his mouth gapeth open



Something deep within me could not go to sleep tonight without posting this photo. I have been going through a ton of photos, trying to clear space on my hard drive (blech), and this is one of my recent favorites. Doesn't he look so BIG?? Wahhh. It makes me want to cry. And then on another day, I am looking forward to reclaiming my life when he goes to college. Such is the paradox of motherly emotions, I suppose. We are back from Louisiana and heading to Ocean City for a couple of days with Jean, Jason, and little Eva, Eli's future prom date. I will be back with lots of photos and updates from both trips, hopefully. It has been a whirlwind since we returned, and Eli starts preschool on Tuesday, so I am guessing it will take me all of next week to fully regain composure. What the hell am I talking about? Me regain composure? I exist in a state of perpetual decomposure. I must accept this sad fact and move on with my life. Ahhh.

Happy Labor Day weekend, everyone. Try not to labor too much, okay?

P.S. These are Shaun's PJs from when he was a wee one. Cute, huh?

the great slide



Just going through my backlog of photos from the past month and loved this one! I met a photog friend in Annapolis last week, and this is where this pic was taken.

music and lyrics

When we were living in Texas, my good friend Sara introduced me to the sounds of Frances England, a children's folk singer. Well, I don't know if she calls herself a folk singer -- maybe not -- but the songs are 'folky' to me and just so sweet and catchy, and this CD, after being packed away for awhile, has been resurrected and is the current soundtrack for out rides to the grocery store, Target, and, well, most everywhere else we drive. I love all of the songs, but there is one, 'Busy as a Bee,' that makes me think of Eli at the stage he is in now. His mind is a racetrack with matchbox cars of every color and kind in it, racing and whizzing by, constantly. He is never finished for the day. I guess neither are we, with the piles of books and magazines on our nightstands that we hope to read after the daylight is gone, and the kids are in bed, and we finally get a chance for us.

The other night we were closing up shop downstairs, turning all the lights off, and Eli was still sitting on the floor in our living room, intently delivering cargo by train, over bridges and through tunnels. So you'll see why I love this song. My favorite part is when she says, "busy, busy, busy, busy, busy..."(you have to listen to the song to get the full effect!).

Busy As A Bee
Frances England

Last night about a quarter to eight, you came into my room
You said, “Honey, it’s getting late, it’s getting late.”
I said, oh no Momma this cannot be,
I got too many things to do before I sleep, before I sleep
I got trucks to pull and train tracks to lay before the break of day

Last night about a quarter to eight, you came into my room
You said, “Honey, it’s getting late, it’s getting late.”
I said, oh no Momma this cannot be,
I got too many things to do before I sleep, before I sleep
I got stories to read and games to play before the end of day

Don’t you know I’m busy, busy, busy as a bee
Don’t you know I’m busy, busy, busy as a bee
No sleep for me

Last night about a quarter to eight, you came into my room
You said, “Honey, it’s getting late, it’s getting late.”
I said, oh no Momma this cannot be,
I got too many things to do before I sleep, before I sleep
I got songs to sing and stories to tell,
I got animals to talk to, make sure they’re doing well, before I sleep

Don’t you know I’m busy, busy, busy as a bee
Don’t you know I’m busy, busy, busy as a bee
No sleep for me

:::

And -- you can listen to it here. Just click on 'music' and then the first CD cover 'Fascinating Creatures.' It's number 6. Shaun's favorite is 'Blue Canoe' (number 11), and Eli loves 'Tricycle' (number 2).

We're off to visit family and friends in Louisiana tomorrow, so I hope to be back, checking in with pictures! My friend Rachel says she wants pictures of the bayou, which she thinks is so beautiful. So, I will try to get some for her, as well as some of Eli swimming with my new disposable underwater cameras. He has been swimming something crazy at the Y these days, and both of our parents have pools, so I can't wait to see what he does, busy bee that he is.

Gotta run. Babysitter coming in 30 minutes, and I still have to wash my hair and get dressed. And then the rest of the afternoon will be devoted to packing. Oh, happy day.

Yay for My-tel Pelps (as Eli would say).

We are loving us some Olympics.

Happy Monday, everybody!

feats of valour

This is a Public Service Announcement: Please, when given the opportunity, give the breast-feeding woman in the check-out line a break, will ya?

All right, so I was in line to pay for my groceries this weekend, and the baby pasted to the hip of the woman behind me started to wail, so, I said, sympathetically to the mother:

Would you like to go ahead of me?

She said:

No, that's okay.

So, I proceed to load my groceries onto the black belt, when I hear that the baby has stopped its wailing, and notice, out the corner of my eye, that the mother has hoisted up her shirt and whipped out her child's food source, right there, while simultaneously hoisting her banannas onto the conveyer belt. So, I was like, um, okay, I wouldn't have done it, simply because I have modesty issues, and Eli was always an erratic eater, but, hey, if you can breastfeed and fetch banannas from your grocery cart at the same time, you've got one big one up on me, sista, and you just go on and wave that breastfeeding flag high.

So, as I re-focus on finishing my grocery transaction, the child-clerk, with about as much awareness as a 2-year-old who is about to stick his finger in an electrical outlet with bright red wires protruding from it, says to ME:

Can you tell her I'M CLOSED?

(in my head: I'm sorry, maybe you were born blind and deaf and have this amazing ability to still drag egg cartons across conveyer belts, but you didn't, for some unexplainable and odd reason, see THE WOMAN BREASTFEEDING HER SCREAMING CHILD BEHIND ME)

Me to breastfeeding woman: Um, (nervously gesturing to the blind-from-birth child-clerk), she says she's closed.

BW: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Me to child-clerk: Um, could you just ring her up and then close? I *think* she's having a hard time.

C-C to me: Mmmmph. Well, I...(blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Then, no more words were spoken, and I shot her the biggest, baddest (well, okay, maybe not the baddest) GLARE of her life, as if to say, One day, oh young one who bags banannas while waiting to clock out so you can meet your boyfriend and skateboard off into the sunset while chewing gum, locking lips, and listening to your apple-green iPods, ONE DAY, you may have a child, and that child, if he's normal, may cry in grocery stores, and force you to hike up your shirt and PRAY that the girl behind the counter doesn't close her freakin' register on you.

Okay, so not exactly purple-heart material here, people, but she kept her register open, and they all breastfed (and skateboarded off into the sunset) happily ever after.

And on my drive home, I thought about never breastfeeding again.

:::

In other, non-heroic news, we have rekindled our affections for the YMCA (or the YPT, as Eli calls it) and have made it our absolute goal in life to go at least 3 to 4 evenings a week to pump some iron and take the child to the pool. The pool is wonderful and completely enclosed with an attached sauna and open year-round. I swam 4 laps yesterday and thought I might need to be rescued from drowing. If there was a doubt before, now it is confirmed: I am THAT out of shape.

And, appropos of nothing mentioned above, but just because it is so funny, Eli's own special name for the Golden Arches:

Ho-Donald's.

I told you it was funny. At least it is to us, even for the millionth time.

Hope everyone is having a great week. More from us soon...;-)

immortality...sort of

So, last week was Plein Air, an arts festival that draws painters from all over the country to little ol' Easton. The theme of this year's festival was 'Vanishing Landscapes,' and since there are ancient scyamores on our street, there were quite a few artists here everyday. There were literally artists right outside our front window each morning when we opened the blinds. It was actually very inspiring to watch their intensity and artistry. Mid-week Eli and I were asked to 'model' for one of the artists who wanted to paint us into his portrait of the street and the trees. Here is the nearly-finished painting and John, the artist, immersed in work. He was a funny fellow, and it was slightly odd when he was instructing me on exactly how to sweep my front sidewalk, but whatever. I am immortalized, right. I'm not so keen on the fact that I am sweeping because, hello John, this is the 21st century, but okay. It was fun, and we actually got to see the finished painting hanging in the art gallery in town, and we were so proud that we were a small part of it. Too bad it was going for about $3K or we could have had a new piece for our house.

Anyway, here is John and the August street sycamores and mother and child sweeping the steps. I still think it would have been more appropriate and realistic, albeit less romantic, if he would've had me pull out my laptop, sit on the steps, and, I dunno, play a video game with the kid or something. Because I really don't sweep the front sidewalk all that much. Bad housewife.