.433 toddler life

the first year of toots life was rocky. her mommy's brain was sick and then she was healing. her mommy's faith was shook and then she was praying. her mommy's father was sick and then and she was grieving...(a deep, seemingly endless, still springs up out of nowhere, type of grief).

so, on days when her 'terrible two' takes a turn for the worst, i remember that she's dealt with major emotional change since the day she was born and simply expresses it in all the beautifully draining ways that toddlers can do: tantrums. stubborn defiance. coloring on walls or floor boards or windows that her mommy sometimes colors on, too. 

she's my child in every sense i could imagine. creative, emotional, dramatically expressive. and on days like these past few ones have been, i take stock of all that makes her a ball of goodness in my eyes, because sometimes she's a just tiny stranger with a tornado in place of her emotions.

but, she knows her birthday, her abc's and all the letters to her name. knows, too, that a diamond is a rhombas and happily declares it when spotted on stain-glass windows or on sides of milk crates stacked high against concrete storefronts. she counts to twenty effortlessly and can now recite a tiny poem in sign language. she loves books and libraries and telling me bedtime stories rich with dragons and princesses and flying frogs on flying carpets. she'll choose an apple over candy and drinks water before apple juice all on her very own accord. 

i am extremely proud...and in awe...and overwhelmed...and in love...and, sometimes, drained, but, always grateful, that i get to be the mother to this little girl. with eyes like my father and the spirit of her grands, i am learning that all of me lives in the very core of who this sweet, amazingly beautiful soul is.

  

she told me to draw a picture of her. in her eyes, this was a masterpiece.

she drew me, too, but erased it immediately as she was inspired to draw a spider, instead. 

(pouting because it was too cold, and too late, for the playground)

.421 becky, toots and ruby

saturday was an awesome day. i met one of my absolute favorite photographers, becky leatherman adams, a mother and artist whose children and family portraits are like mentors to my own. i admire her simplistic and clean portrayal of life and love and living, and was beyond honored when she asked to shoot toots. 

we met in chestnut hill, at a quaint breakfast nook where wine and foreign beer sat on display. we talked cameras and life and lenses as toots colored and giggled and occasionally picked fruit off of becky's plate. after brunch we strolled down germantown avenue to a park with wooden playground structures, while becky casually captured all the moments in between. toots in front of windows, toots at wooden tables and toots as she curiously picked at a bush bristled with thorns and small leaves. i watched her as she shot, picking up pointers on shooting children and smiling graciously at complimenting strangers who stopped to watch the tiny model. 

after our shoot we all hugged goodbye with praises and promises tucked into the folds of our embrace. she left for her four o'clock shoot and i left for my three o'clock, each of us armed with, both, the beauty of moments shared and the wonder of a friendship created. 

  

later that day...

(her name is ruby)

this is the face of a toddler who missed nap time. 

.416 selfies

1. no point for this blog other than me feeling kinda hip in my favorite military thrift.

faved, 'cause it's presently the only fall jacket of mines that still buttons over my abnormally growing tits.

(they never returned back to their pre-baby | pre-breastfeeding size)

2. the pocket book is also a thrift gift, given to me by my elderly, jewish neighbor on the day she moved away.

(she was my neighbor for 11 yrs, so, basically, we're practically related)

3. i haven't washed my hair in over a month. the most love it's gotten is a bi-weekly argan oiling. 

(it's so matted, i'm sure some parts are locking by now...which i don't really want...i think)

(tights by french connection)

.386 day 361

a bright-eyed three year old was mean to my two year old.

i played a 'guess my name' game with an eight year old named marie.

buried my toes in cool sand and found valueless treasures by my side.

"aww man", pouted marie, "i thought i was on to something"

(an empty swing swung by itself for quite a while)

a hippy with unruly hair passed the brightest blue eyes down to his cowrie shell wearing babies.

an african woman read the bible, with her shoes off, unaware of her youngest child's mischief.

i made up with that three year old, but my two year old did not.

"go away, gal, just go away from here", spat my toddler.

(i smelled my father's scent in the breeze today)

.356 day 332

i originally shot this with my iPhone for the fmsphotoaday instagram challenge. theme: peek-a-boo.