Mostly intrusive thoughts

seven minutes of mostly my inner dialogue

You know what I actually want to be doing right now? Sewing. I want to sit down at my machine and make that skirt I’ve been imagining or that tank top I think I can make with that new fabric I just got from the thrift.

I want to sit down and create and not have to explain anything. To just create. To synthesize my feelings into something that didn’t exist before– something tangible. Something usable. Something.

Why am I not doing that right now? I don’t have the patience to facilitate my kid helping me. I FUCKING LOVE that he loves sewing with me. It’s the best. I love when he sits down at the machine without me and does his work. I love it. Fully.

I also really love the meditation that is sewing. Imagine talking to someone through your meditation– Is it for you anymore?

This isn’t some self-pity piece. It’s actually not that deep. It’s just this passing moment. Maybe in a bit I’ll cut some stars out of the packing paper we have set aside and we’ll sew some holiday garland. Maybe we’ll spray paint the paper first. It will be magical and I’ll almost lose my patience about 20 times and

Ok he’s asking me to come pick him up. Angel. I want to say yes to every opportunity I have to hold him. Soon he’ll be 35 and I’ll be like what is time even?! Now he’s next to me, helping me write this. He’s petting the cat on my shirt. Kissing it. He is the sweetest ah! I should stop writing and engage with him but baby, I need to get some creative energy out! I need to just do me for a second! It feels fuckin horrible to be writing while he’s just trying to love on me and get some attention but oh my god I’ve been solo parenting and working and I’m melting just a little bit.

Ok what was I even writing about. Self expression and creation as a mother.

Does it always have to come at the expense of missing out on something else? Does it always have to come at the expense of my child having my attention?

It’s healthy for him to see me doing me. To see me typing away here, creating something. To watch mama making something out of nothing... Out of the fabric we got from the thrift store where he patiently waited for me to dig through bins of donated fabrics.

My kid is creative like his father and I. He’s so fucking cool.

I’m always scared I’m fucking him up… Is it wrong that I’m letting him sit in front of the computer and watch a non-educational kids show right now? What’s the time limit on that? The way he’s sitting… I’ve heard it’s bad for his hips… Is it neglectful for me to not correct it every time I see it? He has spray paint on his knee from the project we did outside this morning, which I cut short because I was being impatient. He wore a mask and glasses but the spray paint on his skin… is that poisoning him slowly? He’s chewing on something again– I really need to get him to the chiro so they can do body work on him. I wonder if his dad ever followed up on that text to his chiro friend. That’s all out of pocket. Man, I should be somehow promoting Secret Sessions… what a blessing that will be when those pick up… the financial stability that will provide.

This page is chaotic. This life is chaotic. My son is healthy and happy. My home is quiet. The sun is shining. It’s a beautiful fall day. Thank you universe. Thank you ancestors.