I like to call myself a painter, rather than an artist. There are musicians who can pick up any instrument, and then there are those who have a passion and ability for one instrument only. This is me. I used to draw, but now it seems I can only paint. And I only want to. I love paint because it is liquid and flexible. I can mix it, thin it, layer it, manipulate it however I please. In my first months as a new mother, when I had no time for anything other than Owen, I would think of the physical sensations of painting, and crave them like chocolate.
After a brief and frustrating stint with mixed media in Bogota, I accepted for good that I am simply a one media kind of woman.
And then, we had Owen. Now I am filled with desires to be that perfect adorable crafty mom. To knit toys and scrapbook and decorate. I bought a load of scrapbooking material, and since I’ve saved everything from our first dates onward, I will someday sit down and make that family scrapbook and it will be beautiful damn it.
I drove myself crazy for Owen’s first birthday, which we celebrated in February. I chose a puppy theme, and I wanted it to be perfect. The big show stopper, of course, was going to be the puppy cake. I found a photo online that was both cute and seemingly easy to copy. All I can say is thank God my mother was there, and Devorah, our housekeeper’s daughter. I was too anxious about every aspect of the party from the caterer (who was late) to the goody bags to even think straight. In the end, it was a joint effort. But I have to admit, that thirteen year old kicks my ass in cake decorating.
Devorah kept saying what a shame it was that we would have to cut up our little work of art. But hey, cake is for eating. And I think someone inherited my sweet tooth.
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