Instax-A-Day, Year in Review

Well, 2011 is done, and so is the first year of Instax-A-Day. I did it! 365 days, 1 instax a day, no do overs. (And no minimal cheating!)  It’s really an interesting thing to take a picture a day. I remember something specific about every single one of the photos—sometimes where we were, sometimes exactly what we were doing, and almost always what emotion I was trying to document. I think I’m going to keep the project going (though it is expensive), but this year there won’t be a specific theme. I’m looking forward to taking pictures of something else, frankly. Should the project fall by the wayside, I will definitely come back to it for the same year of duckling’s life. It’s a good year to document day-by-day.

Anyway, Happy New Year. And for your viewing pleasure—the whole of Instax-A-Day for 2011.

Music: When My Boy Walks Down the Street & Absolutely Cuckoo by The Magnetic Fields

Merry Christmas

Just so you don’t think my child sits willingly for these types of photos, I include an outtake, where he’s been told “Two more pictures, then you can sit on the couch.”, so he’s crying about having to still be on the job, but since he’s a professional, he’s still shouting “CHEESE!”. Yes, we’re at the “Cheese” phase. Natural photos are a thing of the past.

Merry Christmas, folks. Happy New Year.

Little Duckling

The rumours are true. Expect another little face plastered all over this blog come early summer. Samson is hoping for a duck to come out of Mumma’s tummy. He was not too happy with the first image of the little duckling.

And now to important issues. How do you feel about finding out the sex of the baby? We found out with Samson, and I have to admit, I had a moment of – I won’t call it disappointment. Perhaps it was just a readjustment of my thinking? No, if I’m going to be totally honest, the actual moment my midwifery student told me I was having a boy, I sank a bit in my seat. Oh. Even though I had had a feeling—the ultrasound picture looked like a boy. And I didn’t really care. I know that we just hope for what we know. But I let out a brave OH! like I was excited. My midwife feigned excitement and moved on. I think she’s generally against the finding out of gender. She doesn’t say what the baby is at birth, but rather lets the parents check when they are ready. She told a story in our prenatal class that has stuck with me. A couple were told they were having a boy. When the baby was born, she was a girl. The father was making all the necessary calls telling family and friends the baby had been born, but he would constantly edit their excitement saying, “–BUT it’s a girl.” The little girl was in the room and could feel that negative energy, claims my midwife.

After I got the news I was having a boy, I worried – about what to knit for a boy, about how to deal with a penis. Then I made my peace. I bought little boy clothes. I decorated his room how I wanted, not worrying about how a boy’s room is supposed to look. Then Samson was born and it was all fine and (of course) I fell instantly in love. And now I kind of want to be a champion for these little boys who seem to be left behind in today’s society. I want to make sure they thrive and become healthy, happy gentlemen. For goodness sake—I can tell you the difference between a hopper car and a tender. Girls scare me a bit. Obviously girls don’t have to be whiney or screechy or cry the minute they fall down, and some might be into trains too, and to some extent their attitude reflects how they’re raised, but I believe there is a part of our nature that is inherent to our sex. Samson was brought up neutrally—he had access to dolls and stuffed animals, but trains and trucks were always much more interesting.

So am I hoping for a particular sex? No. I have pleasant associations with each sex that may come out. But after Samson I said I wouldn’t find out for the second child. First, because I figure this is how we’ve been doing this for centuries and it’s the greatest surprise you’ll ever get, so why not? Second, I wanted to avoid that moment of “disappointment”. I figured after labour I’ll be so happy to have the little bugger out I won’t have time to really dwell on whether it’s a he or a she. And third, for a purely monetary reason I don’t want to be tempted to buy stuff for a girl. If I don’t know, I won’t spend. But you know—then you start your second pregnancy and you feel like crap and your skin breaks out when it never does, and suddenly people start telling you you’re having a girl. And you don’t start to hope exactly, but you start to live with the thought–what if this is a girl?

As luck would have it, a good friend of mine is pregnant with her second at the same time as me, and we’ve been discussing this issue. She claims three things: 1. “Disappointment” can only get worse after nine months of thinking and guessing and waiting. Fair enough. 2. If you know you’re only going to have two kids (as she and I are probably going to do), it’s natural and even healthy to “mourn” the loss of a girl (in our case, since we both have boys). Our childbearing time is passing, as is our chance for an experience with a girl. Once we have that period of mourning, we can move on, and love the little fellow that’s actually in our womb. Point taken. 3. You can save a lot of energy if you only have to think about names for one gender. I hear that.

I still can’t decide what to do. What do you think?

You will gradually become the old and be cleared away.

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Steve Jobs.

This really struck me to my core. It grabbed me somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach, and hasn’t let go. It’s time to evaluate my place on this earth.  Perhaps I really am happy, perhaps I am not settling, but I figure if these words moved me, there must be something I can change.

Time Flies

It’s all going so quickly. Summer is over. Samson learns a new word (or two or three) every day. He learns things we don’t remember ever saying around him, let alone teaching him. His brain is so hungry for knowledge. He wants to count. He wants to learn his ABCs. And though I love this new little fellow he’s turning into, I need to write down the things that are disappearing before they disappear from my brain as well. Because I already miss those things. And I need to write down the things that are appearing because I just can’t believe the sheer number of them.

Indulge me, will you?

• “Sasa” is almost no more. He was sa-some when I started this post. He’s now san-some.
• It’s not “go go Sasa” it’s “run  Sasa”. “Go go Sasa” was something Samson used to say every time he would run. Sometimes it was “go go owsh shoo [go go orange shoes]” or “go go mama/dada”, but now it’s “Run train”, “Run our car” etc.
• Animals are no longer their sounds. It’s not “eh ne moo”, it’s TAW (cow). It’s not “ru ru”, it’s “DA” (dog), it’s not “ah-ah”, it’s “man-ee” (monkey). It’s also not “brah” it’s “fee-raff”. It’s not “beerah” it’s “fee-brah”. And let’s not forget that a year ago, he made up a dog sound all by himself. It is NOT “buh buh buh” anymore.
• It’s still SEE for elephant, but he can say hyena, cheetah, and elevator.
• It’s not “nn-mm” with the sign, it’s “app-oh” (apple) with the sign.
• It’s not “bee see” it’s “plane”.
• He says butterfly, buffalo, button, table, “new paper”, popcorn, corn, train tracks. 
• He says “I gotchu!” when he sees a hoola hoop.
• He still calls meatballs “bapa” but kielbasa is “basa”, and pasta is “passa”. Meatballs are “mee-bah”.
• It’s not SEE it’s “feesh” and “go-feesh” (goldfish). And “feesh and fries and cown”.
• He sings On Top of Spaghetti, Row Row Row Your Boat, Rain Rain Go Away, Little Red Caboose.
• He “reads” Lost & Found – “peen! doo-wee! cam from!”
• A picture is a “peesh”, and so is a peach.
• He says “tamera” for camera and “taneroo” for kangaroo.
• He still uses his signs, but they are evolving and changing. He uses signs to help us understand what he’s saying, especially when he still has one word for more than one object. (Such as “boo” for blue, and boat.)
• AND is his favourite word.
• He always draws with two markers. And tells you what colours he needs.
• He walks Mama, Dada and Addie.
• Addie is not ee, she’s ah-ee. He calls her on walks: “ah-ee! COME!”
• It’s not “dancing blue train” it’s “Tammies” (Thomas). (WHO TAUGHT HIM THAT?!")
• Oh WOW!!! is a regular part of his vocabulary.
• It’s not “si si” it’s “soo-me” for excuse me.
• “Uncha-jahn” has the biggest feet.
• He sings his ABCs and points out letters when he sees them. He has “wan and two” eyes.
• He knows all his colours: red, orange, blue, green, grey, baby blue, pink, purple. He knows most of his shapes: circle, triangle, square.
• He jumps everywhere.

This is the little boy I live with now. My heart aches.

Four Rolls of Film

People, I just got surprised by some film I got back from the lab. I was expecting mostly recent photos, but instead I got a pile of gems from the last year and a half (plus). Some of the shots were taken so long ago, I thought I got someone else’s film. There are some from last year’s trip to Poland, some with the baby Buddy, and even one from a film I worked on in another life.

Blueberry Buttermilk Cake

Back in May, Ms. Evans and Samson and I made a cake. Well, Samson and I made a cake and Ms. Evans took pictures. Well, I made a cake, Samson made a mess, and Ms. Evans took pictures. And it was oh so good.

The pictures speak for themselves, but I’ll say this much: can we have three cheers for my awesome hair?! What about the awesome light in my kitchen?! Ahem, I digress.  There are two things I most imagined when I imagined having kids. One was reaching back while walking and having a little hand grab yours, and the second is baking/cooking with a little helper. So these pictures are so so special to me.

    

     

Important to note: this cake is made with *frozen* blueberries.

Riverdale Farm

I am not political. I am a right-leaning liberal to left-leaning conservative, and have never really found “my guy” in the political sphere. (West Wing’s Alan Alda would be my president of choice.) When Mayor Ford was elected, though I did not vote for him, I chose to be optimistic. I was not surprised when Mayor Ford decided to skip the Pride Parade, and frankly, chose to be moved by things more pertinent to me. (Really—who wants a homophobe at the Pride Parade anyway?) The recent issues surrounding the addition and removal of bike lanes around Toronto seem (at times) hysterical to me. And honestly, I think Toronto could stand to lose a few crappy libraries. And the libraries that are left don’t need to turn a profit, but they could stand to lose a few crappy money pit services so that the libraries we have left have the breathing room to be excellent.

But when I heard about KPMG suggesting Toronto should get out of the business of running Riverdale Farm, I fumed; I boiled, which is very atypical for me. I angrily typed to Hubby: Yes, let’s get rid of Riverdale Farm. Let the kids of one of the poorest neighbourhoods in Toronto sell drugs instead. Good idea. But, I admit, I read the report for myself and cooled off. This post got shelved. It almost got deleted. Could this just be more of the anti-Ford media pushing my buttons? So far I’ve only seen suggestions of what could be cut, and the risk analysis in the report is fair and takes into consideration that the zoos are “enjoyed by many”. These (as far as I understand) are only suggestions by an outside company. No decisions have been made. But they sure have my attention. If all Ford wants to hear is how much these places mean to us in order for him to make the decision NOT to shut them down, please Mr. Mayor, count this as my vote.

Presented without (much) further comment are pictures of Sasa at two of the local zoos that are allegedly on the chopping block. I’ll spare you the pictures of me at these same places, but they exist. And should exist for my next kid too.

May Ford have mercy on their and our city’s and my children’s soul(s).

Self-Portraits

One (well, okay three) Frame(s)

This weekend was my one wedding-free weekend all summer. I had planned to spend it with my family, and then I received news of my grandmother’s death just days before. Suddenly, the time I was to spend with my family was even more important. It was a really good day.