Good bye your writing
Coffee to my right. A childs shoe box, kinder egg plastic container, metal tea pot. A brush. A used envelope with notes written upon it with a pencil. A vase and flowers from my friends garden to thank me for taking her to Ikea, uneaten piece of Lidls cheese roll. Branding. Is it necessary to mention branding and consumer names? A box of go, gos. Goal keepers gloves a candle stick holder stuffed with opened mail to deal with.
Pay printer. Don’t forget.
Made appointment for friend to see GP. Got up. Been awake since 6 when P got up to got to work.
Broken plastic toy.
Image of small child refugee from Syria washed up drowned on beach in Greece that went viral yesterday on social media. A dead child. It takes a dead child to bring home the desperation of these people for they are people. A dead limp child being carried in the arms of a police man etched on my brain, yes it is a distressing image, yes I did look, I wish I had not looked, but you cannot close your eyes to everything. Our government says it cannot take anymore refugees. Our doors are closed.
Child’s steps on the stairs. Heavy steps. Its Naoise. I’m surprised its Naoise, I thought that it was Sydney. I lie him on the sofa. He asks to watch Sarah and Duck, I refuse. I don’t want screens. Look at me what a hypocrisy. Here I am staring at a screen. Filling light filled screens with words.
Naoise sucks his thumb and gazes out of the window.
I ripped a favourite top getting dressed. It can be mended. It can be mended but it will need some thought and some skill and patience and love to mend it well.
Sip coffee that is going cold. Have lost some more weight. A little weight. Cannot stand the extra weight that I have put on over the summer months. I cannot balance child care with my needs. There needs demand too much of my mental energy that I feel I have no physical energy. Only three days left of holidays with Naoise and five days left with Syd. The summer seems at once a forever horizon and now a closing of possibilities and freedom. I will visit my sisyet today.
Struggling to write balancing Naoise on my knee. Naoise making squeaking noises and playing with his snuffle (an empty pillow case). He requests Sarah and Duck again. I say no.
“You just writted Sarah and Duck. hhjyuhfbvbhb bbvvb b sdvbfdvf c xdccvfvgffv fdff,bed,c,ffmdm ,km,foollc;,vllilc,vl..x,,v.l,.8hpiasdhasahidasdhashjhjkdohiwhifrahidslhihlcilhcisalhishpiweehowifohihicihocihdwQHIJWijchwAppHFHDGIGGHGYTGFZDDHYLKDSAGURE80WOTFRTKTFY98HFY8O6R5TTG7THUUUHUTH6GNGH7FTRTGTJUYHTVFCz
nbhbcgcvfghvhvhvvv v hvcccchchcchhhchccccgcgcccccfgcccGxgferfgf fbtgvtggyyutbtytgyhgbhhvhftyfdyrhdhdhdhddhhhdrdddd
Good bye your writing says Naoise.
BEep beep beep oven buzzer sounds.. Cant write anymore. Naoise disrupting my words.
art and motherhood research