Today, I saw something that I hope to NEVER witness again. Honestly, I'm still dumbfounded by this one.

I was chopping vegetables in the kitchen around lunchtime as Jack and Sophia were playing in the front yard. The sun was shining, and the osso bucco was starting to take shape. I was carefully following a new recipe for our anniversary dinner.

As I looked out the window, enjoying the beautiful flowers that my family planted for me yesterday... my eyes were assaulted with the white little butt of Sophia.

At first, I wondered why I was being mooned, but soon realized that she had her panties down to her ankles, her skirt flipped up and she was squatting in the middle of the front yard. Soon, she was peeing on the grass as her brother looked on without a comment.

I of course, was screaming, "SOPHIA!!! NOOOOO!!!"

Note: she was only about 10 feet from the front door and could have made it to the bathroom, so I'm certain this was not a moment where she just forgot that she had to go and needed to find the best solution possible.

I ran outside and scanned the neighborhood to see if our neighbors had been graced with Sophia's antics. Thankfully, there was not an audience beyond Jack and I.
She looked up at me, still with her panties to her ankles and managed to pull off the best "what's wrong mom?" look. Of course, the innocent look does not work on me and I quickly told her to pull up her panties and come inside. Then, I explained that we need to pee only in the bathroom and that she needed to change her clothes. I think I had stopped her mid-stream, so she may have gotten completely covered in her own... well you know.

In this midst of this moment of explanation to my confused three-year old, I could barely hold it together. Thoughts swirled in my head anywhere from: "Why would she do that!" to "She's never even had to pee outside when we've been out hiking/boating/camping... why would she try it now!!!" and also on the "Where you raised in a barn???!!!!" I was half giggling, half completely exasperated. Seriously???!!! Did she just do that? I thought only boys did that!

At first, I did the mom-shame thing and felt horrible that she would even try that. Then, I realized that although many people put on that "perfect mom" persona, they too have had to witness moments of absurdity. Certainly the "my child would never do that" and "I raise mine better" only really works for new parents who haven't had the chance to see their 3 year old squatting in the front yard. We all try, we all do our best... and yet they still pee all over themselves in a moment of toddler problem-solving.

I'm not sure why this is, but I've spent the last couple of weeks with art on every wall and table and leaning against every wall of my living room, garage and hallway. I would have them situated in these various locales as they passed through the final inspection, clear coat process and/or repaint. Then, they would move again for the signing and hardware on the back. The living room has never been so colorful, except perhaps prior to my previous art-show. Yet, sometimes it's hard to really see the pieces properly. Leaning  a piece against the wall next to the sofa is not necessarily a prime location for appreciating said piece. In addition, some of the pieces that I felt were weakest out of the collection never would come to a resolution as I couldn't figure out just what to change. Then again, standing up on the bookshelf doesn't exactly allow me to view the possibly "off" piece properly.

Yesterday evening, I brought everything to Starbucks after about 3 hours of final touches, attaching hardware to the final paintings (so that it can hang on the wall), and creating the art tags... in fact I had the drill out moments before I loaded the car.

I hung every piece and hoped that without a level I could somehow see if a painting was slightly tweaked.

Then, it happened... I do remember this from last time.

It all came together. They pop.

It's odd how a painting is never fully appreciated until it is hanging on a wall and even lit properly. These especially need lighting. After all, lighting is an important aspect of this show because of the fact that each one uses it to enhance its natural features.

As I stood there looking at my work and trying to decide if I needed to switch any around, I realized that even my weakest paintings looked fabulous when properly hung. In fact, I cannot find anything to fix... That feels good. Of course, I will always remember the paintings that caused me the most trouble. I will always see these in a slightly inside-out fashion, but having them on the wall transforms them from the "is this good enough?" to "I'm proud of this".

I still have brochures to fold and final invites to send out, but the bulk of it is done. It feels good. As I considered this transformation that seems to overtake an otherwise normal painting, I realized that when I finally have some of my art back in my house, I will definitely pay attention to where I hang it and how I light it. It makes a difference.

I was sitting on the computer doing the "rounds" [ie. checking e-mail and doing my normal surfing for a couple of minutes]. I said out loud: "Let's check out the Prize Closet, I wonder what's in the Prize Closet now."

Sophia was sitting on the couch near me and responded to my statement.

"Hmm... I don't know, I'll go check."

My husband and I smiled, wondering where our "prize closet" is. lol After all, I was going to simply click over to the fm107 site and check out what was new in the prize closet.

She ran into the hallway and came back in a moment after checking out the hall-closet.

She said: "nothing"

lol

I'm trying in desperation to write an artist statement to display at my show. Alas, I have writers block. The brainstorming spans a page with random words in the margins. Yet, as I am set to the task of writing the first paragraph, I stumble.

Why do I create art? How do I adequately express my process and my motivation?

I have words and phrases that somehow connect to these ideas, but for some reason the flow that typifies my creative writing has somehow left. I cannot connect these random words into anything substantive.

After several starts and stops, I'm left with scratched out papers and only a partial first sentence. *sigh*

It's difficult actually writing about myself and my motivation. There is nothing particularly inspiring about my process as it seems to saddle the organic creativity that can be sometimes disjointed... and the methodical technical artist with training.

Passion, excitement, beauty, color, texture, bold, energy... words about my next line of artwork, but nothing concrete.

grrr...

I hope it comes together soon. I figured I would stop hitting the writers block by doing something completely different. Alas, maybe the laundry is a better course of action because it is methodical and mindless. Then, I might get the artist statement in some sort of rough draft tonight.

Off to do laundry ;)

Today, I am finding it hard to write... hard to think about what makes me happy and/or share a piece of myself. However, I do believe that pushing through and finding that piece to share is important. It may not matter that much, but it is what I can do.

Today is May Day. My kids (if they would have been healthy today and thus going to school) would be walking the streets of their school's neighborhood and handing out May baskets.

I looked up the origins of May Day and there is nothing all that exciting or particularly interesting about this holiday as some traditions do May Baskets and some dance around the May pole. There is not some original story about a guy who blessed his neighbors with gifts on May first, it really just has to do with spring and the fact that we are 1/4 through the year. Although I wish there was some food associated with this holiday because I would definitely cook it tonight.

Yet, I would submit that May Day has its positive elements. The idea of blessing one's neighbors (anonymously) somehow brings a smile to my face.

I remember when I was little, we would bake up batches of cookies. Then, we would put them on little dixie paper plates and wrap the tops with saran wrap. My mom would have us walk across the street to our neighbor's house and we'd put the plate on her step and ring the doorbell. Of course, I'm not sure why we thought that our little legs could carry us all the way back to our home without being noticed, but we still tried to be anonymous.

To be honest, with the flu at our house (not swine flu- just regular ol' throw up- feel like crap flu), I'm not sure I will do any of these things. It is possibly much more safe to wish (as Sheletta says) ya'll a happy May Day.

May you have blessings today as we move toward summer together.

*cheers* (note the coffee in my cup at 7:20 in the morning :)