Spring Photoshoot!

Every time this year, when I am falling hopeless in love with spring all over again, I try to photograph the spawn with the magnificent apple blossom and magnolia trees that are breathtaking this time of the year. It is their fleeting beauty that I absolutely adore. And so I go with the spawn and my camera (the first baby) on a nature walk, and try to capture her natural interaction with these gorgeous beauties.

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The Snow Queen and the Little Girl

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Standing the Test of Time

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Time flies. Time is money. Time is of essence. Time is ticking. Sands of time. Time waits for no one. What time is it anyway?

We kill time. We make time. It can be a good time or a bad time. There is quality time, and there is a quantity of time. Time is a product, a tangible thing it seems.

And to raise a child is to understand the paradigm of time. Mainly because children are predisposed to give less of a shit about time then a bird with an imminent bowel movement does about your car. Continue reading

Mother’s Day Special: Supermarket Flowers

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Mother’s Day is coming up and hopefully your spouse and kids have been emotionally blackmailed enough by TV commercials (or you) to buy you supermarket flowers. Or a diamond or two.

It’s a happy day for mommies by and large. It is the one day we are recognized for the aches and pains of bringing human life into the world and then hauling it around. Our kids make us burnt toast for breakfast and we gleam like the sad saps we are. Continue reading

Full-time Employee, Part-time Mommy

Recently I was having coffee with a friend whose son is my daughter’s age. She said to me, “I don’t know if this makes me a bad mom or something…” here she dropped her voice to a whisper, “but I am so happy to drop my kid off to daycare on Mondays.”

I laughed. Then I told her that I do a drive-by drop off on Mondays. A drive-by drop off is when you slowly drive by your child’s school, roll down your windows and hurl your child out into the waiting arms of the teacher, and yell, “See ya later bitches!!” and then put on your sunglasses and crank up the volume on Drake. Continue reading

The Maid’s Hands

Clink, clink, clink.

I watch her through the rising steam of my cup of chai.

She brings the pestle down again and again onto the small, round, red hot peppers being doomed to the destiny of powdery flakiness in the mortar. She sits on the floor, the gold bangles on her dark wrists gleaming in the midday sun streaming in through one of the kitchen windows. Continue reading