Saturday, January 14, 2012

An Interview!

Given by myself, to myself! Some people think that’s sad. . . . Others think it’s AWESOME!

Question numero UNO: Do you ever look at a picture and think “This seems like a different time; or, like, maybe a fairytale?”

Answer: Yes, sometimes I do. Like these ones of Goldie that I took just before the sun was totally gone on Sunday (and just before the two of us headed off to her “It’s Great to be Eight” fireside).
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Those two kind of made me feel like I was minding my own business, taking a boring old picture of a few trees by a shed when, suddenly, a ghost appeared in the shots! A darling little girl ghost. Of course, my mind might have been set on that path by the fact that the first shot I took I accidentally blurred ridiculously, so Goldie really did look like a ghostly apparition.

And then there were these. Surely it is some sort of Goldie Locks/Snow White moment we have just chanced upon!
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Of course, that means those old apples would have to be . . . POISONOUS, naturally.
IMG_1287_edited-1(Oh come on, enough with the trendiness of leaving a little color in an otherwise black-and-white picture! I know. I know. I can’t help it sometimes. Trying trendiness. Especially when poisonous apples are involved. Especially then.)

Question numero DOS: Do you have any Valentine’s decorations?

Answer: Yes. Yes we do. We have exactly . . . one. This here wreathe.
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Don’t let yourself believe though that I didn’t take full photographic advantage of getting that one small wreathe on our door!
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Again, Nancy? With the color thing?

Yes. I know. Sorry. I don’t have a whole lot of tricks in my, rather lacking, editing bag. But here. Here we went a little craaazy with the one Valentine decoration and bright afternoon light.
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Question numero TRES: So, sure, we see plenty of those daughters of yours in photos (though we understand Daisy mostly refused to put down her book to help hang the Valentine wreathe), and more than a fair amount of that baby son of yours (who, let’s face it, has no say in the matter), but don’t you have two other sons?

Answer: Yes. It’s true. But the middle son. The one we’ll just call Jesse (you know, because that’s his name), well, he won’t even consider ever pausing or looking at the camera or . . . any type of movement that doesn’t end up in the pictures I take of him mostly only showing the top of his head.
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Or, if you are super SUPER lucky, a small glimpse of part of the side of his face, or a distorted view of him in a giant ornament (like Mike caught here).
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But we can easily make up in words what we lack in photos when it comes to this kid. For example, it has come to his recent attention that we don’t call each other stupid. Nay, not only do we not call each other stupid, but we never SAY stupid at all – under any circumstances.

If someone had asked me, prior to this point, if I heard the word “stupid” often in my day to day life, I would have said no. However, I would have been mistaken. Apparently “stupid” is being said left and right. LEFT AND RIGHT! (I know because Jesse is given cause to condemn its use daily.)

In fact, recently, it was heard from the pulpit at church. TWICE. (If you can imagine.) The first time, when the speaker mentioned a “stupid” thing he’d done as a kid, Jesse perked right up. “We don’t say stupid!” he said, rather loudly, “We never NEVER say stupid!”

Luckily only a few of those nearest by heard his outburst of righteous fury. He was slightly less contained, however, upon the speaker using the word again at a later point. “UUUGGHHHH!” He practically yelled, “We don’t say stupid AGAIN!”

I can’t be certain whether the speaker heard or not, but I will say that he definitely did not say “stupid” again.

I can only wish Jesse felt as strongly about other things that we don’t do. For example, it would be music to my ears to hear him insisting that we “don’t take vacuums apart piece by piece”.

Question numero QUATRO: Alright. That explains why we don’t see as many pictures of him, but what about your treasured oldest son?

Answer: Hmm. Well. Yes, him. He is treasured, I assure you, and it only bothers Mike and I a little bit that at 11 he is besting us both in the smarts department. Well, perhaps it bothers Mike more than me. I only grumbled a little when Abe and I played a brain teaser game that would show bubbles with numbers in them for a second before the bubbles would go blank and you’d have to recall the numbers well enough to click on them in ascending order, and Abe beat me each and every time. But when he beat Mike at Chess the other night, Mike said that he was banning Abe from Chess for a year while he (Mike) went to Chess school.

But, on to pictures. Sure I might catch him doing his thing – like crashing on his sled the other morning.
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But if I actually request his presence in a picture, it goes something like this:
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”Mommm, I just don’t really get what you are asking me to do.”

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“Mom, please can I just be done now.”

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“Fine. Is this what you want?”

Me: “Well, no. Not exactly. Nice try. Go on then. Go back to clicking on bubbles in ascending order.”

Question numero SINCO: Have you ever particularly liked a sign?

Answer: Funny you should ask. Yes, I like stop signs. I kind of want to be a stop sign.
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I didn’t realize this until I was looking at those bubble blowing pictures of my kids the other day and noticed that I especially liked the photos that inadvertently ended up with a stop sign in the background. But, to be honest, interviewer, that was a weird question to have asked.

Question numero SEIS: Well, wait a minute here. Do you or do you not like interviewing yourself?

Answer: Yes. Actually, I do. I take it back about that being a weird question. Well done, interviewer.

The end.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Part of Me

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I recently read a blog post that said something like: having a baby is like meeting a part of yourself you didn’t know existed. I liked that. Look at this little soul!
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For years upon years I lived, quite happily, not knowing about this part of me.
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And now that he is here? It all seems so obvious. Clearly I wasn’t complete with out him! How did I go about existing when, if he left now, I would continue life with a giant canon-ball size hole through my body, heart and soul?IMG_1368_edited-1IMG_1396_edited-2

Who knows, but I can’t imagine a life without early mornings of unwrapping his swaddled blanket to free his chubby, soft and rather white legs; or without seeing Ander’s face go from curious concentration to a huge smile that affects his arms and legs when Mike talks to him; or without being able to study his tiny fingers. No no. It simply couldn’t be borne.
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Sunday, January 8, 2012

Jokes on Me

Remember how on Friday I wrote about it being spring here? Remember how I worried winter might overhear and not like it one bit? Ha! The VERY next morning I woke to this:
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Oh Winter. You little trickster you.

Ah well. Spring-like weather is rather lovely, but I welcome you and your snowy ways all the same. My kids need to get more use out of their new sleds anyway.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Blowing Bubbles

Is it just my imagination, or did I just post a picture of my husband and kids riding their bikes the other day . . . in Utah . . . in December? Yes, I believe I did. We’ve had no more than a tiny sprinkling of snow this season (which probably isn’t great for Utah’s occasional drought concerns), but it has been kind of lovely outside. Cold off and on, sure, but also . . . very . . . not cold. My kids did indeed spend most of their Christmas break out riding their bikes. We even had a record breaking 57 degree day. All in all, it feels much more like the early beginnings of spring than the throws of winter. Typing that made me suddenly feel a bit nervous, like maybe winter overheard and is plotting a mid January revenge. In the mean time: early January 2012:
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I won’t pretend that I don’t oft times go overboard on photo sharing here. I know it. But how can it be helped?
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I realized the other day that my blog has evolved quite a bit since I started it back . . . oh, whenever I started it. And that makes sense because I’ve evolved too. Initially it was more just for the fun of writing. I do enjoy writing and I think my posts were often meant more to entertain others or simply to ramble something fun than to keep memories. However, as I’ve stacked my little printed blog books one after another up on my mantle, I have begun to care more about recording things that I want to remember; things I want my kids to be able to look back at, and, I realize, that many of those things are the very sorts of things that are not really of interest to the common reader (common reader? Huh?), but I don’t mind really. I don’t even mind if blogs completely fade away so long as I keep having a good format to make my little books. (And I don’t know why I am so sure that a printed book will last longer than something on the internet . . . I guess it depends on which I think is more likely a) my house burning down with photo albums, journals, blog books, etc. all caught up in the flames; or b) the modern world ending and all modern things like electricity, internet, etc. failing us. Hmm. It looks like I’m planning on horrible events of a more apocalyptic nature. Or perhaps I just really like flipping through books.)

Anyway, I’ve also learned a fair amount about photography the last year or two, and while I still know very little compared to what there is to know, it has become very satisfying to be able to capture more moments with my kids the way I want to capture them. Which might explain all the overabundance of photos I put on here these days. But, I’ve noticed something that I think is very good for me at this stage of my life. I’ve mentioned that recording little things my kids do, Mike says, etc. makes me appreciate the normal day to day happenings in my existence. Well, I’ve realized that taking pictures does that for me as well. When I was out yesterday watching my kids blow bubbles, trying to snap a photo right as someone reached for or blew the perfect bubble, it felt like magic – having these little people, watching them enjoy something as simple as bubble blowing. And I don’t know if I would have even gone outside to watch them, or watched them how I did if I hadn’t been trying to capture the moment through my lens. I really think it has been another means of helping me in my goal (that is constantly needing to be resolved upon again as I forget and fail) to enjoy now and enjoy the tiny normal moments that currently make up my life.

So, there you have it. I’ll post all the bubble blowing pictures I want to!
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How about just . . . ummm . . . five more?
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With all that said, I don’t intend to imply that this blog is now solely for recording family goings on. Oh no. I reserve the right to write any ridiculous thing that strikes my fancy at any time . . . simply because I like to.

The End.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Maybe if they try hard enough . . .

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they’ll be able to get through the mirror to that room and mom on the other side – the room and mom that look remarkably similar to the room and mom on this side of the mirror.

A Little Piece of “Life is Pretty Good” Captured Outside My Bedroom Window on a Recent Afternoon

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Tuesday, January 3, 2012

THREE MONTHS

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Today marks Anders’ three month birthday. He gave me his first honest-to-goodness real laughs to celebrate the occasion! I was being so clearly funny, what with my “guhs” and “ohs” and “boos” and my kissing him on his neck right between his chubby cheek and chubby shoulder, that his laugh seemed the completely obvious and natural response. So much so that I had to stop and say, “Hey! Wait a minute! You haven’t actually done that before, have you! That was your first real laugh!!” Then I fell to kissing him rather voraciously again.

Sometimes I still think having a baby is a little hard, but other times I think, “WHAT ON EARTH!!! This baby business is absolutely the greatest thing EVER!!” I’m feeling that way very definitely on this, Ander’s three month birthday!

Side note: when I told Penny that Anders was three months old today, she just said, “Huh? Then why can’t he even talk?” I forgot there was a time when weeks, months and years all meant the same thing to me.

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And, this has nothing to do with Anders, but these girls are just so . . . hmm . . . what’s the word . . . CUTE? Yes, cute. That sounds right.

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