was feeling especially hopeless & suicidal. good times…. being a single mom with next to no support system. i need to tell y’all, do not try this at home.

strangely, once i accepted that there was nothing to hope for, i felt a bit calmer. that’s me. finding comfort in the concept that i will never find comfort. 

this page does not have my standard issue self-portrait…unless you consider that that is my soul flying under the full moon. 
owls symbolize being able to see what others cannot. i identify with the owl, though i assume everyone else can see what i see. 
which, i guess, is not the case.
so!
i make art.

i may have gotten a little carried away. i think i painted my words out.

donna fucking reed

i’m low on milk
so i drink
my whiskey
straight
& prepare
green tea
rather than black
i’m low on milk
with plans to shop
in a couple days
it is earmarked
for two more
morning
coffees
i’m low on milk
but my kids
are fed
cheese sauce
made with just a splash
roasted root veg
& sauteed
broccoli
with noodles
i may not be
mother of the year
we are low
on milk
so i drink my whiskey
straight.

so my second reference to donna reed in one week. i wanted to call this “mary fucking poppins” but she was the nanny & i am technically the mom…even though i feel like the nanny & have been mistaken for one on playgrounds due to my very non-mom-like demeanor.

another strange journal entry. my random thoughts are becoming pages of their own.

update on “yoga with quixotic mama”…today while i was in tabletop position, poppy got underneath me on his back & began honking my boobs. i would like to report that i put a stop to it…usually i do–letting him know that those are mine & mine alone, but today i tried to keep my zen & just ignore him.
it’s pretty hard to ignore a five year old honking your boobs while you are doing cat & cow poses.

no one gave me an instruction manual.

ps. for anyone concerned, i am going grocery shopping tomorrow.

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