I’ve officially ruined–nay, KILLED–the giraffe painting I’ve been working on for the past 3 years. In a fit of false inspiration, I hastily added what I thought was a fat little ring-master down in the corner of the picture. Turns out, the ringmaster was nothing more than a dowdily-dressed, very 2-dimensional, evil leprechaun that just stares blankly into nowhere. The giraffe? Looks fantastic. It’s the best thing I’ve ever painted. But the leprechaun has made me hate the painting so much that I threw the whole thing away–didn’t even take a good-bye picture of the final product. Yes. It’s that bad.
So anyway, I’ve decided that my best work comes when I’m just goofing off. No more trying so hard. If I have to worry about a painting, then it’s all wrong to begin with. With this in mind, I painted some lovely ink-and-beer elephants yesterday:
A fly actually crawled across the ink of the left elephant’s eye and trailed him some eyelashes; the little dragonflies in the picture look like terds with wings. Other than that, I like it. This painting should actually be called “Just Don’t Let Him Eat Any of It”, because that’s what I said about 50 times over the course of an hour while my kids were doing this:
At first I thought, maybe, just maybe, it was a bad idea, but then I thought, “Nah, just go with it.” And they were so cute, giggling and painting and stepping in ink and making footprints all over the garage.
But then Mia had to go to the bathroom, and on the way there she got black and purple handprints all over the doors and walls, and then Merrick, who absolutely needed a bath, went out of his way to touch as many surfaces as he could as I carried him at arms’ length to the tub…just touching. For the hell of it. He had paint in his hair, in his diaper…and I don’t even want to tell you how much scrubbing was involved in getting the ink off his little baby skin.
He’s a mess lately, that kid. There’s nothing he can’t reach, nothing he won’t spill, or eat, or throw, and just when I think an area is hazard-free, he proves me wrong. I literally go, all day, from one mess to another. The cleaning is a never-ending process. I start sweating at 7:30 in the morning just running after him. I never believed it before when people told me, but there. Is. Definitely. A HUGE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LITTLE BOYS AND LITTLE GIRLS. Oy.
Mia is more than ready to go back to school, even though it means a whole 8 hours away from Mommy and Yo Gabba Gabba. I’ll miss her–really, I will–but I am getting a little bit tired of playing “Tigers in Love” (with her Schleich plastic animals) and “Birds Laying Eggs” (In which we sit uncomfortably on a bushel of balls. And that’s it.) and “Pet Store”. In every game, Mia tells me exactly what to say and do, and there’s hell to pay if I deviate in anyway from the routine. So, yeah, it’s time for school to start already.
Cheyenne has been happily fluting away at band camp the past 2 weeks. Every day they wear weird hats (Day one for Cheyenne? Mia’s Dora the Explorer hat. Day two? Mia’s tall, blue, shiny, pointy princess hat. Need I say more?) and matching bandanas and they say weird things like “Chicken-fighting Random Screaming Brownie Robot Barbie.” Band kids are an odd bunch. That’s all I have to say about that. That’s really all I can say.
I’ve gotten back into my running since that vacation back in June. It wasn’t easy, but now I’m taking good advice and trying to get in at least 30 solid minutes of actual running at least 4 times a week. The only noticable difference I’ve seen is not in my size or my weight, but how much less winded I’m getting at key points of my route. The abandoned golf course in our neighborhood has been ideal; those hills that used to kick my butt are more bearable now, and I can get up and down them without cussing and coughing and crying…I’ve toyed with the idea of doing a 5K sometime in the fall, but I’m not gutsy enough to sign up for one by myself.
I’m at a kind of stand-still with the etsy site until Caleb’s company sends him a working scanner. I’ve got art; I’m just not sure how to go about reproducing it. But I’ll figure it out. I’m using this in-between time to paint, so that I have plenty of work on-hand to sell. I’ve always got the name signs to fall back on, too.
That is all.

About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

One response to “Rapscallion!

  • ♥ Aimee

    this one time..at band camp…ha ha ha….~*:.♥.:*~ because you shared a smile :o) someone’s day got brighter… ~*:.♥.:*~

You must be logged in to post a comment.

%d bloggers like this: