Say Mondrian, and Die

Poems and Things

We drove the big heavy truck to our new empty house.
Stepping inside we looked around and saw rooms for two stories that were white as can be. The word trepidation came to mind.

Then your mom (that’s me) anxiously decided to fill the white walls with color.

“What would make this house my home?” I asked myself.
When the idea came, my heart felt like a sun ray.
Out came the brushes, out came the paint. On the walls went the colors. “Beautiful!”

He came home (your dad) to find the walls awash with asplosh.

So we took the brushes and painted it white again. And I suppose that would be the day I died.

But of course that last part about painting isn’t true. All the walls are still white, but in my head I’ve already painted them. It was a beautiful idea for a wall, and having it look like a painting by Mondrian was unique and exciting. So with heart palpitating and clammy hands, I tried to explain, but my words never seem like enough when I’m saying them. His eyes widened and brow furrowed downward, you know, and I guess that’s when I really died.

Baby’s First Ornament

Sewing Projects

I wanted to make my sweetheart-babe her first Christmas tree ornament! It would mean so much more to her anyway. I got the idea from an etsy item and copied it. Isn’t it cute?

White felt at Michaels was about $.40 for a square. Pink embellishing thread was the same price. The bells cost about $4.00, only coming in a pack of a few dozen. Pretty cheap though!

I drew out the shape of the mittens on scrap paper, and used as template to cut 4 mitten shapes

I took a needle and 3 strands of thread and made my baby’s name and year on one single cut of a mitten. I took another mitten and embroidered a heart. The name looks thick because I ran multiple threads next to each other. And on the heart I just did long vertical stitches. Here’s a closer look (this pictures the end product with the blanket stitch which is next):

Time to stitch mittens to their backs. I used this visual to blanket stitch two mittens together. I started on the side and made my way to where the mitten opening would be. Then instead of going through both sides I just did the top, then wound my way around the edge to the other side. I made it up really. She can play with them when she’s a little older. Open mittens are more fun than closed mittens in my book.

I then attached a 6-8″ string to complete the ornament. Don’t forget the bells! I didn’t separate the string, I just cut it straight from the strand. It was an easy project. If you try it out let me know! 

I’ll call her Robin

Poems and Things

Well my art’s come to a standstill.

And yet, 

Her wobbly limbs keep moving. 

My portfolio hasn’t expanded.

And yet,

She won’t stop growing.

Occupied, my right hand holds her nursing.

And yet,

She’ll grow up far too soon. 

My empty hands will soon reach for her as she flies away from me. 

And so, 

She’s grown dearer to me than art.

Perhaps I’ve achieved my masterpiece.

Ennobling Mother

Poems and Things

Pat, pat, pat, pat,

A new mother holds her baby.

Pat, pat, pat, pat, 

Whose eyelids start to droop.

“I’m your mother, I’m your mother,”

The hands seem to sing.

“I’m your mother, I’m your mother,”

This brimming heart has waited.

“I’m her mother, I’m her mother,”

The ennobling name blooming.

“I’m her mother, I’m her mother,”

On her head a gold crown plaited.

Pat, pat, pat, pat,

Sweetly the baby complys.

Pat, pat, pat,

She’s fallen off to sleep.

My birth story

Poems and Things

I was pushing really hard and my face was beet red, I’m sure. And everyone was standing around me and smiling, saying how good I was doing.

 And then I saw her.

She was slippery and white with big lips and she didn’t look happy.

My baby, my baby… that’s my baby. I cried with my husband. It was pure joy. She’s ours forever.

Then they brought her over to me finally and I held her on my chest and all I could do was look at her and gush. She was beautiful and absolutely perfect. I’ll always remember her little face. And now I’m a mother. And that was the beginning.

Barefoot on carpet

Poems and Things

The raging thoughts in mind.
The whirlwind sound in ears.

The baby.
His words.

Sweet Isolation,
Feeling my toes touch the carpet at the kitchen table.
Being by myself slouching, elbows on the table.

Nothing is
On my mind.
My alibi.

thoughts but carpet under my toes.
Sounds, but breath and carpet.

Yes, I should
Do this again.
Be silent and mindless, slouched with bare feet on carpet.

My Mind isn’t Dinner

Poems and Things

My thoughts are mine, but they don’t cost a dime to rhyme them.

My thoughts are spaghetti noodles jumbled up in a big bowl. Squishy, twirly, yucky, delightful noodles. 

Because they’re mine. And I don’t have to give them to you at all. And you can’t make me dehydrate them neatly and put them into a cardboard box, 

but I’ll do that for myself.

If you want you can come look at and hold them, but be careful not to break them. Because then they won’t be the same.


Poems and Things

It’s that moment sitting there on the couch when I’m bouncing my baby up and down till my backside’s muscles hurt. 

She’ll start to squirm and fuss so I’ll bounce again although I’m getting sore wishing I was not bouncing anymore.

It’s the boredom of sitting there bouncing- not doing anything else, the breeze waddling through the open patio door.

And then I stop moving and realize she must have fallen asleep. I hear the cars driving outside and realize I don’t really want to drive anywhere. 

I sat there and held her while I listened to the cars and the neighbor’s AC discovering for the 20th time today how much I love her. And it really doesn’t get much simpler than that.