Beckett will be one next week. No one can believe it. When I pick Francis up for school and have my usual exchange with Armando in the hallway he asks, how old is he now? Yesterday I said next week, one week from today he will turn one year. One year? yes one year. Can you believe it? we both begin nodding no.
I’m not sure why it is so unbelievable. Maybe because he still looks so much like a baby, partially because I refuse to dress him like a little boy, the way I had with Francis and partially because more than half the time I refuse to dress him at all. I hate the trashy baby diaper look, but I just cannot bring myself to cover this boy up. I drool over his milky cherub lankiness.
And after six month of having to bundle him up, all summer I’ve been letting him hang loose only throwing a onsie on as we head to the car to pick up F.
I have to admit I have no plans to invite twenty other one year olds over for a party, or buy a lot of toys for this exciting day. Not because Beckett hasn’t earned being prince for the day, but because for me it’s the second first birthday and we already did that for Francis. Unfortunately, Beckett, almost everything you do will be seconds in this house. That’s the problem with being the younger brother. I’m sure soon enough you are going to be annoyed by this. I can already hear you complaining when Francis, sixteen, wants to go hang out with his friends one night and you thirteen want to go with him (maybe it’s even your thirteenth birthday even) and I say no. No way not happening. We’ll go back and forth. But until then you simply accept the fact that ripping down the toilet paper in the bathroom has all happened before and this is why I have to tell you the benefits, many benefits you have from being the second son.
Summer Beckett
Just last night Chris and I were trying to decide who has it better, Francis or Beckett. Luckily so far I think they both have it good, but I’ll say Beckett has it better hands down. Francis taught me how to change a diaper on a baby moving 100 miles an hour in five directions. I’m not sure I’d know how to change out a diaper on a still baby. My style only works in a forward moving direction. Similar to the crocodile hunters method in roping a reptile. I follow and then pounce right at the right moment, usually on the transition from crawl to upright. In that instant I have you out of one, wiped and into another one all cleaned up.
And there’s more, if inheriting a mother better at changing diapers isn’t enough, think of all the other benefits of not being first. With Francis he wasn’t allowed to do any of the fun things Beckett is. Jumping on the couch no way, wondering around half naked. I don’t even get irritated having something hoover under my feet while I’m in the kitchen putting away dishes. I even laugh as the butter knives sneak out of the dishwasher and begin to drum on the machine. Non of these things cause me to drop my shoulders in total defeat on the verge of tears or a nervous breakdown they way the had only a few short years ago. I know it seems totally unfair to stop the beeline to the toilet for a hand wash, but I do have to draw the line somewhere, even if it is all with good intentions. Non of this will matter in a year or two but for now, a whole first year, Beckett’s had it good. Not like an Oprah dog good, but at least as good as Barkis.
Update: Literally five minutes after I finished gloating on my diaper changing abilities I ripped one off of Beck and went to grab a new one. In the few moments it took to get from here to there and back I found Beck playing in a pile of poop. I’m not saying that he ate it but I’m not sure that he didn’t (Chris please don’t read this or I’ll be hearing the word dysentery a hundred times). In the hour that ensued I bathed Beck, disinfected the entire living room and dining room floor on my hands and knees with bottle of “green” cleaner and broke out into a sweat. The resulting nap on Becks part was sweet reward. Mine to follow.
All summer since the “I’m training for a half marathon” post, I’ve been struggling with an update here. Who wants to follow up a training post with some more of the usual summer laziness? Instead I started reading a couple of mommy books, Lit, by Mary Karr and Bad Mother by Ayelet Waldman. I’m always drawn to the biographical or semi-biographical and slightly dysfunctional work. I can identify with these two moms and find comfort in their descriptions of typical toddler mayhem. Continue reading bad mommy bad.
Lately my work email has been crashing. I’m not sure if it’s the heat or what, but these hiccups have given me a little time to post here. Whoever told me years ago that the summertime in DC was dead work wise lied! I have never had a slow working summer here and it always disappoints me. This summer hasn’t had a major event but it has been hectic mainly because now I have a ten month old (as of today) who crawls faster than anything I have ever seen before. When we were with the family last month we would just watch him and say “look at him, he’s hauling ass.” He hauls ass that’s all you can say. He’ll look back at you over his shoulder and then head in the opposite direction as fast as a cockroach. Usually completely naked, because I’m not fast enough to get his clothes on. Continue reading The Disney Dilemma
Every night that we have been out to dinner, on our trip to the gulf, we struggle for conversation other than the looming oil devastation. Each day’s news outlook shadows any other topic. Some days the news report has flicker of hope only to be followed by another story completely hopeless. Tonight has we sat silently trying to think of something other than the oil spill to talk about my Dad finally made a comment. He had not wanted to talk about the issue and I had been waiting to hear his reaction when he finally declared “this could end humanity”.
An entire level of the food chain has essentially been wiped out. Not to mention the possible contamination of clean drinking water. The Gulf shore water will all be turned black and lack the normal amounts of oxygen produced by sea life.
I made this photo of Francis last year on our summer vacation to the Panhandle in Florida. I never imagined it might be the last image like this I ever make. Francis will never have the same childhood memories I have of spending weeks at a time swimming in the Gulf of Mexico. BP you’ve destroyed much more than the ocean.
I love family photographs. Almost all family images I find completely intriguing, because they never tell you anything specific but they totally layout the facts. Photographs allow you to contain and edit the way family does not. This is the main reason I spend time posting here. Like when a mouse is discovered in the kitchen I can focus my attention to the blog while Chris blames me! Chris, I clean the kitchen and I did not go out and tell those little beast to make themselves at home in my kitchen, but that’s besides the point.
Anyway, before I photographed my young family, my grandmother photographed hers with a classic Bell + Howell regular 8 movie camera.
Second Birthday Still
There is really nothing unique about her films. They cover birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, recitals, vacations, most of my mom’s first twelve or so years of life events. These movies let me feel like I never missed anything. The family I knew, had experiences before me and each frame gives me a chance to connect to those events.
I had these thirty or so 3 minute films transferred a few years ago to DVD at Spectra. If you ever need to transfer 8mm film to digital they did an amazing job. There are over two hours of footage on one DVD. For my thesis exhibit I included the film with the photographs I had made of my grandparents. After the exhibit the DVD went missing and for four years I have not been able to watch them.
Kitten Still
As the anniversary of my Grandmothers death approached last Feb. I began thinking of how to commemorate her. If I ever doubted her presence this past year those doubts all disappeared when the DVD showed itself from hiding Feb. 17th exactly one year to the day of her passing. It was the perfect present and for the last three months I’ve been continually capturing stills.
I love gardening and teaching Francis about plants, however, his help is more problematic than helpful sometimes. It’s like having a kid in the kitchen. Yes, I want to teach Francis and Beckett how to cook but not if it means my omelet is inedible. So when Beckett agreed to fall asleep during our spring planting session I had to snap a pix especially since it “helps promote strong root development”.
I’m not sure Chris and I have had a night out since Beckett was born. Eight months ago! Chris is convinced he hasn’t seen a show in three years (he’s totally right I’m just in denial). Tonight was our breaking point. We really need to find a trusted babysitter. yikes. I envy those with family around the corner. We are not they. At this point I’m thinking ten years from now Chris and I can see Avatar. Shit by then Avatar will be like super 8 and my mind will be blown by the latest technology ten years from now. I’ll enter a theater like a martian from another planet, blinded by the light because I haven’t been anywhere after hours in ten years! No just kidding. We’re sending the kids to florida in June I just don’t know if I can make it four more weeks.
Homework
And then there are nights like these where I think, what could be better? xxxo
Most days Beckett and I have about 2 hours of uninterrupted fun. That’s a lie. We’re actually lucky to get one day a week of play play play in bed. and if I pretend to bite his toes he cracks up. What a weirdo. I’m really going to bite your toe! OFF. okay I’m the weirdo. You know how to remember how to spell weirdo? it’s weird because usually i comes before e. except after c. but weird is just weird.
