The forbidden finger

My child learned early that there are five fingers on each hand, and five toes on each foot. We didn't press the point that a thumb is somehow a superior finger, but we also didn't spend hours singing the "Where is ***insert finger here***?" song. We're referring to a kid who still puts her shoes on the wrong foot and her shirts on backwards (even the ones that still have those annoying tags that scratch her neck). And so, it comes as no big surprise that my child does not know which finger is the middle finger.

What did shock and awe me is that this child was reprimanded for using her "middle finger" to point at some word in a book. She didn't wave it at a student -or Heaven help me, a student - with a sneer (though mommy has, on occasion I am ashamed to admit, done that to her fellow motorists while calling them idiots - - and Chi has reprimanded me for calling them a bad name). She wasn't trying to be devious. She just chose the wrong finger to point. And for that, she was punished.

Now I ask Chi how her day is routinely. And usually the reply is a cheery "This was the best day ever." or "This was the greatest day." and occasionally, "This is/was the worstest day ever." On the day that this occurred, I got the silent treatment. I was certain I had committed some terrible Mommy-forgot-it-so-I-suffered-for-it sin.

The grumpy, silent funk lingered through a dentist's appointment. And my kid likes the dentist (it is, after all, a great place to get balloons, stickers, tiny toys, and to see Oma). She adamantly refused to get in the dentist chair proclaiming "You're gonna have to make me get in it."

Upon confessing to this catastrophic event in her young life days after the incident occurred, she burst into tears proclaiming "I just knew Mommy would be disappointed or angry in me. I'm a terrible person." Yes, she was concerned that Mommy would be disappointed in her having been in trouble at school.

And I had to explain to my just-turned-six-year-old that the middle finger was considered a bad finger and was rude or mean to point at someone. She still doesn't get why, and frankly I really don't know why either. It's not the kind of teachable moments that I want to have to have. It should have been handled better in school. Instead, I had to once again tell my baby that I wasn't mad at her mistake. I had to let her know the teacher who yelled at her should have simply corrected her pointing error (without letting her know that I disapproved of the entire incident caused by an uncaring, unsympathetic imbecile teacher who determined that all kids are innately malicious, deviant, defiant, and bad.)

Chi has since inquired every few days, "Which one is the middle finger again?" And I've explained how to count them, how the middle finger is taller, and how two finger surround the mean one for protection.

And just this past weekend, she was told by her Oma (innocently enough) that she has a middle toe. Poor Chi was shocked. "You mean I have a bad toe too?"

As though she could ever individually lift her toe in anger and frustration. As if said toe is ever uncovered long enough when the "wear your socks/slippers/shoes or catch a cold" grandparent is lurking around the house. As if Chi liked wearing the sandals and flip flops that stunt her ability to swing around the jungle gym, monkey bars and playground.

And this is just the beginning of learning the terrible social "graces" we've created to insult one another. I'm sorry, baby, there's a lot of forbidden body language you're gonna have to learn soon. Mommy can't keep you protected and innocent forever :(

Project 365 - Feb 21

After our family portrait...

Project 365

How do people do it? I'm lucky to enjoy using my camera... but I sometimes get so wrapped up in life that I forget to pull it out!

2.16.09: Another New Hat

2.17.09: The Lost Tooth
2.19.09: Tutu Cute

In the Wee Hours

It's barely 6 a.m. this Sunday morning. I've tested the weather, and it's COLD. Funny how weather always brings on the arctic chill when you want to go out somewhere, but when you're not venturing anywhere in particular, the weather is fabulous...

Yesterday was an odd day. Our family - Mom, Dad (aka Oma and PopPop), Tav and his Fiance, Me and my kiddies - were set to pose for a portrait for the church's new directory. With these things, you just can't miss the opportunity (afterall, the last directory was created pre-Chi because she's in my belly in the photo on Mom'n'Dad's wall). But it wasn't right.

We coordinated our outfits via text message (oh how modern we've become!) and confirmed via phone that we'd look charmingly coordinated but not obsessively matched. We met at the designated time at church.

I should say that I ran a mother marathon before this photo. Chi has Saturday Institute at school to improve her Language Arts skills and it concluded just a half hour before our appointment in front of the lens. As with every professional photo session, I had to take on the painful task of attacking Chi's hair - which always seems to be fine the day before but is extra frizzy when it's picture time like she purposely has a tumble fest in bed. And then I had to make myself presentable. Of course Ya's outfit had to be adorable and never-before-featured, so I hit up a sale at Children's Place the day before. They forgot to take off the security tag which was big and obvious on the edge of his sleeve. I discovered this moments before packing up the wardrobe and leaving for school. And for a millisecond I contemplated leaving the darn button on, taking the picture, and returning the shirt for aggravation. But I like the shirt and it fits. So, I left Chi at the academy (where I was supposed to observe her class), and stood outside the store until it opened for the day's business. All this for a photo shoot?

We arrived before the rest of the family. (How did that happen?) I went about the great fix-up by changing Ya into his outfit(who times his baby barf to precisely the minute before a critical picture/event/trip). I then noticed Chi had gotten a huge pencil line on her shirt while at school. I complained. Loudly. Then I changed into my freshly pressed shirt and silently prayed that it would not be soiled before we got at least one good shot. And finally, as Dad impatiently called us to the camera man, I wiped down both kids' noses with diaper wipes (those things are so handy!) and let the guy pose us.

But my baby brother - who is at this very moment buried under midterms, projects and papers - is in Texas for the next few months. Though I am elated he'll be graduating in May, I miss him terrible. And this "family" photo shoot made it so much harder to bear. How do you take a family picture with your brother missing?

As we sat to view the pictures (Ya refused to smile, barely acknowledged the camera, and had his hands in his mouth for several poses...and in a few there were wayward adult eyes, strained smiles grimaces, and psychotic expressions), it was hard not to think of Arf-a-darf. There is a hole - appropriately made, though accidental - between Tav and I. It belongs to our brother.

It wasn't right.


365... Let's see here... I owe for Feb. 16-21, right? This would be so much easier if I could find my calendar, if the date stamp on my camera worked on a 24-hour clock (you explain that one), and if I had said camera with me all the time. But alas, a few days met with only the cell phone camera :(

So Not Funny

I miss being funny without trying. You know, possessing that sort of tongue in cheek, sarcastic humor that makes people pause the conversation to think

"Wait, what did she just say?"
"Did she say what I think she said?"
"Does it mean what I think she meant?"

or even,

"Uh, I don't get it, but hopefully she's not insulting me."

The last is my favorite. Pepper your speech with a multisyllabic word and the effect is a savory stumper, especially for modern teenagers. I used to do that often. Then I birthed Chi. I think it gave me brain damage. Why else would my panache for vocabulary sizzle fizzle out? (Much like my failed dinners that end with me fanning the fire alarm to convince it to shut up its mocking, blaring beeps)

These days it's hard work being funny. And I don't want to work. At all. Not even if they paid me... oh wait, if someone is paying for humor, I've got a routine just waiting to be bought somewhere in the grey mush in between my ears.

On possessing tongue in cheek humor?

With my braces, I'd hit metal and cut myself. That'd hurt. Seriously, though, people don't get sarcasm. If I have to identify it, it's no longer funny. If it's not funny to me anymore, then all I've done is wasted words. Remember, I have brain damage. Words are sparse. They tend to get lost in the grey mush. (Especially when I'm mad or when I really wanna throw a zinger at a "duh" question - - then my wit is too slow to have the desired effect.)

Project 365

2.14.09 My Valentine(s):

02.15.09 My Beautiful Babies:

Not Me Monday

I did not get so thoroughly engrossed in writing drafting a blog entry in my bathroom pumping station that I forgot I was pumping and leaked the liquid gold as the bottle overflowed. Really, I use that time to think about the important task at hand...

I did not have a craving for McD's plain ice cream Sunday, Taco Bell chalupas and McD's French fries at the same time. In 37 weeks of pregnancy I had not one weird food combination desire. But now that Ya's here? I am a culinary mixing freak.

I did not have the following conversation over a certain Christmas present:
M: Look at that. You threw your coat in the recycling bin.
Me: Not on purpose. That's just where it landed.
M: Wow. Next I'll see it in the trash or ripped.
Me: (smiling) I'm better with jewelry.
M: (silence)

I did not thoroughly enjoy testing out my amazing make up artist techniques on Chi who then transformed into an Egyptian/East Indian goddess. And Chi for one two brief hours allowed me to snap pictures to my heart's content while she danced and spun and acted her part. Oh how I miss it being Mommy and Chi play time!
I did not subject Ya to multiple tummy time positioning to test my "it's a fluke" theory about his ability to roll over. You'd think that after the first two roll overs Mommy'd get the point that he didn't want to lay on his tummy, right?

I am not still amazed at how well Chi has mastered the monkey bars. My own little monkey? Yep, the little gymnast is quite good at swinging, jumping, and flying like those cute zoo creatures. Maybe it's because I spent so long working on a photodocumentary at the Oakland Zoo while I was pregnant? That's got to be it, I'll credit blame OZ for her talents.
I did not decide to show off my photojournalistic dedication by laying under playground equipment to shoot a picture of Chi with the beautiful sky as the background. I did not then discover that in my old age, it was a lot easier to get on the ground than it was to get off it.

365...

Still going... a photo a day is the goal!

2.10.09:Sick!
2.11.09: Happy2.12.09: Mardi Gras ready

24 weeks old!

At first, I thought the rare laugh-like sounds I heard were flukes. I thought the same about seeing Ya roll off his tummy onto his back.

But this past week Ya decided Mommy's facial exaggerations in the grocery store were enough to earn not one, but two laughs. And the rolls? He's done it multiple times and I think each was on purpose.

So this is what it's like to be 24 weeks old? Each day is a new discovery. Hands carefully hold, drop, and push. Eyes identify people, food, locations. And conversations sound an awful lot like those we've been sharing with him since birth, except now there's a clear response.

A slip of the keys....

Why is it that the "I" and "O" keys are so close together? Today, while pecking away at a note to may family photographer-friend, I wrote the following:

...Seems selfish, but I'm always the one snapping the shots and am never in the pictures.

I'm really glad I watch the screen as I type and only occasionally glance down to place my fingers on the keyboard (you know, some letters are really hard to find). Observe the word "shots". Now, take out the "o" and insert its neighbor. Changes the sentiment of the sentence a bit, doesn't it? Thank goodness I proofread everything important things before I hit send.
And now,

Project 365

You may wonder, "where's Chi in all these shots?" Good question. On one day, she went to a sleepover. Another, she was downright disagreeable camera shy. And, as is usually the case, she was off in pursuit of her own muses.

@ work humor

Teaching is a lot like parenting other people's children in 90-minute doses. Except at any given time, I have 30 or so darling teenagers attentively hooked to my every word struggling to stay focused on their school work. My job is so much more than teaching my subject. Some days I am a confidant for students needing to vent. Other days I am a mediator. Sometimes I am even a counselor called upon (or voluntarily) dishing out the appropriate divine wisdom story that begins "In my experience..." It's a lot of responsibility hidden within the part of my contract that reads "and other duties as assigned."

I think I'd lose my mind if it weren't for this: my students say/write the funniest things. Seriously, I can't make some of the stuff I hear up - it's that odd/humorous/ridiculous. Take, for instance, the time we were studying a poem by Langston Hughes. The poem has a line that goes like this:

"I like a pipe for Christmas present,

or records - - Bessie, bop, or Bach."

And of course, since the poem is written in the mid-1900s (not so long ago really, but anything before 1990, like my birth date, is ancient to these kids), I began to explain what the referenced music was. "Bop is jazz. Bessie (smith) is a Jazz singer. And Bach - - "

And a student - one who has never before spoken about the topic of a single lesson all year - chimes in: "Bach? That's the guy on the popcorn box."

She said it so matter-of-fact. I stifled a chuckle (though my eyes teared at her contribution and I couldn't help but smile). Then, in my best "acknowledge the comment as valid and gently correct guide the student in the right direction" response, I said, "Oh, Orville Redenbacher, the popcorn guy. The poem's talking about musicians. Johann Sebastian Bach played and composed classical music."

And then there's the quick slip ups found in hastily completed assignments:

"The coconut that Romeo didn't go to bed last night."

Huh? The student actually meant to say conversation, but wrote coconut. I'd hate to think of this as a Freudian slip up, because what could she have been thinking about that involved coconuts?

It's times like these that I really enjoy myself despite having read the same piece of literature 4-5 times in a given week and then forced my students to find their own meaning from the text at hand spoon-fed the meaning of it.

A Rant ... If I'm allowed one

Producing enough to feed a healthy, growing baby is hard – especially when for a good portion of the day I am away from my child. Pumps have become quite advanced and mine (the third one I have purchased) is electric and essentially automatic, allowing me to grade papers, read, or write while I pump.

Unfortunately, as a classroom teacher, I have little private time to call my own. A thirty minute lunch (bell to bell) and a 90 minute planning period that is often earmarked for conferences, phone calls, and meetings, are all the time during my work day afforded to me. It would seem like a lot of free time… but by the time I get into the nurses restroom (which is the only truly private place to pump until a student or janitor needs the facility), it's time to pack up and get back in my class to prepare for students. Oh and eating? Unless I carry a meal into the restroom with me, that doesn't happen anymore.

I am ranting about this because I have been added to the roster for "monitoring" students who have failed classes and are taking online coursework to catch up to their peers. This means that today my lunch and planning period (combined every other day due to block scheduling) has now been completely consumed by this new assignment. It hurts physically when I don't pump on time. More importantly, it means that Ya will have to have substitutions at home so that I can prepare the two 4.5 ounce bottles he gets every day for school. That's hardly enough volume for him as it is, and to have to keep him from nursing so that I can pump is emotionally painful.

Granted the new assignment is only once this month, but that's not the point. I am trying to do what is best for my baby. I have reluctantly accepted that I'll spend time in a restroom trying to be as sanitary as possible with my pumping in a very unsanitary location. I have worked hard to get 30 minutes worth of a pumping cycle done in 20 and produce enough milk so that my son does not starve. And the workplace continues to fail to recognize that first and foremost, I am a Mommy. If Ya doesn't get what he needs from me now, when he starts school he'll be yet another problem for them to deal with.

And trust, I could go on and on about the problems created in the classroom when there are problems with parenting at home. But I value my job, and Big Brother watches me.

Never I

A warm weather shot at the park from this weekend:

And now,

Welcome to the opposite game of therapy and confession that MckMama hosts every week! It's free, it's easy, it's a release...

I did not decide that after only two hours of time sans baby, beginning the work/school/daycare week was looking pretty appealing. I love spending time with my kids and I enjoy the opportunity to dedicate my time to their pleasures. What kind of mother would relish in the brief break of daycare?

I did not get my taxes and then spend hours plotting how to pay the bills while still splurging a bit for Chi and I. Afterall, we've not been living the frugal life for months in order to pay down my debt. It's amazing how a little restraint makes you so darn eager to spend frivolously!

I did not spend a half hour trying to pick out the perfect Valentine's Day cards for my family members. I do, of course, have a wall full of card stock and a closet full of themed stamps for that very purpose. I also always have my hands free, my creativity on point, and my motivation at a super sonic high.

I did not decide that the whole Groundhog Day ritual was hogwash when the temperatures hit near 60s and we had to take off coats or risk sweating to death outside. I did not strip my kids down and hit up the park for the third time in this past week so they could play and I could photograph them without complaints.

I did not discover that Ya's taste buds are on hyper sensitivity when I fed him what I was eating all weekend. He did not gobble down carrots, peas, noodles, and grapes like a toothy pro despite having only gums in his drooly mouth. I did not get a kick out of watching him push his bottle away in favor of the fork full of food I was eating. And of course, I was not determined to keep my food all to myself because it was good and he'd already eaten.

I did not discover that Ya has made his parental preference and savor the fact that it is Mommy he chose. It's important for kids to have quality relationships with both parents, right?

I did not surprise myself and my family by agreeing without reservations to let Chi attend a sleepover with her friend. I've screened the family, I trust them with her, and Chi tells me everything. And so it's okay to let her enter the world of girlie rituals with a Slumber Party.

I did not discover that though all things blogging, social, fun are blocked at work, I could still attach my Not Me's to "Mr. Linky" on MckMama's page because she has a dot net base page. I do not sometimes read the cover page of the blog that way despite the savory pictures being Xd out because photo servers are also blocked.

Scaly, Itchy, Just Plain Icky

Eczema.

It was a condition that made taking pictures of Chi a delicate endeavor for her entire first 18 months. Breakouts marred her beautiful face and Mommy knew these were not the images Chi would want to look back on. So whenever breakouts ceased for a brief and welcome day or two, Mommy's camera came out and a plethora of photos were captured to preserve her growth.

She's grown out of most of the condition's symptoms, although dry skin still plagues her.

Now Ya is suffering from the scaly itchy icky. But, thankfully, his outbreaks are on his legs and arms - not on his precious, handsome face. No shortage of pictures for my baby boy!

Unfortunately, though, Dr. L has suggested that traditional submersion bath times be traded for sponge baths or quickies. But like Chi, Ya is a water baby.

So tonight, I let him play, relax and enjoy. He wont fit his temperature controlled super baby spa much longer, so I figure a real bath is warranted sometimes. And after? Dry off, Aveeno oatmeal lotion massage, warm clothes and a snack before bed time.

Letter to Chi at Six (12-11-08)

I wrote this awhile ago and have no idea why it took so long to post...

My dearest Chi,

You are a mere week away from your sixth birthday.

When you were born, my world changed.

At 23-years-old I had no idea how special, how perfect being entrusted with a child's life could be. I didn't realize what an honor it was to be in "Club Mommy" or just how important that membership was. You might even say that though I had a full life filled with education and travel, I had experienced nothing so thrilling, challenging, and fulfilling as being a mother.

I spend my pregnancy trying to picture what you'd be like - would you look like me? Might you resemble your father? I prayed you'd be beautiful (He answers prayer). I prayed for your health and happiness (and always will). And I hoped you'd be brilliant (and you know, baby, I think you're my little genius).

And then you were here.

Perfection.

And every hour, every day, every week, every year since then I have been blessed by your very existence. I am defined by your presence in my life.

For six years you have blessed me with the purest love I've ever known. You have accepted me as your Mom - despite my overwhelming flaws - and have greeted each new day with me with a positive word, a warm hug, or (my favorite) a kiss. I'm not ever going to be perfect - you already know that (and sometimes you point it out when I pretend to be). Yet you excuse my missteps in parenting and force me to improve.

No matter how long the week, how bad the weather, or how low my spirits, I am always grateful for you, my angel on earth.

I look forward to your every "I love you."

(I love YOU times infinity plus two, I love you more my sweet baby, I do...)

And now, you tell me, you're not a baby anymore. My sweet little girl is a big kid. You have your own style (always have, really). You are independent (making your own meals, decorating the house, planning your own birthday party (YIKES!), arranging adventures). You are brave (can I have some of that courage from you?). You are loving (selfless is what comes to mind). You are bright (the explanations for the things you encounter are priceless). And you are beautiful (a smile to make all who meet you smitten, a personality that lures us in, and a spirit worthy of Heaven).

At times I have to wonder if I had any part in just how special you are to this world. Did I have any influence on the young woman you are quickly becoming?

Certainly I could have planned things for us a little bit better. I know you miss your father and want to know who he is beyond a phone call. Someday, perhaps, you'll have that chance. I know that sometimes Mama's too "busy with the business of baby." I'm trying not to be. And I know that there are so many things you wish you could do, things you'd like to have, that I just cannot afford. I'm praying that one day I'll be able to give those things to you.

And as these years pass quickly by, I hope I can capture time in pictures, in words, in a simple scrap book page. Will you look back at these special books and see how much you are loved? Will you show them to your children, your grandchildren someday?

Chi, if you remember nothing else about your first six years of life, remember this: Mommy adores you, cherishes you, loves you, needs you. I have since the moment I knew you were growing inside me. I will forever more.

Project 365

Oops! This is what mommy gets when she's taking a picture with one hand and handling baby in the other... but the smile was so genuine that the crop doesn't seem so bad.

Where's winter?

Last week we enjoyed a brief glimpse of the beautifully fluffy white stuff. And as is the custom now, our county's schools closed down so that we could enjoy nature's white blanket to the fullest. This week, though, the weather has been darting back and forth between the fifties and the teens. So Chi, Ya, and I have used the warmer times as opportunities to venture to the neighborhood playground.

[Did I mention that this equipment just appeared one day? No "hey there's a gated playground on the far side of the community," no nothing. I just happened to see it on my way to an appointment where it was for once convenient to venture out on the far side of the area. With three entry/exit points you'd think they'd share news like this]

Chi has perfected her efforts on the Monkey Bars. Little gymnast can swing all the way across them with no worry at all! Mommy can merely hang on the first two bars until her arms grow weary and she has to drop to the ground. That's a long drop for my less than 5 foot height. But my girl is super strong, confident, and determined, so she mastered the bars quickly.

She is also my social butterfly. Despite there being only little pre-school-age kids at the park for the entire time we were there, Chi befriended each of them. [No doubt giving their moms a much needed break from entertaining them by running around the equipment]. I'm always impressed with how she understands they are smaller and more fragile and so she adapts her activities to what they are able to handle.Ya is getting older and much more interactive. This is the baby age I enjoy the most because I can see him learning, observing, and experimenting.

He reaches and grabs at everything. He's also experimenting with sitting up on his own, though I think he enjoys the position most because he can lean over into the position he'd rather be in (nope, doesn't roll over on his own despite massive efforts on his part).And because he's used to spinning and bouncing in his activity chair, he can be proped up for a few seconds for pictures like this one:And Chi, who is ever the watchful, protective, inclusive big sister, insisted on being able to take her baby down the slide. She relished in the responsibility of holding him tight as they quickly decended toward the ground. And of course, she commissioned her own photo of the experience (and held them still mid-slide) .

Passing time

In between Ya's weekly pediatrician visit and picking up Chi early for parent/teacher conference day and going to my scheduled conference, I am trying desperately to catch up on my scrapbooking. This is the quick page I want to finish in the next 10 minutes while Ya naps.

Then I'm going to comb through my blog entries (which seem to be readily available unlike my inspiration journal that is so elusive even though it is supposed to be carried around with me at all times...). I usually prefer to journal in my own handwriting because it is more "me," but with two books to work on these days, it is so much easier to cut paste and print my quickly typed daily musings.

I think I'll write my kids letters sometime this evening. Maybe while I'm with my homebound student tonight? I have to keep busy. Otherwise, I fall asleep at his table like a narcoleptic and wake up with a jolt as I nod too far forward. Thank God I don't drool unless I'm laying down, because that would be embarrassing.

Not Me Monday

I did not determine that the only way to be one of the first posters on MckMama's Mr. Linky was to spend 24-hours a day refreshing her page. I did decide it's just not that serious, and so I am content with being in the hundreds each week. I did not then race to her page and post my name first with a blank blog entry then return to type up what I had been planning in my head... because being in the 200 range is not cool :(

I do not suffer from serious blog envy when I surf through the many awesome sites people have out there. I do not secretly wonder if people are reading what I say about my kids and my life. I do not spend an unusual amount of time writing and editing my posts to ensure they are "worthy" of a read. I have not decided that every post needs a photo because it just looks better.

I did not throw a snow ball that landed right in my daughter's face. The one and only connect I make almost takes an eye out! How's that for aim?

I did not wish and pray for a snow day today, Monday, so that I didn't have to use more sick time to take Ya to another follow-up for the never ending cold/cough/breathing issues we have been dealing with. I swear I love when my baby is healthy.

I did not rush the kids to church on Friday to ensure that we were amongst those listed in the new directory. Laura was "in" the last one, but you can't see her there because she was in my belly :) We do not have a second photo to take with the extended family to add to the portrait wall in my parent's house. I cannot wait to see the new picture on the wall next to those of my parents, brothers, and I from so many years ago.

I did not get unnecessarily upset at Chi because she was not cooperative at Sears Portrait Studio yesterday. We do not take a new picture every time I go to pick up the prints because the 30 minute drive is not worth it unless we add extra tasks. Of course, each new picture adds a new trip, so it'll never end. But hey, at least one 8x10 is free each time, right?

I am not counting down the days until my Federal Tax Return money comes in so that I can register for a few classes at the Washington Institute of Photography. I am not already planning out my sitters and plotting how I can afford a few new camera accessories and flash set ups. I am not growing increasingly envious of those ubber-talented people out there already professionally working as lifestyle photographers.

I did not take a few minutes to ponder why there is always only one sock on my son's foot. I do not think that the missing sock has just decided to begin his travel early to that pkace the other single socks go when they leave their pairs during the wash cycle.

I was not amused at the "hyperactive" side effects of Huffenpuff on my son. I did not thoroughly enjoy playing airplane with him while he laughed and smiled and showed no signs of the health issues he's been battling lately. I did not wish I could see this side of him when he wasn't high on inhaled albuterol because I know this is his real personality shining through.

I am not more in love with my kids everyday :)

And now for Project 365:

Feb 2, 2009 (again): Trade

Huffenpuff... to help Ya breath

I am a paparazzo. I always keep my camera loaded and ready. Sometimes I am certain that Marq thinks I am crazy and insensitive. It was painful to capture this image of Ya, clearly distraught, getting his nebulizer treatment. See the little tear falling from his eye?
But as any true historian (aka scrap book artist, family journalist, memory catcher), these are the images and stories that must be captured to share real life. It's not always going to be a pretty picture. The story isn't always going to be heartwarming and happy. Sometimes, we suffer. Sometimes we hurt. Sometimes we are tested. But at all times, we put our faith in God's plan for us. We accept that there will be trials. And we appreciate the good times all the more because we've survived the bad.

Can You Capture a Personality

Everyone's a photographer these days... and suddenly I realize that what my Mama said is true: I take better pictures of my kids than the many department store style photo studios I've dragged them to. So what if they have strobe lights and backgrounds and seasonal props? They can't elicit the expressions I love so much. They fail to capture the essence of my babies. They just don't know how to give me what I want.

Today I stopped off at Sears to make use of the free 8x10 I get with my club card. It's the only reason I go. The poor lone photographer was cranky, overwhelmed, and hungry. She also had the withdrawal pangs of a pregnant woman trying to kick her menthol cigarette habit. How do I know this? I showed a little bit of patience and sympathy and she unloaded her frustrations. I admit that I am guilty of being one of the "walk in" sessions she seems to hate, but it's not often I can get the kids together enough for a portrait, let alone get the attitudes and protests squelched long enough to get anything done...

I took mental notes of the poses she placed a totally distracted Chi into. I watched her wheel the camera stabilizer around the 10x10 studio.
I took note of all the props that were not even offered to us for our sitting. And I accepted the rushed "effort" to snap 6 pictures for us to choose from so that she could leave early for lunch.

Now I know why I so love Lisa of Lisa Julia Photography - she listens, she senses, she operates on an instinct that only an artist poses. She captures my kids as I see them. She knows them and the photos show it. I cannot wait until I see her in March for Ya's Caterpillar to Butterfly session. She has, after all, known him since he was four days old.

But until I see her again, I'll keep snapping away. And here are three shots from my Project 365. One month down, 11 to go!