Swing away

Thanks to a combination of luck and timing and generous grandparents Elle now has her own playset in the backyard.  This is pretty much the greatest thing that Elle has going on in her life right now.  She loves that playset.  It's got two swings, a glider, a slide, monkey bars and a play area covered by a canopy.

By far her favorite part of the playset is the swings.  The day after we got the playset put together she woke me up at six in the morning asking if she could go swinging.  She doesn't care how hot it is outside, she'll go out at all hours of the day and swing, swing, swing.  She comes in every so often for a new coating of sunscreen and to cool off but then she's right back out there again.

She likes to swing with her eyes shut.  Sometimes I'll be out working in the garden and I can hear the rhythmic "squeak, squeak, squeak" of the swingest and then her little voice joining in to sing to go with the rhythm.  Yesterday I heard her singing "Bad Romance".  I held my hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh.  She didn't notice me watching her.  Her eyes were screwed tightly shut.  Her hair was coming loose from her pony tail and blowing around her face.  Her long legs moved forward and backwards in time.  Suddenly she cried "I'm swinging higher than I ever dreamed possible!"

Swing away baby.  Swing away.

Three years ago today I had a blogging problem.
Four years ago today I reviewed Harry Potter. Sorta.

Sliding into manual mode

I have been struggling and stressing and fighting to understand the manual mode on my camera for a while now. The fact it, it all just sounds too much like math to me.  I feel like I almost have a grip on the concept but then it just slips out of my hands and I'm back where I started from.

For some reason though something clicked for me yesterday.  All of the sudden it started making sense.  Oh don't get me wrong, I still have a lot to learn and I need a ton of practice but it feels so empowering to be able to turn the little dial from A to M on my camera.

Yesterday I took a few pictures of Elle using only the manual setting and I was pretty pleased with the results. (You can see them here but be aware blogger reduces photo quality something fierce.)  I have learned two things about shooting in manual:

1) I CAN do it and it's not nearly as scary as it seems at first.

2) I really need a pedicure done by someone other than a five year old.



One year ago today I played in the ocean with my kids.
Four years ago today I wrote a post about body image and MTV that to this day gets tons of traffic.

A totally random story

When we went to California last year we spent a day at the San Diego zoo.  It must have been the annual "Weird Guys Get In Free" day because every five minutes Jesse and I were having to look at each other with eyes that seemed to say "Oh my god, did you see what that guy just did?!?"

There was a family reading the bible as they walked from exhibit to exhibit. ("Look children!  These are the wild boars.  These are one of five animals mentioned by name in the bible.  Oh look!  I opened my bible to exactly the right page!  What a blessing!*  Let's read shall we?)  There was a guy who kept trying to introduce the animals to his daughter. (Koala!  Koala!  Look over here koala!  This is Ella!  Say hi to Ella!  Koala! Look over here at Ella!  Look koala!  Ella!")  There was the guy who tried to imitate animal noises and when he got the the kangaroos he yelled "HOP HOP HOP HOP HOP HOP HOP HOP HOP" until a zoo keeper came out and told him to stop.

The weirdest though was a guy standing next to me looking at the lions.  There was a whole crowd gathered around because a lioness was right up against the glass and everyone was trying to look at her.  The guy next to me did this non-stop running monologue that went something like this: "WOW!  Look at that!  Would you just look at that beautiful bitch lion!  What a gorgeous bitch! I've never seen a bitch lion this close before!  How amazing!  The bitch lions never come this close to the glass!  It's so rare to see the bitch lions like this!  What a beautiful bitch she is!"

He said it enough that I started to question if maybe I was wrong in thinking a female lion was called a lioness so I pulled out my phone and googled "is a female lion called a bitch" and then the internet said "it's a lioness dumbass" and I felt stupid.  But not as stupid as the guy calling the lioness a "bitch lion".

Bitch, please. 

*I think it was less a blessing and more of the fact that the had a bookmark holding his place.

Facebook is so gay

To really understand the beauty of this story you have to understand Joseph.  I have raised him to be open and accepting and there is not a single part of him that is hateful or judgmental.  What he said in this story was not a joke.  It was an an honest attempt to answer his own question and figure out one of the touchier points of social interactions. 

"How do you know if someone is gay?" Joseph asked me.

"Hmmmm..." I responded, stalling for time as I tried to best form an answer he would understand.

He continued.  "I know that if like two men or two women are married then they're gay but how can you tell if you just met them?"

"Well buddy, there are maybe a few things that might give you a clue someone is gay but every person is different and -" I started but then he cut me off.

"Could you look them up on facebook?" he asked.  "Like if you looked up Bob and it said 'spouse - John' then you would know he was gay?"

I choked back a laugh. "Yes, I suppose that would do it."

Joseph continued.  "And you could look at their status updates?  Maybe it would say something like 'Bob is bein' gay!" or "Bob is gaying like no one has ever gayed before!' then you would know they were gay?"

On one hand I am a little disturbed by how well Joseph understands how facebook works.  On the other hand, I kind of want to get "Bob is bein' gay!" printed onto a t-shirt. 

One year ago today I went to New York.

Almost like a business plan

So, um, I started a business.  Kinda.

In this modern age with the facebook and the twitter and the google+ all one really needs to do to start a business is log onto their social network of choice and declare "I HAVE STARTED A BUSINESS!"*

So a couple of days ago I logged onto facebook and declared that I am now a business owner.  Then I curled up in a ball and spent the day trying not to vomit and thinking maybe I should call the whole thing off.

You see, I feel like saying "Please like my business and perhaps choose to utilize my services" feels a lot like I'm saying "Here's my heart!  Feel free to stomp all over it and mock me!"  I tend to take things a little personally.

But, if I don't challenge myself and I don't take chances then I am never going to grow.  And I do want to grow.  And grow in new and exciting ways that don't involve my ass.  So please, if you are so inclined please check out my new project Heartland Photography and maybe click the "like" button or repost or retweet or whatever it is the young people are doing these days.  I'm just starting out and fumbling my way through this but I love photography and I think I have some fun, original ideas on how to make this business work and the support of my bloggy buddies means the world to me.

Thank you to the moon and back.

*That makes me think of The Office when Michael stands in the middle of the office and yells "I declare ... BANKRUPTCY" which was one of the funnier moments ever on the show and now I can't hear the word "bankruptcy" without thinking of it.

Three years ago today I tracked the Wild Asshat.
Four years ago I was a germaphobe.  Ahahahahaha.

Not babies any more

Yesterday Elle lost her second tooth.  She was brushing her teeth and she felt something fall out of her mouth but she thought it was a drop of water.  When she came to me so I could check her teeth over I said "Oh Elle!  Where's your tooth?" and calm as could be she walked back to the bathroom, picked the tooth up off of the floor and said "I knew I dropped something."
No big deal, no drama.  Just "Oh yeah, this piece of proof of my babyhood just feel out onto the bathroom floor.  Whatever."  She's really not a baby any more.

Joseph turned 11 this past weekend.  He's firmly settled into the teen years now and he's got the attitude and the first tiny pimple to prove it.  He's trying so hard to be independent.  At least he thinks he is.  He told me the other day that he doesn't have to listen to me any more because he's independent and when you're independent you only do what you want to do and could I please make him some lunch?  I guess he's not yet old enough to have figured out the concept of irony.

So grown up!  My babies aren't babies any more!  They're like little adults.

On the other hand.... Yesterday I was upstairs and I heard a loud thump come from the downstairs family room.  Before I could ask what was wrong Elle yelled up "It's ok Mama!  I jumped off the furniture and I didn't get hurt ... much.  I just think I broke my leg bone just a little bit! I'll shake it off and take two or maybe three deep breaths."

Later the same day Joseph and I were discussing how we had run into a friend of his from school at the grocery store. He said "I like her.  She's nice and she always has interesting things to talk about.  She knows a lot of stuff and she can talk to people about anything.  It's nice to have a person like that in your group of friends because she makes everyone in the group feel more comfortable."  And as I'm thinking how impressive it is that my Aspie is making such great, astute observations he finishes off with "I don't like her new haircut through.  It makes her look like a pharmacist."

Maybe not all the way grown up yet.

Two years ago today I got pissy about cake.
Four years ago people asked stupid questions about adoption.

Parenting is hard and we all make mistakes so don't laugh at this guy

Every so often I am overwhelmed with the amount of responsibility I have for my children.  And not in a "Oh my god, I can't believe how all I do all day is take care of these kids and I can't do it any more!" way but in a "Oh my god, I have so much power in their little lives and I can't screw this up because I don't want them to be criminals someday." kind of way.

It's kind of a big deal, this parenting gig.  You try so hard to do everything right but the fact is that everyone who parents is doing SOMETHING wrong.  We're too cautious, we're not cautious enough.  We push too hard, we don't push hard enough.  We put strict limits on screen time and junk food, we say "Go watch Dora so I can edit some pictures and here's an ice cream sandwich for lunch.  Don't tell grandma."

So knowing that most of us are doing the best we can and that we all occasionally screw up I try hard not to judge when I see parents doing things a little differently than me.  Sometimes though ... sometimes I see parents doing things that make me think "Oh come on buddy!  Are you for real?"

At soccer yesterday there was a little boy on the opposing team who had no interest at all in being there or playing soccer.  He sat down in the grass.  He wandered around.  He picked his nose.  He looked bored.  Every so often his dad would call to him "Come on!  Get out there and play!  Run!  Run!  Run!" 

The little boy would whine "I caaaaaaannn't!" or "I'm toooooo hooooot!" or "It's hard!  The balls don't come to meeeeeee!" 

This was clearly bothering the dad.  He started to get antsy.  "There!  There!  Get that ball there!  Go! Come one! Run!" ( In Elle's soccer program they throw like five balls on the field at a time so that everyone gets a chance to play and kick the ball.  I call it the No Hurt Feelings League.)

Anxious dad got more and more worried as his son refused to play.  He started pacing.  "THERE!  THAT BALL RIGHT THERE!  GET IT!  RUUUUUUUUN!"  All the other parents started to look at him and exchange glances with each other.  A woman near me muttered to no one in particular "Way to have a stroke over pre-school soccer."

All of the sudden anxious dad ran on to the field.  He scooped up an used ball.  He ran over to his kid and said proudly "Here, I got you a ball!  Kick this one!"  And he stood back and looked really pleased with himself as his kid whined his disinterest and sort of took a half hearted swipe at the ball.

Anxious dad started to walk away but then ... he paused.  And picked up another ball to bring to his kid.  And then another.  And another.  And another.  So now in addition to a dozen four and five year olds on the field there was a full grown man running around and scooping up balls.  It was not ridiculous at all.  Each time he would bring his son a ball he look so pleased with himself, like a cat presenting it's owner with a dead mouse.

Now the kid still didn't want to be there or to kick the balls that were being brought to him.  He was just getting more and more annoyed.  Elle started to take an interest in the whole thing though.  She watched for a moment and then a smile spread slowly across her face. 

I don't know if I've ever told you this but I think Elle is part evil genius.  She went over to the disinterested kid and as soon as anxious dad set a ball down Elle swooped in and kicked it away.  She kicked it down the field and then ran back to get another ball.  She kept doing it.  Every time anxious dad tried to give his son a ball to kick Elle would run over and kick it away. 

Anxious dad was not pleased and at one point he looked over at me like he wanted help dealing with my out of control child.  I pretended I didn't see him.  Thankfully the whistle blew soon after and ended the game.  Anxious dad walked off the field.  He was red faced and sweaty.  Disinterested kid remained disinterested.

So, see?  We can't judge. We all make mistakes.  Some of us get totally owned by a feisty red headed five year old.  Some of us sit back and laugh quietly while it happens.  None of us are perfect.

Three years ago today my kids were chums.

Sometimes I can't keep quiet

I don't want to take Elle to soccer practice any more. 

This past Sunday I took Elle to a birthday party.  It was awkward and uncomfortable and weird for a lot of reasons.  I suppose the worst part was about five minutes in when the mother of the birthday girl started telling a story about how she tried to cause herself to miscarry when she was pregnant (with the birthday girl herself.)  While that's a fun little story to share among family and friends it seems like an odd choice to announce stuff like that to a group of total strangers.  Especially when the attempt resulted in your child being born extremely premature and having life long effects on her health.

I think it goes without saying that leaving Elle at the party was not an option.  So I stayed and felt icky and kept an eye on all the other kids because no one else was and it seems like maybe letting a bunch of four and five years olds run around unsupervised is not the best idea in the world.  Not as bad as punching yourself in the stomach and not seeking medical attention when you start to bleed but I digress.

So after Sunday I was kind of topped off in the bad parenting department.  That will be enough for now thank you very much!

Then I took Elle to soccer on Monday.  During the game there was a random little girl running around on the field who looked like she was maybe just barely three years old.  She kept trying to pick up the ball and run away with it.  No one stepped in to take her off the field.  At one point she came over to me and told me she cut her finger.  I looked but it didn't look cut so I suggested she find her mom or dad and ask for help.  She said "My mom and dad aren't here.  Just Kristin." and she gestured across the field to a woman talking on her phone and paying no attention at all to the baby in her care who was an entire soccer field away from her talking to a stranger.  I suggested she go to Kristin for help and she wandered away from me.

I watched the little girl as she crossed the field.  Then she crossed another field.  Then another.  Then another.  Then another.  I could see her bright green shirt become a tiny dot as she walked all the way across the soccer complex.  I kept one eye on her and one on Kristin who never once looked to see where he charge had gone to.

The soccer fields we go to are at the top of a large hill and to get to the parking lot you have to walk down the hill with woods on either side of the path.  The little green dot started to head over to the path and I was just about to run over and get her when Kristin started to look around.  She looked casually at first, in no hurry.  She started to walk around the field slowly.  She looked unconcerned and didn't end her phone call.  The green dot paused by the port-a-potties.  Kirstin circled over to my side of the field and finally ended her phone call.  She looked confused.  The green dot started to move closer to the path.

Now let me clarify here that Kristin was not a young girl.  She was a woman at least the same age as me and certainly old enough to know better than to totally ignore the very young child she's supposed to be watching.  I don't know if she was a step-mother or a day care lady or an aunt or a family friend but she was doing a crap-ass job of watching the kid and it pissed me off.

Kristin called to a kid on the field "Where's your sister?"  Because of course the five year old playing soccer is going to be able to tell you the lost kid is.  The soccer player did not know of course.  The green dot started to head down the path.

"Are you looking for the little girl in green?" I called to Kristin.

"Yeah?" She looked surprised.

"She came over to me before. She said her finger was cut.  Then she walked away and now she's going down by the parking lot."

Now a flash of annoyance.  "She came to me twice for her finger too.  It wasn't cut."

"Yeaaaaah, that's not really the point. I didn't see anyone watching her and I think she was just looking for someone to help her." I replied as I watched the green dot pause again.

Kirstin started to slowly move away.  She muttered something under her breath and called for the green dot's sister to get off the field and come with her.

I should have sat back down and shut up.  I should have kept it to myself.

I should not have yelled at her back as she walked away "Maybe if you had been watching her instead of talking on your phone this wouldn't have happened!"

She didn't say anything but I know she heard me because I, um, yelled it and it saw her pause and stiffen up.

I'm not exactly sorry I said it (although I probably could have done it without yelling it at her as she walked away) and I don't think I was wrong.  I just think that the rest of this soccer season could get awkward.  Twice I week I'll have to see this woman and her non-child-watching-ass.  Oy.  The really sad thing is that this is not the first time I've yelled at another parent during a kids sports practice.  (Seriously, it's not.)  I'm just so good at making friends!

I don't want to take Elle to soccer practice anymore.