My Sister and The Hungry Dog

Borrowed from Cristin Carole via Facebook.
I'm 13, Cristin is 21.  She often took me to bars for photo booth snapshots.

I have three sisters that span two families and two generations.  My oldest sister could easily be the mother of my youngest sister.  In fact I could also be the mother of my youngest sister.  My oldest sister is not related in any way to my two younger sisters; people may call my sisters half-sisters.  But that makes no sense to me at all.  They are my sisters, through and through, wholly.

4/52

"A portrait of my son once a week, every week in 2014."
4/52

It is one of those things Levi just has to do.  Balancing precariously on the table with one foot tipping the chair back, a very dangerous endeavor for someone still somewhat unsteady on the ground.  I remind him of the possible consequences every single time.  He squints his eyes and says, "Sit down better.  Don't want to fall, hit head and cry."  Sometimes he sits down, but he always springs right back up and does the same thing again.  And once he did fall.  Levi knows.  This toddler just cannot help it--curiosity and thrill trumps all.

3/52

"A portrait of my child once a week, every week in 2014."
3/52

Levi tells me what I need to buy.  "You need buy orange balloon."  "You need buy new bus."  This time he told me I needed to buy some chocolate.  I happened to have a box of brownie mix in the pantry so I didn't have to buy him chocolate.   After being confined to my bed and being a less fun mama I wanted to spoil him, my little budding consumer.  Just a little bit.  So we made brownies and he was much more interested in the batter once again.  This photograph makes me realize how much time we spend in the kitchen, be it making brownies, making homemade play-doh, watering the plants or watching the snow fall.  

My Gollum

Credit: Douglas Ridloff

Paris was the pinnacle of 2013 in many ways.

2/52

"A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2014."
2/52

Levi is unlike me.  He hankers for sweet things, asking for cookies and cake.  I found a recipe off Weelicious, choosing it for its simplicity and relatively healthy recipe.  Levi kept on eating pieces of batter, saying "What happened?" each time I caught him.

1/52

"A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2014."
1/52

Levi sits on a little chair while he discovers the joy of water play.  A polar bear, a measuring cup, a bottle and a Hot Wheels car are the toys in the water bin.  He stays there for a long period of time, alternating from pouring water into containers and watching his toys sink.

I discovered the 52 project via practisingsimplicity.com.  Jodi, the blogger, began taking photographs of her children every week for three years.  The results are absolutely breathtaking--not only in its beauty but in its accurate recordkeeping.

While I photo Levi daily, I want to choose a photo once a week as a way to bring meaningful organization to the hot mess of photographs I have now.

Loosey Goosey

38 weeks

I stood in the kitchen stirring turkey chili ignoring a succession of Braxton Hicks until I felt a severe burning sensation in my hips.  I put down the wooden spoon and went to lie down with Levi in the living room hoping that playing with him would diffuse the pain.  It didn't.  After half an hour of squirming uncomfortably I texted my midwife.

The Zen of Knitting

There is irony in knitting.

Slipping one smooth needle into a knot, looping the yarn around the needle and then pushing the new loop off the needle only to start all over again becomes one seamless movement.  Again and again.  One tiny movement leads to a new knot, another completed row.

I find that repetition satisfying--my head bobs with the knitting, shaking my thoughts free.  It is during this activity I come up with ideas (like baby names), answers, and remember forgotten details.  I love the squishiness of the natural wool.  The colors make me think of the past; the project makes me think of the future.

The irony comes with the aggravation stemming from the slowness of the project.  One stitch at a time.  One tiny knot excruciatingly adds up to one row, then two rows, then a ridge and so on.   I clutch tightly onto the needles and yarn out of fear that I'll drop a stitch.  I knit at a snail's pace. I knit like a left-handed person because I first watched a left-handed person knitting.  I do not knit prettily.

When I stop and examine my progress, I cannot help but feel disappointed--that's all I did?  I even google up tips on how to knit faster and come up with nothing particularly helpful.  I look at some knit porn that spurs me on.  I knit on with determined doggedness, and there is nothing zenlike about that.

Knitting is calming and aggravating.  I love it.  I get nothing done; I get so much done.  

It was while knitting my baby's blanket that I came up with this blog post idea.

Life became busier last fall, when I began teaching two college courses without all the curriculum materials in place.  Commitments seemed to accumulate at an astounding rate.  Levi's grandfather was severely ill all fall; Douglas spent time at the hospital visiting his father on Saturdays and on Sundays went to rehearsal for Xavier Cha's performance piece.  We began preparing for my mother's move in, rearranging the guest bedroom.    One of our tenants got a job promotion and had to end his lease earlier than expected.  Levi and I ended our nursing time together and he began transitioning to his toddler bed.

During this trying time, I felt tired and cloudy all the time.  I dropped a few stitches, including this blog.  

My semester of teaching has ended.  Levi's grandfather returned home a few weeks ago, and came to visit us for the first time last week.  Douglas performed at the New Museum and I sat in the front so incredibly proud of him.  My mother moved in with us.  We signed on new tenants.  Levi's tantrums have subsided and we're tentatively calling him "an easy kid."  He loves his new bed and occasionally tells me that my milk is "all out, but soon have milk again for baby."

Now that the due date is just three weeks away and all those loose unraveled ends are knitting themselves up, I feel ready to face this blog again.  Yet I'm overwhelmed.  Where do I start?  Should I post photographs from the past months gone, or do I just start from now on?

I'm taking my baby blanket's lead.  Just pick up the dropped stitch and keep going on.