Circus Monkey By: Jennifer

1960 Pablo Picasso "Jacqueline"

I live a Picasso Life: a distorted mess of body parts splintering off into different directions; horns growing in places where horns shouldn't be growing; jagged, mismatched cubes stacked in precarious mayhem and really big, ugly feet. Let's not talk about the feet, I'm a little sensitive about the feet. I firmly believe that if Picasso had known me, I would have been his inspiration. I could have been the one to make him famous, but alas, the continuum of time separated us.

          Doing laundry is a never ending, eternal chore, and yet I still wear clothes. I yell at my kids to quit yelling. I mop my kitchen floor before an art project. Sunday, the day of rest, does not include a nap. Library books are found after they are paid for. I come home from exercising and eat a brownie for breakfast. I have gone through hours of painful labor and I still had to put those wretched maternity clothes back on. I have started a vacation with 6 kids in a car for 12+ hours expecting it to be 'fun'. Negotiating with a 3 year old. Negotiating with a 16 year old. Looking shocked when my son shows up to the dentist at 8 am with Oreo Cookies stuck in his teeth. Forgetting where I hid my secret stash of cookies so the kids wouldn't find them. Realizing my son found my cookie stash....right before going to the dentist. My 8 year old amputating the handles from my rakes and shovels, with an axe, in his quest to find the proper sword. All of my pots and pans swinging by purple yarn from our tree and my husband asking, “Soooo....what's for dinner?”

          Can you see the lopsided eyes? Can you envision the twisted nose? Can you feel the jab of the triangular elbows and knees? These are just a few reasons why I am crazy--errr, I mean cultured. Sometimes I feel like a circus monkey. A cultured circus monkey. Paint that Picasso.

1908 Claude Monet San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk

          In my frequent daydreams, I live a tranquil Monet Life. The colors are soft. They blend and slide together. My life glides and flows. It has that subtle splash of posh and elegance: yellows, pinks or purples. I skate and waft. I am the timeless classic: Audrey Hepburn. But, alas, I am not Audrey Hepburn and I certainly would not use words like glide,flow, or elegance to describe my life. I would use words like chaotic, fumble, bedlam, scurrying, maybe even a “little” messy.

I love little finger prints on my windows. I love singing in the car. I love peanut butter kisses. I love late night giggles. I love wiping sticky mouths. I love bedtime stories. I love helping with homework. I love rushed trips to the grocery store. I love holding hands with my husband. I love little heads resting on my shoulder. I love resting my head on my almost-grown-up son's shoulder. I love making lunches. I love date nights. I love finding stick-it notes on my pillow. I love dancing in the kitchen. I love family prayer. I love my my circus monkey life and I wouldn't trade it for the best of my daydreams.

I have laid my life in the hands of The Artist whose workmanship can create beauty out of lopsided eyes and twisted noses. He softens the jabs that come my way. He makes peanut butter kisses, sticky mouths and late night giggles that subtle splash of joy. This Artist loves me, even when my big, ugly feet stumble and trip. He makes me whole when the world is pulling me apart. And by some miracle He turns my Picasso Life into something so stunning, there isn't a paintbrush that could capture its beauty.