Week 168 and Christmas

Reilly's 4th Christmas!

For more, click here.

Week 167 Pictures

Christmas is coming!

I like coasting too

As Reilly's father, I feel that I should be teaching her at nearly every moment, and it is thrilling when she quickly picks up a word or concept that I have offered. Even more interesting, though, is when Reilly figures something out entirely on her own.

For example, the other day I was walking alongside Reilly as she pedaled her trike from the playground back to our house. This is typically a tedious process, as Reilly delays her trike ride as long as she can to avoid the inevitable bath that is waiting for her at home.

As we rode along, inch by inch, Reilly suddenly pedaled up ahead and said, "Look, Daddy!" as she lifted her feet off the pedals and coasted down the sidewalk.

I told her that what she was doing was called "coasting."
She replied by saying, "I like coasting."

The next thing I know, she is zipping down the sidewalk, building up speed so that she could get a good long coast.

We were home in just a few minutes.

Week 166 Pictures

We went camping this week at the beach.

Click here for more photos.

Don't feed the alligators

I just remembered a dream that Reilly had over the break. She woke up with a cry, then shouted out:

"An alligator ate me and then spit me out."

"He put pepper on me."

Week 165 Photos

Your weekly photos are here.

Candy everyone wants

The day before we left our mountain vacation, we drove along a winding mountain road to the very top of a smooth peak on the border of North Carolina and South Carolina. We were there to find and cut our Christmas tree.

As we milled about the tree farm, a golden retriever sidled up to Reilly and nuzzled her arm. Reilly laughed and gave her a pet. After choosing our tree the dog was still following us around, so I asked the owner of the tree farm who he belonged to. The man said that he didn't know, that he had seen the dog running around and that it had probably been dumped. The dog had no collar or identification, and though it was relatively clean, the dog was thin and I could feel his ribs when I bent down to pet him.

I told Shawn that we should take him home. She sort of did a double-take, knowing that impulsiveness is not my forte', but when she saw that I was serious, said, "Yes! Let's take him home!"

She asked Reilly what we would name him, and Reilly said, "Candy." This is actually a pretty high compliment from Reilly, considering that candy is her favorite thing.

We put the christmas tree on top of the truck, and Candy inside the truck, and told the tree farm man that we were going to take him with us. He said that it was a great idea, but that we might want to drive up the mountain a bit and check to see if anyone had lost him.

So, we drove up the mountain, past countless multi-million dollar estates, and finally came to a house that had a car out front. I got out and knocked on the door to the cabin, and a crazy old bat lady came out and said, "That's what's-his-name's dog. Barry. He does some of the electric and plumbing work around here. I'll call him. Hopefully he hasn't had too many beers yet and he can drive up and get Gomer--that's the dog's name. His other dog just got shot the other day from wandering around someone else's property. He'd just be sick if you took him."

She got ahold of the man and said he would meet us at the Christmas tree farm. When I got back in the truck, I said, "Well, the bad news is that this dog already has a name. It's Gomer." And when I said his name, the dog wagged his tail and looked up at me.

We drove down to the tree farm, and up pulled a beat-up pickup truck. In it was a scraggly man wearing a Gators hat. I let the dog out of the truck and the dog walked over with his tail between his legs. Gomer refused to get in the truck, and cowered when Barry drew near.

Reilly began to cry hysterically for Candy.

My dad summed up the situation best when he said, "We had a choice between doing the right thing, and doing the right thing."

Good luck, Candy. We'll miss you.

Quite literal

As I was driving Reilly home from school yesterday, she remarked about a man who was jogging by: "Daddy, that man is running on the sidewalk! You're not supposed to run on the sidewalk!"

I corrected her and said that people are supposed to run on the sidewalk, and that if they ran in the street, they might get hit by a car.

To which she replied, "No, Daddy. It's called a side WALK."

Who won the race?

This morning when Reilly woke up, I told her that Obama beat McCain in "the race."

She replied by saying, "But I didn't see him!"

And I told her, "Don't worry, you'll be seeing a lot of him from now on."

Teachable Moments

From guest blogger Shawn Overcast:

Reilly took one look at my shirt this morning and said with a smile: "Obama!" She said this while pointing to his picture. I immediately saw this as a teachable moment.

My shirt said ‘Barack,’ not ‘Obama,’ so I took a pad of post-it notes and a pen and wrote out a “sticker” for Reilly that said “Obama.”

“No, mommy. The “b” should have two circles.”

So, below “Obama,” I wrote “OBAMA.”

Obama
OBAMA

“Thanks, mommy. Now we can show this to the people.”

“The people” are the campaigners we saw on the street corner the evening before, or as Reilly would say, “yester, yester, yester, yesternight.” Without our sticker, we were left to roll down the window and yell our encouragement.

Reilly wore her sticker all the way to school. I pointed out the different signs along the way and tried to share a little about the electoral process with her. We saw a sign that said “VOTE.”

“Vote, mommy? What’s vote?”
“Well, there are two people racing and we need to vote for one of them.”
“Do we vote?”
“Mommy and daddy voted.”
“I didn’t get to vote!”
“I’ll create a ballot for you tonight and you can color in the circle.”
“I’ll color in all the circles, like the two circles in that B.”
So smart, I thought.

“Reilly, two people are racing for this vote,” I said. “Their names are Obama and McCain.”

Feeling like I would be brainwashing her if I didn’t explain why Obama was our fave, I continued, attempting to explain politics to a 3-year-old in terms she’d understand.

“Do you know why we like Obama? Because he’s smarter, has more energy, has great ideas, and is nicer.”

“Mommy, two people are racing. McCain and Obama. That’s what you said, right?”

“Very good, Reilly!”

To this, Reilly broke out into song, “Obama, Obama, Obama-mama. That’s what you are, mommy!”

Lesson taught.

What I failed to mention was that if for no other reason, “Obama mama” has a much better ring to it than anything that could rhyme with McCain. And Reilly gives the BEST O-bam-a kisses. Just ask her for one the next time you see her.

Reilly Grace - Week 164

Happy Halloween!

For more, click here.

If you had just one wish...

Yesterday, Reilly turned to me and said, "Daddy, you know what I wish for?"

"What, sweetpea?"

"I wish I could fly."

Reilly Grace - Week 163

It's only 80 degrees during the day now, which means we are smack-dab in the middle of Florida fall weather.

Your picture of the week is below. For more, click here.

Reilly Grace - Week 161-162

For those who come here to see updates on Reilly, I'm sorry for the lack of recent posts...I've been sick and very busy at work and my dog ate my homework.

Here are a couple of weeks of photos: click here.

Your photo of the week:

Week 159-160 Pictures

Your new installment of weekly photos includes a trip to the zoo, good times with friends, and some ameteur hair-dressing:

For more, click here.

Wish I may, wish I might...

Last night, Shawn and I took Reilly on a stroll around the local park at dusk, something we try to do as often as Reilly is in the mood. As we rounded the lake, Reilly spotted a star in the darkening sky, and shouted, "Mommy, a star!"

Shawn responded by asking her, "And what do you say?"

To which Reilly replied, "ICE CREAM!"

To which I said, "Huh?"

Shawn explained that she had taught Reilly the whole "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight..." deal, and that when they finished the poem and Reilly made her wish, Shawn would always ask Reilly what she wished for.

So, last night, she just skipped the poem and cut to the chase by shouting out her wish.

Week 158 Pictures

Week 158 photos are up at the smugmug site. Click here to view.

Unprompted, part II

This morning, while driving Reilly to school, Shawn called to check in on how our morning was going. She was in the car herself, en route to Orlando. My answer: we overslept, Reilly is whiny, and I haven't had any breakfast yet.

When I got off the phone, Reilly asked if I was just talking to her mommy. I told her that I was, and that her mommy said to be sure to tell her that she loved her.

Reilly was quiet for a moment, then said, "I love mommy THIS MUCH," and to illustrate her love, stretched her arms out as far as she could.

I asked her how much she loved her daddy, and without a moment's thought, she moved her hands about twelve inches apart.

Unprompted

When Shawn is away, Reilly always asks to sleep in "mommy and daddy's bed." When she asked to do so last night, I told her that she had to be a big girl and sleep in her own bed, an answer which had the effect of turning on her waterworks.

I waited through about five minutes of her crying before I relented and carried her over to our room.

When I put her in bed, she asked me to stay with her for a minute. "Just one minute," I said, and eased myself in next to her.

A few minutes later she had settled in and the room was quiet, except for a quiet whirring from the overhead fan. It was then that she rolled on her side to face me and said, "I love you, daddy."

Reilly Grace - Week 157

This week we had some deck furniture delivered. It came fully assembled (thank God), and the boxes were huge, which of course was very exciting for Reilly.

Yet another example of the kid playing with the box that the gift came in:



For more photos from the cardboard clubhouse, click here.

Reasoning with my head

I’ve never liked the expression, “Everything happens for a reason.” I think it is the undercurrent of divinity that troubles me; I always find myself wanting to ask, “What reason?” which in turn leads to “Whose reason?”

I don’t really want to get into the whole guiding hand of God conversation here. That topic has been talked to death—at least in my own head, and probably the heads of others, except for those with the luxury of blind faith.

I think the expression that works better for me is, “All events in the past have led me to this very moment.” To think that only the positive events have led me here is to be ignorant—the wrong turns have as much weight as the correct turns, and blue sky days as much weight at days the blue sky turned yellow with smoke.

My life, as it is, is very good. I am very happy. Some would say that I am “blessed.” I think that I am lucky, and fortunate, and unlike three thousand plus people who died on September 11th, 2001, I am alive, which is something to be thankful for in itself.

Reilly Grace - Week 156

A little bit of Reilly, a little bit of New York. Click here for weekly photos.

If only

"Daddy, chewing this gum makes me bigger."
"No, Reilly. Apples and beans and chicken make you grow bigger, not candy."
"But if I chew it really fast, the gum will make me bigger, Daddy."

I couldn't argue with her. After all, the gum was Juicy Fruit.

No introduction necessary

Yesterday evening Shawn, Reilly and I met up with my old friend Shannon and her children Pilot and Rowe. Though Rowe is 8 or 9 months older than Reilly, they started playing the very second their eyes met, which made me think of how awesome it is to be a kid, to be so unselfconscious and so pure of heart that a friend can be made in just moments.

Gone Catchin'

A few photos from my fising trip with my father.

This is a nice river trout, caught on a March Brown fly:

Here is a nice lake trout, caught on a live worm suspended below a slip bobber.

Here is dad with what you would define as a "mess of fish":

Five minutes after sunset:

Here's one memory I didn't remember

My father dropped by the other day and gave me a brown jewelry case. He said that Larry (my grandfather) had found it while clearing out grandma's things. In the case was a macaroni necklace that I had made for her--according to the piece of paper she had kept with it--in 4th grade.

Week 154-155 Photos

Back to school! For more, click here.

Great Expectations, Part II

When I was a boy, my grandmother lived just down the street from us for a short time. Every few weeks my brother and I would pack up our little blue suitcases and head over to her apartment for a sleepover. Our suitcases were blue leather and had the phrase, “I’m going to grandma’s” in white lettering on the front.

The best part about going to grandma’s was not the evening spent with her, but rather the next morning, when she would cook my brother and me a country breakfast. Coming from a house where cereal was king, the eggs and sausage and pancakes that my grandma cooked were simply awesome. She always made biscuits, which was my brother’s favorite food. He would eat them loaded with butter. I ate them the same way grandma did—with a dab of honey.

I still prefer my biscuits this way, and I guess that is one of those things that grandma has left with me, now that she is gone.

The story that grandma liked to tell was of the morning that we woke up and didn’t smell the sausage in the pan. There was no butter on the table, no biscuits in the oven. On the table was a cereal box, two bowls, and a gallon of milk.

When I got home that day, I went straight to my mom and said, “Mom, you won’t believe what grandma fed us today—cereal!” I guess my mom told my grandma this story later in the day, and I bet they had a good chuckle together at the crushing of my breakfast expectations.

This was my grandma’s favorite story to tell about me, and she told it so beautifully, the way that country folks are prone to do, and I can still hear her as she delivered the punch line at the end of the story, the way she imitated the derisive tone I used when I spat out the offensive word cereal, as if she had fed us gruel.

We would laugh together every time she told that story, and despite its repetition, I never grew tired of hearing it.

Great Expectations

There is a woman that I see walking all over our neighborhood. Every day. She is tall, very thin, and always wears a scarf on her head. I think she's about 37 years old. Over the last few months, I have built up a story in my mind about her, and of course it is a romantic story in which this woman has cancer, no health insurance, and is forced to walk everywhere because she had to sell her car to pay for her medical bills.

On a recent weekend, I was outside in the yard, mowing the lawn, I think, when I saw her walking down the sidewalk toward me. I strategically mowed my way over to her, then paused as she approached, anxious to engage her and find out her true story. I said “hello” or “good morning” or some other greeting, and unbelievably, she walked right by me without even a glance.

Then she stopped, swiveled around and said to me in a voice with an accent, “Do you have a cigarette?”

I said, “No.”

She turned on her heel and walked away.

What a disappointment.

Texas

Here are some photos from my trip to Texas for grandma's funeral. I can't tell you how glad I was to make the trip. To view, Click Here.

Inker

Note the tattoos. Two showing (of four).

Fine, but don't expect a birthday party!

I know that parents say that their child seems to grow up overnight, and to hold on to every precious moment because the next thing you know your baby will be all grown up, but I have to say I was a bit skeptical when I returned from Texas and Reilly announced to me that she had turned 4.

When we first started potty-training Reilly, we gave her an M&M for each time she made a successful deposit into her little plastic potty. As time wore on, Reilly began demanding one M&M per year that she had been on this earth.

At first I couldn't figure out why Reilly had made herself four-years-old at the tender age of three, but as she came striding proudly out of the bathroom with four fingers held up this morning, I realized that there was at least one benefit.

Instant Karma’s gonna getcha

This morning while turning right at a particularly busy intersection, I paused to allow a woman to cross the street—she had the walk sign. A driver three cars back took offense to my stopping an undeniably long line of cars wanting to make that same turn, and announced his displeasure by not only honking his horn, but actually holding it down for a good thirty seconds.

Naturally, I was pissed, but my anger turned to a smile just a moment later as a motorcycle cop pulled out, lit up his lights and siren, and pulled the guy over.

I don’t know what the driver got a ticket for, but if being an asshole is a moving violation, he must have gotten a big one.

Potato, Po-tah-toe

As we sat at a stoplight yesterday, Reilly pointed to a strip mall off to the side of the car and asked, "Is that where I was born?"

"No, Reilly, you were born in New York."

"No I wasn't, Daddy. I was born in The City."

North Carolina 2008/ Week 153 Pictures

Our vacation photos are now up. To view, click here.

The only person not enjoying our vacation

Upon learning that Reilly’s astrological sign was “Cancer,” I recall my mother saying that she would grow up to be a homebody. I laughed this off, I mean, my daughter is one of the most active children I know, and this constant motion made it all the more vexing when my active child did in fact turn out to be a homebody.

Case in point: On the way home from a side-trip to see a waterfall today, Reilly said, “I want to go home. Not the cabin—home!”

Evelyn Overcast (1927-2008)

It is impossible to sum up a life in only a blog entry, and I don’t wish to try. I might choose a few select stories that I remember of my grandmother and me, and I might in future entries, but not today.

Of course I could have visited her more. I wonder if I might have been a better grandson but is it fair to ask that without considering if she could have a been a better grandmother?

What matters in the end is that she lived a full, long life. And when it was time for her to go, she was enabled to do so with the dignity befitting such a life.

I have a voicemail on my phone. It is from grandma, and it is dated June 24th, just a few days before the stroke that would eventually claim her life. On it she asks to be reminded of my mother’s birthday. My mother had just visited her, and was the last to see her.

It is tough to reconcile this voice with my grandmother post-stroke, a stroke that stole from her her voice.

Even harder is it to know that aside from memories and photographs, this is all I have left of her, a twenty second message of a life that now has passed.

Little Miss Sensitive

I might have mentioned in a previous entry, but there was a period of a couple of days in which Reilly sang a sad song [as she described it] to herself, a song which made her breakdown in tears. I recall feeling amazed at the depth of emotion that she was capable of, and also a little bit unnerved.

I am just remembering now how Reilly—as a baby—would cry whenever we sang the song “Twinkle, Twinkle” to her, so much so that we stopped singing it altogether.

The other night, Shawn was singing to Reilly “You are my sunshine” while snuggling her into bed. Shawn’s two-verse version goes something like this, with Reilly’s reactions in [brackets].

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You’ll never know dear how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away. [Reilly begins crying.]

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamt I held you in my arms
When I awoke then, I was mistaken
So I held my head and I cried. [Reilly sobbing and holding her head.]

Don't worry, they'll be back

Reilly has been very interested and active in the different stages of sleep lately—and not just the going to sleep part, of which she is still the master manipulator/delayer/pain-in-the-asser, but also the dreams that come with sleep.

The other night Shawn sang to Reilly a song that her grandmother used to sing to her:

Now run along home
And hop into bed
Say your prayers
And cover your head.

The very last thing
That I’ll say to you:
You dream of me
And I’ll dream of you.

To this, Reilly said, “I’ll dream of you, mommy.”

In the morning, when Reilly trudged sleepy-eyed into our room, the first thing she said was, “My dreams are gone, mommy.”

Huffing and puffing

Today as we drove down the dirt road to the cabin, Reilly had the following conversation with Shawn:

“We can’t take a trip yet ‘cause I’m not bigger. I’m just still smaller.”
“Oh, and what do you like to do now that you’re smaller?”
“Play soccer, football, read little pigs and play croquet.”

3 year check-up

One of the things they don't tell you when you first have your child is that the regular quarterly check-ups that you find so reassuring as a new parent don't last indefinitely. Reilly has not had a check-up since she turned two, and so now that she is three I have been super curious to know what her stats would show.

Using this handy-dandy percentile calculator, I present you with Reilly's stats:

Height: 36 inches, 18th percentile
Weight: 28 pounds, 22nd percentile

Shawn also reported that Reilly had a shot, and that she was very brave.

6 - 2 =

Recently we have been introducing Reilly to the concept of simple math--adding and subtracting. When playing with six colored bamboo blocks on Sunday morning, Shawn took away two and asked Reilly how many were left. Withouth counting and without hesitation, she said, "four."

Week 152 Supplement

We're off on vacation for a week in the mountains of North Carolina. To keep you satsified while we are away, here is a supplement from last week's birthday photos. This set is of Reilly's actual birthday when Nana and Grandma took her to the aquarium to play in the waterpark.

Click here to view.

Week 152 Pictures

Happy birthday, Reilly Bean:

July 9th

Last night, when I told Reilly that she would go to bed age two and wake up age three, she seemed a little horrified at the concept, that somehow she would change in a marked way—grow three inches, or have to start driving herself to her swim lessons in the morning. No matter how I tried to soothe her, she would say, “I don’t want to turn three! I want to stay small forever.”

When I told this story to Shawn, she just nodded, which I knew to mean, “That makes two of us.”

One small gesture

Last night, Reilly called me into her room not long after we had put her to sleep and told me, “I don’t think I like my bed,” which is code for “I want to sleep in mommy and daddy’s bed.”

Typically I don’t grant this wish, but I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t have it in me to fight it out with her, so I put her in our bed and settled in next to her to wait for the sandman.

Unfortunately, I kept coughing, and each time I did so, Reilly would stir, put her little hand on my forearm, and say, “Daddy, are you sick?”

Week 151 Pictures

Happy 4th of July everyone! For this week's photos, click here.

To all those concerned, an update:

Grandma had a stroke—a blood clot in the brain—which eventually burst and caused an open bleed in her brain. Though she can move her left arm and can move her head a bit, all other bodily functions are beyond her scope of ability, and that goes for everything from speaking to using the bathroom. She will remain in ICU for a bit longer, and then will be transferred to an assisted care facility to live out what remains of her life, which feels like a very sad, sad thing to write.

What shape is a banana?

This morning, while peeling the banana I had just given her, Reilly said, "Hey daddy, what's this shape?

I replied that it was crescent-shaped.

"Nooooo, Daddy," Reilly replied, "it's not a crescent, it's a rainbow!"

The bathtub: it's not just for bathing anymore

I have discovered that there is one drawback to Reilly learning how to swim. Last night, while in the bathtub, Reilly decided to demonstrate her "big kicks" and after flipping over to her belly, proceeded to churn and splash the water with her little legs and feet. Afraid to discourage any type of swimming, I let her go, and the result was about a quarter inch of water all over the bathroom floor.

that it was

I learned this morning that my grandmother had a stroke, and that she was in the ICU, and that it was one of those situations that it was important to see her right away, just in case.

When I saw her, it was as if I was not seeing her; she looked like her worst prognosis, and yet when I held her hand—her one working hand—she spun my wedding band on my finger and looked at me with her intense blue eyes.

Let’s just say that I thought she was trying to tell me something, and the message was loud and clear.

Week 150 Pictures

This week's pictures are ready for viewing here.

Your picture of the week:

She's a guppy

Reilly has been taking swimming lessons with a local woman who does intensive ten minute sessions five days a week for four to six weeks. I was skeptical about this style of learning, and after two days of Reilly crying for ten minutes straight, we were all wondering if this was the right thing for her. Then, on day three, she just started swimming--just like that--and now we can't get her to take her bathing suit off.

Gorilla Pod

For father's day, Shawn bought me an accessory for our camera. It is called a Gorilla Pod, and is basically a more flexible version of a tripod.

It comes in handy when you want to take a timed shot, or a slow shutter speed shot, or if you want to look really cool in front of other people.

My, how far we've come

While we lived in The City, there was a time that I watched Reilly two days a week as a Mr. Mom type fellow, and on those days, when I needed to take a shower, I would load Reilly up in her Exersaucer, put on some Barney, and head to the head.

Reilly loved that Exersaucer, and so did I, so it was of no surprise when she asked to be put in her little friend Lila's Exersaucer while we were over visiting her this past weekend.

From the picture above, one would think that Reilly is still a little tot, that she is merely a sprite, a small child who still endearingly fits into the small plastic business centers designed for toddlers and parents alike--but then you would be mistaken, for the shot above is only from the waist up, whereas the photo below tells the true story:

Boo!

On Friday we went out to eat pizza with our friends Kristi, Cassius, and their son, Max (who spent the whole time playing video games with Reilly sans quarters).

After dinner, we asked Reilly if she had fun with Max, and she nodded her head, and then exclaimed, “We played the ghost game!”

It took Shawn and me a second to figure out that the game she was referring to was Pac Man.

Week 149-150 Pictures

Another batch of photos has been uploaded to Smugmug. Click here to view. Below are your pictures of the week:

Photo Assignment #15

This week's assignment from Minna's blog was to simply post your favorite photo. Tough assignment. I've decided to post two photos, both of which would have satisfied the earlier assignments of "self-portrait" and "backlighting."

Without further ado:
An oldie:

A goodie:

Swimming Lessons

Reilly is taking swimming lessons this week, and so far, she has performed admirably.

I vaguely recall my own swimming lessons, a fuzzy image of the pool, of a woman instructor, of water.

What is more clear is how knowing to swim saved my life, at age 5, when a young friend who was angry pushed me into her pool—I’m sure without considering the consequences—and I was able to swim to the steps and pull myself from the water.

Time for a wax

While in the pool yesterday afternoon, Reilly jumped in and grabbed onto me in a gentle embrace. She pulled back, staring intently at my chest, and then tried to pull a hair off my skin with her intent little fingers, saying, “Daddy, you have Leia’s hair on you.”

Leia is our dog.

Happy Father's Day!

_ _ _ ck off

"Okay, Reilly, when Dora is over it is your bath time."

"Snack off, Daddy!"

(Anyone want to claim this one?)

-sht

I spent the last couple of days at a conference, and at that conference I heard a presentation presented by a woman who had a speech pattern so unusual that I figured I’d put it on this here blog.

The woman pronounced the word “most” like “mowsht.”

I’m not trying to make fun of her, especially if this is a result of a speech impediment, but it came off as some sort of regional pronunciation, except I don’t know of any region that adds a consonant between the ‘s’ and ‘t’ of a word, and also—she didn’t add the letter ‘h’ in words such as “blasting” and “yesterday,” which made this mispronunciation all the more strange.

From the mouse's mouth

Today I got to hear Abigail Disney give the keynote speech at the Planet Philanthropy Conference. She said a few things in her speech on the nature of privilege that really struck me, but none more so than this: “I am to America what America is to the world.”

She deconstructed the concept of privilege all the way down to who goes to bed with their shoes on versus those who don’t, and her speech was so profound and moving that it got a spontaneous standing ovation from the crowd, and honestly, when was the last time you saw that happen (State of the Union speeches not included)?

You WHAT?

Yesterday, Reilly kept saying what I thought was “You bitch!”

After some deciphering over the course of the day, I determined that she was actually saying, “You betcha!”

Now, who she got that saying from is another mystery—anyone care to claim it?

Week 147 Pictures

A photo taken before I locked my keys in my car. The expressions would change later.



For more, click here.

The day that OCD let me down

Today, after a nice canoe trip through Ft. DeSoto’s mangrove trails and the ensuing hour playing on the beach, I told Shawn that I would pack up half of our stuff and make the first trip back to the car.

After loading various fishing rods and beach chairs into the trunk, and at about the point that the lock clicked securely shut closed, I realized that I had just locked the keys in the car.

It is hard to describe the feeling that one gets when this happens—I think it is one of those things that if you’ve done it, you know—but at once my body filled with adrenaline, my instinctual bad mouth said “SHIT!”, and my philosophical side thought, The keys are in there. They are not in there.

Santa, you're next

For all those who were wondering, Reilly’s favorite food is Cheetos. I know all of you out there are flipping out to hear this, that granola-crunchy-nutrition freaks Shawn and Brian are feeding their kid puffed and fully processed corn snacks with a side of artificial coloring, but FEAR NOT, people. We have actually convinced Reilly that low-fat Cheez-Its are Cheetos, and until the day that someone gives her a real bag of Cheetos and she realizes that her parents are lying and that maybe the Tooth Fairy isn’t real after all, that is the way it is going to be.

Perhaps she took me a bit too literally

This morning, Reilly told me that she wanted to turn on the light in the pantry, and I offered to pick her up to reach the cord, but she insisted that if she had a chair to stand on, that she could pull the cord herself.

I tried to explain to her that she would not be tall enough to reach the cord—even with the chair—but my daughter likes to learn through her own experiences, so she climbed up on the chair and put her hand out for the cord but was woefully short of reaching it, which caused her to lament, “Daddy, I need to grow faster!”

I told her not to worry, that she was growing at this very moment, and she looked down at her feet to verify my claim.

Photo Assignment #13

This week's assignment was to do a self-portrait. Self-portraits are an aspect of photography that I have never taken seriously, and yet, when I went back into the archives to look for samples, I had plenty. Below, I'll post two self-portraits, one serious, one obnoxious, and I like to juxtapose them because it shows two opposing sides of my personality.

I think that the key to a good self-portrait is finding a way to define yourself in one shot, one frame of your likeness that sums up the whole person. I'm hoping to take some photos through Saturday in an attempt to find that person, but I know it's a long trip uphill to do so.

In the meantime, here is "pre-black tie dinner Brian," and The Inspector:

Oh, so that’s what time it is

I didn’t know what time it was when she first started yelling, but it was dark, so I knew it was very late or very early, and in this confused state of mind, I got out of bed and stumbled to Reilly’s crib, where she was crying that she had a boo-boo on her toe and that she needed a Band-Aid.

I carried Reilly to the bathroom and then to our operating table—I mean, BED—where Shawn, who was also awake, took the Band-Aid and peeled it open, causing the wrapper to emit two blue streaks of static electricity.

She said something along the lines of, Wow, did you see that? and I said something along the lines of, Yeah, I’ve seen that before—it’s static electricity, to which she replied, The things you learn at 4:00 in the morning.

Give me uh…

This morning I decided to take I-275 to work, which really meant that I decided to give myself an automobile enema. As I was coming over the Howard Frankland Bridge, the person in front of me, in the left lane—mind you, was traveling at a fairly good rate of speed, which would have been fine, except he (yes, it was a “he”) would tap his brakes for no discernable reason every thirty seconds or so. This reminded me of a saying that I think my Uncle Peter mentioned once (though perhaps it was his son, Mike): “If you know how to drive, you should never have to use your brakes on the Interstate.”

Great Explode-ations

On Friday I took Reilly to Great Explorations, a local children’s museum. Reilly loves “GreatEx” so much that when I told her that we were going her smile nearly broke her jaw, and that thrilled expression remained fixed on her face for about 90 minutes, at which point I told her that it was time to return home.

Reilly turns three in a month, but it feels like she’s three already, and that was clearly apparent in her ability to defy me, to physically and mentally fight me when we tried to leave GreatEx, and to raise a scene so embarrassing and so powerful in its mirth that I was actually paralyzed and afraid.

Imaginary argument

Reilly's imagination has expanded exponentially of late, and she invites me to join her in those made-up worlds; to have imaginary tea--to pet an invisible kitty.

Yesterday we pretended to grocery shop together, and after purchasing our groceries we sat down at a table to eat.

I decided to have some grapes, but apparently they were not my grapes because Reilly raised up her voice that I should put them back, and I smiled about the deliciousness of it all, to be arguing over imaginary fruit.

Week 146 Pictures

It was a short week for taking photos, but I did manage to capture a dozen or so. Below is a photo of Reilly playing with chalk in the sprinklers. For more, click here.

Photo Assignment #12

This week's assignment on Miriam's blog was "eyes." I had a few ideas about other interpretations of the word "eye" that I could photograph, but alas, the moment never presented itself, and so here is an oldie-but-goodie of Reilly from the archives.

Tough to focus on anything but her eyes in this photo...

Try not to confuse the candle with the cake

Because Reilly's birthday is over the summer, she got to celebrate her big day yesterday at school, which of course Shawn had prepared a cake for, a cake that was dutifully topped with a large candle in the shape of a "3."

When I retrieved Reilly and the cake carrier and the partially used candle at the end of the day, I noted that there was a chunk missing from the top of the "3" candle, a detail I wouldn't have paid much consideration except that later in the evening, when Reilly was struggling to fall asleep, she whispered across the dark room to me, "Daddy, Kai ate my candle."

I told her not to worry, that we would buy her a new one for her real birthday party, and then stifled a laugh while the image of Reilly's classmate biting into the waxy candle wandered through my mind.

Week 145 Pictures/Oregon 2008

We're back from the Pacific Northwest, and have a slew of vacation photos to show off:





We had a great time. Click here to view all 182 of them.

Photo Assignment #10

The photo assignment from Miriam's blog this week was "hands."

I wish I had time to do some focused shots of the pairs of hands around me, but alas, work was very busy and now I'm about 24 hours away from being in Oregon for a week, so you'll have to settle for a photo from the archives, albeit one of my favorites:

Week 144 Photos

Hello and welcome to week 144 of Reilly's life. In this week, you'll find a birthday party, a gathering on Mother's Day, and you'll also find out that I found the sepia setting on my camera.


And that I used it a lot.


Your photo of the week:

Click here for more.

Photo Assignment #9

This week's assignment from Miriam was to submit a photo that used reflection as a technique. I composed this shot just a few weeks ago while I was walking into work. It is one of my favorites.

Buddha Lover

Reilly has had a crush on this Buddha statue ever since Shawn brought him home.

This weekend, she invited him into the pool. Below, is how she romanced him, in three frames:

Photo Assignment #8

This week's assignment over at Minna's webiste was to capture motion. I have a lot of motion shots of Reilly--few of which are intentional--due to the fact that our daughter never ceases to move. (No, not even in her sleep.) However, I wanted to actually go in search of motion, and so I carried my camera a lot this week.

One opportunity arose when I visited the Book Arts Studio at my work. Every Tuesday morning, a professor, his colleagues, and other book-minded people gather to make printed works using old printing presses. This week, he was using a Vandercook press to print some invitations for an upcoming event.

It took me awhile to get the photograph I've posted below, and to be honest, it really doesn't capture the horizonal movement of the press, but you can only take so many photos before wearing out your welcome.

Here is about 25% of the press, with the rollers and gears:

Here is a shot of just the rollers: