All four-year-old’s want to be adored, so I never thought twice when Francis kept requesting The Stone Roses every morning on the way to school for the last month. I didn’t think he was narcissistic or egotistical, and although I normally am curious about how his four-year-old mind interprets some songs, this one I had figured out. I wanna be adored, I wanna be adored, please adore me. adore me. adore me.
It never occurred to me the word adore might not be part of his vocabulary, until last night when at the dinner table he clearly sang…I wanna be a door!
I will never be able to listen to this song again with a straight face. Please revisit this classic with Francis’ interpretation it’s great.
As I watched signing of the health care reform bill yesterday with Beckett I couldn’t help from smiling. Finally there is someone with good intentions creating public reform. When Obama says he is doing this for his mother, I believe him. Anyone who has experience health issues them self or through a loved one knows what a pain in the ass the payment process can be.
With these new policies Francis and Beckett should rest easy at night when they turn 26 and need health insurance. Already they will be buying a little extra time before they have to deal with the responsibility and at that point maybe they will have a job that doesn’t mind offering coverage because it will not offset the companies budget. And can you imagine if they were to ever be in between jobs the possibility that they might have a public option that is not COBRA and cost $600 per month! Wow I’m seeing the world through rose colored glasses although other countries offer these or better options to their citizens.
After managing health care for my two healthy ninety year old grandparents with no illnesses except age, I cannot understand who would feel that our health care system works. My grandparent were billed for hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of medical expenses once they were unfit to live independently. The bills ranged for psychiatric therapy to imaging specialist. I wish I could have witnessed grandmother’s therapy sessions. I’m sure at ninety there are a lot of issues you urgently need to address and make peace with. I think a priest might have been more affective and less expensive. Regardless the number of different billing agency’s was mind blowing and still trickle into my mailbox over a year since her passing. Are the right totally immune to this? My poppy was a republican too but I’m sure he would be happy to have had affordable health insurance after he retired that would have help cover what Medicare did not.
So not only am I excited that this might help out the old and young, but also women. Many woman are assumed to be covered under their spouse’s care and are often forced into part-time positions without benefits or in my case outside contract positions. If employers are offered affordable plans for their employees as well as tax incentives then maybe more women would also have the equal opportunity for health care coverage. The current problems with health care extends to all regardless of age, gender, race and even a persons health status.
More appropriate title: “Don’t even get me started”
NEVER NEVER NEVER call your cousin in the grocery store and start chatting with her about how disgruntle you are as an adult because of your f@*#d up childhood. One, because it won’t help and she will have no sympathy and TWO, because someone might steal your wallet and proceed to rent a car before I can even say “wait a second I don’t have my wallet” when I try to purchase my produce. Now I really have something to be disgruntle about. That’s all I have to say about that.
I started working on a post that I’m really excited about, but am running into a few technical difficulties. In the mean time, while I try to work everything out, I thought I’d share this special bit of wisdom that I often have to turn to.
Francis definitely gets his awesome sense of timing from me. Hopefully he’ll pick up my spelling/grammar skills as well, if we’re lucky.
The other day Chris grumbled something about this blog, really I would tell you what, except I only heard a grumble. That was all I needed for it to occur to me that I totally have not give Chris is due respect here and in a couple of places have been less than fair about his importance in my life. I promise not to get sentimental but basically without Chris there would be no Mangocrash. No Francis and no Beckett no crashes whatsoever.
Man in Black
Leading up to Valentines Day this year Chris has completely shown his amazingness. Every time he’s had to go out and shovel I feel completely guilty. The guy is shoveling right now as I speak and I believe it’s about the ninth time this week. I’d beg him to stop except we need to be able to reach the recycling and trash cans! So as I consider taking a nice warm shower I’m frozen with guilt seeing Chris out the window with the shovel. Sometimes I even catch him laughing or mumbling something to himself. What could he be laughing about I think. And then I wonder if it’s a pitiful laugh with him thinking “how did my hardcore metal intense youth all get reduced to two boys and that woman?” “Where did the weekends go when I went to practice and had shows on Friday nights?” “Do I really like cooking for Batman every night?” Anyway it’s just that laugh that let’s you know he’s gone a little bit crazy from this whole domestic life situation, and yet he’s still so great at it. These is just one of the reasons life with Chris is great, there are innumerable others.
So while some men are playing World of Warcraft for four days, while their lady trudges through the snow to get her car out and do some shopping, I’m not thinking of anyone in particular, Chris has shown total old fashion chivalry. Couldn’t we all use a little more of that? With any luck and if Chris can just hang in there a few more years, the boys won’t be little and wild forever, soon they will be big and wild, and hopefully they too will become wonderful men like their Poppy. And then you won’t have to shovel as hard and you can go back to playing drums and partying again.
The only thing worse than another blog is another photograph of snow, at this point.
what's worse than another blog?
I’m posting this one, as I finally get ready to resume my darkroom class that has missed two weeks due to snow. I’m totally excited to be back in the world again and teaching a class, but I’m dreading all the snow images we’ll have to print over the next five weeks. What else is there to shoot though? The image above of my normally busy street is actually an RGB image although it could easily pass as black and white. All snow pix should be black and white in my opinion! We will have fun and enjoy a million black and white snow pix. bring it.
Lately, I’ve been impressing myself with the things I’ve been finding in the trash. I’m not one to normally dumpster dive or even thrift shop that often, mainly because Chris is a little particular. If I were to ever infest the house with bed bugs or a strange odor (besides the one we already have), he would absolutely kill me. Also there aren’t too many great thrift stores near us, at least not like the kind we found in Savannah or that I’ve been to years ago in Highlands, NC.
All that being said I’m always open to a good find and a few weeks ago I stumbled a piece of art that I’m still completely undecided about but couldn’t pass up. A painting of stripes was not something I could walk away from. Somewhere between my third trimester and Beckett’s arrival, came an obsession with stripes. It began to occur to me after I kept noticing one of us wearing stripes almost every day of the week. Finally the stars aligned one night and everyone of us was at the dinner table with either a striped sweater, shirt or onsie (Chris looks great in onsies). The place looked like a colorful prison. Now we had a painting to match the rug, blanket and every article of clothing.
Found Stripes
Before the stripe obsession and the painting find, I gave myself an unoriginal photo assignment to shoot found objects around the neighborhood on my walks with Beck. The attempts were somewhat successful until the weather froze over and our walks became vegging out on the sofa.
Lost
Today came a true treasure. On an early morning walk with Francis to check out all the snow left from the Blizzard of 2010 (as it has been named), we stumbled across an abandoned sled! I have been scouring the town for a sled with no luck, hardware stores, targets, everywhere I could think of, in the midst of shopping preparations. Sled has been at the top of the list, although in the past, I have always been resistant of buying more crap, especially something we would be lucky to use once every four years around here. This year, I found myself in must have, must have mode for a sled. This winter might possibly be a once in a life time childhood experience that Francis might actually remember as an adult. And without a sled? What kind of parents were we? He will question. So in total defeat I came home Friday afternoon after hitting the hardware store at 8:45, where they said they would be getting a new shipment of sleds, with no sled. The snow began to fall and I had to give up.
Three days later and barely able to reach the end of the driveway, Francis and I ventured out to the playground. A destination I doubted we’d make, but actually wound up getting pretty close to. Almost a mile hike through the unshoveled streets and down a snowy path led us straight to a bright orange sherbet colored glow in the distance. A toy for sure, but a sled I was uncertain. We continued upon the blinding plastic object, secretly hoping an others unfortunate sledding experience, might be our total score. Once there we snatched it without looking back, knowing someone from their home was probably shaking their head. Now ours we have a few little areas to tape up and then hit the slopes. I continue to not think about the misadventure of the previous owner and hope it will be a better ride for Francy. More pix to come!
Saturday was one of those days that I look forward to and dread simultaneously. All month I knew I had wrapped myself in a pinch with three important events all happening at the same time. And Francis’ Birthday party at the local Fire Station #5, being the most important, was accidentally scheduled during a major event I had to work at and both events just so happened to also conflict with my Saturday darkroom class that I just started teaching last week. These kinds of days happen to me occasionally and unwinding everything is always nerve racking. On top of everything, this was the first birthday party I had ever arranged. In the past Francis has always celebrated the day with his god brother and a couple other boys. This time we decided to go forward with the joint birthday the only smart decision followed by a series of fumbles.
In order of importance. Fumble one. Combined we sent out forty invitations thinking that no one will show. Bad idea. Never send out forty invitations and think no one will show. This triggered a series of sequential issues. A domino effect. The other issues will all be irrelevant next year, because next year the invites will be e-invites to only five parents. Problem solved and still fun!
This year planning preparations became a bit of a logistical mess when over half of the forty invited RSVP(ed) yes and not just yes but yes and don’t you remember we are a family of 11 and unless you just want us to drop our child off we will all need to attend. And faster than you know it we are planning for 40 x 11 and everything began to get scary! How would we prepare enough food? How many fire hats can we find for cheep? would the fire department enforce the fire code for room capacity? parkinggggg???
On top of the avalanche of attendees,somewhere in there the news kept saying “it’s going to snow”. All month I kept wrapping mind around how this would all shake down. Sub for my class, leave early from the event, order lots of food, ask the fire station about room capacity and on and on until Chris who had been sitting on the sidelines observing said…”we’re never doing this again.” and everyone else began to loose their hearing.
The morning arrived in a rush of getting to work and watching the weather. Finally, as I was driving home from the morning event with 4+ inches of snow, I began listening to Galaxie 500. If you’ve never driven through a snow storm listening to Galaxie 500 alone in the car, it’s a must. At some point the song Another Day came on with the words “it’s okay if everyday is not the same way”. And it all stopped. I was feeling completely relieved hearing those words over and over in my mind. It would all be okay as long as I didn’t crash the car on the un-snowplowed roads, because driving in Florida never taught me how to drive in snow. Getting in the car I had decided to take off my coat thinking, “I’d rather be found without a coat”. Once Another Day came on all of these thoughts subsided and I felt alright.
At this point, I should get to the exchange or non exchange about the weather. We were absolutely not canceling, after already planning and preparing for over forty people. Francis’ god parents had baked at least fifty cupcakes and a four layer cake. I had ordered food for around 100, there was no way snow was stopping us we never even mentioned it. At this point we knew we should have at least two balloons for everyone but now we expected to celebrate alone. When I walked in the door Chris said, “if there’s one more thing, my head is going to explode”. Exactly. And had I crashed the car that would have been the one more thing.
Fortunately, about a third of the families invited braved the weather. The party was a go even with seven inches of snow. And when it was all over, I knew it had been worth every moment of borderline mental breakdown and the chance of Chris’ head exploding.
My little fireman.
Fire Station Tour
Yochana
Today I’m so glad to be in recovery rest mode and that there was not one more thing to make anyone’s head explode. My only chore was to get a decent portrait of the boys to send to Brett Edenton for a commissioned painting. His work is amazing and you can see it on his website.In order to get Francis to cooperate I had to photograph him in his fire fighter outfit first. Since I wasn’t able to get a great shot with the two together Brett might be making a composite using a few pics. I have no idea how he is going to do this.
Not the kind of trolls that you find under bridges in fairy tales, but those little plastic ones you spin between your hands to make their hair stand up. The motionless ones that just sit there and grin while their crazy hair stands up in a point. It’s the grin and the defenseless out stretched arms I’m feeling like right about now the red flaming hair would be a bonus. Up until about midnight last night I had been hanging in there, the third week of being up repeatedly throughout the night with fevers and Francis and then fevers and Beckett. It really wasn’t that bad until last night I turned into a troll. To say zombie would be a compliment. Although all are well again. We’ve completely lost our angelic schedule with Beckett going to bed around 7 pm. Up at 1 am for his Binky and change and not a peep again until somewhere around 7 am when I am getting him up! All of this lost in a little over 72 hours and 102 degrees. Now it’s binky sprints all night and then bottles and then changes. And then someone (I’m not naming names) wakes up all like what’s going on why is he crying? and I’m like well he didn’t realize that if he gave me a loaded diaper at 1 am I wouldn’t use the warm wipes. Even though the pediatrician assured me he doesn’t know what time it is. Anyway at this point I’m going to change subject so I don’t start competing with anyone about who gets up more throughout the night (even though they also have to go to work and take Francis to school and …).
So is it just me or does the fact that Botax can now be considered a WMD a bit funny? even a little bit or is it just the lack of sleep. It’s funny right? Almost as funny as if Viagra were, but it’s not funny if it’s actually used just the idea that it is that dangerous.
In these difficult days in Haiti I am so grateful that America can finally provide some help in the world. After the last disasters under the Bush regime I had begun to loose hope. Today it is easier than ever to contribute to a good cause (text 90999 and type Haiti or ask your local Whole Foods to make a contribution).
Dr. Martin Luther King Day is my favorite holiday. Not only does it commemorate a great hero and does not demand buying anyone gifts. It also comes at the perfect time of the new year-two after trying to adjust to post holiday routine. Martin Luther Kind Day was also the first time Chris and I met. Seven years ago on the MLK holiday Chris and I met for lunch once we realized we were living near each other after having recently graduated from the same college. Neither of us ever would have thought that exactly three years later Francis would be born! Now we have three things to celebrate every MLK holiday—the man himself, Francis’ Birthday, and the lunch that changed everything. This year Francis turns four-unbelievable. Unfortunately he will have to make up being the birthday boy at school because he is sick.
Poor Birthday Boy
Now that we are on the way to feeling better Francis will happily tell you that “Dr. Luther King said ‘I have a dream’ that black and white people will not fight”. I love Francis. And luckily his party isn’t until the 30th.
Beckett still doesn’t know about Dr. Martin Luther King. He’s just figuring out who Francis is…
Cuddle Bear
I love this picture because his eyes are open. Unlike the other boys in the house, Beckett likes to rest. I know he will probably wind up catching Francis cold and my good fortune of sleeping will end. Update: Beckett is sick as a dog. Going on night three of late nights and rectal thermometers.
Up or not all night, my heart goes out to Haiti and the unbearable pain mothers have felt not being able to reach their babies.
