Thursday, May 24, 2012


nine months old. he has now been out of my body for as long as he was in. so to speak. i mean, who knows how long he was in there really. because due dates change and i wonder sometimes if we are all just guessing when it comes to things beyond our control. things like earthquakes and fallopian tubes and the sun rising and setting. i'm a sure of one thing: time is sticky. it passes and nothing changes and then you look back and you realize everything is different and you wonder how you didn't notice all along.
our daughter is becoming a person. with these spontaneous outbursts of creativity and rage and wicked humor and i wonder how long she will let us control her environment. i think about how some parents argue that letting their child go to the park by themselves at the age of seven is a good thing because it fosters independence and that they are at greater risk of collateral damage riding in a car than they are at the hands of adults who want to take advantage of them. oh, how i wish that were true. see, car accidents are reported for the most part. adults who feed on the innocence of children are not. for the most part. this much i know is true.
i watch her in the bath, from a bit of a distance now. my relinquishing of control is measured by the angle of my peripheral vision and if i see her on the playground and she runs in and out of my eyeline, i tend to panic and circle the structure like a polar bear, sniffing. the mere fact that she can sit in a bathtub without being held up is mind boggling. the idea that she can run and jump at a pace that can be hard to keep up with is terrifying and liberating and i sit up at night and i think i will never be ready for teenagers. because i know what i was doing at that age. and if there were a program in bad decision making, i would have a phd. 
b tells me not to worry. that i managed to make it out just fine. especially considering some extenuating circumstances which he says helped fuel the fire of testing limits. he is being nice. because he knows that i will more than likely need to be sedated once my children decide they want to spend some time somewhere without my supervision. once i can no longer simply reach my arms into the water to keep them afloat.


  1. "and i think i will never be ready for teenagers. because i know what i was doing at that age. and if there were a program in bad decision making, i would have a phd. "

    my girl is 11 y.o. and dude, i pray that she's not so curious about how it was for me, that my dad isn't mr. over-share from his rose-colored glasses perspective and that she continues to be the awesome child that is confident and knows herself as smart and goofy and LIKES that...well. that's what i think about these days.

    beautiful photos as always k.

  2. i, too, majored in Terrible and Dangerous Decisions during my adolescence, but yes, yes...we did, somehow, make it out alive. my advice? keep breathing, try to trust and perfect the art of the alla-sudden-run, soon. like, Now. xo

  3. Welcome to my world - silly as it seems, I still feel the need to watch out for you (altho we do know many a time you are the mom and I am the child) - I worry about you, how you're doing, how you're coping. And you are totally out of my (for lack of a better word) immediate control/world. Finn is you tripled - so you are in for a ride..... and even having predisposed notions of what she might try/do, you're never prepared. I thought I had covered it all when I was a teen (rebel that I was, LOL) and was ready for your teens. Nope. Not even close. All we can hope for is her choice in friends that we like her to be with, that she is always wearing her family armor of goodness, intelligence and the fact that no matter what, she can call you in the middle of the night and she can tell you the truth, all the while knowing that there are always some consequences for her actions.

    You are an awesome woman - a few trips along the path, but here you are - now a mother with scars covered, reminders of days gone by. We can anticipate, encourage healthy decisions, hope for the best, trust knowing she might betray that trust, but bottom line, she will always know that she is dearly loved and Mom's arms will always be open to her.

    That's the one way I always tried to stay true to you - that you could tell me anything even though I might not like it - and that I would always love you and accept your decisions. Period. No deviation. Ever.

  4. Ack, lost my comment - was obviously deep and meaningful but mainly just said I love your pictures, I love your words. I hope you're still writing during those teenage years cos I'll still be reading.

  5. Amazing photos and words, as always. And you and I both know that there are monsters that lurk in the dark corners of life, although I'll point out that homes are often safer for those monsters than the park is.

    Point is: we cannot predict where or when bad things will happen. We cannot even hope that bad things will not happen to those we love.

    All we can hope for is that the light of our love will always lead those we care about back to a place of innocence.

    You are an amazing mother.

  6. Oh so true. I remember my mom telling me that she went behind me, hiding behind lamp posts and trees all the way to school the first day I walked by myself :)
    Love the photos- what a cutie pie!

  7. Krista, he is absolutely adorable. I'm sure you're scooping him up and kissing on him non stop. As always, your reflections are lovely.


use your kind words.