As I mentioned in my first post, 10 truths for parents with young children, I was disappointed when my sons weren’t as enthusiastic as I was about buying a children’s easel. It was an embarrassing realization that I was the one that actually wanted it. It would have been my own childhood dream come true! And then I had a eureka moment – “Hey, I can buy one for myself.”

Ever since my kids were born, my focus has been on them. My life – thoughts, actions, conversations, interests and motivations – has revolved around them. If I go to the bookstore to browse, I go to the kids section, even if they’re not with me. It was an unbelievable and truly eye-opening revelation…hmm…I forgot, I have interests, too! I can buy it for myself. Wow. I felt liberated. So I bought an easel. It was on sale – 50% off – regularly $99. And, this is what the beauty looked like:


photo(43) Notice the $2 – Dollar Store – canvas….thought I would start out cheap,
as it was the first painting I was going to do in over 20 years.

And, I also bought a sketch pad, some number 2B pencils, an eraser and some shading stumps…I was feeling reckless. Excited…




So, after setting up my beautiful, first-ever easel, I decided to start drawing immediately. I started to draw this seal:


August 2014. photo(40)




After four months, this is how it now looks…


photo(39) November 2014. See the difference?
The shading stump and pencil rolled a bit.






As for the easel, it’s now being used for other purposes:




I can’t really say there’s no time. I recently thought I would sit to do some painting, but then I thought, “well, if I have time, I should fold the laundry”…or attempt to tackle the junk room…but that doesn’t happen…the painting doesn’t happen….and then I just end up watching TV. Perhaps I’m just a bit lazy. Or, a bit of a perfectionist and hesitant about starting something that won’t be perfect. Or, perhaps I lack the time management skills I so desperately need. And maybe I think it’s a bit of a luxury to sit and do something for myself, especially since there are kids running around looking for something to do (Read my second post: Why mothers should have their own fantasy sports pool).

Regardless of the reasons,  I know I’ve done a terrible thing. To hang my garments on that which holds my future masterpiece is sacrilege for the true artist.

By the way, this is how I look when I’m painting (Obviously. Also, while I’m painting, my two boys are sitting quietly, writing poetry and composing music):