A much needed mothers lie in

11.24am (in the attic bedroom)

N and P are out collecting a second hand bike for S so he can ride to school. I am pinching myself because I am actually getting a rest in bed after going out last night for some drinks with friends. I can hear the birds singing and the neighbours chatting to each other in their back yards.

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I remembered this morning that I wanted to make this more of a collaborative project with N. In order to become more visible I need him to turn the camera on us. I gave him my mobile phone. He loved it. He teased me with the flash option and put dots before my eyes. He worked hard to capture images of him and us and me. It was a relief to give him control. To let him become the author. Its good to break down the power relationship between mother and child. We are making this together. It needs to be a true collaboration. It felt like a good breakthrough.

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I am resting.

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N bought me marmite on toast in bed. Bedroom service he shouted with a smile on his face as he entered the room. The house is a mess but I don’t care. I need to slow down. I need to breath. I need to rest. My stomach is bloated. I have my period. Its always heavy. Its always painful. I put on a kilo in water retention. The body of a woman. This cycle. Irritates me. Constantly filling and draining. I will be glad to say goodbye to the mechanisms of fertility.

I miss S. He is at his dads. Even two days can feel like an eternity.

Friday night was a disaster. I couldn’t recover after N’s huge tantrum after school. I think N picks up on my pre menstrual tension, or he was just hungry as he gave his dinner to his friend, either way the strength of his tantrum was extraordinary and he exhausted me with running and chasing and scratching my skin and pulling at my hair. The receptionist in the GP surgery was very kind and checked to see if we were both ok. N was distraught about having to go to the health centre first rather than to the super market to buy food. I tried and tried to explain it ┬áto him calmly. He just does not understand time tables and appointments and that other peoples needs sometimes have to come before his own. He must have been so tired and so hungry. Now, now that it is Sunday I can see clearly what went wrong, and what I could have done to prevent the disaster of a Friday night. Its always when I plan, when I have a vision of family loveliness that it all falls apart. In the end S went to see the doctor on his own. I could have prevented wrestling a child up the corridors distressing N and me, I could have prevented this fight. Fighting is no good. The answer was for S to go and see the doctor on his own, which he did, now that he is taller than me he is capable of doing this alone. Thats all ok. We were all over tired. Mums don’t think straight when they are over tired. Children don’t think straight when they are over tired.

Gosh this is all so dull. I wanted to write about that incident though, record it, place it here. Tantrums. When do tantrums happen? Why?

Head sore, my own fault, three bottles of cider, but worth a hangover for a little fun. So much to do. Plan workshops. Write workshop plans. Make art. Apply for jobs. Clean and tidy house. Re-write CV. Research primary school teaching. Re-sit GCSE maths.

Make Art thats all I really want to do. Make Art, but its really pointless just making art for no reason, there has to be a point to it, else it just becomes a stress rather than a joy. It always comes back to the problem of trying to make it pay. It has to be able to pay the bills especially when there is a family to support. This doesn’t pay the bills.

 

 

 

 

A Milanese Art Show Is All About Your Mother, Vogue, August 24, Julia Felsenthal

 

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