Mollusk Girl

I was rummaging through the closet this morning and came across this massive tulip. It made me smile. My art has changed so much.... I look at his piece, and I'm proud of it, because I put everything I had at the time into it; but I can't help but feel like the art I'm making now is a purer reflection of who I am instead of who I was trying to be. Of course I'm sure I'll feel the same way in a year or two when I look back at what I'm creating now. So goes the artist's journey, right? This guy is up for grabs for a reduced price. When I'm preparing to do a show, typically I'll order several prints. I sold out of almost everything except for this one and a few others which I will post soon. I'm a firm believer in art costs what it costs. I generally don't have sales, simply because I marked it that price for a reason. That said, I'm able to sell it for less expensive because it was a bulk order. Also, there's a slight discoloration on the bottom right-hand side (swipe to the last picture), so I'm knocking an extra $10 off. It measures 12 x 18 and is printed on fine art watercolor paper, like velvet almost. Selling for $45 (regularly $90) If you're interested, go ahead and send me a direct message and we'll PayPal it. . In OTHER AMAZING NEWS - my beastie slept for two hours this morning and I also found out the piece I submitted to The Bump will be publishing my article in May! So, all sorts of celebrating going on over here! Hoping your Monday is mahhhhvelous.

You always think you'll get around to sharing all 4,637,738 pictures you have of your child, but of course life happens and you don't, and then one day you're scrolling, and you find THIS picture (😍) , taken almost 3 weeks ago, and realize (😭) your child almost doesn't look like this anymore, so you hurry to post it because TIME IS FLYING. And crawling. Flying and crawling. Both, both, both. FYI: we were practicing our dainty hands over here. So you know what I'm having for dessert, right? #ladyfingers . . Oh, and these DARLING knitted booties we're generously provided by @corrinasshop ✨ . . . . #Motherhood #Photography #SeekTheSimplicity #LiveFolk #MamaHoodMoments #Art #MomBlogger #ArtistsOnInstagram #FlashesOfTheDelight #InteriorDesign #AheadOfTheCurve #LiveAuthentically #BeDeeplyRooted #ChronicIllness #DailyParenting #TheEveryDayProject #Candidchildhood #livethelittlethings #thehappynow #motherhoodrising #momstrong #childhoodunplugged #Writing #WritersOfInstagram #SheReadsTruth #LoveWins #HazelGwenAndMommy

I decided to take a break from my regularly scheduled artwork today and tackle something new. Something, I hope, will give me a little freedom and peace amid the chaos of an unpredictable infant. In the past, for many years, I had the kind of time artists dream of having. Hours and hours to just sit and play and be and experiment. Obviously those days are gone, and while I miss them to some degree, there is so much beauty in the moment at hand. Albeit, a frazzled beauty. A beauty born of squishy smiles and stolen moments. Hazel's naps - or rather, lack thereof - make it really hard to get any traction. Like, ever. By the time I've loaded up the brush and I'm figuring out where to lay the paint, usually that's the moment she decides to whimper for her pacifier. I swear THEY KNOW. Some days this reality is harder to accept. I’ve wept with frustration as I hovered over her crib, stroking her silken forehead in the hopes of extending her nap for even just 5 minutes. Sometimes she gives them, sometimes not. I made a vow before she was even born that I will never be resentful of my daughter for taking me away from my art. It’s what I call a Big Picture truth. Because when I am zoomed into the moment, pinned down at the epicenter of my frustration, it’s hard to remember the truth — that Hazel IS my art. My living art. My greatest masterpiece. In her honor I am finding ways to create without the demand of needing to sit down for an hour to feel like I accomplished something. While painting this, I was interrupted 36 times. Those interruptions, like the petals on these flowers, are PART of the art. It’s no longer just me creating, We are doing it together. When I look at this floral notecard, I see her part in it. I see the moments she took me away to tend to her and how when I came back, I made a different decision. Perhaps a better decision, honestly I can’t remember. But what I DO know is that she is calling me out of myself, forcing me to be even more creative when creating. Oh, Beastie, how I love you, you darling, darling time thief.

There was a time, I believe . . . when I knew what flower it was I was painting. Sadly, that time has passed, and I can no longer remember its name. It has a tulip-y look to it, though it’s clearly not a tulip . . . The way I see it, if “a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet,” then a flower without a name could still be as beautiful, yes? Sure, we’ll go with that. Because the mighty Hazelsaurus devoured all my brains and I simply lack the mental fortitude to figure out what the HECK this flower is. . Speaking of said child, she decided to teach us a lesson in gratitude today. Oh, yes. We put her down to sleep, per her usual, at which point she proceeded to COMPLETELY SKIP her nap. No nap. Like ZERO sleeps. I could almost hear her: "You're complaining about 30 minute naps? Okay, then. Try this on for size, suckers. I'll sleep for ZERO minutes." What're a couple of tired parents to do but ship her off to her grandparents for the day. That's right, people. I'm completely Hazel-less. ZERO HAZELS. . . . . . .

✨ anatomy of a leaf ✨ Just a short little clip of how my leaves come to be. The truth is, I always WANT to do more videos. I love watching them. And I'm a sucker for all those home renovation and beauty makeover shows (Speaking of: does anyone remember The Swan? I was obsessed with that show!) ANYway. The reason I don't do more is simple: I turn into a total spaz when I know I'm being watched. I'm so focused on if my hair or hand or butt's in the way that I can't relax and let my hand and heart work their magic. And then I can never seem to get the lighting compatible with the pictures in my feed, and every time I see the incongruous image, it stands out to me like a hairy wart and I CANNOT DEAL. So there you go. As if you needed more proof that I'm a messy weirdo. Happy Tuesday, wonderfuls. . . . . . .

"He is not there. He has risen, just as He said." - Matthew 28:6 Happy Easter, dear ones! ✨ . . . . . .

I realized the other day how very few pictures I have of both Hazel and me . . . I have roughly 4 badrillion photos of Hazel, but only about 6 of the two of us, and even fewer with Daddy in them. Like most moms, I assume, I’m always more eager to get pictures of Hazel (because, let’s be honest, showers and make-up are things of the past #momstrong), looking like the radiant Beastie she is, than I am of capturing MY image, when I feel purely beast. Due to multiple chronic illness issues, two-thirds of my hair fell out after Hazel was born, followed by a fierce case of adult acne. Add to that a hefty portion of sleep deprivation, and, well, no. . . I’m not aching to have my image documented. But a wise woman once told me – thank you, Sister Alyce – that I should be sure to get behind the lens as often as I can, because I will want these pictures, one day, despite how stinky and gray and covered in pimples I might be in them. She’s right of course, damn her. And besides, if anything, my appearance is a more pure reflection of the me beneath the me; of how Hard I’m Showing Up for my child. It won’t always be this way. I won’t always be here, in this fragile, volatile space where love and desperation mingle and intertwine, two cords of the same rope with which I swing to new heights and occasionally want to hang myself . . . So here’s to present over perfect. Here’s to sacrifice and surrender and to inhabiting EVERY SINGLE MOMENT. Messy and painful and exquisite. Because they are ours. Because only we can invite and detain and extract them. Here’s to bringing our nothing and our everything, to being unabashedly broken and relentlessly loved. I can’t think of a better day for Love to win than that of Good Friday. Happy Easter, beloveds. . . . . . . #Motherhood #Photography #SeekTheSimplicity #LiveFolk #MamaHoodMoments #Art #MomBlogger #ArtistsOnInstagram #FlashesOfTheDelight #InteriorDesign #AheadOfTheCurve #LiveAuthentically #BeDeeplyRooted #ChronicIllness #DailyParenting #TheEveryDayProject #Candidchildhood #livethelittlethings #thehappynow #motherhoodrising #momstrong #childhoodunplugged #Writing #WritersOfInstagram #SheReadsTruth #LoveWins #goodfriday

I love seeing what combination customers come up with. Packaging up these flossy florals 🌺 . . What's everyone up to this evening? Me - well, I was feeling like a FREAKING SAINT, and sent my husband off to the Duck's playoff game. I SUPPOSE he's earned it. Okay, I know he has. That man works ridiculously hard for our family and puts up with ALL MY FEELINGS. Truly it's an honor to give him the night off and I released him from my clutches with a full heart. That said........ I must confess to you now that it was also an honor to watch our daughter shat all over him just before he left me alone with our non-sleeping human. 😆👶🏻💩 . . . . . . #florals #photography #interiordesign #flowerstagram #findyourpassion #handlettered#pursuepretty#stylemepretty #watercolor #watercolour #botanical #botanicalpickmeup #nature #slowlived #wanderlust #illustration #winsorandnewton #artistsofinstagram #Aquarelle #garden #plantbased #plantstrong #magnolia

Painting, for me, is about capturing moments. Thousands of them. Magnificent moments and abysmal moments; moments of extraordinary certainty and moments of crippling self-doubt. I get to catch them, with my hand, like butterflies in a net. I get to watch them flutter around for a bit before I release them back to where they belong—out there; part of and separate from me. All mine and completely someone else’s. And when I’m done and I stand back to look at what I’ve created, I rarely if ever see the whole thing. I see it in pieces, like this, one granule at a time. These tiny moments stand out like flecks of gold, rising up, shimmering and burning and winking at me. They remind me of where I’ve been and what it cost me. And that’s how I get made into art. -- Cara Rosalie Olsen http://about.me/cararosalieolsen

We did it! We survived Monday! 🎈🎉🎈🎉🎈 *clinks martini glasses* I even managed to squeeze in a twenty minute painting session and a bath for the stinky Beastie. Her mother on the other hand is considering putting some colorful beads on her leg hair and calling it a day.... Wishing you all wonderful and less hairy evening. Also, the shop's been updated and Magnolia prints are now available! . . . . . .

After a lovely and FULL weekend, I'm not going to lie, Monday is kicking my butt. I refer to this kind of exhaustion as puke-y tired. You just wander-trudge from room to room, trying not to upchuck on anything hand-wash only. Going to make myself another (5) cup of ☕️ and maybe do a few jumping jacks. Or maybe I'll just THINK about doing them. Same thing, right? Sure it is. Anyone else battling puke-y tired? If so, these should help. I mean, THAT SMILE. 😍 #goodgriefPickle . . . . . #Motherhood #Photography #SeekTheSimplicity #LiveFolk #MamaHoodMoments #Art #MomBlogger #ArtistsOnInstagram #FlashesOfTheDelight #InteriorDesign #AheadOfTheCurve #LiveAuthentically #BeDeeplyRooted #ChronicIllness #DailyParenting #TheEveryDayProject #Candidchildhood #livethelittlethings #thehappynow #motherhoodrising #momstrong #childhoodunplugged #Writing #WritersOfInstagram #SheReadsTruth #LoveWins #HazelGwenAndMommy

I couldn’t even talk about it until it was over. But we did it. WE. DID. IT. We put our colicky Pickle in her car seat and left our home womb so we could watch my husband's sister get married. For WEEKS I’d imagined every horrific scenario, which ended in some variation of me sprinting away with my howling baby and spending the entire day in the car while Pickle and I wailed and wailed until the cows came home. But that didn’t happen. Hazel slept on the way, almost the entire two hours. Then she proceeded to smile and coo through the ceremony, after which she promptly fell asleep in the white noise cocoon I created for her in the stroller. We were actually able to eat something, have a beer, and talk to other humans. For like, twenty minutes. People, I haven’t had twenty minutes to do nothing but look nice in a pretty dress for the better part of a year. For the first time in what felt like a billion centuries, I heard myself laugh and it wasn’t laced with delirium or that angrier stuff we moms have to squeeze out lest we end up a corner and a party-size bag of Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles. In short, it was friggin’ bliss. I was okay. Delightful, even. Perhaps that’s pushing things a bit, but I didn’t cuss NEARLY as much as I thought I would, though I MAY have hissed and clawed a tad when someone suggested waking her up for pictures, cause that shit wudn’t gonna happen. Ya’ll I’m a pill. I can be charming when the moment demands it, but mostly I’m just anxiety wrapped in skin; like a pig in a blanket - I’m stress in a flesh-suit. When my husband asked if I preferred to sit in the backseat with Hazel or drive, I snarled-scoffed, “Um, OBVIOUSLY I’m driving.” Nothing terrifies me more than being confined with a screaming child. For the duration of the trip I sat up front, all inflamed and threaten-y and tense. Like an angry butthole. And when Hazel so much as sighed, I proceeded to yell-whisper at my husband, “I TOLD you this was a terrible idea. What were you THINKING?” My husband is an angel. Like, legit angelic. He is calm and patient and gives me all the room I need to melt and boil, then builds the grace-stoned path for me to crawl home. #blessed

Have you ever made something – something of which you are so completely and embarrassing but unashamedly proud – and find yourself unable to share it? Not because you’re afraid of what others might think (which if you’re me is a real and constant struggle), but because you know, absolutely KNOW you made magic and you just want to dance in its stardust for a little bit longer? All by yourself. Twirl and twirl under a cloud of stardust. I’ve been sitting on this painting for weeks, months actually. For ages I’d wanted to paint a magnolia, but dreading the infamous white flower, I stalled, found reasons and excuses and other flowers to paint. More amenable and docile flowers. Flowers I could bend to my will. But the magnolia continued to haunt me, and I knew I should do it soon because any day the Pickle would be born and steal all my hours. She was and she did, and I’m glad I painted this. It’s not perfect, but you know . . . that’s kind of what I love best about it. . . If you aren’t familiar with @ellieholcomb, please let me do the honors. I was inspired by her soulful words about this beautiful flower, and her song, appropriately titled “Magnolia”. “Oh Magnolia, won't you stay with me, Won't you wake up and see that I'm waiting Oh Magnolia, won't you walk with me Won't you let me be your sweet companion Oh Magnolia, Oh Magnolia You've been working till your hands they bleed And your eyes can't see [a change you're wearing] You've been hoping that you could make it right But the more you try the more you're failing Oh Magnolia, Oh Magnolia Oh Magnolia, won't you please come home Oh Magnolia, you don't have to walk alone Oh Magnolia, won't you rest your head on my shoulder You've been walkin' through this world alone No place to call your home except your heartache You've been tryin' to make it all work out When the sun goes down your soul is burdened Oh Magnolia, Oh Magnolia Oh Magnolia, won't you please come home Oh Magnolia, you don't have to walk alone Oh Magnolia, won't you rest your head on my shoulder . . . . . . . .

Anyone else sort of obsessed with the smell of Eucalyptus? I have it in my shampoo and I must confess I sound like an Herbal Essence commercial when I use it. Also, just in case you were one of the people I said "Happy Tuesday!" to today, yeah . . . pretty much become my new normal not to know what day it is. How about that 2nd cup of coffee . . . . 5 x 5 mini painting is available for purchase. ✨🌿 . . . . .

This little Pickle surprised the HECK out of her parents by ROLLING OVER on Sunday. There we were, just having our irregularly scheduled tummy time, expecting her to face plant into the mat as usual, and she goes and does a full 180. What the what!? I suppose she'll be asking me for the car keys by next week... . Magical knitted beanie @corrinasshop . . . . . . #Motherhood #Photography #SeekTheSimplicity #LiveFolk #MamaHoodMoments #Art #MomBlogger #ArtistsOnInstagram #FlashesOfTheDelight #InteriorDesign #AheadOfTheCurve #LiveAuthentically #BeDeeplyRooted #ChronicIllness #DailyParenting #TheEveryDayProject #Candidchildhood #livethelittlethings #thehappynow #motherhoodrising #momstrong #childhoodunplugged #Writing #WritersOfInstagram #SheReadsTruth #LoveWins #HazelGwenAndMommy

* W I L D R O S E S * As always, the original is available for purchase, and I'll be updating the shop just as soon as the breast pump (aka: the nipple crusher) has had its way with me. . Also . . . Just wanted to extend my whole heart in gratitude to everyone who chimed in yesterday and joined me in my flaming hot messery. I read through each and every comment, most of them twice, and again, as I always do, found love existing and winning in this sisterhood we've built. My absolute favorite about our Showing Up is that so many others are often lifted and healed from YOUR words. Your pearls, laid bare for other to to grasp and cherish. I like to think of this feed of mine as a round dinner table. Big enough to seat everyone. Fit with plush wingback chairs in velvet magenta. In which we drink peach margaritas and pomegranate mai tais, and whiskey for those of you badasses with iron stomachs. Now wouldn't that be something . . . Happy Monday, beloveds.

Hi beloveds, I wanted to check in to let those of you who've messaged know that we are still alive and kicking. Emphasis on the kicking. Oh sisters. Damn. You know that hashtag #momstrong? I didn’t quite get it until recently. Now I get it. You see, first, there is simply strong, which is closely followed by warrior - a compilation of Russell Crowe in Gladiator and Gerard Butler in 300. Next, we move on to something akin to Optimus Prime level, which is superseded only by the world-annihilating meteor, whereupon we FINALLY come close enough to get a peek at the very top of the strong tower – MomStrong. Having spent fifteen years caring for young babies, I knew the monotony and the heart-swelling tenderness in equal measure, yet being a nanny in no way prepared me for motherhood, simply because at the end of the day, you GIVE THE CHILD BACK. No such thing is possible when it’s your own child - believe me, I’ve looked into it. Multiple times. Although the architecture down yonder has changed, it remains clear Hazel came with just the single one-way ticket. In all my years rearing babies, I never came upon a child like her. She doesn’t stop. Not even when she is forced to, overtaken by just enough sleep to keep her alive, during which she kicks and flails as though riding an invisible bull. She sleeps for maybe 30 minutes at a time, which gives me just long enough to down a Power Bar and prepare for the next 2-hour sprint. It’s insanity, 24/7 insanity. In full disclosure, I’m a wreck. The other day, after my child had been fed and changed and burped and snuggled (unwillingly) and swaddled, and still would NOT sleep, I removed the heat pack from my throbbing, inflamed fibromyalgic shoulders, and BEAT IT against the banister hard enough to rip the stuffing. No . . not my most graceful moment, though, can we agree it was a win, since it WASN’T the baby? Hell yeah, we will. If you’re up for it, share your least graceful moment? Because I think this is how Love Wins. I'm a mess. A flaming, smoking, boiling hot mess. Though enough of me remains that I remember We Belong To Each Other, that Showing Up is EVERYTHING, and messy and broken is still beautiful.