Tag Archives: photo

First Day of School – The Obligatory Post

Actually this year, the first day of school IS special:

My oldest will be going to junior high. THIS, is the first day of the rest of his life without his mama hovering over him…

Or at least that’s how it feels to ME. I am pretty sure from his perspective I am a pesky fly that won’t go away.

I could tell he was nervous because he woke up at 6:30 this morning without an alarm or me threatening to pour cold water on him. Well, that and the fact he said, “I am nervous.”

“I am nervous too, honey.” I said. “Ooops. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that, huh? Probably didn’t help…”

Tentatively I suggested that I drive him to the bus stop because of “the huge heavy bag of school supplies” (and not because I wanted to be there on his first day as a 7th grader). He startled me with a brilliant smile, “AWESOME!”

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You can never be sure when they want to be treated like an adult, and when, a child.

Trial and error.

Today, when I thought that he would want to look cool and not be seen with his mom, he asked, “Are you going to bring your camera?”

“I wanted to but I was not going to because I assume you will be mortified?”

“Nah. I don’t care…  Where is [younger brother]? Is he still asleep? I want him to say goodbye to me at the bus stop…”

Today is full of surprises. The two of them sometimes behave as if they were mortal enemies.

“Well, go wake him up then. Tell him that you are going to a different school from now on. That the two of you will never be in the same school again.”

When my oldest came downstairs again, I asked him whether his brother was going to the bus stop with us.

“Nah. He’s still asleep.”

“Oh. He didn’t want to wake up? What did you say to him?”

“Nah. I just said ‘I am going to junior high today’ and then I kissed him on his cheek.”

Today is indeed full of surprises.

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It is still possible that when he comes home from his first day in junior high this afternoon, I am blamed for ruining his life.

For taking pictures of him at the bus stop even though I tried to do it surreptitiously by hiding behind the neighbor’s big SUV.

For standing too close next to the neighbor who was chanting, “Junior High! Junior High!”

For laughing too loudly when she called out, “You guys are moving up in the world! Look, your bus has tinted windows!”

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For raising my hand and waving as the bus drove away. It’s a force of habit. I will try and remember to stop doing it.

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Two little monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell down…

Now that his older brother is going to junior high, the quieter, less outgoing Mr. Monk will be for the first time by himself in the school. No more living under the shadows of his older brother. He will be known by his name, not a little brother, and definitely not “So and so’s brother”.

He looks all of a sudden so grown-up. His own person.

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This is so silly on my part since this is not the first “First Day of School” I have gone through. Yet I know many mothers are the same: We cannot help the tears coming out even as we laugh at ourselves.

When they turn around to wave goodbye as they step onto the bus…

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When you look at their anxious faces through the window…

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Something tugs at your heart.

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Sundays in My City – Jump!

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This post is inspired by MISSion Amy K.R., one of the WBEZ (Chicago Public Radio) blogs, where they conspired to save summer by making people jump at the same time on one designated night and encouraged people to stage their own gallery shows a la Philippe Halsman’s iconic photography book/exhibit Jump, and indeed, to Jump for Joy!

Naturally, I am recycling photos we took at the Outer Banks…

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Unknown Mami

Sundays in My City – A Night at the Opera

Ok. I lied. I went to the theatre with three boys under twelve with ants in their pants, what do you think? Just had to use it in my title because it is THE favorite album of mine, that’s all.

We went to see a Broadway musical… in Chicago… I wish I could tell you that I saw Spamalot.

Shut up! This is a hold-up, not a botany lesson. I want you to hand over all the lupins you've got.

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Or Wicked. Or The Lion King. Or Billy Elliot. But Nooooo….

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It is a musical based on a Disney movie. Like, 100% based on the movie... Wouldn't it have been enough to just watch the movie, again?

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Every time I walk into one of these classic theatres, I am startled by the beauty inside. The ornate, intricate designs overwhelm the senses and quicken my heart. Faced with the beauty, I feel guilty for not dressing up. I imagine that the walls and the chandeliers whisper, “We wish you had taken the effort to look as good as we do and help us remember those days…”

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Unknown Mami

Nonchalant Parenting. It’s legit.

Many of the things that we do or don’t do can be legitimized if only we could find a proper name for it, in conjunction with a cool, catchy definition.

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Once you settle on a name, remember to capitalize it to make it into a Thing. Like so.

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To further reinforce the legitimacy of your parenting style, google and see whether you can find books written based on a similar premise. And of course there it is, out of the 16,562 books listed on Amazon.com under “Parenting (paperback)”.

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“The Idle Parent: Why Less Means More When Raising Kids” in the UK; curiously, "Why Laid-Back Parents Raise Happier and Healthier Kids" in the US with a less inspiring cover...

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Voilà! You’ve got yourself a legitimate school of thoughts to follow (or continue to do or not do what you have been doing or not doing)…

As this article in The New York Times says, “[Y]ou can turn guilt on its head and call it a parenting philosophy.”

“The one constant over the past century has been parents’ determination to find the right answers when it comes to raising their children. In this latest chapter, we have replaced the experts who told us what a good parent worries about with experts who tell us that a good parent doesn’t worry so much. We may even see parents stop aiming to prove how perfect they are and start trying to prove how nonchalant they are.”

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A week before Father’s Day, I asked Mr. Monk to sign the card for my father-in-law. (Let’s for now park the burning question of WHY as soon as you entered into a committed, heterosexual relationship, all remembering and gift giving for miscellaneous dates and holidays became the woman’s job… Yes, let’s shelf it for now until we have some free time…)

“You should put lipstick on and put kisses all over the card to go with the big hug.” I said, without thinking. I was being witty.

“Can I? Oh, can I?” There were stars in his eyes. This kid has been dying to try on my makeup if it were not for the death threat issued by his father.

“Sure. Why not!” I grabbed the camera, thinking, “Honey, this is what happens when you are not around to sign your own father’s Father’s Day card!”

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The Joker

Image 1 of 3

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WTF Wednesday: A Minor Setback

What am I?

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Can you guess what this is?

A view of ancient Aztec tombs from the satellite?

An aerial view of Scientologist Compounds?

Newly discovered evidence of alien civilization in Cambodia?

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This is a computer keyboard after I took the caps off.

But why? You ask.

Can you see a hint of pink in the picture? That’s not because of lighting or exposure, THAT, my friend, is the remnant of strawberry smoothie that my 7 year-old spilled all over my laptop.

You know why? Hubris.

He has been using regular glasses (instead of plastic cups with lids that we kept from numerous family-friendly chain restaurants) without incidents. What can go wrong this time?

Oh my goodness, I thought to myself when ThinkPad made a big to-do about their new and improved spill-proof keyboard, what kind of slob will be making big enough a mess to warrant a spill-proof keyboard? Sheesh!

He is watching cartoons on YouTube now, I am just going to do something for myself and go work out. He’ll be ok for 30 minutes without having to yell for me.

Life is indeed better now that the kids are old enough to take care of themselves and I can start enjoying my evenings.

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Guess what's going to be my evening and weekend project for a while?

Rainbow

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After I dropped off my 7 year-old at his Taekwondo class, I had less than an hour to drive, grocery shop, drive, unload groceries, stuff 99% of the groceries into the freezer portion of our refrigerator, and then drive back to pick him up. As I pulled up to the stop sign inside our neighborhood, I caught my breath when out of the window I saw the rainbow.

Seeing a rainbow always makes me want to cry and at the same time, jump up and down.

I thought about getting out of the car to take a picture of it, but I didn’t want to be THAT MOM again. I drove faster than I should have. I wanted Mr. Monk to be able to see the rainbow.

He did.

It felt wonderful to bring him the rainbow.

Weekends are sacred

Weekends are sacred even though there are errands to run and housework chores to do.

Weekends are sacred despite gymnastic practices, Taekwondo lessons, religious education and Chinese school.

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Weekends are sacred because we didn’t realize how much fun it is to fly a kite.

Now we know.

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Weekends are sacred because we ended the perfect day with a broken kite and a kite gone missing after it broke away and flew off into the clouds.

We are going to get more.

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Weekends are sacred even though sometimes daddy is flying out to yet another foreign country on Saturdays or coming home on Sundays.

Weekends are sacred exactly because he travels so much that we need to use our weekends wisely, not squandering.

Weekends are sacred even though sometimes mommy has to fly out on Sunday night (or the night of Memorial Day) to be in another city by a certain time for some meeting that she would rather not be part of because she starts missing you when she is printing out her boarding pass.

Weekends are sacred even though because the city we live in only has two seasons: Winter and Construction.

Weekends are sacred because we only have one month of spring and one month of fall that are ripe to make perfect days with.

Weekends are sacred because the reward of pedaling uphills inside the woods of Morten Arboretum is a series of downhill turns with the sound of the wind and the clack clack clack of the coasting bicycle wheels accompanied by your screaming

WWWeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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Weekends are sacred because our tree is just big enough now to support a hammock.

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Weekends are sacred because we are a family of lazy souls living a packed life.

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Weekends are sacred because when it comes down to it what we really want to do, after all this…

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Is nothing at all.

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Nothing is better than doing nothing.

Weekends are sacred.

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Unknown Mami

Heartbreaking

Fort De Soto lives up to its title

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Our trip to St. Pete Beach, and especially North Beach at Fort De Soto was filled with moments of wonders:

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White sandy beaches, calm and clear water, massive expanse of azure that makes one understand what it means to not be able to tell the ocean from the sky, the elegant flight of Brown Pelicans, and the delight of coming face to face with the living ocean: oysters, sea urchins, sea snails, mollusks inside sea shells, hermit crabs, and schools of fish that swim right next to you, by your feet.

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Azure paradise

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And sting rays. They hang around at the sandy bottom of the shallow ocean water on North Beach.

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httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbLeIQrcyNA

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And Brown Pelicans. Did I mention the Brown Pelicans yet? There were three of them flying over the hotel and in front of our room every single day, at dusk. (Sorry about the quality: I rushed out to the balcony with my phone to catch this picture)

Brown Pelicans are endangered even more because of the oil spill

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Every time I saw them, I was reminded by the NPR interview with an environmentalist that I happened to hear the day before our trip: how Brown Pelicans are one of the animals that may experience the worst impact since they just came off the endangered species list in November, after 40 fucking years of struggling for survival. Every time I watched their graceful dive into the ocean, I felt like crying.

I wanted to say, I am so sorry.

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Oiled Brown Pelican being cleaned by IBRRC

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The video below is shot by an amateur videographer flying over the scene of the oil spill: it shows the extent of the damage is much worse than what BP has led the public to believe. My apology first:

I believe it’s important we all see this even though I am not sure what good it’ll do.

Helplessness.

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I don’t like to feel helpless because that feeling will soon degenerate into hopelessness. How about a good dose of anger? How about this headline?

BP makes enough profit in four days to cover the costs of the spill cleanup thus far.

On Monday, BP said it spent $350 million in the first 20 days of the spill response, about $17.5 million a day. It has paid 295 of the 4,700 claims received, for a total of $3.5 million. By contrast, in the first quarter of the year, the London-based oil giant’s profits averaged $93 million a day.

The amount of oil leaking into the Gulf of Mexico has been estimated at 5,000 to 25,000 barrels a day. In the first quarter, BP produced 2.5 million barrels of crude oil a day worldwide — and it received $71.86 for every barrel.

At $93 million a day in profits, BP makes $350 million in about 3.8 days. The Washington Post noted that Exxon, through a decision by the Supreme Court, was able to pay only $507.5 million of the original $5 billion in punitive damages that it had been assessed for the 1989 Valdez disaster.

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Or how about a screenshot of HuffPost when I opened it up this morning?

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"Not my fault!" and naturally "I am not a crook!"

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GREED.

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Once again, my dear readers, I apologize: I don’t know what good this ranting will do, but it makes me feel much better. Even if just for a short while.

Let’s be creative! That’s so… BLEEP!

Who here has an obsessive personality and voted “Most Likely to Grow Up Alex Forrest” in High School? ME! I just cannot let it go.

Here’s what I wrote last week about the epidemic of the phrase “That’s so gay!”…

Let’s start with the word “Gay”.

Let’s start with banning the usage of the word “gay” as a substitute for “stupid, dumb, ugly, undesirable, etc.” from your schools.

Since I wrote “That’s so Gay” is NOT so funny! This has nothing to do with sense of humor… last February, “That’s so gay” has been gaining popularity as just another common expression. I am hearing (and seeing on Facebook) this phrase more and more often, from children younger and younger who have no idea what “being gay” means. As the phrase takes on the facade of familiarity, moving into the realm of the vernacular, taking on the identity of an idiom (because what exactly does it even mean in this context?! Children or the immature adults only know to prevent this phrase from ever being used on them… but what exactly does it mean?!) it is becoming harder and harder to fight it off.

I am tired of hearing “That’s so gay.” I really am. There are so many words in English to choose from to denote your distaste for something. Get a thesaurus. Get a book of classic insults by Shakespeare. Wilde. Because when you are so concerned about being called “gay” that “That’s so gay” becomes a popular insult, you know, you sound like a Homophobe to me. And you know what they say about Homophobes… How about this, let’s give “That’s so Beck” a try.

Once again, this is the case of “I must have been under a rock” since ladies and gentlemen, there IS has been a champaign to stop this madness, to bring awareness to the harm done by such a “harmless” phrase.

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I was really excited initially, “OMG! There IS a movement right now so I can simply jump on the wagon without having to feel so frustrated, with my panties all tied up and nowhere to go!”

Upon further investigation, I realized that the campaign was launched in 2008 by the Ad Council to dissuade people from using “That’s so gay” when they mean “stupid”. In 2008, people. That’s like the last century, no?! And we are still dealing with the same shit, and it is getting worse and worse every day.

I have been staring at this Twitter counter for a while now.

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I don’t know what’s happening with this campaign, movement, PSA. Is it still in vogue? Was it ever? But I saw this, I thought my proposed replacement phrase THAT’S SO BECK! has legs!

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Let's be creative! That's so..... Bush? As in the plant bush, really. Scout's honor.

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That’s so…

What clever, witty, humorous sayings can you come up with as a comeback?

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Watch the PSA commercial with Wanda Sykes from 2008 for inspiration if you wish. It’s as per usual HILARIOUS. (Warning: Just don’t read the comments… Trust me.) As for effectiveness? Let’s just say it was done in 2008 and I don’t remember ever hearing about this, until now. Sorry I’m all Rah! Rah! one second, and then Debbie Downer the next.

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Hope springs eternal

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher Death, and God adore.
What future bliss He gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be, blest.
The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

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Essay on Man by Alexander Pope

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Living in Chicago teaches you that even though there seems to be no end to the miserable winter, spring will arrive eventually. And when it comes it is the most glorious, blissful sight.

It teaches you to appreciate spring when it finally arrives overnight, without warning, because it soon disappears as stealthily and as suddenly as when it comes.

It teaches you to be grateful to the wonders that are unfathomable yet are within your reach.

It teaches you the strength of human spirits and will, part of which depends on our ability to forget the physical pains and sufferings that we went through even while we have vivid memories of the ordeals. Of which, child birth is a prime example: if we could remember the pain physically, we would have all stopped at one child.

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