I'll Buy More Spoons

Dave has been traveling a lot since shortly after we got back from the Bahamas. The trips usually start on a Monday and end Wednesday or Thursday. Couple that with the beginning of the school year, and the first thing that suffers (besides sleep) is the dishes. I simply don't cook when he isn't here, or if I do, they involve the microwave and something from the frozen food aisle. Seriously . . . why cook for one person when there are so many other alternatives? Don't preach to me about the preservatives or the ingredients or the cost. It doesn't really bother me.

But not having enough silverware does kind of get to me. I might wash the same spoon over and over again when truly it would take about four minutes longer to wash all of them. And yet I persist in my rewashing of the same spoon.

This morning it bit me in the ass. Dave went to pour himself a bowl of cereal. "Is there any milk in either of these two jugs?" he asks. Shit . . . left the empty jugs in the frig again. "Umm. Maybe? Sorry about that." Then a clatter of silverware hitting the sink. "I guess I should have bought milk yesterday," I say to Dave as he sits down. "It's okay. There weren't any clean spoons," he says.

"Lucky I took a photo of that three days ago," was the best I could muster as a response. Guess I need to fix that.

Enjoy the weekend,
Jill

Photo Picking Time.

Becks was a little over one the last time I took the boys anywhere for photos.  I dreaded those trips.   The only bearable part was the end because it was next to a bar.  I could sit & drink away the pain while the photos printed.  I start the trip off with clean clothes: new clothes that were purchased just for the session.  Of course, I'd never try the stuff on prior to jumping in the car.  The night before I'd panic about the size & fit of the clothes.  After it was buttoned up & looked respectable, I panicked about it staying clean.  When everything stayed clean, I panicked about the wait.  A place that centers on children should never have a wait.  Ever.  It isn't acceptable to make a toddler or a "big kid" wait thirty minutes.  And then after I begged the photographer to not put up any silly backgrounds (I don't care that it's close to Easter.  I don't want a field of daffodils by my boys.) & begged them not to sit the kids on anything fluffy & white (I don't care that it's close to Easter.  I don't want my boys to sit on a Bunny's ass.), I start begging my kid to smile.
Please look happy.  
Please smile.  Cheese! 
One more, please!  
Smile & I'll get you a toy. 
Towards the end, we always got something usable.

 
But it was a pox on my house every time I saw that date on my calendar.  While I was picking out Becks' last photos, he had to be nursed.  Had to be!  And because the Photo-Guy made me wait thirty minutes, I took delight in making him uncomfortable.  A sweet nursing newborn is one thing.  A large 13-month-old that doesn't like to be covered up nursing is another thing.  So I whipped one out & nursed him while we flipped through bad photo after bad photo.  Becks then gave me a sign that we would never be back.  This sign pretty much sealed the deal on the photo place's fate.  Becks bite me so hard that I got dizzy.  Ever been chomped on while nursing & for a spilt second you think about slapping someone?  He gave me that kind of bite & we haven't been back.  I do have some guilt about not going somewhere or to someone for photos.  There is something iconic about a photo of your kid in front of a fake daffodils field or sprawled out on something white & fluffy.  This bite happened prior to my obsession with photography.  It happened right at the beginning of the tumble.  I can honestly say that even my shittiest photos turn out better than what this place did with my boys.  My boys don't like to sit & smile.  I created those monsters & that's fine with me.  I shouldn't hold this place responsible for my creation.  They do a good job just not with my kids or my sanity.  And I figure that I take enough photos for us to remember our lives.  I figure this until the moment a good photo is necessary.  And then the guilt rears again.

The last time we were home, I noticed that most of the boys' photos were from a couple years ago during "The Studio Phase."  I knew it was time to update.   I asked my MIL "Do you remember any of the boys' photos that you'd like printed?"  And she replied, "You pick."  Ok, that can't be hard.  I was dead wrong.  I got to our computer & hit a wall.  And that wall was made by my own two hands & two eyeballs.  I like my style of photography, but not everyone appreciates it.  Or is it good for framing photos for family members.

Coop wanted him to follow & he was going to follow like a robot.

 You want a photo of the back of a head?  I got a thousand.  You want a photo of their feet right before they jump off the couch.  Got one too.  You want a photo of someone pitching a tantrum?  Oh yeah, let me pull it.  But one of them straight on?  Sorry.  One of them together & straight on?  You're insane.  I beg you to find one.  I think this is the main reason I'd struggle if I wanted to move into the photography business.  The client would look through the photos & ask, "Great.  But do you have any of their smile?  How about a face shot?"  And I'd have to convince them that their chubby little fingers are so much sweeter.  I'm not that great of a sales men.  With the holidays breathing down our necks, I need to focus on some traditional shots.  We need something for the Christmas card.  Just one.  That's all it takes.

-Erika