Took the camera out for a spin at Vivocity with baby girl yesterday and here’s what I came home with – absolute awesomeness.
I’ve never been a fan of the great outdoors, what with the sun and sweltering heat and makeup melting off my face and beads of sweat trickling down my head. But now I can’t wait to get out in the sun because the outdoor light is magnificent. Makes all the pictures pop.
To say I’m obsessed is an understatement.
I’m totally useless when it comes to discipline. Why? Because I can’t keep a straight face while looking at this face. I wasn’t expecting that I’d turn into that parent, the kind whose kid gets away with murder because oh, his mother is a giant softie. The kind that other parents shake their heads and tsk at.
Barely two-years-old and my son has discovered that he’s got a special power in weasling out of trouble. He raises an eyebrow, then the corners of his mouth turn just ever so slightly and looks at me with the twinkle in his eye. Usually, this is the point I go “don’t you give me that look, young man” but he knows it’s a desperate plea more than a command and it is the cue for him to go in for the kill. He recites “sorry, mommy, won’t do it again“, rubs his chest vigorously (to sign his apology), then breaks into a giant grin.
Finishing move complete.
Each time, I tell myself that I’m going to be firm this time. I take deep breaths and gather my resolve but who am I kidding? I was never the disciplinarian type. The brief attempt at being firm ends like these things always do: with me looking like a complete doormat. See, I generally avoid conflict at the risk of well, having it snowball into a bigger conflict.
The moment he pulls out his get-out-of-jail-free card, I pretty much cave. That’s how much resolve I have – about zero.
I know this is going to come back and bite me in the ass when he is big enough to manipulate us to get his way but I’m banking on the fact that by then, he will be a lot less cute and way easier for me to not fall apart completely. At this point, he still looks baby enough to act all innocent and cute.
To his credit, he’s a really good kid but there is one thing that really drives me up the wall on a daily basis – eating. Meal times have become a battlefield with him pushing the food away, spitting it out and clamping his mouth shut because he “don’t like” whatever I feed him. Sometimes he eats a couple of mouthfuls when he gets to feed himself, but he usually makes a huge mess and more food will end up flung all over the floor that inside his mouth.
I thought of not fighting him on it and just letting him starve if refuses a meal. He’ll eventually learn to eat whatever is given to him when he’s hungry enough. The only problem with that is feeding just so happens to be the one test of every mother’s competency. Don’t ask me why that is. I mean, I can get away with not buying them developmental toys or not sending them to the fanciest schools but feeding, that’s like the basic requirement of every mother. That and the ability to whip up a storm of the finest, healthiest eats. Both of which I can’t do to save my life, it seems.
That’s why I can’t help feeling terrible if my kids don’t eat even though I tell myself that it’s not going to kill them and in the long run, it’s actually helping them. I’ve tried every trick in the book to sneak some vegetables into his mouth, only to have him spit it right out.
And just when I’ve about had it with the feeding frenzy, he flashes me a look like this and I’m right back to being putty.
How do you get through meal times? Or is it just my kids that want to eat Mackers all the time?
The husband came home with my birthday gift over the weekend and let me just say that it is hands down the BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT I’ve gotten so far. Even better than the time he made me a precious moments card with glitter on it. You know how sometimes you get a present and you’re like “oh wow, thanks for the thought, I guess”. This is not one of those times.
And remember the time I came up with a bucket list? Obviously I still haven’t gotten around to doing any of them, which I’m not entirely surprised at, seeing that it involves stuff like running away and joining the circus. It’s the kind of thing you do at the spur of the moment when all the stars align and you’ve had a lot of booze. Well, the stars have aligned and I’m finally going to start on one of them, so I’m real excited.
See where I’m going with this?
Yes, the husband came back with a Canon DSLR camera complete with a 50mm lens and my goodness, it is exquisite. Jaw-droppingly so. I’ve been caressing it non-stop since it came home to momma and I foresee that this is going to be the start of a very expensive hobby.
I’ve never been a trigger-happy kind of girl. I don’t whip out my camera to capture all those wonderful kodak moments. I don’t hold up two fingers with a peace-sign and flash my pearly whites every 25 seconds. I don’t make people gather and snap group shots at events. I don’t have 50,000 photographs stored in my hard disk.
This is mostly because I take awful shots and I end up looking like Chandler Bing in most photos. I see all those girls with perfect smiles and mine always look like a cross between a grimace and a scowl.
My wedding photo shoot (which was shot by a ridiculously talented fashion photographer friend) was one of the most harrowing experiences in my life. The whole time, he was all like “stop grimacing”, “show me some emotion”, “close your mouth”, “strike a pose”, “NO, DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN” and I was like an awkward fourteen-year-old. I’ve since come to terms with the fact that my best Angelina Jolie impression looks more like Mick Jagger on a bad day.
All that is going to change though. This new baby takes some incredible shots and I am so in love.
