Oh yes, and a couple of nights ago, when I thought I’d seen my fill of barfpukevomitchunksrunnypoo… last night daughter child kept me awake after having spewed her supper down my front as we ran for the loo.  Somehow the stuff managed to not only seep through my pj top, but drain down my pants- I was picking bits out of my pubes if you get my drift- it was freaking EVERYWHERE!!

And in the meanwhile, husband, upstairs so as to monopolize his own loo, had bodily fluid, in all of its various forms, projectiley erupting from every possible orifice.

Lovely.

We did have a modified American Thanksgiving planned in honour of dear Filipes today:  two beer can chickens on the barbey, mashed potatoes, corn niblets, and my virgin foray into the world of StoveTop….

Ummmmmmmmm. Not so much.  Four down, just me and the dog to go….

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So, here I lay, on my couch… it is 1:58am and I enjoy the company of my dear Sally.  As well Tyrone, Uniqua, Austin and the other swell, wholesome little beasties that are the Backyardigans.  A gentle distraction from a 10-year-old’s crampi-hurliness… he’d love to be watching something else, but unfortunately basic cable is just not that child friendly at this hour of the morning….

Welcome to BarfBag Central… the home of puke anyway you like it.  On the couch.  On the coffee table.  Splattered across the floor… so very, very close to the bathroom.  And the cool of the so very welcoming receptacle that is the toilet.

This is the second afflicted.  Zippity Zip’s insides chose Sunday night at Gramps’ to let go their various contents… Boston Pizza, shrimp salad rolls and hot, buttery popcorn, over and over again.  Despite his love for launching himself into complete spazzdom when not allowed on the computer, he launches his chunks with very little drama.  A real trooper as he merely rolls over sleepily, repeatedly, with direct aim into the plastic lined wicker bin.  And then four hours of bile and dry heaves into a plastic bag on his lap, with nary a whimper, on the looooonnnnnngggg drive home from the city.

The ever sensitive Fidgey from her place in the back, holding her nose in over-acted disgust, “Ewwww… whaaaa-aaaaaat smellllllllllllllllsssssss, mummy?!”

Yeh.  Uh- huh.  And there go my hopes that it was just an anomoly with the middle child, as child #1 spews his Ichiban, grilled cheese and hot buttery popcorn from earlier.  And with not nearly the cool aplomb.

“Ohhhhhhhhh-uuuuuunnnnnggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!! Mummy!….. Muuuuuummmmmm-mmmmmmyyyyyy!  My tummmm-mmmmy huuuuurrrrrrtttsssssss………..!!!

No.  No aplomb whatsoever, cool or otherwise. Hence he and I lay on the sofa in the living room watching peppy kiddy fare awaiting the next onslaught.  After frequent trips to his bedroom, I finally lay down with Sally, encouraging him to read himself weary with my old Archie comics and then chat inanely in my half-sleep, trying to bore him into unconsciousness.  To no avail.  He finally suggested that the one thing that might lull him to comfort, and ultimately sleep, would be….

Ummmmm…. TV.

And yes, I bought it.  Fine.  Yes, let’s go. TV, surely, will ease your pain and send you drifting back to dreamland.  Whatever. Within mere moments of his settling back onto the fresh, clean fabric of my sofa… “Bllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeeeeecccccccccccccchhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Sofa.  Floor.  And then bucket.

And so… here I lay, enjoying the company of my dear Sally (now wide awake, I might add).  As well Tyrone, Uniqua, Austin and the other swell, wholesome little beasties that are the Backyardigans.

As I ponder… who next?  And when?!?!

Edited to add: 2:44am, re-run of Daily Show… he sleeps.

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And let’s just call me mostly innernet challenged.

Supposedly it’s the social networking wave of the present and future and I’m left back perpetually “behind the eight ball”- a direct quote from former highschool algebra teacher, referencing me and my efforts in 10/11/12th grade (thanks in perpetuity, Mr. K)- and I can’t seem to find my way in this brave, new world of keeping people constantly abreast of what, where, how I’m doing.

I. Just. Don’t. Get. It…

Posted my “tweet” and wondered, who, really, gives a damn…

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We’re about to get going for the BIG SWIM MEET in Calgary.  It should be a big weekend for Sally… he’s really taken off all of a sudden, so it’s all very exciting! I’ve promised him shrimp salad rolls, sushi and pizza.  Three nights in the city… it’s his weekend… he gets to pick dinners.

It will be a wonderful relief picking up Filipes on Monday… particularly after a weekend of entertaining Zip and Fidge for hours upon hours in a pool viewing area ALONE!

Anyways, in lieu of much else to say, I’ll let inventor of Freon, Charles Kettering, speak for me:

“Keep on going, and the chances are that you will stumble on something,
perhaps when you are least expecting it. I never heard of anyone ever
stumbling on something sitting down.”

Amen.

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I was up at 4:30 this morning.  Not that I’m bothered- I love an extra early morning- but I was being kicked and there were strong little legs draped across the bottom of my bed that with determined, yet sleepy, insistency kept forcefully lying atop my own, their bony lengths digging in, resting hard against my shins.  Without blankets, I might add.

To my left a warm little face, mouth agog, spewing hot dragon breath, forcing me to remain on my right side facing the fresh cool air of the side of my bed. Save for the visits of the Beast, and her own panting dragon-doggie breath in search of midnight reassurance strokes.  Yes, yes, I’m still here and I still love you… now go lay down!

On the far side of the bed another little form.  Tiny, wiry, but stretched perpindicular, feet pushing the other small, warm body with dragon breath ever closer.

Husband is gone for the week.  The three miscreants get to share my bed.  Despite the tangle of covers and limbs, the green cloud of sleepy, butt-breath and my space being reduced to a narrow strip along the outer most edge of my bed, I love it.

And while I do so enjoy the peace and productivity of an extra-early morning, by 7pm tonight I will be largely useless.

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Miss Fidge gave me a rush of joy, happiness and best of all peace, when I needed it last night.  It was a pleasure just to watch her… and shoot, of course.

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kirtsy-fifi, originally uploaded by tlcpix.

I loved Tracey’s post this morning… And while it may not be Oprah and it certainly isn’t the Kirtsy contest I wasn’t able to make the deadline for, this little moment came from trying to canoodle a Kirtsy out of a four year old who previously had no clue what a curtsy even was… but it’s a precious stop on this journey that is my life as photographer and more importantly mother.
Like I said, the deadline came and went but we had a ball practicing what was once a regular part of girlhood…

She’d sleep in this tutu if I let her…

More best shots over at Mother May I!

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This weekend marked a definite milestone in our family… Gramps turned 90!  And four generations turned out to celebrate.

He’s a spry, rather odd old bird and as the years pass, so too does his desire to be alone.  He’s liking us all better and better and the solitary curmudgeon of the past has been replaced by an affable feller who likes to shoot the shit, trade war stories and make a few bad jokes.  Chuckles wildly when he hears one, too.

We love this Grandpa… not that we didn’t love the old one, but this one’s a whole lot easier to spend time with.  He’ll likely never see this post, but I wanted to honour him anyways, publicly… and where better than on this big ol’ innernet?!?!

These images are also a nice way to honour November in b&w over at Springtree Road….

Oh… and did I mention he hates to open gifts in front of people?  Heh.  Somehow, despite his chagrine at being the centre of attention most of the evening, he managed to endure….

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who? me?, originally uploaded by tlcpix.

This little turkey had to be the best kid shoot in quite some time. Little Carson. A total doll. He was just a joy and he wouldn’t stop moving… all energy and smiles. I wish I could say my own miscreants had been so durn easy going at this age…. ummmmm. Nope. Resounding nope.
So this little dude was so appreciated… on what was a rainy, nasty day he was just pure BLISS!

I snapped relentlessly… hundreds of exposures. What was really a family sitting turned into all Carson… all the time. And his parents were thrilled.

Oh so many years ago, when my own photographic aspirations were still but a seed… a dream… wishes and unicorns… at a meeting to discuss our wedding coverage, I assured the photographer we hired that the ceremony would be outdoors and he could feel free to “snap away”….
Down his bulbous nose he glared, “I don’t snap.”
Pretentious ass… but to his credit, that moment helped direct me professionally: I’m a “snapper”… I just snap, snap, snap and snap some more. And you know what? All that snapping gets me some purdy good images… so proud snapper am I….

Right Carson?

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chabot_bridge_004, originally uploaded by tlcpix.

Just a little post about the sweeeeeeet couple I shot November 1st. Lovely. So young. And sooooo purty!!

I am struck at most of the weddings of young people I attend- I shoot second and third timers too… not so young- at how these kids are just starting out.  It takes me back every time.

I was 25, it seems very young to me, now… and I was with the love of my life.  We had the world and the seemingly endless years before us… it was just a wonderful time.

I’m happy to say that after 14 years, it still is.  Better, even.  And while there are many years behind us, I still feel that there are seemingly endless years before us.  They’re just moving faster!

Good luck to Mitch and Brienne and to all my other couples of 2008.  May you have the best, albeit most challenging, years together life has to offer!!

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