Last Friday night I tentatively put my camera in Livia’s hands and she took this shot:
It’s a Mom Shot, through and through. Not only can I see myself 100% as Mom in this photo, but, due to the sweater’s cowl neck, I think I look like my own mom back in the 80’s. I love it… Mommy through Liv’s eyes.
After Labor Day it’s Birthday Extravaganza in our household. Auntie Bean, Grandma, Daddy, Uncle Noonee and Madeleine. I believe the month of September is full now, thank you very much, and all future Tredways and Lawtons ought to carry birthdates from one of the other eleven months. That being said, it’s fun to buy cards and presents for all the adults before capping off the month with a kid celebration for Madeleine.
The following shots are from my niece’s birthday party. She turned charming, vivacious three. (Forgive me, Evil Uncle Adam & Kristen, for posting a snotty nose pic. I love it though.)
Then find a piece of stationery, lined paper, graphing paper, recycled paper, back of a receipt, whatever you can find…
And write someone a letter. A love letter. An I’m sorry letter. A letter of thanks. A note to say how missed they are. A tale of your day, the weather or what your Great Aunt Bertha or coworker or creepy dude on the playground actually said to you last week. A rhymed couplet, scripture verse or haiku would be lovely as well.
I’m not posting again until ten people have commented that they’ve written and mailed a real, honest-to-goodness letter.
God bless you. Long live snail mail.
The Sunken Gardens really are phenomenal right now. (Or at least they were gorgeous two days ago when we visited. It’s since gotten pretty chilly in the mornings, but no frost yet.)
The flowers and bushes are at their peak of beauty, their enormous blooms almost hide garden paths from view. A few months ago I could see little heads pretty much anywhere in the park, but Monday I had a hard time keeping an eye on Livia while shooting various blossoms.
It’s no wonder Claude Monet painted water lilies. I was captured by these purple flowers in particular and wanted to preserve them just the way they were that afternoon, with the sun glowing brilliantly on the purple petals.
It’s time to play princesses. Time to get out the beads & slippers, the tiaras & boas.
It’s time to share. To trade. To wait five minutes and then be gracious.
It’s time to learn. About bugs, about dogs, about following directions.
It’s time to snack. Slices of apples, slices of cheese. More slices of apples.
Finally, it’s time to go home. Another day, another playdate.
ARRRRRing
AHOYing and
MATEYing for Talk Like a Pirate Day and now
Pondering whether or not Jeremy the Lego Pirate is the reason our tub is clogged.
Drinking Good Earth Decaf Tea because my throat is a little sore.
Expecting a cold front next week and, for the first time in perhaps my entire life,
Looking forward to cold temperatures and not just
Mourning the end of summer.
Feeling sorry for my little girl who is not feeling so hot and went to bed early.
Rejoicing for friends who adopted a baby girl yesterday (!!!) and
Asking the Lord to bring more babies to those who want them so badly.
Getting used to my new haircut and
Trusting others that I don’t look like a soccer mom or Janine Turner (even though she’s lovely).
Loving my mom and mother-in-law more all the time and
Appreciating all they’ve given to their children over the years.
Praying I will give of myself more selflessly than I did today.
Looking forward to writing more (freelance) and
Learning more as a photographer.
Planning to continue sharing the fruits of my labors here with you all.
Saying “goodnight” and “God bless” and “Land ho!”
I have other blog posts in mind. But frankly, they all require too much time and forethought. So instead I’ll post a photo of my dog.
In this pic his fur is unkempt. He’s quite dirty. He’s dog tired. And yet I still think he’s the cutest pooch on the planet. That’s what love does apparently—it blinds you into believing your dog (or more frequently, your child) is the cutest, best, brightest creature on the planet. That’s what I think until Shiloh puts his paws up on the coffee table and licks Livia’s apple slices. Then he’s not so cute.
Shiloh-lito.
Shilozers.
Al Poochino.
Poochy-poochers.
I love my pup.
“Game over, man!” the video game hollers when Livia’s round is over. She is sitting next to me at the dueling computers on my desk. Old iMac versus Mac Mini with the iMac serving in its retirement years as Liv-typewriter-and-game-console.
“GAME OVER, MAN!” Liv is pretty good at this game. So far she’s clicking away silently until now. She picks up on the lingo and begins shooting it back to the screen:
“Sweet, man!” my little girl starts to exclaim.
“Whatcha doing, dude?!”
“I’m gonna getcha, man!”
And then the clencher: “You PISSED ME OFF, man!”
Uh. Wait a minute! Hello! A conversation takes place in front of paused screens. Apparently, Livia doesn’t know it was an, ahem, inappropriate phrase. She can’t even recall where she got it from—and considering her elephantine memory, I believe her.
Corrected, she goes back to the game and I return to my own screen, both cringing and laughing inside, knowing full well where she could have picked up the phrase.
Little pitchers, big ears, yada yada yada. Ah, the life of a mom.
