random ramblings.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

random ramblings today. 
but as i do that, 
i'm going to post some pics from a recent session
with 2 babes i adore.
sometimes i wonder if my clients converse with each other, as many of them know each other.
'does liz tell you how beautiful your children are?  because she tells us all the time.'
'does liz tell you how much she loves you & being with you guys?  because she tells us all the time.'
and it's true.  
all, for different reasons.
but i love everyone (for the most part,)
until either, well, i decide i was wrong about them or they do something stupid or mean,
but when it comes to my clients,
i just wish i could wrap them all up & plop in the houses that line my street, 
because they're THAT COOL AND AWESOME.
i feel SO blessed to know such cool, frickin' human beings,
mixed with good humor, warm smiles, kind words & open hearts & minds.
and i just have this thing for boys.
(heh.  that sounded weird & perverted.) :)
you know what i mean.  
haven't you read that i wanted to be a mother of 10 boys?
i just love them.  
i'm kind of a man myself.:)
i LOVE girlie things.  i ADORE my daughter.  but i'm a boys' mother.
so these little boys, clients of mine, well, i just melt over them.
each of them remind me of my own son's.  
ask a mother of a boy. . .there's just something unique, a special bond between a mother & her son.
and so i can't help but swoon over these little munchkins i meet, dressed up in stinkin' cute outfits like this.
and to see the difference in the way little girls work vs. little boys,
well that's just hysterical.
i've had some of the funniest & intense conversations with my little girl clients,
how emotional & dramatic they are,
and oh my gosh, i just want to eat them up.
i love my job.
(cool sunlight in that photo, huh?  i asked the sun to move a little bit & it listened.:)
the 3rd day of preschool & STILL not really accepting my baby boy being out in the 'real world.'
as i watched him skip in to school, (after telling me he did NOT need me to walk him to his classroom. . .'i know where to go, mom.'  well, tears, tears, tears.
i know i'll get over it soon enough.
the letting go will get easier. . .until the next 'letting go' moment comes along.
dropping him off will transform from, 'well-just-wait-a-minute-give-me-a-kiss-before-you-go!  now-i-need-a-hug!  have-a-good-day!  i-love-you!'  to, 'get, get, get.  come on!  let's go!  i'll see you after school.'
maybe it won't.
in the meantime, i have more free time on my hands, which i have plenty of to do's to fill with.
including fighting with a 4-year-old about what she's going to wear to school.
really?  4-years-old?  and you're arguing with me about your outfit?
again. . .mother of boys.  i have no time for this.
so my daughter WILL be that girl, punky brewster.
who wears whatever she damn well pleases, because, well, mommy doesn't have the patience to fight that battle.
eventually she'll start listening to me, when she starts getting made fun of.:)
OR she'll be that girl that sets new trends, who all the other girls try to dress like (like madonna. . .ugh.)
and who's mother's all curse me for letting my daughter wear her hello kitty socks with her easter dress & her white, light-up sneakers & a Twins baseball cap, because, now THEIR daughters want to dress just like gracie westerhaus.
or maybe they'll just make fun of her.
i can get her to dress a little more 'anthropologie-ish' and not so, um, ghetto.
and oh, this is what little girls are made of.
but only if SHE tells me this is what she wants to wear,
not if i TELL her this is what she HAS to wear.
it's all a game.  but i know how to play now & of course, know when to fold & just let her be 
and in the meantime, in that free time that i mentioned, 
my little almost 2-year-old, who's starting to talk more,
looked at me, with his big, charming, blues
after two mind-blowing sneezes, 
and said, 'BESS YOU MOMMY.'
and i'll be kept busy doing a million other things.
you know, like saving kids from swings.
yeah, you heard me.
this 11 or 12-year-old was at the park across the street from our house over the weekend.
i sat in the garage reading a book, 
watching the goings-on of my own children, 
but got sucked in to the HILARITY of this too-big-almost-teen trying to squeeze his pre-pubescent, still a little baby fat, thighs & butt in to the baby swing.
well, he managed to get himself in.
but OF COURSE, couldn't get himself out.
i sat there, laughing hysterically in the garage, 
because kids are idiots.
and all of his little friends took off & left him there, screaming, 'I'M STUCK!  I CAN'T GET OUT!'
like in A Christmas Story, when they double-dog dare flick to stick his tongue to the flag-pole in the middle of winter & they all run in to school, leaving him there to suffer, victim to the frozen metal.  (one of my favorite movies. . .i have it memorized.) 
and my little 4-year-old sympathetically trying to push him in the swing, from behind, thinking that would help propel him out somehow.
not so much.
oh my gosh, i wanted so badly to run & get my camera to photograph this.
because it was priceless.
and as i was contemplating, i stood there, sort of savoring the moment (because he saw me standing there watching as he struggled to climb out,)
savoring & imagining one of my OWN children doing something dumb like this,
and wanting them to sufffer a little (since he wasn't in any pain & was so angry that he had gotten himself in to this predicament.  my kids would/will do that.)
so, i took a 'mental' picture instead & SLOWLY moseyed over to him,
acting all, holier than though, because i had something he needed.
two arms to pull him out of that damn swing that was made for babies.
not for 12-year-olds.
and as i walked over, i realized this kid was bigger than me (i'm short & stout.)
and there was no way i was going to be able to lift him out.
so, without saying anything, i literally turned on my heel, half way too him,
i'm SURE, leaving him thinking i was teasing him, 
abandoning him to sit in this swing permanently, 
until it adhered to his skin like couches do to home-bound obese individuals.
(ok.  maybe not.  i just included that for effect.)
but i went to grab a chair.  walked over with a chair.
didn't say a word.  put the chair in front of him & said, 
'you're stuck, huh?'
'bet you don't do this again?'
'what's your name?'
'john, put your feet on that chair & then stand up.'
he did.  and the swing fell down to his ankles like a pair of oversized pants.
and i nominated myself official swing-saver lady.


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