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Long Tall Sally
June 8, 2010 by NaysWay · 3 Comments
Today is Mooter’s last day of school. Since I am a working mother, I never get to do the cool stuff stay-at-home moms get to do. I don’t get to walk her to school on her first day. Don’t get to pick her up. Don’t get to join the PTA. Don’t get to volunteer chaperon services for field trips. Don’t get to bake cookies. Don’t get to attend jump rope contests. And I don’t get to be there to greet her as she runs out of the building in sheer joy for her last day of school.
I feel like I miss some pretty important moments in her life just by not being there. As she’s gotten older, her questions and irritations about me having to work have matured a bit. What used to be moans and tears has recently graduated to a few sighs mixed with some “it’s OK, mom”‘s here and there. I used to think she was condescending in her understanding. You’d think it impossible for an eight-year-old to project such an emotion. But, then again, you’ve never met Mooter. It’s totally in her DNA. That broad is me reincarnated, so I get it.
Lately, as a show of good faith and empathy to the situation, she’s given me little vignettes of her day with re-enactments. One of the projects we’ve yet to tackle in Project: Home Maintenance is removing a linen pole from the backyard. Right now, it serves its purpose as prop for Mooter during one of her retellings of new moves she’s learned on the playground.
And, as I’m taking the picture…
…I’m realizing, I can’t take a picture of her…
…without turning my camera to the side.
When did she get so tall?! I mean, I’m 5′ 10″, so I knew she had the potential to head in that direction. Limbs, hair, and feet.
Seems like I blinked and missed more than baking cookies.
FEAR No. 067 – Down The Rabbit Hole
June 7, 2010 by NaysWay · 2 Comments
Last weekend, I consulted with my resident landscaper – my mother – for a free session of analysis on my ailing backyard. Given how awesome I am at gardening (read: things die at my hand), it was more of a seance than an analysis. I need the gods of all things green and lush to give me a special healing on that place. It is stank!
To my credit, it was like that when we moved into the place, and BFam and I were all YEAH! OUR HOUSE! OUR YARD! WE’RE GONNA ROCK IT LIKE WE WANNA! OW! And then, the yard laughed at us because trees, while gorgeous, have roots that can kill – MURDER! – a yard.
What was I saying? Oh, yes…
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Bad News A-Comin’
Let me start by saying I’m tired. Whoa, whoa, whoa… whoa. I may not make sense today, may be all over the place. Of course, this is what happens when your kid has tests (which, you know, C’MON school system, we have little more than a week of this left, you are KILLING us parents, never mind the children), when your grandmother’s party is being planned and you’re editing and splicing for the movie, and when your kid has both soccer AND softball.
I’m not usually one for bitching and moaning, but WHAH-WHAH-WHAH! already.
I need a vacation.
At least one of the things currently keeping my family in a tizzy can be checked off the list. Last weekend, Mooter’s soccer activities came to a close. And in blazing fashion, lemme tell you. I don’t know what was up with the soccer gods this Spring, but they were having none of that kicking of the black and white ball on a grassy knoll crap this go ’round. I’ve never seen so much rain! And only on the weekends! It’s like the soccer gods knew a bunch of pre-pubescent girls, with all their uncoordinated limbs and pigtails, were looking forward to punting around the field. And, ye, verily, they laughed heartily at this notion.
What’s that? There’s no punting in soccer, you say?
Hm. Well there should be!
You remember the movie Bad News Bears, right?
The new ones…
…and the old ones…
I mean, I know we’re talking about girls and soccer (not little boys, one girl, and a baseball team), but hear me out.
This is the assistant coach. I don’t know his name, and it rained so much during the season, that I barely got a chance to take shots of the coach (who was not at this game – the last of the season, mind you), but what I do know is that he was the father of one of the players. His soccer skills were a little on the nill side. And, just to give you another idea of how these girls were set up to fail this entire season, aside from an assistant coach who’s never played the game and is only there as a volunteer, the coach? I don’t know his name either. But we parents gave him a nickname: Mike Brown.
You don’t have to be from Cleveland to know who Mike Brown is. Go to ESPN.com right now. Type in Mike Brown. Better yet, go to Google or any search engine. Type in that name.
I rest my case.
So. Crappy coaching. Non-existent assistant coaching. I will pause to say maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t be so harsh. These guys, the coach and assistant coach, were volunteers in a program that could very easily be cut by the city because it’s recreational. It’s backed by community fundraising, so it’s always one of the first things any city wants to cut when there are budgetary concerns.
Now I feel bad.
This was the last game of the season. The girls tried.
But the other team tried harder.
Does anyone have a broom?
Clean up on Aisle 7.
I know the objective of getting your child involved in sports at an early age is to teach morally sound values like teamwork.
Healthy competition.
Failure.
Go after the ball, girls.
Seriously? Is that what we’re doing now? Just standing around, watching them stick it to us? Pulling wedgies out of our butts?
After a stunning 5-0 loss, the answer was yes.
Good game. Good game. Good game. Good game.
No one really wanted to be in a huddle after that. By this time, everyone wanted snacks and a nap. Including me.
Gimme my snack, daddy!
Eh. At least we got a trophy out of the deal. Because, at the end of the day, that’s really what it’s all about. Screw teamwork. Teamwork is for wimps.
And, because the gravity of the loss and lack of play can’t truly be felt without a visual…
It wasn’t me, but I’m going to apologize for the crazy woman yelling within earshot of me taping this. Soccer moms are nuts.
Smart, Nosey, Talkative
May 19, 2010 by NaysWay · 2 Comments
Mooter has a game to show me.
Typically, when Mooter has a game, story, or joke to tell me, it almost always ends badly. The directions are wrong. The punchline is in the wrong place. We’ve gone several hours before she comes to the point of her story.
My mother tells me I was this bad at the same age.
Given how brilliantly I tell stories now, I personally think she’s making it up.
I am eloquent.
No, not really.
So Mooter, God love her, decides she wants to show me this game. What is the name of the game? In Mooter’s world, games don’t have names, not because she wants it this way, but because she has forgotten it.
She starts the game by asking me the month of my birthday.
Then she goes into this crossing of fingers to face, almost like asking for blessings from the holy virgin mother, Mary.
Father…
…Son…
…Holy Goat…
Then she tells me I’ve got it all wrong. She’s not asking for a blessing. She’s counting off the months on her forehead, nose, and mouth.
Alright, kid. You got me. I give up. Why are you pointing at your face? Let’s not do my birthday, let’s do yours. Bless yourself to November. What’s that mean?
“It means I’m nosey, Mom!”
And for October?
“It means you’re SMART!”
Either that, or I’m on Oprah. “YOU get a car! YOU get a car. YOU get a car! YOU get a car!”
Here, I’ll let her explain…
Give A Kid A Camera
April 30, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
I have an assignment. If you’re willing to play along, try it out. The results may surprise you.
During Mooter’s protest of boredom, I scrambled to find things for her to do. This typically happens with both of my kids whenever we’re in one place for a long period of time, doing anything other than what they want to do. Most times, I have some form of a camera with me – my SLR, my phone, something. Since Mooter watches me take photos all the time, she wants to copy what I do. The problem is, she’s more like a paparazzo than a real photographer. I don’t expect her to be Annie Leibovitz, but the kid takes pictures the way her mind works. The following are a few untouched snaps from her point of view…
You’ll notice most shots are at her eye level. Or lopsided. Or blurry. The kid is on the move. She doesn’t have time to sit and wait. Snap! and she’s gone. Oddly enough, she takes photos the way I hear most advice sites, books, and pros say everyone should: don’t think about it, just do it. I have the trouble of thinking about lighting, composition, cropping – all things that probably do more harm than good to the creative process. But that’s the thing about age. The more you know and learn, the less fun it is, the less creative, the less child-like.
I trust Mooter enough with my SLR to give it to her and let her go. I’ve threatened her enough within an inch of her life, that she’s careful handling Mommy’s expensive picture-taker. I never have to clutch my heart, or tell my wife, Elizabeth, that this is the big one and I’m coming to join her. Sometimes, I can get shots out of her that are way better than mine, and I make sure to tell her so.
I’m extremely bad at interior decorating. As creative as I can be behind a computer, or with a musical instrument, or in drawing, I cannot put a house together. One of my biggest flaws is figuring out what artwork should adorn the walls. A few weeks back, BFam and I loaded the kids in the car for a quick run to the nearby Bed, Bath and Beyond. I saw tons of framed art that I wanted to take home. I wasn’t sure how I’d use them or if they flowed, and all that jazz. I just thought they were pretty. Then I saw the price tags. Not so pretty. I guess I sighed loud enough that BFam asked me my deal. When I told him my dilemma, he asked – in his typical, no nonsense, duuuuuhhh-kind-of-way – don’t you take enough photos that you can put THEM on the walls?!
Well duuuuuhhh!
So. Here’s your assignment. If you’re having trouble with artwork, or think you’ve exhausted about every idea you’ve had on photos, find a camera. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Give it to a kid you know – son, daughter, niece, nephew, cousin, whatever! – and tell them to go for it. If you see something you like, add some Actions, play around with it using whatever photography program you own (or that I’ve kindly referenced for you here at one time or another), and voila! Who knows. You could get a masterpiece out of the deal.
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