New Stuff!

Listen, my kids can get to me as much as anybody’s can, but the truth is the same for me as it is for most of you: I really wanted them and I really love them. I don’t really remember what it was like before them, but I remember this feeling I used to have sometimes. In different moments before they were here – maybe while traveling or at a dinner party or on a holiday – I would feel a mental thirstiness (stay with me here as I go a little woo-woo new age-y): I physically would feel a thirstiness feeling that I knew originated from an emotional place. There wasn’t any glass of water that could fix it, so I just waited it out while feeling weird and thirsty. I have not felt that physical/emotional thirsty feeling since I had my children. Like, not one single time. I know that everyone says that other people cannot fill you up, that you have to fill yourself up, and I believe that, but I also believe my kids somehow filled me up and made whatever the heck that thirsty feeling was go away, which is ironic because now they take every glass of water or drink I have right out of my hands and help themselves. When we’ve all slept well, when we’re all connecting well, they help me focus and love and be. We help each other, I think. I love being their mom … and now I feel like I need to disclaim that statement – that it’s hard, that I don’t always love it, blah, blah, blah. I love it and most of you all do, too. The end. They are my buddies and I love having them around. I mostly just love it and you all know the disclaimers without me adding them.

But, I’ll add them real quick just so I can make my point.

I also love being alone. Sometimes my kids and I are totally off kilter. Sometimes everyone is tired and yelling in my home and I wonder if I could run away for, I don’t know, maybe a half of a day. A half of a day can do wonders. Or maybe 10 days. That would work, too.

I started writing pieces during the moments of quiet time I could grab; I’d write on my phone while they fell asleep on me or while I rocked babies. Or, while I nursed. I would type with the other hand.

Words help me focus on what I feel when it’s good, when it’s quiet, when we are in sync, and that is this: we really, really love them. In a way that makes the whole world feel safe.

Sometimes our behavior, our grown-ass adult behavior, doesn’t reflect the depth of our love: it can’t all the time, I suppose. We all have a bad day now and then, or, bad entire weeks. Whoops. When I am off, when I am losing the reins and my mind, I look at some of these pieces or I read some piece that brings me back. Words can do that for me. Words can change my mood, just like a picture or a song can. It’s amazing how powerful our moods are in our own homes: we can make it or break it for our people – little and big, both.

I have a new website and a new shop on my website and I am in my same black yoga pants that I’ve been wearing for 7 years – don’t want to change up too much stuff at once. I will be adding things to the shop as I go along. Some stores will be carrying some pieces and when I am sure about all of that information, I will tell you.

For now, if you like what you see, will you share it with others? That’s the only way this whole thing is going to work, I think. And, that right there is about the extent of my business plan. Will you think of purchasing a piece here before buying a card if it gets the point across just the same? Or, will you purchase a print that makes you feel right and tape it to your fridge? Maybe it’ll help you when you’re losing your shit, too… not saying you lose your shit. Not at all. You can just have it there for other people, the other people that lose their shit.

I’ll be at West Elm this Saturday all by myself with the West Elm-y people with some of these pieces and some others that won’t be listed here yet. Prices will be cheaper while I’m at West Elm because I don’t have to factor in shipping costs. They’ll have fancy frames for my pieces if a piece of tape is too lowbrow for you.

I’d love for you to come. Maybe take a half of a day for yourself or a half of an hour, if you live close enough. I’ll be there in real pants, I’m hoping.

This is a new piece listed new in the shop. It’s called Oz because that’s what I felt I had entered when I had my first baby – the black and white disappeared and the colors came on. I mean, I didn’t feel that right away every day – I’m talking after my butt stopped hurting and after my boobs figured it out and after all of that. Then… like, now.



You can buy it here.

EssaysAnne FlavinComment