Unflorid love

Hallelujah.  I made it to the studio.  Thatch won't stay in his bed at night and Addair pushes, pokes, or otherwise tramples every boundary set before him.  I was desperate to get away and paint today.

  In progress  

 In progress  

I've been thinking about how I can adjust my posture toward motherhood.  With another baby on the way I'm feeling like I can't continue like I have been.  I find myself going ballistic over spilled milk too many times in the span of a day.  I don't know if this will be an interior shift or one of circumstance.  Likely a bit of both.