Buckle That Chin Strap

We were told never to scrape the bottom of mama’s pot roast… it was thinly burnt from time to time from mismanagement of the unwatched pot, but if left undisturbed it would not contaminate the entire stew with the taste of the ruin, spreading further proof that mom had not made the perfect pot. I would always plunge that spoon down deep, drag that bottom, and pull it all up and onto my plate. Just so that I could say: "This is gross."

Buckle that chinstrap and get ready for family. Are you all ready? I know some of you are super excited, some of you are wrapping up tight in darkness, and some couldn't care less because you're Pilgrim haters. Holidays have become a mixed bag for me, as soon as I married Cole I had a partner that was absolutely hysterically in love with her family, and here I am, remaining solid in my "love at an arms length" relationships on my side of the big tree. So with that said, Cole and I have been bouncing around possible plans for where and when we will be going tomorrow, and all of this has been stirring up the magic moments and memories of food feasting and drinks with dorks. It will most certainly be a multiple stops kind of Thanksgiving celebration, we will be doing the holiday rounds, passing the baby for oohing and ahhing and chubby leg pinching, and spreading the family love and cheer. At least I know the food will be good.

Food was a big battle for me growing up with my mom. She took any untouched scrap of food on a dinner plate as a personal slap on her hard working cooking hands and really couldn't wrap her head around the possibility that kids are finicky fuckers that like to say no to great tasting food for no logical reason. (my mother is a phenomenal cook) She gave my sister and I an awful lot of power when she would get lip quivering mad over our sour faces and upturned noses when we would push plates of dinner away. I was that asshole kid that would stand off with my mother and father and actually sit at the table for hours waiting them out. Telling me I couldn't leave the table till my dinner was gone was no big deal. It was a comfortable table. Because of all of that battling, my mom watches me eat now and marvels and jaw drops when she sees me eat any kind of vegetable. "Well I can't believe I just saw you eat a green bean, I just can't believe it." she will say. I am sure to load up the healthy meals when they come over for dinner, just to bask in the wonderment. I made a big bowl of cauliflower mash and a fresh green bean salad with roasted tomatoes their last visit. I sat there and gulped it down hating every gritty bite with a smile, just so I could watch her watch me out of the corner of her eye. She would shake her head in total disbelief, was she proud? It is so rare to hear my mother say she is proud of me that I have resorted to eating all the food I pushed away as a kid just to get her to maybe smile a crack of approval. It's the little things they say? Maybe in order to finally have that healthy carefree relationship with my mom and dad I have to go back to the beginning and mend all the little things? Seems like a fools errand. I feel like despite the awkward dislike we have for one another, that we both turned out pretty great. I have nothing faulty that I can blame on my parents, I am too old for that shit anymore. That is a younger mans luxury. I'm not sure exactly how healthy it is to have her tell me that I was not the son she wanted, and in turn I said she was not the mother I needed. I think it is progress. That kind of honesty seems like it could be the road to civility.

I keep thinking that one day there should be some sort of confessional moment with mom about some of the little things. Maybe she will come here one day and read some of this and stumble upon this entry, and she will either laugh and be light and forgiving at my silly youthful stubbornness, or she will just throw it on the fire and keep to her guns. At least she will know I don't really like mashed cauliflower. I mean that shit is gross! But what I finally know now and have the ability to execute is the willpower to endure the little things that make her and dad happy so that they are happy. If eating a big helping of some healthy bean based stew makes her light up, then it is worth it. I will slurp it down and say "yum" because as an adult I like to make my mom happy. She deserves it. Even if she only buys the farm fresh lean turkey breast and takes all the skin off and makes no gravy. Feeding me healthy fresh food, as opposed to a heaping helping of crispy roasted turkey skin drowned in butter and drippings and brown stuffing. Oh man that sounds good :) So when all of you sit down and have your mom serve you that big salty fatty dinner and you moan from foodgasm and nap your afternoon away satisfied and full, I will be at my mothers, still a little hungry, with filled up napkins full of vegetables in my pocket, but completely satisfied and grateful that my mom wants me to be healthy over happy when she feeds me. Knowing she wants to nurture and contribute to me living a healthy and long life is just as good as any "I love you, will you please pass the heavy gravy."

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. Enjoy this Thanksgiving Song by Dan Bern.... he nailed it.

P.S.S. And for sure everyone travel safe and be good to one another. Happy Thanksgiving

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A Cole Request

It doesn't happen often but from time to time I will get a request from Cole to please stop what I am doing and to please photograph something that she thinks is super adorable. Not necessarily a moment that is happening, but odd little things that she wants to remember and finds precious about the children. Last night was such a case, and I got up and grabbed my camera and followed her into the kitchen and she points at The Littlest Buddies feet and says: "I just love him in these socks so much-- look at his little legs. Just look at them!"

Me: "you want me to shoot what now?" just his socks?"

Cole: "yes."

Me: "Do you want him to be doing anything?"

Cole: "No just look at his skinny little legs. Just look at them."

LB kept taking his turkey he made at school down off the fridge to play with the giant magnet that is holding it up.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Us

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The Sandbox

As I mentioned Cole and I decided that we wanted to build outside play areas for the kids this Christmas rather than fill the house up with more clutter and toys-- So we have taken the money we saved for Christmas and are going to budget it into a few projects. The idea was spurred into action from a recent play area project we built for The Littlest Buddy. We wanted to build him a sandbox that would be ideal for him and make sense in this nasty hot Florida weather. We wanted something he could use and be comfortable in and keep him out of the harsh sun. So we tore down the garden teepee that I had made, and rebuilt it closer to the back windows of the house in the middle of our herb garden-- this move made it so we could keep an easy eye on him when we are inside and leave him to his sand construction. We also fitted the outside of the teepee with this very durable patio screen material that boasts to reduce the temperature by 15 degrees in the shade that it makes. Cole did all of the cutting and mounting and really made it look great. It still always a breeze to blow thru, and building the teepee around the sandbox made it so we can simply close the opening with a flap of material to keep the cats out. Nothing worse than your sandbox turning into a giant litter box. When LB gets a little older and more ambitious with paint projects he can personalize his teepee, make it his own. The last phase of this project is to plant a ring of citronella plants around the sandbox to reduce the mosquitos buzzing around. Oh yes, and speaking of bugs, we also mixed a good bit of salt into the play sand to keep the slugs and worms out, and so far we have had no bug issues.

LB always warms up slowly to new things. It took him a few days to get used to having this as a play option and we had to battle with him to keep the sand out of his mouth. Gross I know (He likes the sound sand makes when he bites down, it is one of his sensory things that he does.) But now he loves it, and asks to go and play outside often, and I can't wait till Tessa is old enough to go and play in there with him. Wait till he figures out he can actually build castles.

All the Love in the Universe~ Us

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Rifle Paper Co.

I have been blogging and word spreading and going on and on about Anna Bond since this blog was a baby and now today her paper goods shop is finally open. Anna did the super PTPR banner that you see here, along with some other great custom illustrations for a story project I have cooking. This print I posted is hanging in Tessa'a nursery and you can now click on over to her shop and take a look at all of her prints, cards, and stationary, that she has to offer. Her illustrations were the perfect touch for the nursery, whimsical, classic, and warm. I am so excited to have Anna on board doing the artwork for the charity album that will hopefully be available before X-mas. Along with the song downloads, Anna will be selling a limited run of prints of the cover art, with proceeds going to the charity project as well. She is one of the heroes :) Congrats to Anna Bond and all of her hard work paying off-- so please do yourselves a favor and check out her store and pick up a pack of holiday cards while you are there.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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The Many Faces of Tessa Tangerine

Infant Stripe Fine Jersey Long Sleeve by: American Apparel

This is something I have been playing with too offer up for potential clients, to make better use of all the great looks, and pics that come out in a single session. I like how it is turning out, and can see all sorts of ways to make it better.

Holiday Week is here, and so I am planning on keeping the posts on the light side and focus on projects around the house. Cole and I have decided that instead of doing toys we would focus on constructing great play areas for the kids for Christmas this year, so we only have about a month to go. Time to get ready.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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Magic Hour

Can we all agree that when Daylight Savings Time ends it feels like a great big nasty fuck you to kids everywhere. The Littlest Buddy races dusk every time we go out to play since DST has closed. (*thanks for the correction anono, I always mix them up) Right around 5 the sky starts the light show, spilling violets and gold, and flashes of green onto the earth, busting clouds, and shooting light thru the trees, and I want to stop time and play until everyone is exhausted and satisfied. Instead-- by 6 the sky is black, we are inside, and he is standing at the front door signing to "play,play, play" and "swing" and "park" and then he goes and sits on his bike in the laundry room and pouts a little. Sure we play around the house. But nothing beats being outside when you're five and just finally figured out how to ride a bike.

All the Love in the Universe~ Me

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Shhh (part four)

Things have never quite been the same with my father since he had that lousy accident that I mentioned. He still has the tendency to go on and on endlessly these days when we get the chance to speak, but not in the same way that he did when I was a boy. Now when we talk it's rarely ever about anything crucial, or a heated opinion, more just pointless stories. That may sound like I'm being obtuse, but I assure you I like his pointless stories-- sometimes-- for a little while. He has a little bit of that wacky senility like ol' Grandpa Simpson thing going on, ya know what I mean? That relentless blather that starts to get funny because you can't find many connections to a real point: "Back in my day, I tied an onion to my belt, that was the style back then" ya know that kind of thing. My mom is quick to smack his leg, or tug on his arm, in order to wrap him up and get him out of his circles he is talking in. She knows he is a repeater. She is conscious of it being an annoyance to others. She guards over him so that he has an off switch. He does have good stories from his past when he was a young dude getting started on his own. If he gets on a roll, he really starts cracking himself up. He has the exact same laugh as Ernie from Sesame Street, it's amazing. Getting off the phone with him successfully with just one simple "goodbye" is impossible. He treats the word "goodbye" as a cue to start a brand new topic of conversation each time he hears me say "goodbye". I love my father, but I hate that uncomfortable feeling I get when I think he is just talking because something inside of him has him convinced that he has to, and not because he actually wants to talk about anything. Growing up with that long dull lecture taught me to tune out. I can remember counting while he would lecture, I would just count so I didn't have to listen and focus instead on how high I could get. I would be a liar if I said I remembered how high I counted, but it felt like it must have been like to 5,000 in one sitting. It would have been an amazing feat to have kept track of the number every time I counted so that when I was older I could be able to say: I have listened to you for like 10,456,023 seconds.

So I hear myself now, I pay attention to what I am going on and on about around the house, and how I speak and pass stories on to Cole and to friends. I hear myself when I am trying to get LB to understand why it's bad to smear oatmeal all over himself and the dining room table if he is left alone there to eat in the morning. I worry that I am feeding into bad behavior because I am launching into speeches trying to reach him. There are days when LB's inability to speak feels not so much like a developmental delay, but more like an intentional stand off of will: "I am not going to acknowledge you are speaking, or indicate in anyway that you are making any kind of sense." I get that feeling sometimes because he will all of the sudden lose his focus and look at you out of the side of his eyes and crack a giggle- and then snap right back into his tune out. I wanted to nickname him Oskar from my favorite book The Tin Drum, whose young main character Oskar Matzerath is a little boy who made a conscious decision that he wanted no part of the adult world, and so he threw himself down the basement stairs staging a moment that would be the blame for his stunted growth. He had no use for rules, and order, and adults. So he remained a child. I watch LB find all of his deepest comforts in remaining small and helpless, he loves to be carried, and snuggled, and to be fed. He is 5 now but so much more like 2, and we all know he is capable of more, because he has these moments where he leaps into the world of a 5 year old and runs, and laughs, and shows independence, and plays like a 5 yr old. He definitely has a switch. We have also read and heard stories in cases of SMS children that getting into trouble and getting that time-out is like the best treat ever. It's like he needs the break from all the stimulation and so he pulls the switch, gets into trouble, and goes and chills out in a time-out. LB loves time-out. Loves it. So that just adds to the frustration and urges the big long explanation of: "do you know why you got into trouble?" He couldn't care less that he got into trouble, he needed the break.

Ugh

All of this is minor and passing moments, the fact is Cole and I will find things that work, and continue to be focused on the children and find ways to reach them. Hearing myself lecturing LB was just the big slap in the teeth moment when I heard my father coming out of my mouth. It stirred a shit storm of self reflection and looking back into my relationships with my parents, who I just can't seem to find a common ground with no matter how hard I try. I don't want to over compensate with LB and push to have a connection because I am feeling insecure about just being his step-dad, and also to fill in any gaps of my own disconnect with my mom and dad. So what is not apparent is how to side step the nagging tendencies and habits passed down from father to son. How do I look in the mirror and see my parents and then shed myself of the pieces that I picked up that I don't want? Is it possible? Has anyone achieved this? Has Dr. Phil done a show on this? Anyone write a book? Share. Please.

I take comfort in the fact that so far in my marriage Cole has never had to smack me in the arm, or give me the BIG bulgy bug eye stare from across the room to go ahead and wrap things up and shut my face hole. She has never told me to please stop talking. So I am not sure if that is just sweet consideration, or if I have not crossed over to being a blabber mouth in day to day banter. She has mentioned after listening to me lecture LB: "you think maybe that you went over on time a little?" So I know it is there. Sitting just under the surface.

So the big challenge will be curbing my own voice to try and help find The Littlest Buddies voice. I am just like the rest of his family, I just want to hear him speak so very badly. I want him to be able to talk to his sister. I want to hear him ask Cole questions at story time. God that would be amazing. How many questions do your little ones ask when you read them bedtime stories? I would imagine the world of Dr Seuss is a pretty serious head trip if you can't ask things like: "are there really such a thing as Tweetle Beetles?" and "why aren't any of our eggs green" ya know, kid stuff. And aside from the sweet magic of kid wonderment, the safety issues as he gets older, people having access to him, and him not being able to tell us if something shitty happened, or that some asshole kid was mean to him. He is learning signs so quickly, but not many people know signs or his way of executing them. So all of this just swims in my head. I become a blabber mouth for him, to him, around him. I need to shut up. Be a support and not another blast of noise he is blocking out so that he wants to remain quiet. He has brought me to tears before late at night, in the dark of his room, awake and crying, and I have no idea why. He's looking me right in the face and trying to mouth the words, trying to say why he is crying. But nothing comes out. So he cries harder. So all I can do is hug him, bring him to his Mama and we tell him everything is okay. Knowing we could never guess what he was dreaming about that made him so upset. Should we just assume monsters? It's always monsters isn't it?

He smiles when we smile. He can melt you in a second when he connects with you. If he can express elation because of a glance, than I am sure we can find a way to teach him right and wrong with similar minor exchanges. So that is all I am going to say about that.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. I figured I would just wrap the week up with a big LB shoot for part 5. What better way to end this without saying a word.
thanks for reading along

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Giving In

I finally convinced Cole to start up a twitter account so that when we are home and she is in the other room I can just twiter her stuff I am doing/need/want/think and vice versa. So she obliged and now has an account, and if you want to follow her for any reason at all you can do so HERE.

And on that note, for any of you who live in the Central FL area I suggest you follow her so that you can get the scoop on when she is doing deals and discounts on hair and color, and also she needs hair models all the time for classes and projects she gets involved in, so there is always the chance to get yourself all done up and hot for free. Drop her a DM and let her know you are interested and she will take it from there.

Now for my giving in to unbelievable pressure and being hammered down with stats and facts, and side by side comparisons-- I am now 100% positive that I am going to jump ship from Nikon to Canon. And this is why/how.

This may or may not prove useful to some of you, but I have been knocking around the fun idea of selling everything in my photo bag to buy the new Canon 7D, so that I can not only take the same quality photos I do now, but capture insanely sharp and vivid HD video of the kids. I mean wouldn't this blog just look so much cooler with video of the dumb shit we do with the kids? I think so. So as soon as I even mentioned the tiniest crack in my stubborn pro Nikon stance, my buddy Mike started sending me test footage he was taking oh his first week with his brand new 7D-- and I have to tell you, he did it. He shot for a week and sent me all of the tests and I am sold.

*disclaimer/disclosure- Canon has never contacted me in anyway or asked me to endorse their undeniably superior product to my readers. I did not receive anything for free because I am just not that lucky or important enough.

So anyway, I know that along the way of writing and posting to this blog I have picked up quite a few photographers on all kinds of levels that follow along here, and I felt like Mike's test footage proved to be a huge service to me in making a final decision, so it might be a service to some of you who are on the same fence that I was. So if you are interested in that sort of thing. Here is the test footage. He lives in Venice, CA and basically lays around and surfs, and skates, and eats taco's. So his test footage is like a little mini vacation to Venice. enjoy!

Testing out the 7D from Mike Marshall on Vimeo.

And to anyone who has taken the plunge and dumped Nikon for Canon let me know how the transition was for you. I am pretty afraid I am going to get my hands on the 7D and feel like I have no idea what's going on. I have been using Nikons my entire life.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. part 4 in the week long LB post will be up later today. Thanks again for those of you who have been following that melt down along. You're heroes :)

P.S.S. If you also want to treat yourself to some great footage (not taken on the 7D) Mike shot some incredible images on his surf trip he took around Indonesia. I know, I know, what a rough life he lives. Anyway, it's good stuff VIEW HERE

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The Bag Of Wind (part three)

Cole and I didn't immediately take on these parenting philosophies we have embraced for LB, it took months of trial and error and being big enough to admit when something was not working, or if we were doing something that was more for our own benefit to feel like some kind of justice was being served to match his disobedience or defiance. We never fool ourselves anymore into thinking "Now we got it figured out!" Because we know what works one week, will most likely fall apart the next. So we have just decided on some core beliefs, like the major one being not to be loud & terrifying to express anger and to make a point. We try and be as consistent as we can between households, if they are working on something like eating neat and clean, then in turn we reinforce that necessity when he is with us during the week. We communicate on larger issues so that we do not create a lot of make up work. So in that respect there is consistency... Nobody is shy about calling up and saying things like: "hey I noticed this was going on this week, what do you think about this or that?" It goes a long way and makes sense.

The other factor is that there are two very different LB's-- the one during the week that goes to school, and the elated "look-out weekend" made for fun LB. The school day LB is challenged heavily from 8-3, he comes home after a day of school exhausted from stimulation, new challenges, and socializing, and he just storms into the house like a crazed teenager. He runs down the hall into his room, and shuts his door, climbs into bed and goes thru anywhere from a half hour to an hour of decompressing, or sometimes he will just pass out and sleep. He is always better when he wakes, but depending on what he has been through during school hours depends on how the rest of his day will go. His teachers have told us they have never seen him bite his hand, or slap himself silly, or exhibit any kind of self injurious behavior in their presence, so when he gets home he usually goes thru a good amount of SIB to rid himself of the days frustration. So to the other end when LB knows it is the weekend, he is relaxed and happy. He loves school, he loves going. But he definitely shows the wear from it. He loves his days off from school. And there is just a sense of relief in his mood when he knows that he is going to be surrounded in his comfort zone for the day. So with the way we have his time divided up between homes, it lends itself to different styles and tolerances. I can't sit here and lie and say that Cole and I don't wish we had a taste of the less stressed and tested LB and got to play with him carefree on the weekends more often, but at the same time we both feel really good that we get to help him thru the week.

I see myself now in the thick of children, I am not always proud of how I react to things. I work all the time at keeping myself acting like an adult. Just the other day I was holding Tessa away from me while she was in the midst of a screaming frenzy and I was staring at her and repeating "SHUT-UP!" over and over in my head. Shouting it to all my insides looking for sympathy. I started dreaming of an actual panic room in our house, and how it would certainly be sound proof, and I would just put her in the crib and let her have a go at the screaming life, while I would go and sit in the quiet and bask in the serenity of silence. Away from my fantasy, there isn't really any escape from her screaming, and eventually I stumble onto some new thing to do to make her feel lovely again, she looks me in the eye and smiles big, and I melt, and I think inside my head, "How could I ever be upset at this baby?" and all my insides know that just a few minutes ago I was a screaming lunatic and they mock me. So feeling proud that I have found my way to restraint and calm when dealing with the stress of kids and babies, I also notice that when I am in the position of disciplinarian the one thing that I told myself I would never do, I find myself doing.

So here we are. I have arrived at the problem I have been having with myself...

I absolutely hate how I sound if I am the one who is disciplining LB. I always leave his room feeling like an absolute fool. I have become my father. Let me explain that... I had saved a photo from when I was a little boy of my father and I. I was there about 8yrs old sitting on my Dads lap, facing him. We were sitting in this old beach chair. We were at a swim meet. I looked like I had been crying. He looked sincere. And he was explaining to me why I couldn't eat candy like the rest of the kids on the team, because I had the responsibility of being at my best and winning. (winning was really important) He was lecturing me. He was calm, caring, stern, and a fucking wind bag. I mean this guy could lecture me for days. About anything and everything. Having to sit and listen to him go on and on became the punishment. It never stopped. It was the longest time out known to man. Spend an hour getting lectured by my father and you would never do the crime again. The explaining, and explanations, and examples, oh my goodness, it was horrible. He was never ill-tempered, he was always even, he was a great lover of repetition and driving a point home, circling back and then starting the drive all over. You getting the point?! Am I doing it justice? I had this one picture that I kept that had captured it so well, and it is gone now. I had pinned it up in the ICU when he was hanging on to life from a traumatic brain injury he suffered from a ladder fall. I have no idea where the pictures I put in his room ended up. But to me that picture was my father being his best for me. His best at being a considerate patient father, and taking time to make sure I knew my potential and how to achieve it. I have mixed emotions about this slice of growing up. On one hand I admire him for all of his restraint not to freak out and swear and pound fists, and on the other hand I wish he would have just smacked me in the mouth and said DON'T just once, not wishing for a crazy abusive father, but maybe just one example of his muscle, so maybe that little small taste at brevity would have kept me from being an unruly ass for all the years I dedicated to being an unruly ass.

So here I am now. Listening to myself lecture a little boy who cannot speak, who cannot look me in the eye if he is in trouble, who ticks and squirms and bites himself if he feels upset, and I am going on and on about the importance of being a good listener? Ugh. Every second that he looks the other way and rocks back and forth makes me go on longer and longer, thinking that I might stumble on the perfect way of saying something that will finally get him to understand. Maybe he will suddenly look me in the eye and make that connection, or show remorse of some kind. He is like Arthur Fonzarelli on Happy Days if he is forced to say "sorry." We don't even know if he actually ever feels bad, he just knows he is in trouble, and this dude is staring at him and blabbing his head off. The problem that fuels my propensity to blab endlessly is that we have no real idea of the concepts that LB grasps. How do we get him to understand that his tolerance for pain is not shared by his sister. There is never a point of clarity or indication that he provides when he gets it. If he hears me say something like "this isn't funny" in the midst of a healthy lecture, he will light up when he hears the word "funny" and start smiling and clapping. Which just makes me start all over, starting with why this isn't "funny" to which he smiles and claps again. I annoy myself. I must annoy him. I am annoying. How did this happen? Cole will walk into the room and within one short sentence blast she has made her point, driven it home, and she has moved on. Lately it feels like when LB gets into trouble the entire house is in trouble, because they have to listen to me and my bullshit. And that is where I am at. Having just realized this lecturing thing has started, I am just figuring out now in writing this how to keep it from taking hold and becoming the way i do things. If LB sees a picture of us when he is older, I don't want him to think, "man that guy was irritating."


All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. Of course I also realize that this also explains why I am such a long winded blogger. At least I include loads of pictures :)

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Pushing Up

This little girl is so close to sitting up and crawling that I figured I better get a picture of her while she still sits still. She has been an epic squirmer and fighter these past few days. Writhing around and reaching and straining, pushing up and wiggling across the floor in subtle inches. She figured out that she can just keep rolling to get to a toy that she wants. So I have been entertaining myself by placing her on one end of the carpet, and then taking a particularly bright and enticing toy and placing it on the other end of the carpet, and watching her roll over to it. That is what we do with our days alone together. Oh and she screams her ass off, that too. How could I forget that :)

I called a friend the other day, I was frustrated that Tessa had amped up her fussiness to grand heights and that all of the usual comforts were bringing no comfort or quiet. She informed me that in her experience a few days before her babies had hit major milestones that they would freak out and grandstand their frustrations. The thinking being, that as they work things out and get closer to finally being able to do something they want, the anticipation is too much to handle. Which result in loads of screaming and foul moods. Is this universal? Do all babies get crazy a few days before they do something huge? Because if that is the case then I am going to assume with all of the fussing that Tessa has done in the last 72 hours, she is about to stand up and recite the Star Spangled Banner in perfect pitch.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. part 3 of the week long LB post will be up later this morning. thanks for following along.

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Own the Night (part two)

* I realized after writing part one of a week long post yesterday and saw the comments that were coming in, that I failed to make the connection that nobody else reading knows the direction this is all leading to-- nobody knows where that big set-up of the sleep battle is headed-- ( I know, I am a ding dong.) So with that said, it would seem in reading part one, that this is all about sleep issues and solutions, but all of that really was just me laying out a glimpse of our life with LB, of what spurred this week long post so that I could discuss the BIGGER issue I am having that goes way beyond The Littlest Buddies sleep terrorism. The issue I am having is with me. This is a week long post about how hard it has been trying to figure out how to reach LB.

I take it personal when I can't keep the night quiet and ensure everyone has their sleep to function. So after a night of multiple "get ups" and a super early-rising that has been accompanied with all of the usual defiance that goes along with an insistence to wreck havoc and play through the night, I am a broken man. It all makes sense to me. I never wonder why my patience is crushed into little pieces, I just try and find the clarity to sit down and start fitting it all back together so that I am not careless with my emotions when fatigue grabs hold of my brain. We know why LB has sleep disturbances, we have read every case study we can get our hands on in regards to sleep studies and SMS. We know that in comparison to some families dealing with SMS we have it golden. We also know that all of this changes with his age. What we are dealing with now will absolutely change as time ticks on. There is a good amount of just letting LB do what his body and mind needs to do at night, but at the same time it's crucial that we teach him respect and boundaries so that he is careful to create a night that we can find sleep in. As we learn his needs, he needs to be aware of ours. It is a dance being worked out. There are many nights we never hear a peep out of him, this does not mean he is sleeping soundly, it just means he has kept himself in check and is sitting quietly in his bed armed with the various quiet toys he keeps with him to play if he wakes. I have been up to relieve an extra stingy piss that has built up in the middle of the night, checked in on him, and there he is sitting quietly in his bed chewing on his Wow Wow doll. Not making a peep. So to me it seems that he can make these distinctions. He knows to be quiet and still, but some nights he just can't help himself and he battles for all of us to be awake and keeping him company. I mean he is 5, and he is wide awake and bored out of his mind, I can hardly blame him. Now I know I chose the latest sleep battle to open this post with to use as a stepping stone to get to my larger point, but the LB sleep disturbances (although highly frustrating) are just a small part of the day to day with LB. The real search that is going on, is to try and hammer home what is right and wrong, and to teach LB how to navigate thru a set of choices successfully.

Cole and I decided that with all of the possible negative behavioral issues LB is prone to (that include aggression and self injurious behavior), that we would not be encouraging emotional angry outbursts by having any of them ourselves. If we freak out in anger and shout over something he has done, we are reinforcing his want to do the same. Yelling frightens him, and he is not learning that what he has done is wrong, he is learning that people yell and freak out to express themselves when things are not going their way. He is learning to yell and act scary to show power and authority. Imagining LB at 13 is key in keeping our emotions in check. Now there is a huge difference in being stern and solid, and flying off the handle. We are most definitely stern and confident in laying down his boundaries, but what we discovered is that showing him flashes of true anger or yelling just scares him into sadness, and as soon as he is done being sad, he is right back to the same behavior if he has something in his mind that he wants to be fixating on. LB's urges to self stimulate have no comparison in our world. If he wants to flip pages of a book against his tongue and lips, then that is what he will do. I have seen him do this for an hour before. Over and over. It calms him. It makes him feel grounded. We do not question it. So in realizing and accepting that particular nuance, we have to also accept that he is going to act on urges and behavior at night that will in turn elicit the same comfort. So although frustrating and debilitating at times, we have to let him own the night.

All of this last year since the diagnosis has been about acceptance. Not only acceptance of the diagnosis and really truly knowing what SMS means and how our lives will change, but acceptance of the unpredictability of all of this. You read about 100 possibilities and symptoms, and there are no odds associated with any of them. We have no idea to what end LB will arrive. We have no idea the independence he will be capable of, so we just plan on him being President of The Sky's The Limit. There is a world being constructed for him, and when anything changes in the usual progression and growth of his world, it absolutely shakes everything up. As he gets older he hates it more and more when-and-if anything changes to break up his routine. Little things, like if Cole picks him up from school on a day that I usually do. Maybe she wants to surprise him from work early, and she wants to come home and play with him an extra hour, it has the opposite effect. He is pissed. This isn't what happens on Thursdays?! WTF?!!!! All of the sudden he is a sobbing mess and biting his hand, and he needs down time to bounce back from the change. So we have to worry about our own disciplines, and to not rock the boat that we have all found ourselves on, while still introducing the idea that every day is different and things happen sometimes that aren't supposed to. Things that we never plan on. We have no idea the concepts that he grasps because he cannot speak to ask us in specifics. We have no idea what he thinks about when we explain bits of life to him. He is so loving and sweet and has so many people in his life that care about him, we often worry that he is confused as to why all the people that love him don't live in the same house together. All we can do is guess what his hang ups are and try and give thoughtful explanations for him, and hope that he grasps these concepts. Life is barely comprehensible to me, I can't imagine how confusing the rules are for him.

And all of this is still leading to the big discussion I am having with myself over how to reach him, and how to truly know that we are getting thru.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. This was my 300th post.

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Somebody Else's Adorable Kids

*photo post

Recently I agreed to dip my toe into a corner of photography I am not well versed in, but I absolutely wanted to do something nice for this family that has done so many nice things for Cole and I. They are super, and so along with some family holiday shots, I wanted to make some cool photos of their kids for them as a way of saying thanks for being a friend to our family. The problem is, their children do not know me, and there is a good amount of comfort that needs to go down before I will get shots that look comfortable. I think that is what I discovered is the draw for photographers that get into doing a ton of kid portraiture-- It's fun to play and win the kids over, it feels heroic.

So I wanted to make sure I took at least one shot that I thought was cool... I wanted to capture the vibe I was getting from the kids, their boy has this unbelievable calm and confidence, but he is still guarded and shy. And their little girl just puts herself out there. She is like Ta-Duh! Here I am, all the while sizing you up, almost like she's thinking: "I am not sure if I want to play with you, are you even fun?"

And, one shot that I knew their parents would love. These two were so easy to take sweet pictures of. Their were a hundred nice little moments like this that happened in between set-ups. I can't imagine trying to do this for a family that have kids that can't stand one another.




And this was my favorite shot, it was right towards the end when we were getting ready to leave and she was really getting silly and comfortable with me. She had let go of caution and was just being herself in front of the camera. So cool.



I am always nervous taking photos for other people, and I am not sure if that will ever go away. But this was fun, and I wanted to share them here.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me


P.S. Part Two of the "Go Back to Bed" series will be up later today :) thanks for all the insight and effort being put into the comment section :)

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Go Back to Bed (part one)

To understand the problem I am having with myself, you must first be made aware of the problem we are having with LB. I fear this will become such a task, that I am devoting the entire week to explain it. As Cole said: "I am sure someone has to be curious about the sleep issues associated with SMS." Which led me to want to write about the unbelievable struggle we are having of how to effectively discipline The Littlest Buddy ( a special needs boy who may or may not even understand the concept of what is right and wrong.)

It's 4:30 AM and The Littlest Buddy just started rousing and sneaking about in the dark. This is the second time this night that he has been out of his bed, and running around. Each time that he gets out and wanders and he's promptly wrangled and returned to his bed, it becomes more and more difficult to get him to actually fall back to sleep. I usually hear him doing this little manic muttering whisper to himself as he creeps around just outside our door-- it always escalates into a sharp stern blast of "MAMA." and then he retreats back to his room. (You have to remember that LB doesn't speak but a few words so often his yammering sounds like the gibberish that Adam Sandler made famous via Billy Madison.) Soon the night calm and quiet is broken again, this time by his little feet slide and shuffle that he does along the wood floors, this always gives way and erupts into full feet slaps running up and down the hall, as he slams himself into the locked hallway door that leads into the main hub of our house. I usually find him sitting there, by the door, waiting to get into the living room and kitchen to start his morning routine before school. He knows he isn't supposed to be up yet, but he just can't help it this morning. None of this is his fault.

It's 4:30 AM and the Littlest Buddy is wide awake. And so it starts, the battle of getting LB to go back to bed, even if just for another 30 minutes. Every little bit of extra sleep helps. Usually, it's an easy task, whisk him into the potty, return him to his bed with a stern warning to stay put, and lie still, and he drifts back to slumber. On this morning, I see in his eyes, he has no intention of going back to bed. He does not look sleepy like I do. I would love to say this is a rare thing, but it usually happens at least once a week for whatever reason. And believe me, Cole and I go over the day prior, minute by minute, to figure out the cause of these super early morning risings, and we have not made any logical discoveries. At one point so frustrated that we actually started to believe for a second that he must have himself a ghost haunting him. Absurd I know. We know the reason, we know that as he gets older this will only get worse, it is just a little something that comes with LB having Smith Magenis Syndrome. He is going to have sleep issues. It just comes with the territory.

So for now, the task isn't forcing his body to bend to its will and get him to go back to sleep, the task is to get him to understand that the rest of us absolutely need sleep, and that he has to remain quiet in his bed. He can play with his books, and quiet toys, until we wake. We have found that if we can get him to play quiet in his bed, and understand that the morning routine doesn't start for a couple hours, he will calm down enough to fall back asleep on his own. It's like trying to convince a kid that wakes up at 4:30 for Christmas to go back to bed, and they just know that there is a giant pile of new toys waiting for them in the other room. In this way, it is even more frustrating then a waking baby. With the baby there are simple tasks that just need to take place that are sure fixes for the disturbance of the night. With LB there is no real answer to get him to rest, because we are never sure why he is awake, what he is specifically excited about. He is either wired to be awake, or he is a blurry sleep walking mushy mess that melts back into bed the second you place him in it. We are never sure what we will find when we get out of bed to retrieve him.

But not this morning... he is fighting the concept that we are tired, and have a big day ahead of us. He is just awake and not being quiet about it and does not care even a little that it is 4:30 AM.

It's two hours later, LB is jumping on his bed, kicking his feet under the covers, circling his room, and demanding his morning in brash unruly outbursts. LB is so in love with the routines that we have provided him, that he lives in constant anticipation of them. As soon as he wakes whether it is two hours too early from the usual start of our day or not; he is fully amplified and charged and wants the day to begin. He is ready for it. He has broken me down for the last two hours. I'm a dead lump of irritated flesh. This particular morning, I have closed Cole and the baby off from the battle so they can sleep and function and we aren't all exhausted, Cole does this for me as well. We definitely take turns with this. We have to. So it's two hours later and I am spent, frustrated, and LB has remained defiant. Refusing to stay quiet and still, and instead has been wrecking his room, banging on doors, and forcing the issue. He is a sleep terrorist.

* Part two tomorrow- further explanations and explorations into our night.

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Smiles From the Inbox

* This morning as I was writing today's post... my inbox lit up with a message titled "leaps." It was from a blogger that I enjoy immensely, and one that I always end up showing to Cole and losing my computer for a while as she gets lost in it. miel et cannelle It was such a nice thing to get on such a frustrating morning that I wanted to share it with everyone while I had the chance. I called Cole from the back of the house and read it to her immediately and showed her the accompanying picture-- and it brought the same bright smile to her face as it did mine. So thank you so much for the message Andrea and Jared, it was grand.

"Dear Ryan and Cole - 

We don't take a lot of vacations. I'm a philosophy grad student, and my boyfriend is doing graduate work in Jazz percussion. Jared and I decided a really long time ago that we were just going to have to be poor if we were going to do what we love. Sometimes it's terrible and we drink really bad beer and don't pay our electricity bills. Sometimes I wish I had become an accountant and that Jared was a plumber.

We like the Panic Room. 

We like your pictures of Cole leaping on your vacations. 

This weekend, my parents came to visit us in Antigonish, Nova Scotia, and we decided to take a mini vacation to Cape Breton to see the Atlantic Ocean. Because when your parents come, you can do shit like that. And we took a picture for you and Cole. 

Thank you for reminding us that sometimes, the leaps are what count. Not the take off, not the landing, but that moment when you are suspended in the air, grinning like a fucking idiot at the one you love and praying that you're doing the right thing. Thank you for reminding us that there are others out there, leaping.

love, 
Andrea and Jared"

P.S. On that note. Cole received so many amazing thoughtful emails the last few days spurred from the last post "finding the good in grief" it was overwhelming. They were of course too personal to share here, but the stories and experiences shared mean so much so thank you and love to your families.

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A Little Bit of Liberty

photo by:ryan marshall

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Finding the Good in Grief

I have always been able to say to people (with a deep sense of relief) that I am lucky and have never had to experience great loss and grief over anyone near and dear to me. I have never lost anyone "essential" to my emotional well being before, and so the small amount of death that I have been around, has in itself always been truly upsetting-- but it has never ripped my heart from my chest and left me hopeless and empty. I do not know what grief feels like. I cannot say to my wife: "I know how you feel darling" Cole has been suffering from a persistent sadness after the loss of her Sito this summer. I am sure me not being able to relate to her might sound cold to people that have grown up in homes where their grandparents, and uncles, and cousins weren't considered distant relatives, and some in particular just outright strangers, but my mother and father had a unique way of keeping the miles between their families while still maintaining civil relationships with nothing more than a couple of greeting cards and a phone call a year. We were not an unhappy feuding bunch, I think we just enjoyed being left alone. We had our own thing going on. So thru the years of growing up, I would occasionally hear little mentions that would go something like: "Oh, so-and-so passed away last week", and it would be followed with some silence, and then maybe my mom or dad would say: "that's really too bad." Which years down the road has left me completely ill prepared to deal with the debilitating effects that grief can cause others while they mourn and recover from loss. It should go without saying, but to be clear, just because I cannot relate to what she is going thru due to my lack of personal experience, it does not mean that I am unsympathetic or void of compassion. It is quite the opposite. I fear that because of my inability to relate I might be over compensating in terms of trying to make her feel better.

Watching Cole wander thru this grieving process alone has been the single most upsetting occurrence in our marriage, I just don't know how to find her hand and bring her back, and maybe I am not supposed to. I do not know the rules for any of this. Days when I think she is coming back, I realize that she is just pretending for all of us, she is always tired at the end of the day from putting on the show of a happy mama and wife, only to find no relief from this exhaustion and she ends up lying awake because she cannot wrestle the images of her Sito out of her mind. She has described her tossing and turning to me and they sound like waking nightmares. She just can't stop watching the images of her in the hospital. So what to do? How to give the space and respect she needs without leaving her to stroll too far away with her head sunk down.

The explanations of life and death that were administered to me as a child were cut and dry and basic, and when accompanied with an unemotional delivery: "people die, that is just something that happens." it got confusing to suddenly grow up and be surrounded by emotionally connected people. So here I am now struggling to find a way to keep some sort of emotional balance. In terms of an "emotional" barometer Cole and I run on separate ends of the universe, she is the hot, to my cold. If you think of it in terms of temperature control; while she is trying to cool off, I am piling on the jackets and blankets. It took me awhile to figure this out. She doesn't need me to make her any warmer. She needs me to cool her off some. So in this instance I need to let our differences work for us. We are smart enough to not fall into the trap where all of my trying to make her feel better creates resentment from it not working. She is allowed to be sad for as long as she needs to be sad-- as long as she is managing to keep going. None of her other feelings have expiration dates. It would be like saying: "Okay you have been happy for like 3 and a half years now, isn't it time you stopped that?" I see her good moods lasting a little longer each day. Our conversations about her Sito are smoother somehow. We are most definitely nearing the end of the beginning and figuring it all out together.

I was sitting there in church this summer at Sito's service, surrounded by this huge gathering of family and friends, all a weeping mess, and I turned and looked to the back of the church and saw my own parents sitting in the second to last row, calm and unafraid, and I couldn't figure out if they had done me a service and made me emotionally strong, or if they had just sheltered my sister and I, and avoided deep feelings because they could not imagine feeling hurt like the rest of the world does. I felt like an alien sitting there. LB sitting still on my lap, sad because his family was sad, with no real understanding of what was going on, he just knew his Mama was crying and that made me cry. Realizing that he hurt because Cole was hurt, opened the flood gates for me. I was suddenly crying because I was connected and part of a family that was not afraid to love one another openly and honestly. I was crying because I realized that I had never actually been a part of that on this scale before. And then it made me mad. And that is where I am at. Mad because in watching Cole lose her Sito and make her way thru this grieving process, it has made me realize just how much my parents deprived me of by never being close to family for no good reason. I know with Cole in my life these mistakes will not be repeated and our children will not have needless disconnects. And of course that is just another reason that I am endlessly lucky to have her in my life.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. In Lebanese Dialect, the word for grandma is Sito (just to clear that up)

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Bits of Life, Photography, and Stories of Growing

Hello new gorgeous banner :)

I am committing the crime of blogging about blogging this morning to let the people that read here in on some changes and announcements. Thanks for taking it easy on me.

If you have been reading here long then you might remember that for a good long while the Pacing the Panic Room header changed weekly and would feature the ever growing belly pictures of Cole. When the series wrapped and just the title remained in the header, it gave off a pretty bland vibe in my opinion. I knew that the solution was to convince Anna Bond to make me one, but with her booming business keeping her so busy I wasn't sure if that was ever going to happen. I am a patient man. I knew it would be worth the wait, and I knew that I had planned on really neglecting my blog for awhile anyway :) So we met and went over a few ideas and color schemes and she went to work. I am really happy about it. It achieves the impossible, it's cute without being totally pansy ass. So a HUGE thanks to her for breathing a new fresh bit of air into this place. She does incredible work and stay tuned for her online store to open soon.

The other big change here is the tag line. Again if you have read here for awhile you know that the old line read: "My wife gave me permission to write candidly and vividly about the building of our family." I still have that same permission, but I feel like the story I wanted to tell in that specific way is over. It was a no holds barred telling of the want of a child, the baby making process, and the pregnancy, labor, delivery, and all of the struggles and ups and downs along the way, and finally the first days after Tessa came into the world, and everything in between. It was a story I very much wanted to document, as for the rest of our life being told with the same detail and candor-- I just never felt that same comfort level. I found myself refusing to share the details. I feel like it comes off as misguided bitching. Things like my hatred for Labor Day (although hilarious to me), comes off coarse and awkward in this place. So I figured a change was in order, and with change I expect a fair amount of exits to occur. I am fine with that. The blog world is fickle, and I myself fall in and out of love with blogs all the time. It is part of the fun.

So where is this blog headed? Well with the new tag line: "Bits of Life, Photography, and Stories of Growing" I plan to post more of what you are used to, and hopefully you still enjoy hearing about it, just maybe not as often as I used to some weeks. Tessa Tangerine, The Littlest Buddy, and Cole will remain the heart of this blog, and I want to return to some of the stuff I was doing in the beginning and just writing about life. I have always been reluctant to write in a real specific way about living and learning about The Littlest Buddies diagnosis of Smith Magenis Syndrome. It is absolutely the hardest and most challenging thing we do day to day, I have just always been afraid by getting detailed about it, (although beneficial to other families searching for info and insight and support would be huge) I struggle with telling his stories and turing him into some unwitting poster child for SMS. I have written before that we never see him as this syndrome, we have separated the boy from the symptoms and I don't think I have ever found a way to write about both. You understand? But the reason for all of that explanation is that I do want to do a good amount of awareness raising about it and talk about how brave and assertive Cole is in staying ahead of all of this. Not many people have ever heard of SMS-- and me being me, I want to help in some small way, so of course raising money for research and awareness is super important to me. So that balance will begin here. It is going to be a real trial and error before that balance is discovered so we will see what happens.

Along with all of that I wanted to get back to posting other photography projects that we do, I have been searching for a couple months for a new photo subject for a new maternity series I came up with, and as luck would have it, now have the perfect model for the series. She is just hitting that 11th week now and we are still planning, but have an awesome idea, amazing clothes lined up, and will start right around that same timeframe as I started with Cole. It has been a shock to see the Belly Picture Series I did here recreated around the blogosphere by others. So I suppose it is time for a new series for people to steal. Along with the new series I have been lining up new clients to document birth stories. Capturing as photo essays, the hours of labor and birth, and then the fast minutes of first hellos when eyes are first laid on that new baby. It is such an incredible thing to be around and I have never felt more connected to the photography before. It feels like this is what I am supposed to be doing. Every photo feels important and I just love it. I am also in the process of researching and planning my first ever humanitarian photo trip to do a photo essay on birth conditions in other countries. There are so many places in need of midwife training to get people out of other dangerous practices and unsafe and unsanitary facilities. I have always dreamed of traveling to far off places to capture a cause and bring it to light, but I have never known the cause. After experiencing what Cole and I did here in having a home birth with a professional and experienced midwife, it got me looking into other conditions around the world. I will be reaching out to the community for help, advice, and points in the right direction, as I have never done anything like this. It is something that has become important to me and I hope to find a way to do this next year. Every year I make a goal at my birthday, and I plan on writing about it in more detail in a later post, that is this years goal.

So with all of that. I have no plans of quitting the blog or moving on. All of the weeks of down time were much needed and appreciated. For the readers that stuck around, you're the best :) and I hope you will love what I am planning on bringing here. A nice mix of a photographers blog, with a healthy mix of personal stories and plenty of ups and downs.

And as always...

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. And in case you haven't already done so don't forget to follow my nonsense on Twitter. I promise I won't twitter about V any more.

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Pump it Up

It felt odd to be getting dressed for the first Christmas party of the season this past weekend, it was a party for the salon Cole works for, they throw their big shakedown before the super insanely busy holiday season hits and nobody has the energy or the want to "party". The salon always does this event right-- and everyone looks their best! It was the very first time that Cole had left the house without babies since last years Christmas party (besides our one dinner date this summer). So it goes without saying that this girl was excited and looked smoking hot. The short of it was that the food was amazing, the company fun and light, everyone really vibes well together, the whole thing is one big recipe to stay out till the sun comes up and have a hundred wild stories about the night. Our friends Jason & Gabi were super excited to baby sit for us, and they actually had an unexpected willing participant request to join the babysitter club that wanted to spend her evening with the Tangerine as well. So we knew that Tessa was well taken care of and surrounded by interested eyes all focused on her silliness. So we were set. We had the night. It was ours.

She looked great! I mean Cole looked unbelievable, I wish I would have had time to just skip the party and take pictures of Cole, but I only managed a couple shots outside our backdoor before we left...

* For Central FL readers- The party was in this adorable little town called Gotha, the restaurant is called Yellow Dog Eats and the whole thing is just completely unexpected and a real find. One of those places that you keep scratching your head thinking "I can't believe this place is hiding out here and so fabulous" it's just far enough out of town that it feels like a real "get away from it all" outing, but not far enough to dread going. It's perfect. If I was hired to write a review for this place I would take a picture of the premises and just write the word "perfect" underneath it. Be sure to tell them that Pacing the Panic Room sent you, they will have no idea what you're talking about.

So the party. It had it all, amazing food, music, drinks, people, energy, dancing on furniture, there was no danger of things slowing down at all. We had left the house at 5 and by the time we had all met, drove to the location, got settled, mingled, snacked, dined, secret santa gift exchanged, it was around 9PM. Cole's laughing silly mood sort of melted away at the stroke of 9 and she looked at me and said "Oh my Gosh I'm sleepy?!" haha she looked sleepy. She also looked like she was a little uncomfortable. She would twist her shoulders and pull at her dress. Her boobs had been filling with milk and we had completely failed to think ahead and bring along the breast pump. FAIL. Normally it would not have become an issue so soon, but this hot little dress she had on left little room for engorged milk breasts. A couple of the girls had caught on to what was going on as we were realizing that we needed to say good night and get out of there before her boobs turned into pumpkins, (and that is when it started) some of the girls trying to talk me into taking Cole into the bathroom and set to draining her boobs so they could keep hanging out with her. Are you kidding me? "NO! No way." Like I want that to be the topic at the salon next week, "So Ryan totally went to town on Cole's boobs at the party so she could stay out and dance with us." As funny as Cole thought the idea was, and enjoyed watching me squirm when the idea would be presented, she couldn't dream of wasting the milk, and she was already missing the baby so much at that point that we both just took it as the time to get home. Despite all of the perfect elements in place it just couldn't compete with how much we missed the baby. It actually felt reassuring to have natural instincts drawing us back home.

This little girl was a beacon calling us home...





So take this entry as a reminder that no matter how hot your dress is, make sure your bag is big enough to fit a breast pump into it. There may or may not have been an attempt at making a Macgyver type of contraption that involved the pump from a soap dispenser and a plastic soufflé cup, and some chewing gum. It is unconfirmed. And never being admitted to.

Any experience with this scenario, be sure to leave your funny/awkward/painful stories behind for sharing with the group :)

All the Love in the Universe ~ Us

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Reporting the Depression

The other afternoon right smack in the middle of one of Florida's first truly gorgeous fall days, where I had the house open and the air off, and was filling our home with that super crisp fall goodness blowing around. Amongst that breeze I start to hear the sounds of helicopters deep thumping over head. Soon enough my phone is ringing, and I am told to turn on the news. "Oh... look it's Orlando" I say. The report is rolling out that a man is downtown with a gun and shooting at people working in an office. Suddenly I realize: "This is just a few blocks away from our house?!" I get up from the TV, and despite knowing that there is absolutely no reason or possibility of this gunmen coming near our home, I go ahead and close everything up anyway and lock all the doors. The fear was broadcast from this horrific scene, and pushed its way into my personal living space. Live. Minute by minute. It was a reminder that "the fear" is still in me, sitting just under the surface and pops up on command, and gets me agitated with all the newsie buzzwords blurted out as breaking news. Downtown was on lockdown.

All of this was happening just a day after I watched the same sad scenario play out in TX on a larger scale and with a heavier hand as it happened in a completely unlikely place. Ft Hood? A base? How could this happen on a military base? (What is wrong with my thinking when I can easily wrap my head around a guy going bezerk in an office building? When that sort of thing seems common.) But not Ft Hood. How did this mental health professional fail at his own sanity and stability and manage to hurt so many others? I first noticed the Ft Hood story break as I was in the middle of reading the update on the 11th body found in the Cleveland, Ohio case of the 50 year old rapist/murderer. I was stunned reading the body count, and about the careless makeshift graves around the various floors of his house, and was completely hung up on the fact that they described this ex-con's occupation as a scrapper, a metal scavenger who collects cans and other scrap metal for cash. I am confused as to how this felon rapist, who collects cans for a living, owns a 3 story house?! How does this guy have a 3 story house I keep thinking? All of the people losing their homes in America, and this fucking guy has a 3 story house with a basement that he has been raping and murdering women in for the past few years. I wanted to know what kind of a system is set up when this kind of thing is going on? Another case this year of a convicted sex offender making their home into a safe haven to carry out their madness behind closed doors. Another case where if only someone would have taken a closer look maybe this could have been stopped sooner. A life saved. And then-- somehow if this unbelievable story wasn't enough, something actually occurs that seems even crazier than a man with 11 bodies in his house? The shooting spree at Ft Hood TX goes down and just opens the flood gates to questions. What the fuck is going on? Ft Hood and then the very next day the Orlando shootings.

In thinking of these two separate gunmen, it's clear that they represent two huge American issues right now, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and our collapsed economy. These two instances are the end result of people reacting to the world around them in violent and irrational ways. These two men reached a place where they were convinced that this was justifiable somehow. The wrongs they were feeling were so heavy that the thought of taking lives seemed an equal match to what they were suffering. Does anyone care about their suffering at this point? -- And this is the first time in forever that I remember crazed gunmen not committing suicide on the scene of a mass killing spree, Why? Did they have more to say? Did they want to live with their consequences? Will they speak? Isn't letting them make a verbal statement at all in a sense rewarding them with the attention they were seeking? Giving them a world stage to make some sickening misguided point. The Orlando man shouting "They left me to rot!" as he is being hauled away. He clearly wanted to stay alive to be able to say this. He is a man with things to say. He obviously doesn't think he said enough with his gun. He is not sorry. He is not burdened. He sounds like a man who thinks he has just done right.

In both reports this past week of mass shootings there are stories of the gunmen smiling. In Ft Hood, footage of the man smiling in a store just hours before the killing spree, and in Orlando, the man smiles while exiting the office he just shot up. These men appear calm and in good spirits. Why? I can only assume because they have come to a place in their head where they feel completely justified and at peace with what they are doing. They have reached an end where killing actually feels good to them. I am going to also assume in both cases we will come to hear bully stories. All about how these men were bullied, and picked on, and had things denied to them, and taken away, and so somewhere in their disconnect they justify taking away life. The two boys at Columbine reportedly had the same smiling faces. In every case I have ever seen where the weak minded and lost are pushed over an edge, the blame in the end is the ugliest. The profiles of these men are going to be painted and presented and in each case there will be warning signs revealed that no one acted on. There will be times when intervention was possible, but none was taken.

So where is the step in? At what point does someone with power grab control of all of this?

I started thinking about what the news would sound and look like if their was such a thing as 24 hour cable coverage during the Great Depression. All of the stories of people struggling and turing to crime, and suicide, and murdering their families in an act of desperation to save them all from despair. Would the media focus on success stories, the people who were making a good go of it, or would they just feature the bankruptcies, and fortunes lost, and families forced to split up? Would coverage like that have perpetuated the Depression, made it worse? Sucked the hope out of the air with crazy story, after crazy story of people on the edge. What good is any of this reporting doing for us? Do I feel more informed? Or more discouraged and numb?

I am living in a country where these stories are piling up. I live in a country where some guy went nuts and killed his family in a Santa suit with a flame thrower. Where a man stole a child and kept her in a shed in his backyard. Where a mom drives drunk in a mini van packed with kids head on into another car. Where a man murders his entire family and himself because he lost his job. Where a boy is caught on fire over a bike. Where a man rapes and murders 11 women and keeps them in his house. Where a man walks into his old office and starts shooting at workers. Where a man walked onto a military base and opened fire on his fellow soldiers. When did this become the country I am living in? Has it always been this bad, but we just never had the burden of hearing about it 24 hours a day?

I'm waiting for someone to say something. A little good old fashioned leadership. People are losing their fucking minds and nobody is really saying anything about it. It is just being reported, and we are meant to process it all in our own way, keep our heads up and keep working, and just assume everything is going to be alright. It seems like the whole world is exploding and nobody is really saying anything except to stop and point out all the explosions. If you want the world to run on hope, than it is important to give them a little of it to run on.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me


* The hope in writing this here, is that someday LB and Tessa will read this when they are older and won't be able to believe that this how bad things were because they are living in a totally new kind of sunshine and rainbows.

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How Is LB?

The Littlest Buddy is doing just fine and thanks for asking :)




Tessa fell in love with the Littlest Buddy late last week, and now literally every single time he stands in front of her and does anything, she erupts into a laughing hysteria that we have never heard. The Littlest Buddy with almost no effort at all has won rights to who can make Tessa laugh the hardest. Prior to this discovery of how hilarious he is, he pretty much pretended she didn't exist. Within just the past 48 hours we have seen the two of them begin to bond. It feels so good.

And just to keep things rolling and updated the charity album that I previewed here, that I am putting together to raise awareness and funds to further the research into Smith Magenis Syndrome is moving along a little faster now. Who knew putting an album together for charity would be so challenging. Some wonderful news to go with the album: the talented and inspiring Anna Bond is involved and donating her time and talents into creating a limited edition print inspired by the album cover art. It will be for sale when the album launches later this fall-- proceeds will also go to the charity in addition to the music sales. Do yourself the favor if you haven't and check her work out. I am still pressing for a release before the new year.

All the Love in the Universe ~ me

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A Boob Break

What the Hell is this crap?!"




We waited 4 months before Tessa got a taste of anything other than good old fashioned nutritious breast milk. After this test run, we give her a little of this oaty gruel once a day along with the boob milk. We weren't sure how she would react to the food and she surprised us with no reaction at all. Way to go little girl, new things are no big deal.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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It's Just a Hand And a Foot

In the process of trying to turn things around during this shitty economy's shit storm and burst into the uber competitive photography world, I have especially been self conscious around my father in law when it comes to updating him on any good news or cool new jobs. It was just a month after Cole and I married that I lost a giant pile of work that we had been planning on getting us thru a good part of last year. I have been trying to get back to that same safe place ever since. So when I was asked to contribute to the Nov issue of Babytalk magazine I was happy to oblige, looked at it as a step in the right direction, and sent in a set of pictures for a piece on attachment parenting. I was excited to show the work off to my father in law. My own parents always react the same to any news of work that I tell them about, if it is a writing piece they ask: "Did you use bad language?" and if it is a photo job they say: "That actually looks... pretty good." Cole's father has that big super WOW reaction when he gets really impressed. So it is always fun to wow him with good news. I had been given an early proof of the article and so one day when he was visiting I casually say from the kitchen: "Oh yeah-- Cole and Tessa are in a magazine next month." to which he seems excited 'Really?!" he says. I ask: "Wanna see what it will look like?" I mean I am ready for some high fives and encouragement. I pull up the tear sheets-- and he takes a long look-- and pauses. (Such an awkward pause) and he says: "This is just a hand and a foot!"

haha.

I am not sure if anyone out there can help me, but I am convinced he is not going to be happy until he sees Cole riding piggyback on Oprah like a couple of best friends on the cover of "O"

But for now, he will have to settle with showing his friends a hand and a foot for awhile. I will keep plugging away. Thanks a million to Babytalk for the piece. And if you haven't picked it up... PICK IT UP! I loved the pictures from the set and was super happy with the one they picked out. I love that hand and foot so much.

all the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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Keeping it Candid (a wedding)

I have always been very shy about shooting a wedding for someone ever since I made an attempt a couple years back and screwed up royally. It was a dark time in my budding photography confidence. There is just something about the responsibility involved that terrifies me. To capture all that goes on within a few hours and make sure everyone is looking super awesome and perfect, and well... I just fall apart. Recently I did finally agree to shoot a wedding for a friend, only because they had another photographer in place to shoot all of the formal portraits and poses, and the list of things that the mother of the bride wanted captured. So yeah. No stress on me. And I get to do the one thing I love to do, hang back, sneak around and capture things as they unfold. I am not sure how I feel about taking on a wedding solo. I don't think that I could, my hat goes off to the pros that do it, and do it well, but I did realize that I really love taking on the second shooter role and shooting candid moments. So now I guess I just need to find someone that wants to do all the stressful bulk of the work and partner up. Any takers?

So here are some of my favorite moments from that day.

I have known the groom Matt since he was drinking underage at the bar I worked at and I booked his bands for the good part of 8 years. It was awesome to see all of the familiar faces at the reception, and then I realized that I was the old guy that got everyone drunk and made sure their bands had a place to play, and now they are growing up and still being creative and awesome and holding on to creative pursuits. Made me happy-- and I was really glad that Matt & Mellisa asked me to be a part of their day ( even though it was 96 degrees in October and I soaked thru two shirts) They were both heroes for never bitching a second about the heat and sweat and were both so in love and inspiring. They beat the heat. It was amazing.

My favorite part of the day was watching the two doors of the ready rooms. Matt & Mellisa were right next door to one another getting ready and had no idea what the other was doing or how they looked and it was awesome to see how close they were the entire time.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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Back Stage At A Hair Show

From time to time I get a call to do some shooting work for Redken and this past week they had a show in town, and I went in and shot the event for them. And I thought it might be interesting to show of some of the photos from the event here. One of my favorite things to do when I do work for them is to camp out in the model room and take candid behind the scenes photos of their back stage prep work. I truly love to shoot work of people in a moment focused and in action, and I always love the juxtaposition of the model in the chair completely oblivious to what is happening on top of her head, the stylists are so focused on the work they are doing, and the models are so focused on what the hell their hair must look like in the picture that i am taking, it creates this great tension. A great mix of awkward, excited, and focused. So here are some of my favorite shots from back stage that I am excited to share...

doing a little on the fly choreography

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

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