Photo Assignment #5

Below is my submission for this week's photo assignment over at Miriam's blog. The task at hand for this week was to take a photo with repetition at its core. I pulled my homework this week from my archive of photos from our trip last summer to North Carolina. This was a series of steps that lead to one of the many waterfalls of the region.

Week 140 Photos

Here are this week's photos, and here is your picture of the week:

Photo Assignment #4

This week's assignment over at Miriam's blog was to consider point of view. I decided to skip the archives on this one and spend an afternoon shooting my favorite subject--Reilly--to see what I might come up with.

The photo I ended up with was a bit of an accident. I was shooting Reilly as she was playing on a slide at the local softball field. On one of the shots the flash didn't fire, and I ended up with this:

Though I don't normally do anything to my photos post-production, I did crop the left side of this photo to center my subject and remove a rather inelegant telephone pole.

The first step is admitting you have a problem

A conversation I recently overheard between Shawn and Reilly:

"Come here, little lady."
"I’m not a lady! I'm a princess, mommy!"

Week 139 Pictures

I just finished uploading the 59 pictures from this week, and I can say without a doubt that this was one rocking Easter for our little girl. Between the three egg hunts, the visit to the children's museum, or the constant presence of family, Reilly had it good. Real good.

Tough to pick a favorite from this week, but I'll go with this one:

For more, click here.

Photo Assignment #3

Each week, Miriam Dyer posts a photography assignment over at her blog.

This is my entry for the "color" assignment. She asked that we submit a photo that is interesting because of its color. The litmus test for this assignment was to convert the photo into black and white and ask if the photo makes the same statement with the color removed.

This photo was taken somewhere in Greenwich Village about two years ago. I believe the house is on West 11th Street because that was where our pediatrician was, and I recall taking this photo after one of Reilly's doctor visits.

Anyway, I took the shot because one can't help wondering whether the shutters were painted because of the Vespa, or if the Vespa was chosen because of the shutters.

Or if it was all just a random moment caught on film.

Three Signs You Have a 2-year-old

You know you have a two-year-old when:

1) You find a moldy goldfish cracker in one of the inner pockets of your diaper bag.

2) At 9:30pm, you find yourself having an argument with your two-year-old about whether her pajama top matches her pajama bottom.

3) You take your laundry out of the dryer and find everything from stickers to mulch in the lint catcher.

Weekn 139 Photos

This week's photos are up at the Smugmug site. And now a picture of Giant Reilly:

It's a deal

Last night, after a smooth transition from school --> dinner --> Dora --> bath--> books --> bedtime, I was sitting in the rocking chair in Reilly’s darkened room, counting to sixty.

After I counted to sixty, I got up quietly from the rocking chair, but Reilly heard my movement and popped her head up. She reached out her arm to me.

“Daddy, shake my hand.”
I walked over to the crib, shook her hand, and said, “Goodnight sweetpea.”
And she said, “I love you daddy.”

Shawn has been away for the last three days, and Reilly wants her back. Frankly, I think Reilly is getting pretty sick of me. Take this morning's dialogue as an example:

"Reilly, get on your shoes."
"I don't want those shoes!"
"Then go get a new pair of shoes. It is time to go to school."
"I don't want to go to school!"
"If you don't go pick out a new pair of shoes and get them on in the next minute, daddy is going to have to put them on for you!"
"You're mean!"
"I'm mean?"
"I want my mommy!"
"At this point, I want your mommy too, but she's at work.
"I want my grandma!"
Reilly goes to the phone, picks it up, and starts pushing buttons.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm calling grandma!"
Reilly puts her ear to the phone, but hearing nothing, throws it to the floor.
"Daddy, I need my phone! "

This is not a fart joke

Reilly has never really liked traveling by car. I blame it on her spending the first year of her life in New York City. Being that we did not have a car, and took cabs rarely, Reilly knew not the confines of the carseat until we pulled up stakes and moved to Florida just after her first birthday.

To prevent the freak-out sessions that tend to crop up when Reilly is in the car, I keep a stash of gummy snacks on hand. When the gummy snacks run out, I hand her a book or a toy or any other loose object that might be in my car on that particular day.

Recently, that object was one of those cheap, imitation oriental fans. I have no idea how it got in my car, but I was grateful to find it there. To demonstrate its purpose to Reilly, I waved the fan in front of her face before handing it over. She was delighted.

As I watched in the rearview mirror, she waved the fan back and forth, pushing the fine hair from her forehead. She then looked up at me and shouted, "Daddy, I'm making wind!"

Week 137 Pictures

Your weekly photos are now up at the Smugmug site. Click here to view week 137.

Your photo of the week:

He walked on down the hall…

Scene: Reilly and I are sitting in the living room, watching The Backyardigans on TV.

Me: “Reilly, I’ll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom.”
Reilly: “Okay daddy, do you know where the bathroom is?”
Me: “Yeah, I know where it is.”
Reilly: “Okay, you just take a walk down the hall—you know where the hall is, daddy?”
Me: “Yes, Reilly.”
Reilly: “Okay, you go down the hall and into the bathroom.”
Me: Stifling laughter. “Thank you, Reilly.”
Reilly: “You’re welcome, daddy.”

What was funny about this story was that it was essentially a paraphrase of the book “Time to Pee” which we used to help potty train Reilly.

I guess this was her way of potty training me.

Sleepless nights

Lately, Shawn has been thrashing around in bed at night. I don’t know what her problem is, but I do know that ever since she started her thrashing around, I’ve been having some trouble with waking up during the middle of the night. Do you think there could be a connection?

The one interesting result of waking in the middle of the night is that I tend to remember whatever dream I am having at the time. The one I remember from last night was of protecting a young woman who was being bullied, she was sixteen years old, blond. I believe this dream somehow stemmed from some poems I recently read by a young woman named Sam who I used to mentor. Her poems dealt with love, suicide, and other topics that I think tend to crop up in those early teenage years.

This morning as I drove to work, I was thinking about bullying, and how it has become a problem, leading to shootings at schools and other violent behavior. Of course, bullying has always been a problem. I was bullied at school, or rather, on the school bus. I remember another boy who was always threatening me and trying to steal my Swatch watch. I don’t recall if I ever told my parents about this. It was terrifying then. I still remember that boy’s face and hate him to this day.

I was also on the other end of bullying. I recall walking down a wing of my high school with some of my friends from the soccer team and one of them, Fergie, saw an unpopular freshman boy, picked him up, and put him in a nearby trashcan. We all laughed. Fergie would look for this boy every day, and managed to torment him for a few weeks before the boy smartly changed his route. Do I have to say that I didn’t do anything then, and that I feel guilty now for not stepping in?

When I reflect on this memory, I see a classic bullying relationship that still plays out to this day: the jocks and the nerds. Naturally, I wonder what happened to that boy. He is probably about thirty years old. I empathize with him, I wonder if he was angry then, if he hates us even now. Maybe, like Sam, he was a good poet. Maybe his being a poet saved my life.

From the mouths of babes...

This morning, Reilly slept in. On a Monday. God forbid she actually sleep in on a weekend.

When we finally roused her around 7:30am, she refused to get out of her crib, choosing instead to hold on to the railing and jump up and down. This, despite the fact that she knows the "No More Monkey's..." story by heart.

After 15 or so minutes of this behavior, I grew a bit weary and when Reilly was still for a moment, yanked off her PJ pants to get the morning moving forward. She was not made happy by this decision of mine, and after wallowing around her crib in the most pitiful of displays, she looked at me and said, "Daddy, you're disgusting!"

Not believing she even knew this three syllable word, I asked her what she said.

She replied, again, "Daddy, you're DISGUSTING!"

Week 136 Pictures

Your weekly photo:


More can be found by clicking here.