the boy | matching tracksuits

All Day

Saturday 25 May 2013 | 0 Comments

Saturday morning, blue sky, cup of coffee, 10-20mm wide-angle lens on the back deck. A day like this calls for outside work: the three unfinished Leyland cypresses do too.

Then again, the Boy looks spectacular, and I consider taking him out to hit the links, only to remember that I don’t play golf.

Nor do I play tennis. My tennis racket has been pressed into carpenter-bee-launching duty and the only tennis balls I have are on the bottoms of the legs of the thirty-odd desks in my classroom.

Such a beautiful day, though. It calls for time outside. It calls for walks. It calls for coffee on the back porch.

What such a start doesn’t call for is time spent waiting for someone to rotate my tires only to leave just as they pull my little Jetta into to garage, but that’s just what happens. And that’s okay. Not at first, but eventually — wasted time is lost time, and it irritates me.

Still, the trees are patient.

By the time I get back to the deck again to take the “after” shot, it’s past nine. Dark, quiet, still. The kids are in bed; the day is over — only one thing remaining: document the day.

And then I discover 147Trance’s YouTube channel, and before I know it, it’s past midnight. Technically, I skipped a day. Well, somewhere it’s still the twenty-fifth…

Perspective

Thursday 23 May 2013 | 1 Comment

Two stories from our home state of South Carolina tonight. One, a story of a complete lack of self-control and the brutal consequences for one toddler:

A Columbia woman has been arrested after a 2-year-old boy in her care died last weekend.

Police said Thursday that 34-year-old Margie Hamm had been charged with homicide by child abuse.

Authorities say Hamm slammed the boy's head into a bathtub faucet while she was babysitting him May 18. (Source)

It's hard not to be depressed about humanity and enraged about this woman's evil impulsive behavior at the same time. It's hard to live in a world where solders walking down the street in their home town get attacked and beheaded, where little children have their skulls crushed against the hunks of metal, where various and sundry evils surround us, and not be depressed about the state of humanity.

Then there's the other story in South Carolina: in Greenville this evening, sixty-four eighth graders and high school seniors received ACE (Advocates for Character and Education) Awards, which are intended to be recognition for "students who do amazing things in their schools and communities but are not necessarily recognized for their efforts and achievements." These are kids who help the elderly and homeless, who stand up to bullies in their schools, who say to peers "this is wrong" and set a better example. These are kids who make a difference, some of whom have more courage at their age than I still have at my age.

I was honored to receive an invitation from M, one of my own students, a young lady who represented our school at the awards and who has consistently show maturity beyond her years in my classroom. She received one extra ticket to give to someone outside her family, and she gave it to me. K and I were planning on going to a Carolina Chocolate Drops concert tonight, but when I received the ticket last week and realized the significance of her decision, there was no way I could go to some silly concert.

So knowing that there are kids like M in the world makes it a little easier to live in world filled with Margie Hamms, Michael Abdebolajos, and similar ilk.

Untitled

Wednesday 22 May 2013 | 1 Comment

An unconnected series of photos of the evening.

Perhaps we could search for a theme, like “growth.”

Then again, that’s a catch-all theme when you have a six-year-old and a twelve-month-old.

Growth is every day.

Blooms happen regularly.

Toddler Cure

Thursday 16 May 2013 | 2 Comments

When you have a toddler in the house, you have to let go of some of those little OCD ticks, like making sure all the books are neatly arranged on the shelves.

Big Sister

Wednesday 15 May 2013 | 2 Comments

There's a certain point, I think, when an older sister becomes a big sister. It might be soon after the birth of little brother; it might take a few years. Really, it all depends on the age of the sister, I think.

But at some point, sooner or later, older sisters begin taking on themselves some of the responsibilities of looking after little brother. It might begin with playtime: "L, keep E in your room for a while as I start getting dinner ready" might be a first step.

That's a relatively easy step. Big sister can half do her own thing, half entertain the Boy. The fact that they're in her room adds a degree of security: she certainly won't let E get into all that much because he has a tendency to mess things up.

The real transition comes when big sister begins fulfilling some of the lower needs on Maslow's hierarchy.

These are the responsibilities that aren't just fun. They're not low-engagement responsibilities.

And when the older sister begins taking on those kinds of little jobs, we say, "Welcome, Big Sister! We've been waiting for you!"

Happy Mess Day

Tuesday 14 May 2013 | 2 Comments

Like so many things, it began so simply and so innocently.

A touch of curiosity, some tentative motions,

and then comes the comfort with the new.

And with the comfort, joy.

And with the joy, a mess.

A mess of chocolate.

A mess of laughter.

A mess of life.

Happy birthday to our little man.

He Walks!

Monday 13 May 2013 | 0 Comments

Sort of...

In the Distance

Monday 13 May 2013 | 0 Comments

Feeding

Friday 10 May 2013 | 0 Comments

It can be a joyful experience, with smiles and giggles and obvious relief on the face of the starving Boy. He opens his mouth wide; he waits patiently for the spoon; he closes his mouth slowly and seems to relish and inhale the food at the same time.

It can be a tragedy, with fussing and battling, with a head jerking back and forth in an almost desperate attempt to say "No!," with hands flailing and pushing away the spoon to make sure theÂ messageÂ gets through.

Whatever the case, the cleaning that follows can be Herculean. Food smeared here, there and everywhere. Dried caked food on the chin, the cheeks, the forehead.