I’ve been gone for a while, but all that hard work has paid off in the form of not very ripped-up papers and some hard-earned grades.  Now I’m feeling the 80 degree heat here in Jersey, and I’m looking forward to the summer.  These three monkeys are too!

Advertisements
(function(g){if("undefined"!=typeof g.__ATA){g.__ATA.initAd({collapseEmpty:'after', sectionId:26942, width:300, height:250});}})(window);
var o = document.getElementById('crt-1708448653'); if ("undefined"!=typeof Criteo) { var p = o.parentNode; p.style.setProperty('display', 'inline-block', 'important'); o.style.setProperty('display', 'block', 'important'); Criteo.DisplayAcceptableAdIfAdblocked({zoneid:388248,containerid:"crt-1708448653",collapseContainerIfNotAdblocked:true,"callifnotadblocked": function () {var o = document.getElementById('crt-1708448653'); o.style.setProperty('display','none','important');o.style.setProperty('visbility','hidden','important'); } }); } else { o.style.setProperty('display', 'none', 'important'); o.style.setProperty('visibility', 'hidden', 'important'); }
var o = document.getElementById('crt-1007636948'); if ("undefined"!=typeof Criteo) { var p = o.parentNode; p.style.setProperty('display', 'inline-block', 'important'); o.style.setProperty('display', 'block', 'important'); Criteo.DisplayAcceptableAdIfAdblocked({zoneid:837497,containerid:"crt-1007636948",collapseContainerIfNotAdblocked:true,"callifnotadblocked": function () {var o = document.getElementById('crt-1007636948'); o.style.setProperty('display','none','important');o.style.setProperty('visbility','hidden','important'); } }); } else { o.style.setProperty('display', 'none', 'important'); o.style.setProperty('visibility', 'hidden', 'important'); }

Looking

I have been thinking lately about the act of looking, and specifically all the things we do that interfere with that gaze.  TV, the phone, even books – all the things we do that disrupt that looking and focus our attention elsewhere.  I confess, I have been reading and loving Woolf, and I can tell the impact her writing has had on me.

At any rate, today I took Julia out in the yard to enjoy the beautiful weather, and I took my camera, and I just watched her watching the cars, investigating the grass, following the sounds of birds and rustling leaves.  It was a lovely time; very little babies are refreshingly unaware of being watched, especially with a camera.

And then Hazel and Amos came home from preschool and work, respectively…

And that changed things quite a bit!

 

Right now I’m eating dinner, editing photos, watching the girls take a bath, and writing this post.  Busy isn’t even the right word; it carries no sense of imminent doom or driving impetus to finish work that more closely resembles the four horsemen of the apocalypse than it does motivation.  But look at this girl; I just had to share.

When I was thinking about writing this post, I couldn’t decide whether to look at our quick, homemade, cardboard (yes, as in paper) sled as super duper uber crafty or just joke fodder for all the kids who grew up with winters where it snowed, not where they celebrated Christmas wearing shorts and maybe a sweatshirt.  Side note:  you know that used to look cool.  Now it just looks really yuppie.

But it finally snowed in New Jersey, like we blindly promised Hazel it would for Christmas (it didn’t), and she wanted to sled, dammit.  She has been asking for a sled, ice skates, and skis ever since we started reading the Berenstain Bears’ Christmas back in October, and she even started fussing about how Santa didn’t bring “anything on my list, not one little thing.”  I reminded her that nope, Santa didn’t bring giant dangerous snow equipment to a three-year-old, while Amos fashioned a sled out of some rope and a cardboard box.  The result, whether it’s a poor facsimile or super crafty, was totally popular with the preschool audience.

Paper sled! Not from a snake oil salesman!

For y'all voyeurs: that's our NJ house.

Speaking of preschool, Hazel’s first day of preschool is tomorrow!  Amos and I are SO excited for her; Hazel floats back and forth between excitement and flat out refusal to go.  All this emotional drama has led to crying jags that usually begin with something small, like “Why is the snow melting?” and end with “But the snow – sob – is my best -SOB- FRIIIIIIIIIEND and I don’t know why I am cryyyyyyyyyyinggggggg!”  I’m sure she will actually be fine, and one day she’ll join us in laughing about her dear attachment to the snow.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.