Paparazzi Capture Mommy Moments

I hardly have any good pictures with myself and my boys. I do not consider myself photogenic and will only"pose" for a picture if my arm is twisted. I LOVE photography but would rather be calling the shots from behind the camera any day. What mother doesn't enjoy taking photos of her children?

When I was a young girl I used to dress up all my dolls and have them model as I played photo shoot with a disposable camera. I also experimented with the Polaroid and loved the fact that the photo image would materialize right before my eyes with a few good shakes. In middle school I was allowed to borrow a professional camera for a science project, and I have been an amateur photography enthusiast ever since.

My boys are my favorite subjects of course, but like me, they are also hard to pin down. Here in Savannah, we live in a photographer's paradise. I have immensely enjoyed having the summer free to explore the historical city and its islands with my boys. I have managed to capture a few pictures, but the minute I let go of my toddler's hand to snap a shot trouble swiftly ensues.

I have been using the same old camera for years and am in desperate need of an upgrade. I keep saying when I get my house fully furnished I'll spring for a new one. Luckily, when it comes to milestone events and holiday get-togethers, there's always another enthusiastic friend or family member with a high-powered digital SLR nearby. I have spent so much time watching my boys from behind the camera, that during Cavan's 2nd birthday party, I decided I needed to get in on the action and leave the shutter-bugging up to the grandparents. After all, I see the boys ever day, and there's always a chance I'll capture that one heart-melting look (which I can later enlarge and display proudly). I'd like to include here a call to all of my mommy friends to step out from behind the camera and post more photos of you with your adorable children.

As I have pointed out in previous blogs, I am not a scrapbooker, although I love to take photographs. This blog and my facebook page, are basically platforms for me to recount wacky stories and show off my gorgeous husband and babies. I don't want it to appear as though Ryan has all the fun, so I am including in this post a few rare (and somewhat decent) photos of me and my babies. Since we are perpetually on the move, most of the shots are candid (which I prefer) and taken by the grandparent paparazzi. While putting this entry together I had had fun browsing photos of celebrity moms, and I was reminded that, although our lives may be vastly different, mommies of all backgrounds have at least one thing in common: motherhood! It's raw, messy, fun, candid, not always photogenic, but always memorable! In pictures we almost look the same-especially with baby in-tow! 

Cavan loves me!

Cavan just turned two a couple of weeks ago. I can't believe how quickly the time has flown. I have been so busy with quintessential summer activities (birthday parties, weddings, hosting out-of-town family, etc.) that I haven't even gotten a chance to add the details and photos of his big day to the family blog.

I don't scrapbook, but I love to take photos. So far, I have captured every milestone of Camden's on camera, and for his first year, I completed a traditional baby book of photos. When Cavan came along, I joined a popular website for social networking for the sole purpose of posting his cute face all over the Internet and sharing my joy with family, friends, and foe alike. Because I have been electronically journaling Cavan's infanthood, I never bothered to start a traditional baby album. The problem is, my entries are unmethodical (to say the least) because I never know when I am going to find time to upload photos complete with colorful descriptions and captions. Now Cavan is two years old and no longer an infant. I can tell you he took his first steps over Easter weekend of 2009 at my parent's house, but I don't think have a photo to go with it. I know Ryan and I were living in Fayetteville, NC at the time, and we were only there for 9 months...

When I think about it, Cavan has seen quite a bit in his young life. He was born in Charlotte, and we moved to Fayetteville when he was 6 months old-right after Christmas. In fact, our young family spent the new year of 2009 in a hotel room-just Ryan, Camden (then 2 years), Cavan (6 months), and myself. We didn't have a big party, but we were about to have a new big adventure. Fayetteville was a short stop, and 9 months later, upon the completion of Ryan's project, we left for Wilmington, NC. Cavan was 14 months old when we moved to Wilmington. More pictures remained stored in boxes and 6 months later we left Wilmington for Savannah, GA. I know I can recall the moments that matter, but I am not certain I have it all written down. I know there must be photos in a box somewhere, or on a disc waiting to be printed...

Cavan, when you are old enough to read this blog, please forgive me. I promise I will have it all together one day! There is not a baby book or blog on this earth big enough to contain all the love if have for you, and I know you love me, too! Two nights ago, as I was patting you to sleep, you told me in your sweet toddler voice that you loved me-and I didn't even say it first! I know I will never forget the day you said it, but I am writing it down now, so I will never forget the date. I love you. Every inch. Every laugh, every tear, every finger, every toe, every wild hair on your head.

Introducing the Baby "Modelquins"

My children are beautiful-seriously. I know every mother thinks her baby is the future face of Gerber or the next Grand Prize Winner in Regis Philbin's search for the most beautiful baby in America, but let me assure you I am not just another prejudiced mother. All sarcasm and indulgence aside, my toddler boys, Camden and Cavan, have been photogenic since before birth, and with their killer good looks, they continue to stop perfect strangers dead in their tracks. Alright, I might be getting a little carried away here. The truth is, I can't pin my children down long enough to take a decent photo, and when they see the camera, they run screaming.

My family has been urging me for a while to get the boys involved in modeling, but I think I am lacking the right connections. They have graced the pages of The Charlotte Observer, 910 Moms, Wilmington Parent, and The Skinnie ( a Skidaway Island magazine), but we have yet to make it to the big time. Well family, you will be proud to know that just last week, the boys made their accidental modeling debut at the Old Navy store in Savannah, GA.

The last week of June and beginning of July, for all of you bargain hunters, is the perfect time to shop for summer clearance items and take advantage of Independence Day sales. Being the patriot that I am, I decided to take the boys on a little shopping field trip to the Oglethorpe Mall in Savannah, GA and load up on swim gear for our July 4th celebration at the beach. They are past the age where I can strap them into the double stroller without protest, but I thought that with a little pre-op planning and the promise of post-op rewards, that my little soldiers just might pull through for the greater good.

We spent the morning upsetting the studious customers at Barnes and Noble while I browsed in vain for a beach read (which I know I will never read), and after a chaotic attempt at "lunch" in the food court, I buckled the boys down, pushed them across enemy lines and right into the line of fire at the crowded Old Navy. I didn't have a quarter for the prize machine (located in the rear of the store), but I thought I had enough little cars and toys to keep them busy for 15 minutes or so. Clearly, I did not, or I my idea of 15 minutes in Old Navy might be a little distorted. Regardless, I knew I didn't have long before the boys went AWOL-and they did. I gave my boys some shoes to try on, and while they were strapped down and fumbling with the shoes, I circled a rack for just a minute. I could still see the stroller from around the circular rack, but I must have missed the moment when my boys slipped from the seat belts like slick escape artists. I turned back around and panicked when I saw them missing from the stroller. My panic turned to relief when I saw them sitting on top of the nearby display table sorting and swapping the $5 graphic t-shirts. They were safe! They were looking pleased with themselves and so adorable- they could have been models!
The lesson has been learned on my part. Apparently, they are too smart for the stroller, and I can become a little distracted with a sale. I need to keep my activities toddler-friendly, and I'll hold out for a sitter the next time I want to bargain-hunt at the mall.

Father's Day Tribute Continued: Daddies Are Different

This past weekend, Ryan and his two little boys were enjoying a Father's Day stroll along one of the neighborhood golf courses when Cavan's tricycle spun off the golf cart path and down a small hill, landing my toddler into the murky lagoon. I was still cleaning up from breakfast when the lot showed up at the front door. Ryan, shoeless because he had torn one in the fight to rescue Cavan, was wet from the knees down. Cavan, who was soaked but otherwise happy, was trying in his limited toddler vocabulary to tell me all about the accident at the pond. Camden, unscathed, was holding his Daddy's broken flip-flop and telling me his own version of the story. They were a mess, but they were safe and adorable.

I can't tell you that the same thing wouldn't have happened on my watch, because the truth is, it has (see my previous story "Meet the Swim Team" when both of my tots let themselves outside to go for a swim in 1ft.- deep mud puddles). Parenting is not for amateurs. I run a tighter ship than Ryan, and it's not because I love the boys any less or more-I just tend to worry about everything, whereas Ryan doesn't. For instance, Ryan might let the boys swim in diapers, or naked. He'll let them stay up later, play with tools, and he'll let them watch all the Cartoon Network they like. That's what dad's do right? Well, that's not all. They fix toys, they fix boo-boos, and they also share every minute of their children's joys and sorrows. Ryan always comes home to remind the boys they are first in his life, and no matter how long or strenuous his day, he still makes time to read to the boys for a solid hour every night before bedtime. We're blessed.

For Ryan: A Father's Day Tribute In Pictures

Because sometimes words aren't enough (or they are too much), I have decided to post a few family photos that capture Ryan with our precious boys. He is our hero and the definition of every little boy's dream of a dad.

Precious Bedtime

Are all the children all in bed? Now it's eight-o-clock.

Ah, sweet nightfall. The hour of repose. The blessed bedtime hour. I'm guessing that's when many stay-at-home moms get their second wind. The time to finish all the things that kept getting pushed aside because of the demands and needs of the little ones in their care. For me it's laundry. I can only fold laundry in absolute peace-and-quiet (i.e. no sounds from the children or husband). I like to pile the clothes on top of the bed, sit with my legs crossed, and watch TV, folding only during commercials. Sounds wonderful doesn't it? You'd be correct in assuming that never happens, and as a result, I am constantly behind on laundry duty. Maybe the truth is that, by the end of the day, I am left winded (as opposed to getting my second wind). I am out of breath, out of time, out of words...

Every night I sit in front of this smart laptop and think about how I can put a funny or insightful spin on what is usually a very chaotic day with the boys. Not every day is without control mind you, but as they say in the biz, "if it bleeds it leads," and in my house, if it's not bleeding, it's peeing, or pooping, or on fire. I like to fantasize that I am like Carrie from Sex and the City: hair down, Jimmy Choo's kicked aside, relaxed at the computer, and typing away at the next day's column. I like to write for fun, but I admit it is not my greatest talent. Neither is accessorising, so there is no world in which I could ever be mistaken for the fun-loving, drama-seeking, martini-drinking, fashion-forward New Yorker, Carrie Bradshaw. Regardless, here I am typing away at tomorrow's blog, Old Navy flats kicked off, tired but relaxed, and thinking it funny that my husband has been asleep in our three-year-old's room since 6:30. Bless his his heart, he works for a living too, you know.

My life can't quite compare to Carrie's; however, it is not without drama. Today Cavan (who will be two next month and is eager to use the big boy potty but sometimes misses) changed his own dirty diaper before I could get to him. There's really no telling how long he was in his crib standing in his own filth before I found him. I am really not a terrible mother, but finding my youngest in that condition really made me question my abilities. In my defense, it was naptime, and I thought all his chatter was regarding the books I left for him to read (lately he has taken to having books in his bed, and he'll cuddle with them as if they were stuffed animals). I gave him a bath and noted that it was another one for the books (or blog), and we spent the rest of naptime enjoying quality time together while his older brother slept.

Naptime and bedtime are sacred moments for us "at-homers". When else would we have the time to read, write, or study music? I can't even go to the restroom without someone following me. Right now, my youngest is asleep in his crib, my husband is asleep in Camden's bed, and Camden just came tip-toeing in the room to remind me he is still awake and that he needs something to eat. I am glad to see his sweet face, and I am all of a sudden very tired of this computer. It's not quite bedtime, and we are headed to bed to cuddle and read and watch toons 'til one of us falls asleep. Blog schmog.

Danger Zone

It's no surprise that it has been over a month since my last entry, but I swear, I really do want to keep a blog- even if only for posterity's sake. My boys are too darn cute and funny not to!

We have been living in our Savannah home for 7 weeks now. I am still unloading miscellaneous boxes, and Ryan has just turned the back of the house into a "hard hats required" zone. We do have new lighting in the living room, and we have managed to get one wall painted and two others partially stripped. The boys require constant attention, so progress is slow. They want to be everywhere Daddy is, which is adorable, but Cavan really is too young for power tools. Camden, on the other hand, has already fallen in love with his Dad's new Dewault. The boys and I spend our days island-hopping while Ryan is at work. I can't get much accomplished without him, so what's the point in trying, right? Poor me. It's not a bad life, but it does have its hazards. For instance, while I was changing Cavan's dirty diaper this morning, Cavan, in one fell swoop, grabbed the diaper from underneath him and threw the wad of poo at my face. Thank goodness he missed. Motherhood is a danger zone.