Our Backyard

In an effort to find new ways to open up the outside world to The Littlest Buddy, and to hold off his bug crushing instincts a little longer-- I thought it would be fun to hit the backyard today, spend the morning exploring around our property armed with a macro lens and grab some shots of all of the inhabitants that keep our chunk of dirt in balance. The thought being that when LB gets home from school today we can go thru the pictures and make the connections that all of these things exist right in our own backyard, and perhaps he will want to take a deeper look now that he can see their little buggy faces. The grasshopper last week was a great first step. He stood back and took it in, and watched intently anticipating every hop. Each hop he would look over at me kind of like: "seriously?! That's how these things get around?" I can appreciate that television is a wealth of info for kids, and that there are in fact amazing educational shows that teach and expand their noggins. BUT... I start to get pissed when the only time LB has ever seen a turtle is some cartoon version of one that Diego is saving, or jackass Franklin walking around being witless and irritating. I want the kids to look deeper and appreciate what exists in their own backyards so they will want to move out past them and find more. So these are our first steps together, because I am taking on a new appreciation of the little things. Waking up the kid inside me that grew up in Florida. And not to get all hippie dippie on you, but I feel myself trying to make the reconnect with nature. As a kid I spent all of my days outside in the dirt, I helped my mother grow huge vegetable gardens on our property, our family would have harvest parties, we grew tons of citrus, we planted 2 acres of saplings that I watched grow into giant trees, I would fish, I caught blue crab, and crawfish, I ate wild black berries and citrus off trees, I knew how to grow food in the dirt when I was young. Then somehow I grew up, and started eating king sized value meals and I stay in the AC, and I am pissed I can't afford HBO. That isn't who I am.

So for your enjoyment, here is a little of what I found out there in our backyard. I got so nerdy excited this morning when I could see the sun rising into the horizon thru the reflection on a dew drop. It was like my own little mini version of the Magic Bean exhibit in Chicago. Laying out in the wet grass trying to take this picture for LB, I kept thinking about all of the things that we walk past on a daily basis and have stopped seeing. This little experiment for LB turned into a big life moment for me. A reminder of who I am, and where I came from, and it gave me an even bigger appreciation for my Mom and Dad and their choices on where, and how they raised me.

So anyway...

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

*Update- because I have been getting some emails, and tweets, and comments asking to know the setup that I used to take these backyard pics I wanted to go ahead and let you know. (Although I don't like to advertise for Nikon because they never write me back when I ask them to sponsor me and send me new toys to play with) I shot these on a Nikon D300 mounted with the Nikkor 60mm 2.8 macro lens. They were all handheld and just a few inches away from the subject and then zoomed in once they were imported to show even more detail. Hope that helps :)

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Hip Hip Hooray It's His Birthday

The Face of Five


Today the Littlest Buddy turns five! He remains completely unaware of the significance of the day. We will celebrate a little later this afternoon with his Gido and other family, and cram him full of good fun food, and treat him with plenty of playtime in the swimming pool. He just knows that we are excited, and that he got morning phone calls from his Dad, and his Gido, and the kids at school said an extra big hello when he got there. He knows something is up. He has this funny suspicious smile like you get one you know someone is about to give you a present.

So in planning his birthday present this year it led me to a much bigger endeavor than I had first imagined. I started asking my musically inclined friends to write songs for me for a kids album I wanted to put together and give to LB on his birthday. I just said: "make them awesome and fun, and something that parents won't hate" As the songs came in... I realized that more than just a single gift for LB to enjoy, that the tracks were so perfect that I thought they could be used for an even greater good than just simply making LB so happy. I contacted a geneticist that works closely with Smith Magenis Syndrome (which LB was diagnosed with a few months ago now) and asked how I could set something up so that proceeds from song sales could go specifically to fund a case study or help in some small way. So that process has begun and I set out to make a great record that people will want and the cash raised can help shed some light on this rare syndrome. So that led me to opening up the call for music and expanding the number of tracks to a full album... and I have a bunch more bands putting together music and contributing to the compilation. The response was so good, and the songs so amazing that I decided this would be a great piece of charity work to carry out once a year to raise some awareness to SMS and raise some cash to go into case studies. So as I am in the final stages of album art, and getting these tracks mixed and mastered and all finished up-- I thought since this all originated from wanting to give LB some cool music on his birthday, I would show off a track that my friend Devin from the band Rabbit wrote for The Littlest Buddy as his birthday gift. LB freaks out and jumps up and down, and swings his arms every time we play this track for him, and he absolutely loves it. It has become the new birthday jam around here. Hope you like it too.

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the Littlest Buddy. And when that album is ready, and on i-Tunes for sale I hope everyone will help spread the word and help the cause. It is a little ways away as all of this takes so much time. But the guys from Rabbit have been a huge help in organizing the comp, and they have contributed a few songs. It is shaping up to be a BIG TIME kids record. I am really happy with the results so far.

So please treat yourself and Happy Birthday to The Littlest Buddy:


*UPDATE- It would be really rad to hear what your little ones thought of this song if anyone gets the chance to play it for them.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Us

P.S. Today is also the first day that Cole went back to work. Her maternity leave is over. So she is back in the saddle and at the salon.

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Wonder and Slumber

The children are currently in this short lived phase where they rarely interact or bother one another, they exist in the same space, but really hardly notice the other one. The Littlest Buddy is sure not to pass up the chance to rain down kisses and waves to say a jubilant "hi" or "goodbye" to his sister, but other than that he really couldn't care less about her, unless we engage him in some made up game where they play. My new favorite is to torture him with her cold feet on his back. The giggles pour out of him with every squeal of "cold feeeeeet!" He seems to have settled into a contentment with the house having another occupant in it, and that is a million miles further along than I thought we were going to be at this point. He really pulled it together fast and continues to amaze the both of us with his adaptability (completely the opposite of everything we had read in books and forums about SMS). So for now, when we play or teach at the house he is still for the most part flying solo. He figured out that his mobility and curiosity keeps him on top of the universe, and his days are still filled with wonder while his little sister keeps sawing away in a peaceful slumber. Her naps last just long enough to give LB the time he needs to still feel invincible. We might be living in a house of cards, but for now it is holding up to our life and we are loving it, and we are trying to lay good old solid foundation under this family while we can.

There will surely be other waves of jealousy and insecurity coming as their worlds will smack into one another as time churns on, but for now they remain in separate spaces as they quickly grow along...

wonder




I found this guy out in the garden yesterday snooping around the watermelon vines, whenever I see one of these giant things I have to look over my shoulder to the skies, and make sure there aren't a thousand more buzzing my way and bearing down blackening the skies hungry for sinners. I scooped this guy up and saved him for The Littlest Buddy to discover when he got home from school. He watched this "hop hop" and had never seen a single thing like it. It was so cool to watch him watch this bug and just see his eyes fill up with questions and excitement. In the end, when the observations were over, we took our jar and released this giant mutant grasshopper back into the urban wild. LB worked up the courage to walk over and reach out and touch it, and delighted in seeing this thing HOP into the sky. Once was enough for him. And he walked back to the house and said "done done." His world gets a tiny bit bigger everyday.


slumber




The Tangerine is continuing her awesome sleeping streak and we have managed to avoid the sleep deprivation portion of having a newborn. Something I am positive I am fine with not experiencing. She takes huge epic naps during the day and I always think, there is no way she will sleep tonight-- but she always pulls it off. I am not sure how we got so lucky, but I recognize the rarity of it and thank the universe for the rest and sanity every single clear headed day. She wiggles and dreams quite a bit when she sleeps and seems to dream about hilarious things, more often than not we find her smiling in her sleep. So far she has been hitting her "supposed to" milestones in a timely worry free manner with little fan fare. Cole and I just kind of look at one another when they happen and breathe easy and smile and give her love. It took me back to kind of an odd comparison the other day when I was watching her learn how to roll onto her back from her belly-- but it reminded me of watching my father over long months recover from his head injury and out of a coma, back to the living, returning to a walking talking man. It totally reminds me of what it's like to watch someone slowly wake up, as their brains start to turn on and hum, and make all of their billions of connections in a day. With each little hurdle tackled, it's improved upon, promptly added to the daily repertoire of things she can do, and so she stays awake a little longer and sleeps a little harder each day.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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One Year Later

First Day of Pre-K


First Day of Kindergarten


Just after I took this picture The Littlest Buddy threw off his backpack, yelled, and ran inside the house, later returning to the steps to push his bicycle off the top of the landing and crush the flowers beneath it. A noticeable difference in distress from having his summer routine interrupted from last year. He absolutely adores school and repeats "school" and "good" while he is home. He gets excited and does his little hand flapping dance when asked if he likes it. And he is always proud to show off his art projects to Mama. He's just pissed that his day is different out of the blue again. And I can't blame him. All things to keep an eye on as he gets older and manages change. Tessa slept soundly on the couch, and remains totally oblivious to this shake up as he marched off to school with Mama...

How many of you Mamas and Papas celebrate this first day of school? Cheer for it? Or do you weep like a crushed teenager at the silence of your house and your babies growing up? Cole informed me there was some sort of hosted "boo-hoo brunch" for the parents that were all butt hurt and in the mood to gossip about how great their children are at his school the other day. I wish I would have gone. I just love seeing that kind of crap.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Us

P.S. I think I am going to take a picture of LB next to another boy or girl his age so you can see the difference in size. It's really unreal how much of a difference there is. He currently weighs 27lbs and will be five at the end of the week.

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The Costs of Saying No

I remember being a kid and never being allowed to have any of the shiny spoiled rotten point of purchase extras that pile up around cash registers designed to entice little children to tantrum and whine precisely at the point when mom and dad have their wallets out and open. My parents were not susceptible to that kind of whining for toys and candy-- so we never tried. They had a bizarre immunity to it that they should have extracted and bottled and sold to the world, because it was an impenetrable force and I have never found a single chink in their armor. What we did learn as we grew up, was that eventually after 4 or 5 summers of sacrifice and not getting the toys and extras that we had cried over, a giant bulldozer landed in our backyard one day and dug us a swimming pool. A magnificent glorious dream swimming pool, with starting blocks, and a deep end, and an enormous back porch all screened in and fitted with comfy chairs and pool toys. My parents were masters of saving for the big prize, and that included an absolute moratorium on all of the little frivolous purchases. Even down to small ticket items like a carefully coveted candy bar that had been carried around the store the entire shopping trip and bitched about, "but it's a Whatchamacallit, and I want to know what it tastes like" only to have to put it back in the end, because "we don't waste our quarters on crap like that." They knew how to make what they had stretch. That's why I was not surprised when they came over the other day to help me get our yard cleaned up for this new garden project that Cole and I've started, and they were packing tools that they have owned since I was a little boy. Wooden handled garden tools that are just as strong and as sturdy as they were in the 80's. The same tools we used to garden with when I was just a boy. My father was wearing shoes he has owned since we lived down south in Venice, Fl (so at least 20 years old). As I am getting older and watching paychecks stretch, and bills pile, I am starting to pull from their experiences more and more. I am looking for glimpses that they have passed this power on to me. I am looking down at my shoes and wondering how long I can make them last.

What I have discovered so far-- is that a balance was not achieved from growing up with this kind of stern discipline of depriving. My parents derived their pleasure from watching their money multiply as they got closer to reaching lofty purchase goals. This of course was not passed on to the children, we could not see the long haul payoff as the years ticked on, we just knew we were being told NO all the time. So the big pile of constant NO's outweighed the joy of the final prize. Their ability to deny themselves treats and treasures, never suppressed my urge for the frivolity of the finer things, or squashed any desires to consume. It created such an impulse to make money and by all that crap myself that I started working when I was 13 years old so I could have my own bank roll to pull from. And so began a pattern when I was young to take that cash and buy all the stupid worthless shit that the TV and magazines were screaming at me to buy... all of the things that were not necessity, and then I was always wondering why I didn't have enough saved to get the stuff I really needed. It took a long time to shed that habit as a young man, and I still suffer in waves from this behavior. All of the sudden I have children and I have to dig down and not only find a balance to this discipline but live by an example. Regardless of the fact that LB cannot speak, soon will be the days where he starts to wonder things like: why don't we have a pool in our backyard? As he and Tessa will start to clarify their desires and tastes will Cole and I be able to provide them with the life they will want? There are a billion ways to spoil children, and I am pretty sure we will make mistakes somewhere along the way. But in terms of instilling the value of the all mighty dollar, how do I find that balance between my parents approach of penny pinching, and an all out frivolous spending free for all? Now more than ever as we watch the worth of the dollar diminish and it buys less and less-- it seems that the value of that money is returning to necessity.

Along that line of thought it has circled back to what's been on our minds so much lately... FOOD. Now more than ever what we purchase to eat has to count. So learning exactly what we are eating, and spending our money on is important to us. We just don't feel good about filling up a cart of processed crap with little to no nutrition.

As Cole and I read more and more, and are starting to care about the kinds of foods we are putting into our bodies, we also have to find that balance of not passing on doom and gloom to the kids. Not try and convince them thru fear, and resort to the, "you have to eat healthy or else" tactics that never work on invincible children. The backlash from that rebellion when they are older will be big fat giant teenagers with premature heart problems hoarding junk food under their beds, and eating fast food whenever we are out of sight. I want LB and Tessa to know why there are cartoon characters put on that sugary box of breakfast cereal, why the funny clown has a box filled with cheeseburgers to hand them-- what those characters jobs are, and what they are really saying beyond the cute catch phrases. So I have decided that the path to both healthy eating knowledge, and smart spending practices, doesn't start thru learning about nutrition or the economy right away, it is to make sure the kids understand the basics of marketing. How it works, what it does, how it's intention is to separate the person from their dollars. I want to teach them about typeface, and logos, and branding, and target audiences, media buying, all of it. I just think that will start a line of logic, once they know they are being sold or convinced they want something because they recognize the tactics, they will want to know what they are being sold. They will get that the cute dopey rabbit peddling puffed corn and dehydrated marshmallows soaked in additives and coloring is trying to convince them that they want something that isn't good for them. Once they know what the silly rabbit is really selling-- the hope is that they won't be interested in it anymore. I was told once by a company: "we don't brand ourselves to parents, we just make the kids want it bad enough that they force their parents to buy it for them." I thought the response was honest, and it made me laugh out loud at first, and now the more I think about it, the more that it's starting to piss me off.

This all leads back to teaching the kids about money and what approach to take to saving and valuing your earnings. Maybe the important thing to teach isn't just to save and save endlessly, but to really and truly value what I'm purchasing, To not simply deny wants for the sake of saving, but to make my dollars matter more. I can totally admit that this is the one aspect of parenting and being an adult that I am terrified of the most actually. I just know that I feel it all starting to click into place. Caring deeply for other people and truly becoming a persons partner in life has me racing toward levels of adulthood I can't describe to others. I just woke up one day and started feeling it. And then out of the blue, I could hear myself worrying out loud, and I am pretty sure that I sound just like a parent. I am going to need the strength and the knowledge, because I am pretty sure if either of these two look at me and ask for something that is worthless crap, simply because they have decided that they want it... I am going to have to come up with something much more clever than "No." Time to figure out how my parents never buckled to our charms and screams.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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Sito

On Thursday Cole's Sito (her grandmother) fell from a stroke at her home while she was entertaining friends, she was rushed to the hospital where she slowly slipped away. Cole's father called and told her the news, Cole got to the hospital and to her bedside fast enough that she was able to talk with her Sito while she could still speak, recognize faces, and hold hands-- they had their last connection with one another there in the ER while she was undergoing care. She soon slipped into a coma and despite efforts to save her, she died Friday afternoon. It has devastated their entire family. We have been keeping camp and holding up together the last few days at her Sito and Gido's home as funeral arrangements were made, and then the services carried out over the last couple of days. It has been incredible to see so many people all carefully watching over one another and paying tribute to a remarkable woman. As this has always been a rowdy and boisterous bunch to see everyone so subdued and uneasy, gathered in their house is odd. The sadness comes in at the end of fond stories and belly laughs-- as those laughs would roll thin, and the collective lull from the deep breath taken preparing to unleash the next round of good times, the realization set in that her voice was not bouncing back off the walls and into their ears. The whole room would go quiet, and heaviness fell over faces, shoulders dropped, and you could see them reflect. I have watched these waves crashing into Cole and she is just exhausted. She watches her father closely and when he is hit with hurt Cole buckles with him. They are all so closely connected emotionally. Cole's mom has been with us along the way and it has been so obvious to see how important her energy is to all of them. Cole's dad, and brother, and Cole all lean on her and look to her, so she plays that double roll of shoulder to fall apart on, and shoulder to pull it together on. She has been vital in keeping everyone together. Seeing them all together as a family just makes so much sense.

Tessa has gone from the carefully managed chaos of our house, to meeting a hundred relatives in just a few days. She has been this total little beacon of light for the family as she was introduced to just about everyone there is to meet on Cole's side of the family-- Cole and I watch her close as she is passed to the next person and they lavish her with "oohs and ahs." Tessa did not cry or fuss a single time during any of the services, and her family is convinced she is some kind of miracle baby. The Littlest Buddy was also with us for the services and we couldn't have wished for better behavior. He was just amazing and sweet and sat still for all of the services without issue. He would call out for his "Sito" whenever he would see her picture flash on the TV screens at the service. Cole and I both decided the simplest most matter of fact explanation would be fine for now. We just simply told him that his Sito was gone. Nothing else needs to be said about it. "everyone is sad because your Sito is gone" is the most basic and obvious explanation for him to absorb. The problem will come later down the road when he wants to know exactly where she has gone. He cried when her heard how sad Cole's dad was, and he kept saying "ouch" and "broke." He is the sweetest thing I have ever seen in my life, and it was almost scary to see how dialed in emotionally he is to all of us.

Needless to say I have not been writing, or taking pictures, or doing anything else beyond supporting Cole and her family. This is the first time Cole has ever lost anyone close to her and it is something she was not expecting. Her Gido (grandfather) has been ill for months and their family has been preparing for him to pass, as he has been in and out of the hospital for months now fighting off cancer and other complications with his health. Cole's Sito was showing no signs of slowing down as she was full of fire and life at 81 years of age, and to see her go like this was just a complete out of the blue shock. I was very young when my grandparents passed away on both sides of my family, so I have been sheltered still from feeling deep sadness like this. There is just never anything to say to a person that feels grief that will make it go away. Comfort is sharing silence, and just simply acknowledging how bad it feels, meeting it head on and letting it fill the person up while you hold them up to take on the burdens of grief. Holding in sadness like this will not do anyone any good. I have always envied the closeness of families like Cole's, and the fact that LB and Tessa have great grandparents that are in their lives is so important and special. The stories that we have to pass on to them are vital important stories, and hopefully something that they will feel pride for having. Although Tessa only met her Sito a handful of times, she will know how great this woman was from how she can still effect a room when the stories are flying and the laughs are rolling. We have the pictures and the memories and the want to pass them on to our children. And we will. Her Sito took me into this family immediately and never made me feel like an outsider, she just simply loved me because Cole loved me, and that was all the explanation she needed. Cole's Sito and Gido have been married for 62 years of marriage. They have the darling-days rare kind of love that people wish for, and pillow talk about when they first get married, wondering "will we be that in love when we are old?" I know that Cole and I look up to what they have for one another, and value it so deeply that I think that will qualify as steps in the right direction.

She is missed, and loved, and I am so grateful for knowing her and that I have ate at her table, and have stories of my own to pass down.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Us

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World in His Hands

The Littlest buddy is obsessed with globes. He will sit in front of the world for hours and take it all in. Watching him today tired from his swim lesson, and just after he took down his lunch, heading toward that super heavy headed naptime place, he was whirling this little plastic earth in his hands. Learning fun facts about peanuts in India, and how to safari in Africa, he took in some polka in Germany, and I realized that there was going to be that point in his life when he started to learn past the fun facts where everyone gets along, and the animals are all different. He would figure out that some people suffer, and hate, and war. I wonder if they will make an age appropriate globe toy that we can give him when the time comes that he can spin and press, and learn stuff like why the Middle East is war torn, or why there is genocide in Darfur, why S Korea fears N Korea. I can't remember if there was a precise point that I figured out that the world isn't a cartoon map on a toy where everyone sings and dances in funny clothes and wooden shoes like the creeps on the small world ride. I just know he knows it's a big place, and he is curious about it. And watching him today I wanted to put my hand on that little piece of plastic globe and slow down his trip around the sun and let him hang out in this happy blissful place, where we all hug and say hello in our native tongues, and offer up exotic fare from our respective lands. I mean just look at him looking at this thing. He wants to know about it. I can't even begin to imagine the stack of questions this kid has. All we can do is tell him everything.

Do you remember the first time you learned the world was a scary place? Was it something you saw on TV? Saw in a book? Learned in school? Think of all of the kids that sat and watched the news footage rolling in on TV and the awe struck faces of their parents frozen, watching the towers fall. How many of them will remember that moment? I am almost positive the first images I can remember were in a book on World War II that I had checked out at the library, and I took it to my mother, this giant thick book, and asked her why they had stacked all the bodies up in a big pile. I think it went from there and was centered around World War II until I talked my Mom into letting me have a book on Vietnam. Anyway... tangent. Do you remember?

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me


P.S. Tessa is doing great, right now her whole world revolves around breast milk and a dry ass. Oh the Salad Days :)

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Waking Up Just A Little Bit More

Soon after The Tangerine arrived on the scene I took a blogging break to get aggressive on job gathering and to spend as much time soaking in family as I could. I managed to grab a few good gigs and I spent a ton of quality time with the family. The one thing I did not do was finish the Maternity Series project that I had started. I am so very close, and it just keeps staring at me, whispering, haunting at me: "please finish me." It is a huge project, and one that I will really be bummed about if I just let it die as an unfinished idea.

So...

I am going to sneak out on the blog the rest of the week and focus on getting it all finished up. But not without leaving you some things to think about first, because I got all fired up and well it is just my nature to be loud when I am aggravated.

I wish that I was the type of person that could remain emotionally unaffected when gaining new knowledge about how the world really works, but I am the kind of asshole that goes into slumps for weeks at a time when I see and hear truth about the little things that we just don't want to know about. Whether it's a tiny amount of research I did on the environmental impact of "throw away" diapers (to which I can't call them disposables any longer, because they don't really break down as much as they just sit and pile up) or I sit with Cole and watch the documentary the "Future of Food" -- and learn all about genetically modified food. Getting insight and education on the creation of biotechnology, the corporate domination over farming, and their holding patents on seeds, and how all of this came to be and was born as policy and practice here in the U.S.A. I always hear people scratching their heads over: "what's the deal with all of these kids today and their wheat allergies?" and bitching about how "it's so hard to feed kids these days" -- and then I watched this film, and was like, "DUH, we aren't eating the same food anymore!" And I don't feel like this is a little thing I just saw. I don't want to get pissed off when I eat a fucking sandwich, or a piece of corn and have to start wondering, "just what exactly am I eating here." How in the world did that become a thing on my list of things that I need to be worried about? Do I just shrug it off and keep consuming? I feel like the majority of this country makes the decision everyday to live life and simply say, "well what can I do about any of this?" and then move on from that thought. I remember thinking how amazing the concept and SciFi behind The Matrix was-- and now I feel like it isn't SciFi at all, people walk around plugged into their own realities and block out the truth of the world constantly, because they just don't want to think about the bad things in the world. If someone was physically holding your child and feeding them poison, odds are you would rise up, and do unspeakable things to that person to protect your child. Now all of the sudden I have to start wondering if I'm not unwittingly feeding my kids poison every time I fill up the grocery cart. It sucks. it isn't fair.

I'm not writing anything moving or profound worrying and wondering about how in the world did Jon & Kate become more important news to people than the food we consume. I just hate feeling helpless, and sure we can do our part and shop farmers markets, and try and go organic as much as possible. The people that can afford to live healthy, will live healthy if they wish to educate themselves and make good choices, but I don't see that helping the overall big picture. In the past... If a house caught fire in town, the town would show up and fight that fire together, offer shelter to the victims of the fire, and wake up as a community and help them rebuild. That isn't the case any longer. People say, "look at that fire. I hope it doesn't come over here and get my house." and then maybe they film it and put it on you tube. So maybe that is why when there is a fire burning like this, a community does not rise up and put it out. We stopped being a community. So why don't we see issues like this and as a whole take it down? Is it because there are people out there that think Genetically Modified food is a good thing? Are there? Please, if there is, leave a comment and educate me, maybe I heard one side and I am wrong, or I just don't understand. Take the chance to explain the benefits to me so I can not fret over the bread I am spreading the peanut butter on. To my knowledge there is absolutely no nutritional advantage to GM food. I am not claming to be any expert after watching one movie, I am writing as a person who feels the tension fill my back as I watch the history of biotechnology unfold and how powerless we are to stop it.

In any great debate it is pretty easy for me to see the other side to an issue, and how they arrived to their point. Now, I am not going to simply abandon my take on something just because I can see where someone else derived their opposing beliefs from, it is just simply how they arrived to their opinion. But in this case, I just don't see the other side. At all. Not even a little. I mean who can argue that this is a good thing? Or that it doesn't really matter. Who? I mean who is going to show up on the opposing side to a protest holding signs that say: "Genetically Modify My Food" or "I ♥ RoundUp" and "GMO for Life." So if there isn't really any opposition in this issue beyond the corporations, and policy makers, and lobbyists, and the long line of people that are financially benefiting in the short term, than why aren't we screaming mad about it as the majority and tear it down for the long term? Is it just simply a case where we don't care? I mean there are quite a few Moms that come here and read, and I just wonder how often do you worry about the corn flakes in your bowl? How many of your kids have wheat allergies, or other food allergies? I really wonder how many there are.

Do we not read about these kinds of issues in parenting and family magazines because those pages are largely generated by the all mighty ad dollar, which 90% of that ad revenue comes from the brands that allow genetically modified food in their ingredients, and then those same brands turn around and decide that we don't need that information, and they omit it from their labeling?! Why is this not a bigger issue in the parenting community, instead you have people feuding about breast feeding in public, and kid leashes, and attachment parenting, instead of what we are feeding our children. Why isn't this on my nightly news? Who decides I need to know that some asshole blew away his family, but I don't need to know that huge corporations are putting GMO into my food and not telling anyone about it? How bout just a report on exactly what is a GMO? That would be a huge starting point for a lot of people to decide if they want to dig deeper and to get involved. I mean Cole is in the kitchen making breakfast for LB, and it would be nice if we had a choice to not feed him any genetically modified food. It just isn't on the label.

I am at the part where I could launch into a 10,000 word tangent about how horrible it all is... and I know how ridiculous I can get when I start feeling helpless and hopeless, so I will try and wrap this up. This is a case of too much power in the hands of too few people. Nobody saw the red flags when chemical companies that were hosing down crops with pesticides started buying all of the seed companies? And then putting their chemicals into the seeds so that they would only germinate when sprayed with these same chemicals? That wasn't strange to anyone? Who allowed corporations to patent seeds? All of this screaming about playing God and messing with nature, but not when it comes to our food? I know there are plenty of people out there that know a million times more about this stuff, that live their lives to avoid this food, that have bigger insight about it, but I just arrived to this place. Is this the part where I try and forget what I saw, and just hope that the people in power making billions of dollars off of it will be worried about my little family enough to make the right choices, or do i read more, and get loud, and educate my children, and abandon brands that are hurting the population, and do whatever I can to pitch in and help put out the fire that is burning down food as I know it.

I asked a ton of questions and I am not on any firm ground here, I am all kinds of shook up. The list of things to grab onto and be outraged about seems endless these days and we have to pick our battles, or risk going crazy. I really would like to know the answers to these questions. I am really curious about the food allergy thing. And even more curious to see if there is indeed someone that can enlighten me to the other side. I want to know the connections to the genetically modified food and the increase and reliance on pharmaceuticals. I am not some lunatic looking for a fight, I just want to know if anyone can stand on the other side and keep a straight face and tell me there is nothing wrong with GM food. Explain to me how I'm just being reactionary and there is nothing to worry about. Believe me I would LOVE to be wrong in this case.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

For people interested in this film it is a great ice breaker to the world of biotechnology and GMO's and my only complaint is that it is heavy handed to one side and I wish a larger attempt was made to have the other side try and justify their farming, and the experiments. I want to know if those scientists doing the work are feeding their children the wheat and the corn that they are making in labs. So it left me wondering where the other side was coming from and it did the job of making me want to dig deeper.

So if you are interested here is the link to the film: "Future of Food" and a trailer...

*disclaimer- This was a rant after being introduced to the thought that I have no idea what I'm really eating, and that is one thing if I am eating a bag of cheetos, but another entirely if I am eating a piece of corn. This is written by a person who had no idea prior that anything like this was going on in America. I am completely ignorant to it, and am not claiming to be in the know about anything, I am just writing about waking up to it and wanting to know more. I appreciate opposition and information and points down new paths, education all leads to the calm cool center of being able to make choices. I am frustrated because until I know more, I cannot make good choices. That is all.

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Earning The Cloth

This is our story about cloth diapering...

So let me take you back-- ALLLL the way back to February, right when I posted Week 18 of the Maternity Series, before we had really figured out how we were going to take the pictures, and before anyone really read this blog. It was just before that 18th week of Cole's pregnancy that we had made the decision to spend every last penny we had in savings to try for a home birth, and to secure the Midwife that we wanted. The result of that peace of mind of paying out of pocket for the birth that Cole had dreamed of, left us dead ass broke, and at the time I had no jobs coming in to speak of. It was the first month that my contract had ended with Redken, and it was the first month that I realized that my big backup plan to work as a bartender again wasn't going to happen, not in this recession. So in terms of money coming in, and my confidence level, this was the low point. The head hung low, shoulders sunk, slobbed walk, and nervous shaky voice part of the 9 months. To add to all of the pressure and fears of not being able to provide for my family, this was of course when Cole's belly started to emerge and she needed maternity clothes, and she started going over ALL of the things that we would need to buy by the time the baby came out screaming: "feed and clothe me you freaking deadbeat loser!" What a relief when I was told this baby would exclusively be eating boob milk all the time, so at least he/she wouldn't be hungry at first. One less thing to have to save up for. This was the first time that Cole had mentioned wanting to use cloth diapers, to which my initial reaction was GROSS! "You mean we have to wash shitty piss filled diapers a hundred times a day?" I said. She took down an old box out of the back closet and handed me a cloth diaper, Fuzzi Bunz it read. She had used these 4 years prior for The Littlest Buddy and had loved them and wanted to use them again, but had given most of them away and needed to re-supply. She combatted my pissy closed minded reaction to cloth with cold hard stat facts....

She hit me with the Green Stats first, about how at the end of 3 years of using nothing but disposables, that messy mound would weigh as much as an elephant driving a town car, and she explained how it would take like 500 years to all break down, and how the poo-poo could seep into the water supply, and just how down-right-awful disposables are for the earth. And then she hit me with this-- "We could save anywhere from 3 to 5 thousand dollars depending on how long the baby wears diapers for." and right there on the spot a new fan to cloth diapering was born, and I was ready to learn everything about them. So we sat down on the Fuzzi Bunz site to put an order together, and I quietly panicked knowing that I had absolutely no idea how I would pay for this order. I didn't really stress out to Cole, I just knew I would figure it out somehow. So I did the one thing that I could think of... I dug around on the FB website, and filled out the general contact form and asked to speak to the person in charge of PR, and to my surprise I got a response email from the actual owner of Fuzzi Bunz, her name was Tereson, and she was totally open to hearing whatever crazy idea I had to throw at her. She was so very awesome to talk to, and super receptive-- so I just launched into our story, and let her know that the only thing I could offer up in exchange was to do photography for her that she could in turn use to update the Fuzzi Bunz site, and anywhere she could think of that she might need pictures of babies wearing Fuzzi Bunz. I sent her links to my blog, and to my portfolio, and not only did she agree, but she said she would be happy to outfit our baby with Fuzzi Bunz so that we wouldn't have to worry about diapers anymore. Now I know she didn't agree to this because I had a huge blog or anything, (at the time I barely had a hundred readers). She just liked us, and liked my photography, and that made me feel great. It was such an awesome feeling to use the one thing I knew how to do to make this happen for Cole. We went old school and just traded services. A system I really enjoy. Needless to say I was more than a lot excited to let Cole know the good news.

So about 20 weeks later a truck pulled up to our house and box after box of Fuzzi Bunz diapers arrived. Tessa Tangerine was just over a week old and I saw this new line of diapers that claimed to be the only diaper the baby will need from newborn to three, and I was like... what?! No Way. But Cole had really loved this line of diapers before, and so I just went with it, stayed quietly skeptical, and within a few days I was in a total cloth diaper rhythm. The first week Tessa was alive we used disposables, and by the end of that first week she had started to get her first round of diaper rash. That was the last time that she has ever had any kind of itchy red rash. Since using cloth diapers she has not had a single breakout. So she wears these fluffy comfy cloth diapers and we snap her in according to how fast she grows, and they really work well. We have had one leak (and that was my fault as I was a rookie still and snapped her into the thing late at night completely wrong). Since then we have no leaks to report. They are actually tall enough that the "up the back blowout poop" never makes it over the top and out of the diaper. So-- Cole loved these with the Littlest Buddy, and now I love them with The Tangerine, I am a fan. And so now as Tessa is getting older and I have more time, I set out to start shooting ideas for Fuzzi Bunz to make good on my end of the bargain. Not only did Tereson trade me diapers for photos, but she gave me the freedom to conceptualize and play around with ideas for the photos. So I started dreaming some up.

Tessa hates a dirty diaper, so when we clean her up and change her, as soon as we take the old one off and she feels a fresh warm cloth diaper under her butt, she gets happy and calm and completely chills out. So I would say to her in a half mannish and half baby talk voice: "you can't wait to get this thing on you can you?" and so an idea was born. I thought it would be fun to do a shot where she was achieving remarkable feats beyond her years for the love of feeling these diapers wrapped around her butt. And what feels better than a fresh out of the dryer cloth diaper around your ass?! NOTHING! If you're a baby... or an adult baby fetishist as seen on the Maury Povich show. Yikes! So of course Tessa is not really standing in front of our dryer, she is only 6 weeks old for the love of God! But you get the idea. The baby loves her some Fuzzi Bunz.

And then of course, I figured a simple shot of a happy Tessa laying in her mound of Fuzzi Bunz like a pirate in gold was appropriate.



If anyone has been leaning the way of going cloth, I will point you to HERE to learn more. After using nothing but cloth for the last 5 weeks I can say that I have not found a single negative about them. The money savings got me here, but the no rash thing is huge, and as soon as you come up with a good routine to keep everything washed and ready so you always have a new batch, life is good. Cole has completely converted me. I mean if you're going to jump on the trendy reusable grocery bag bandwagon, why are you going to turn around and put your plastic and dioxin filled diapers that won't break down for 500 years into your recycled and green conscious grocery bag? And after looking into the history of diapering on my own, I find the entire disposable diaper industry creepy for finding new ways to keep kids in diapers longer. They have successfully extended the years kids stay in diapers as time ticks on. Why were the kids in the 50's out of diapers so much faster? There are like a billion transitional diapers now, and people are keeping their kids in these things till their like 11 haha. I'm just waiting for one of these diaper giants to come out with some spooge protecting puberty protector for when boys start having wet dreams. You know it has been conceptualized and pitched, it's just nobody has had the audacity to try and drop it into the market yet.

So that is my soapbox. I am happy about it. I love that Cole cares about these kinds of things, and never forces it down my throat, she just leads me to the water and watches me guzzle it down.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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Things From Our Sunday

Before I started my Monday post I just wanted to mention that Tessa started smiling in response to funny voices and all out general silliness. The real full-faced kind of smiles too, and not just the gassy I totally just farted smiles that had been holding us over.

This past Sunday was set aside for Cole and I to have some alone time finally, do the reconnect, it had felt like months since we were alone with one another. And not the alone where we steal five minutes in the shower during the children's naps. The kind of alone that is healthy for a man and a woman still grossly in love and excited to talk about projects and happenings. So we arranged for her Dad to watch the Tangerine for a few hours, and we made use of a gift card that we had been given by him, accompanied with the instructions to ask him to babysit when we wanted to use it . For any of you newly turned Grandparents that are all keen on one on one baby-sitting gigs with new grand-babies, give your children gift cards to restaurants to get them out of your hair, it's the best! Everyone wins :)

Cole emerged from the back of the house 10 minutes after rushing back to get ready just after a full day of house cleaning in one of my old T-shirts and her underwear all day (I think we both spent all day in our underwear on Sunday), and then all of the sudden she walks out looking like this. Ready to go out. So awesome.


Someone recently asked me how Cole and I have managed to successfully not argue with one another about money while times have been so tough, to which I replied: "It's pretty easy not to argue about money when you never have any of it." It was said as a joke, but thinking about it later it has actually been that kind of approach and thinking, that has kept us from turning on one another. It has been a vital partnership and I have to say, just because we manage not to fight and argue about money, doesn't mean that we don't feel the constant stress of not having any of it. That stress can bleed into all sorts of other aspects of the marriage if we were to let it. So knowing this... we keep our eyes peeled for it. Neither of us wants to turn into the psycho that is all of the sudden freaking out about the laundry piling up, or dishes in the sink, because we have no idea how the groceries will be bought for the week. With that said, we choose to do without lots of things. And doing without just becomes normal life for now. For right now, this part of our life, we don't do certain things. So sitting in that restaurant last night was kind of a reminder of... wow, this would be really nice to be able to afford to do this on our own. And whether we realized it or not, looking back we talked an awful lot about what life with money someday will be like. The both of us are firm believers that our careers will be blossoming and we will have the kind of lives that we discuss all very matter of factly in our daily casual conversation, stuff like: "How old do you think the kids should be when we take them to Japan for the first time?" and "when you build the studio in the back, do you think there will be room to add a kiln and a pottery wheel?" or "What do you think of this scooter? This is the one that I want buy to go to and from work." All of these kinds of things just roll off of our tongues and it never sounds like fantasy.

So last night in that restaurant we hatched all kinds of super big plans for new hair projects for Cole to experiment and push what she has been learning, and being inspired by while on her maternity leave, she is so hungry for her career. And any notion of feeling guilty about going back to work too soon is absurd in the face of these kinds of conversations. She loves what she does, and so there is a longing for it that she wears on the outside. She misses not being in the salon the same way she misses LB when he is gone away from us. So it was fun to see her wheels turning in this way again, it was like she finally felt okay to talk about this stuff because she got to stop being a mom for a couple of hours. So she thought thru and dreamt up ideas and just kept bouncing them off of me one after another, and she really was on fire. I love it when someone loves what they do. It was one of the things that attracted me to Cole so very much right away.

So...

The plan was to stop downtown on the way home and grab a drink and say hi to old friends and prove that we were in fact still alive and well. But getting in the car after dinner I started to think about all of the negatives: We will smell like a stinking smokey bar when we get home to Tessa. We don't have the money to spend on drinks. None of our friends go out till late anyway, and it was only 9PM so we would be sitting in empty bars downtown. And I realized I was talking us out of going, and it started making me mad that our date was going to be over. So we remembered an idea that we had talked about doing at the start of summer that a friend couple had done awhile ago... they had spent an evening at home and painted portraits of one another. So the notion of breaking out paints and staring at my love, and trying to put it all down on a blank canvas was appealing. I figured the end result would be hilarious seeing that I do not paint-- ever. So we set out to do it. We detoured on the way home to one of those awful 24 hour super stores that make you feel sorry for the human race after navigating thru one of them, and we purchased a couple blank canvases. I haven't painted anything since I was a kid in school and was given painting as a project. As part of a hold over from her younger "I am interested in painting years", Cole still had a pretty healthy arts and crafts set she had assembled. So we headed home and set up shop, and sat down across from one another and took turns saying: "Stop! Stop a second. Look up. Look at me. Hold it right there." And then would set back to work on our canvases creating masterpieces for one another.

It was really fun and we ended up staying up till past midnight working on them. I have to say Cole's is far superior, and couple that with the fact she did much of it one handed while breast feeding and she is a master. Painting something from scratch is definitely infectious and as soon as I was done, I was all like; We should do this again! Like maybe we do this once a month and see if we get better and better. So we agreed in the heat of the enthusiasm and have tasked ourselves to do a portrait a month for a year to see if there are noticeable improvements. I can't wait. I highly recommend this as an alternative to the bar or to the movie as part two to a dinner date. Getting all dirty with paint and laughing and talking while trying to immortalize your love on a canvas was the perfect date. It may not have been all soft core porn like the pottery wheel scene in Ghost, but making art and being creative with your partner unlocks some of that kid magic that bangs around in your body and it feels good to let it out once in awhile.

So here are our results... I mean masterpieces.




All the Love in the Universe ~ Us

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Friends in New Places

Because sometimes I want to just wake up and take The Littlest Buddy to see a puppet show and not think about what the Eff am I going to write in the blog this morning! Planning ahead a little for this dodge, I got in touch with one of the only people I would ever let guest post here, and asked for a little help with my Friday-- and he delivered. I met this man face to face in Chicago while I was there to shoot the Unicorn Spectacular party and was really happy to get the chance to sit down with him and actually talk. It was awkward for me because as a rule I never like people right away, getting into my friendship circle is an exhaustive ritual of trust building activities, and proximity tests, (no close talkers). So there we were in the lobby bar, arms held tight to our chests and blindfolded, taking turns falling backwards into each others arms, leg wrestling, and spilling personal sex secrets and stories about which moves in porno movies actually translate and deliver the goods in the bedroom. We were really laughing it up, and I realized he wasn't just a great writer, but someone that I could actually be friends with in real life. And I remember I kept thinking: "he isn't very funny in person." Which was important to me, because I didn't want him stealing any attention away from me when we talked to other people that night. We had a blast in Chicago. I cried when he said goodnight and goodbye. End of story. So a few days later, when I saw the news that his very successful and amazing windy blog that he had been building for the last year was closing down, I was pretty bothered that I would not have his place to go and steal ideas from any longer. So of course I was relieved to hear that he was going to start rebuilding and move in new bold directions-- and well I wanted to help, so I am handing over this space today to bring you a little of the the bhj. Thanks for doing this buddy.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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On Stasis And Flux

I met Ryan at a bar in Chicago and we were talking shop immediately. “I want a piece of your photography thing.” I told him. “I’m so ripping you off. You know how you take a picture of Cole leaping through the air all over the world? Something like that. Except darker. Like, I’ll shove my kids down various staircases.” I’m not really friends with someone until we share malicious laughter.

I have always mistrusted photographs. Families don’t smile like that. And when they do, they’re hiding something. My eye drifts down to examine the tension in Father’s hand around Daughter’s waist. Or what about that picture of my blind date who I met on AOL in 1994? It just wasn’t true. Pictures lie.

Further, the world never stops moving. That is its essence: mad, colorful unceasing flux. And the camera tries to grab a piece of that and pin it down. For memory’s sake, we say. But memory moves too. It’s not frozen in a block of ice. No. Memory flows. Not even a photograph can remain stable when confronted by the violence of memory.

“Ryan. Don’t ask me to smile.” I told him as he pointed the camera. “I would never insist on such a thing.” he replied.

It’s my wedding day. September 29, 2001. From left to right my Nana, my Grandpa, and my cousin Adam. The picture remains in the context of a collection of similar photos of family and loved ones all gathered to celebrate my wedding. What a great, happy day. The pictures are about the wedding. Taken, and bound together in an album, to preserve the wedding.

What does my Grandpa see there, off to his left? Something fucked up, no doubt. He looks concerned. My Nana looks pensive, somber. (I know you’re thinking it. Indeed, they do have crazy ass glasses.) And Adam. So confident and content. It’s a picture of them at my wedding and that’s all it means: relatives at the wedding. There is a flame in the bottom left of the frame, floating precariously on water.

But take up the picture again in 2003 after my Grandpa dies and it’s not the same picture, is it? Well, of course it’s the same picture. But it’s not. There is no such thing as stasis. Not even in stills. The meaning of my Grandpa’s expression changes. What did he see? What is that fucked up thing he saw, off to his left?

And then to see the picture again in 2004, my Nana is dead. What’s on her mind? She looks so thoughtful; her thought feels rooted in a brooding sadness. It’s still the same picture. It is not the same picture.

Finally, seeing the picture today, after Adam was killed on a snowmobile last January, the picture no longer finds any of its meaning in being relatives at the wedding. It’s an eerie record of gone things. Do you see the dark? The frame is mostly shadow. It’s an image of the dark sneaking up on what is lit by a flash. We are all merely lit by a flash. Just little tiny flames trespassing on water. Frightened. Sad. Oddly content.

I told Ryan again, “I’m not smiling, fucker.” He replied, “Fine, don’t smile. Just sit there being pained and thoughtful.”

I smiled.

click


(I wanted to add on his behalf a reminder of how great it would be if you were to take in some more reads at his new place and also to give him a follow on twitter. His use of his personal 140 characters are almost always most of the time funny somehow. Thanks again)

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When the News Makes You News on A Slow News Day

I couldn't help but post about this video footage of the Mom at the Verizon store dragging her child on the floor that made the rounds yesterday. I saw it gather some steam, and noticed it was greeted with that typical mob mentality of "burn her." Now before I dive into this, I am in no way advocating the behavior of this particular Mom, or really even going to touch on the act of what she did. There is plenty of debate raging about it already in other places and I have no interest in discussing the right or wrong of what she did here. I am zeroing in on the right or wrong of the media making this a headline in the first place. I find the timing of it all much more creepy, and this feigning of puzzled head scratching disbelief of "what was she thinking?" is (as they say in the news to sensationalize a story) "grotesque!"

And here is the actual news story as seen on CNN -

This 20 seconds of footage was snatched off of the mountainside of the worlds atrocities and paraded around for a good 5 minutes of National airtime by the responsible upstanding folks of the news as a heinous and disturbing glimpse of abuse and bad judgment caught on tape. This story quite conveniently emerged on the heels of the "Drunken Mom" that drove her van into oncoming traffic killing 8, and suddenly for the last 48 hours "bad mom" stories was a hot news trend. How topical and relevant, since ya know we were already talking about an irresponsible mother anyway. The thought being that the conversation is already blaring--so add fuel to the fire. It is a formula, and had Obama figured out how to spend another trillion dollars yesterday, or Biden blurted out how it was a good time to attack if anyone was thinking about it, or Paris Hilton farted on tape, this story would never have seen the light of day yesterday. But it did make the news, and so this woman's name and her embarrassed mug-shot have been plastered around the net, TV's, and papers, and made their way into blogs, and tweets, and Diggs, and well the question I have is, who did the greater harm to the child? The Mom who drug the kid thru the store, or the media who soiled her name and image and made it public? Handing out licenses to the quick triggers that surround this family to pass judgement and isolate and whisper and question. The parents and faculty at school, and playgrounds now have the headline to attach to this woman and child: "there goes that mom that was arrested for abusing her kid." Show me the genuine concern for this child in reporting this story. Can anyone do that with a straight face?

There is no responsibility taken for adding to the embarrassment, something that they insinuate has already been inflicted on the child by being drug thru the store. It was a matter of convenience to ride the wave of the bigger headlines and nothing more.

The CNN footage is grasping for outrage and you see it in the inconsistent messaging in their headline. At one point it reads "Kid on leash dragged thru store" but the animated text that runs during the story reads "child hauled by harness", and then a scroller rolls by "kid yanked thru store", and then on you tube it is republished and shows up as "mother drags child by dog collar." So which is it? Was it around his neck as they suggest? Did they happen to clear any of that speculation up? They got the details that there were red marks, but did they forget to ask if there was anything actually around his throat? Would it sound as horrifying if it was indeed just a backpack harness? When you watch the footage does anyone notice all of the outrage by the customers and employees? I saw a lot of people standing around that couldn't care less. If they really wanted to get insane and critical then why didn't anyone question the complete lack of intervention by store employees and customers. Maybe they could have even suggested they all should be locked up too for ignoring good samaritan laws. How many arrests are we talking about in connection to the lack of intervention to this felony here? I don't see anyone rushing to the aid of this child as he glides thru one end of the store to the next. Was she just moving too fast for everyone?

I am making this clear again, I am not saying anything about the right or wrong of what went down. It just starts to get scary in the age of "everything under surveillance and broadcast to the world." And depending on the news day, and who is sitting behind the controls, they can make or break a situation. In the interest of the child, did this need to be news? Did his mother deserve this kind of heat? How many people did the same thing on the same day and just didn't have it caught on tape? Is this irresponsible journalism, or am I just really paranoid and ridiculous? My big question remains who did the most harm to the child here?

Just couldn't stop thinking about this one last night.

~Me

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The Wilds That Live Inside of Boys

This post was prompted about a week ago when I watched the Littlest Buddy chasing lizards and squashing bugs in the backyard. I have no idea if my heroic "the big protect the little" speech sunk in at all, but it did whisk me back to my boyhood days of destruction. I am calling my father today to ask him what on earth could his speech possibly had been after digging up my terrible past. Obviously his speech left little impact, and I am wondering if there was even a speech at all.

This is also for any of you Mom readers that have little boys... treat yourselves.

* Before I was too young to remember on my own account, a story goes that my neighbor had shown me a birds nest with some baby birds in it. I was more than delighted to admire them anytime I would go over to their house. Some time soon after (allegedly) I made my way to their place on my own, and proceeded to crush every last one of those baby birds in my hands. Having no memory of this at all, I can only assume it was the old tale of "too much petting power" that young kids seem to struggle with. "Cuddle to death" has a literal meaning when you're that young.

* Later in life, when I was an 8 yr old boy, I tortured and killed a bird that I had knocked off of a power line with a lucky shot from my pump action BB gun. As a young boy I never left the house without this gun. It was a standard air rifle that I had sawed the stock off of, and had made into a pistol grip so that it appeared more menacing. I had always taken shots at animals, the standard practice was to give this weapon just a couple of pumps, and it would produce just enough smack to sting and scoot along any animal without puncturing and harming it. But on this day, I had decided for no particular reason that I would fill this rifle with as much pressure as it would hold, and I wanted to see what would happen when I shot a bird thru the head with it. Where I lived the amount of targets in a day were infinite. We lived out in an underdeveloped stretch of FL that left acres and acres of natural woodlands between homes to explore thru: wild blackberry brambles, palms, and loads of poison ivy to navigate. But on this day it was the convenience of the power line behind our garage that was going to be the kill zone. I took aim, and squeezed off a round, and a dove dropped.

It fell to the ground still alive. I watched it suffering and I started to panic, I remember thinking how much trouble I would be in when what I had done was discovered by my father, and I had no explanation for this action. So... in my 8 yr. old mind, mixed with some looney tunes logic, I thought the smartest way to finish it off, and to hide the mistake, was to burn it. So I walked to the garage and got some lamp oil, and dumped it on the dove. I caught it on fire. I remember worrying what would happen if it were to try and fly away to save itself. It flopped around on the ground smoldering, the fear took hold and I ended up crushing it to death with the end of my rifle. I cried so hard I threw up. I took it into the woods and buried it. This was the last time I ever shot anything. I never told my parents what I had done, and the rest of my young life I was the kid that brought home every hurt animal I discovered while exploring. It never made me feel any less guilty about this.

* The first memory I have of being a bad kid was that same year when I tore off a switch from a tree, and drug it thru the dirt sand roads in my neighborhood and spelled out swears that no child of 8 could have ever heard from anyone but their own father. I would hide in the bushes along the roadside and hold in the laughs when anyone would pass by my poetry. Surely they must have spotted the giant FUCK YOU I had carved into the road just for them. A car stopped once, and a very angry Mom-type had gotten out and wrecked my work by smoothing the dirt back over with her foot and erased my handy work. Little did I know that she would park up the bend in the road and wait to see who the devil child was that scratched that foulness into the earth. Still being an innocent, I never thought that I would be outsmarted by an adult. So without taking a second look glance down the road after she had drove off, I came out of my hiding spot to recreate my giant FUCK YOU message even bigger than ever. I was busted. And promptly delivered to my house where my parents were told of my crimes. I remember not caring at all.

*I was fond of the roadside ambush and later that same year I filled a bag full of fallen oranges off of our citrus trees and hid in the ditches alongside the busiest and main road that cut thru our development. I would lob oranges into the air when cars would pass by trying to time it so that they would land flat on the tops of the car. I successfully struck a car-- and the second I heard the smack! I immediately turned and ran as fast as I could-- about 2 blocks back thru the woods, and new homes that were still under construction where I had stashed my bicycle. I jumped on, and casually rode back up the street to where the car had stopped, and where a man was looking around in the lot from where the oranges had come from. He was an old man, and he was raging lunatic mad. This was the first experience I had with keeping it cool. I just looked like a kid riding around on his bike. Surely not the little asshole that had just thrown citrus at a moving vehicle for a laugh. I never did this again after seeing how angry this made people.

*The last memory I have of this wild boy phase was the afternoon I spent in the woods with my sister and my next door pal best friend. Our grand idea for the day was to start forest fires and see how fast we could put them out. So it would go like this. We would pile up some brush, light it on fire, and then beat it out with our feet, blankets, and some sticks. With each fire, we would stand a little longer and watch it get a little more out of control. By the end of the afternoon I guess you could say we had become overconfident, thrilled by our earlier successes of handy fire control. The last burn of the day of course was the one that got away. We had set a huge patch of tall grass on fire and let it spread till it was about 10 ft around. We tore in after it, stomping and waving these sticks trying to smack the fire back, of course all of this flailing only fanning it to new heights. Within about 20 minutes we had burnt down an acre and a half of woods and a house was in the fires path. The entire surrounding neighborhood was out in force protecting this home, and the Fire Dept showed and fought this blaze. I remember sitting under this tree and being chewed out by angry neighbors, and I was thinking that I wish I had been injured so nobody could be mad at me and maybe by the time I recovered I wouldn't be in trouble any longer.

When the fire was finally snuffed out the Fire Dept took a bulldozer and dug a trench around the entire perimeter of the burn, this would end up being the neighborhood dirt-bike track for years after, and a favorite hangout for all the kids in that area. Those jerks never said thanks once for that awesome track, it had the best jumps. As part of my punishment (besides never watching TV again till I was 11, and a criminal amount of chores I had to do) I had to write a letter to the Fire Dept detailing what I had learned from the experience. This became my first dose of public speaking, and I was hooked. I was paraded around by the Fire Dept from class to class reading my dramatic tale of danger and destruction, regaling all of the life lessons I had gained from this unique perspective as a fire starter and was determined to pass it onto the other kids as a "thing not to do." I do feel like this exposure to writing and reading to an audience took me on a new path of attention seeking, as that was also the first year I was in a play for school. I played a wandering soldier in the story called "Stone Soup." I was hit with the acting bug and remained active in theater well into my 20's.

Laying this all out I am sure that I have left out a hundred little crimes performed along the way, and I felt keeping it within the span of my eighth year of life was a safe bet. As the acts carried out by me as a teenager carry less of that forgivable "he's just a boy" quality. I've never paid any attention to the psychology behind the wild destructive phase of boyhood. I am chopping it all up to natural attention seeking, hunger for concrete examples of life and death, and constantly feeling like I was in trouble anyway, so I may as well get into trouble.

I found an old article from our local paper that year, where they had interviewed 3 of us regular old kids and asked each one of us what we thought happened after we die. Each child launched into some fairy angel dust about God and heaven and clouds and my answer was this: " I think you probably rot and your bones decay. I read that in a Science book. I also saw it once, I found a dead rabbit and, when I looked at it again a few days later, all that was left were bones and fur." Notice I said "probably" I still had a little bit of that fire and brimstone fear in me from the small influence my Grandfather had on me.

I just can't imagine explaining life in such a way that a boy wouldn't feel the need to go out into this world and figure this all out on his own. I'm not saying I'm not going to try to pass it down, but at the same time I'm not going to be surprised when I watch his little hand close around a frog and squeeze the life from it.

All the Love in the Universe~ Me

* OH yes, and to any of the dudes that read here please by all means, drop some stories down in the comment section so that I don't feel so bad for all the stuff I did when i was a boy. I know you did worse stuff than me.

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Covergirl

I assure you that Cole and I have gone to great lengths to make sure that this does not go to her head... She knows she is still just a baby :)

Anyone live in South America? Going to be in Brazil anytime soon? Then today you could venture out and pick up the newest copy of Crescer magazine and read all about the birth of Tessa Tangerine in a completely different language! A few months ago I was contacted by a polite and curious reporter at Crescer to answer a few questions about the photo series, and to see if I was interested in having a few of the pictures from the series printed. I agreed. Just a couple weeks later little Tessa Tangerine was born, and after my final interview with Crescer, and after reading the birth story that I posted here, they asked if I would consider having The Tangerine on their cover. I figured the odds of being asked to be on the cover of a magazine again were pretty slim, and this would be such a super cool thing for her to find at the bottom of a box of baby memories when she is all grown up. So we went for it and had a great experience with the magazine. Everyone I dealt with was charming and agreeable and well... that always makes an American suspicious ;) Joking aside it was a great experience, and navigating the language barrier was a total trip. I can't wait to read the translation.

When we showed her the cover she just sort of crossed her eyes and wobbled a little and made a gurgling noise... so totally not a big deal at all. I really love the way they did the layout inside of Cole. We should be getting some hard copies in the mail soon. Can't wait to see it.

Thanks to everyone at Crescer for being good to this family especially Thais, and Paula

All the Love in the Universe~ Me

P.S. In other publishing news if you see the new copy of Pregnancy Magazine due out Aug 11th, my first ever essay and some pics are in the new issue. I wrote a little something for Dads getting prepped for the sights, and sounds of childbirth so they can reduce the risk of hitting the floor. Can't wait to see it. Between the two magazines, it made this years birthday goals I set come true, well all of them except getting back in shape.

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Full Disclosure

And so in the face of these super terrific life moments that have been whipping past our eyes in our own little universe these last few weeks, I’ve been right here, living right on top of them. Pouncing on these fleeting flashes and the moves that matter: each double take, and jaw dropper, rushes for the camera, or conjurer of a good ol’ fashioned belly laugh, are in my possession. I’ve been keen eyed and quick to notice them, snatching each one of them away from the grip of Time, holding them to my fire and pounding them into pennies for the coin purse. I’m hoarding these memories and milestones, adding them to my family’s list of assets and heirlooms. I’ve been busy. Collecting. Dropping them in, satisfied to hear the clinks of them clinking against the next, watching them grow from a handful to a mound, and standing now hunched over the heap, I’m feeling the weight of these stories in my hands, and I’ve realized the worth of these moments for me, and for this family-- they are all priceless. Every single one of them. They’re ours. And I don’t want to share any of them… because no matter how I re-tell a moment-- my daughters new smile, or LB’s new words, will never mean as much to you. Looking over this pile that has been collected and curated a funny realization and reminder set in that I wrote about in an earlier entry, (that lost me many a reader): People that JUST talk about their kids, are fucking boring. I’m not going to be the jackass at the store in line that looks over your groceries and spots the box of Huggies and launches into some silly potty story searching for the commonality that raising kids is equal parts hilarious and sleepy. I am a fan of community and reaching out to other humans, but I’d much rather look over the gossip mags in line and talk about how Kirstie Alley is fat again, and if you think I should put the box of ice cream sandwiches back or not. There are other things to talk about than the kids all the time.

The finer point here is I am struggling with what to do with this space now.

The absolute worst thing to happen to a blog, happened here, people actually come to this place and read these posts, and I am new to that kind of writing pressure. I know it is every storytellers intention to gain an audience, even if it is just a handful of readers in the scope of the billions. I’m sick with gratefulness and appreciation for every single person that chooses to come here I promise you. I can’t believe that anyone reads anything that I write, but honesty I’m always suspect that they’re just hear for the pictures, and only skim the posts. I’m not bothered, I write long posts, I get it, and I break the golden blog rule of brevity. And with the long windedness comes the pressure of good content. It can make for bad decisions, and I keep it from creeping into my life in irresponsible ways. I refuse to become some lunatic father that prays on every moment with the hope it turns into a great blog post. The pressure to document and to immortalize the mundane for posterity is the biggest pitfall. I’ve kept my eyes peeled for it since starting this blog. Next thing you know you wake up, and you’re the parent that put your kid making faces while pooping in their pants on flickr, and it becomes a National diaper commercial. And your kids one time hilarious moment that was intended just for Mom and Dad is now public property.

I’m struggling a little. I haven’t hit the one year mark on blogging, but the old “what am I really doing here” questions have set in. Am I making a place that the kids will find pride in, or will they find this space someday and find shame here? I try and keep this blog focused on one main theme, “the building and loving of this family”. I chronicled the making and growing of a new little person tirelessly, and now we are to the part where she needs to fit into our little corner of crazy and learn the ropes of what it’s going to be like to be in this particular crew of creeps. With the introduction of this life came the destruction of another’s world. My stepson’s entire perception of his place in the universe imploded and turned him upside down. I feel like there is real value in writing about his struggles, but I keep asking myself is it fair to do so? I have always lived by the thought that if it feels wrong, than it is wrong. And so I leave chunks out of our story some of the time, there is plenty left to verbally pass down around the family fires that will burn. I don’t share everything, not all of the time, but at the same time I try very hard not to ever paint this fantasy that we are floating around vanilla skies and walking thru raindrops over here. This family struggles like any other, and with an audience all here for different reasons, I get complaints of being too whiny or depressing when I dig into the hard parts of life, and then when it is all cheer and whimsy it suddenly must all be a lie, because nobody can be this happy and in love…. Right?! So where is the balance? Or do I just do what I have always done and put my head down and do whatever the fuck I want?

I just know that I don’t want this space to become my family picture album sandwiched between posts like how hilarious it is to try and fuck when the kids happen to fall asleep at the same time. Or the growing demands from LB as he battles his fear of being replaced. Mama is being repeated with such a grand repetition around here that he has become a vampire-- sucking every inch of attention out of us with every waking moment. He is incredibly powerful, and his charms are endless. All of this stuff is priceless, and I have an easy time sharing our grasps at intimacy, or the battles for identity in the face of new life. I just need to remember that there is more here. Remember to save some of our life just for us. I want to talk about our struggles with raising a boy with a rare genetic disorder, but never want to make him some unwitting poster child for it. It isn’t fair to him. But I know that we have been searching high and low for a family that is like minded, that has not turned their special needs into an angel of heaven and write constantly of the miracles. I know that some families out there are also like us , and just want the info, and the brutal truth, and reality of what is going on, and we could give them that. But is it fair to LB? Again if it feels wrong, it is wrong-- and so I fight it back.

All of the sudden I feel like Rob Gordon doing the “what does it all mean” race thru life to get to an end, so I can feel an embrace again that breeds a calm and a confidence that keeps my voice steady and consistent and relevant. There was a point when this blog made perfect sense to me, and I pinpointed it just right now in fact, at the end of this post-- it was when I was writing just for us, for Cole and for the kids. When there was no acknowledgement at all of criticisms from the outside looking in. I’ve never cared much for over sensitivity so I am confused as to why I wear the kid gloves so often. I’m going to be finding my legs again, and so this is maybe the last apology for that process before I just put my head down and plow on. I never doubt my love for my family and so that will always be, and remain the constant here. When Cole and I married we made promises that we intend to keep, and part of that was to never let marriage and children kill our identities and our silly dreams. I feel like it is the most important ingredient to this successful marriage and the thing that I like to write about the most. One of my dreams has always been to be a good husband and father so that has relevance here, but it is not the only dream that drives me, and is not the only element to the building of this family.

I think I need to battle one last big battle, the header reads, “my wife gave me permission to write candidly and vividly about the building of our family” but I have to remember that our kids didn’t give that same permission … I have to figure this part out.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Us

*update- Just to be clear, because sometimes in my long winded pourings on I forget to be clear... I have no intention of quitting or stopping or quit stopping this blog. I am just working shit out with the future.

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