I’m moderating the feed over on @childhoodunplugged this week if anyone cares to follow along. Sharing images under the them of stillness; images that capture a moment that evoke the feeling of timelessness. Like the moment could go on forever. You can use #cu_stillness for a chance to be featured though I’ll also be pulling images for our traditional #childhoodunplugged pool of images.
It feels as though we’ve been in the throws of remodeling / reorganizing ever since we moved in, nearly a year and a half ago; partly because we have (we gutted most of the interior the day we got the keys) and partly because our home has been taken over by our business (which really is another story entirely). We’ve started work on the outside now, beginning with the front with plans, when we can save more money, to do the back. With the backyard being part of the tentative plan (and by plan I mean hope) we’ve really let it go. I got both of the older boys pissing into the plastic pool the other day and I was tempted to not even scold them. Hoping to have it all done so we can enjoy summer in the yard we envision but in the meantime I’m enjoying watching them make it theirs… even if that means destroying everything until then.
Playing catchup on here, more-so now than ever. Images from one of our recent trips out to Arizona. The boys, growing to fast. The sun, orange as ever.
If I weren’t looking out my window at the current gloom or waking up to an alarm before the sun is even shining, I’d damn near think it was summer. This last heat wave in California making us all complain about it not yet being sweater weather and making school days feel like a total sham. And just when I more or less embrace it, thoughts of a warm Halloween night dancing through my head, the gloom sets in and the chance of rain brings you back around to that whole sweater weather thing. That’s life in SoCal.
So you embrace it and make trips to the beach after school a fun side step; bike rides along the water long after the summer crowds have left. Bare foot and tan, well into fall. Some around these parts complain about the lack of seasons but me? I’m all about the endless summer.
There’s much to be said about the light in the Pacific Northwest. But there’s even more to be said about an evening, with 6 kids, that went better than any script we could have wrote. None of the usual tantrums or whining or fights. Just kids playing late into the long summer night; complete with pizza and ice cream and all the things we could throw at them to keep them busy and contained. Kids being kids, forming friendships and bonds and memories with my dearest friend’s kids. It doesn’t get better. Long live summer. Also wishing said dearest friend the happiest of birthdays today. Happy Birthday, J. Love you.
It’s humorous, to me anyway, to think about how much pressure I put on myself to expose my children to the world; to all the languages and all the cultures. Well, not all the food because anyone who knows me knows I’m as picky as they come. But point being, I will put myself through the proverbial ringer to expose my children to all I can. I suppose because it’s what shaped me in so many ways and, as life goes, I feel compelled to pass the same onto my own little humans.
I’ve spent countless nights scouring flights to exotic lands. It’s fun to dream. And then more fun to make a dream a reality.
Perhaps this is all digressing because the whole point of this is to say that in my insistence on schlepping our kids all over the place I totally forgot about all the culture embedded in our own backyard. Okay fine, not exactly our backyard, but a feasible drive away. In Venice, on the boardwalk. Where really, anything goes and has for sometime.
Venice: where street performers, skaters, weight lifters, lovers, beach bums, drug dealers, weird birds on the beach that actually let you pet them (we washed and sanitized very well) and a thousand other things come together and make your head turn in every which direction. Doesn’t hurt either to have the company of your very best friend.
All this to say that my hopes for taking the older boys to Asia later this year have all but dissipated but that perhaps staying local and spending more time on the boardwalk may just provide the same opportunity. I’m trying to sell myself on it, anyway.
A cold bath on a hot day down in Mexico. I remember bathing with my own sister as a child, the tub transforming to fit the mold of whatever our little imaginations could think up; a milkshake stand, where we used the sliding glass door as our pick up window, those little tablets that -when soaked in the water – transformed into different sponge animals, and the countless tails of My Little Ponies we groomed.
Three little monkeys making waves, making messes, lost in their own world of childhood dreams.
A rather cool Memorial Day spent at my sister’s, celebrating her adorable baby bump and the end of the school year. The boys keeping her yard lush, if you know what I mean.
The spring that everything bloomed. That’s how I want the boys to remember these last few months years from now when the hills are once again bare and dry and brown (but hopefully not). The most rain we’ve had for who knows how long. And at a time where we needed it so bad. The blooms, a pleasant reminder of the resiliency of nature; how it can go without for so long and still come back to life so brilliantly. A reminder to us all.
We had ambitions of making it out to Borrego Springs and never quite made it but I can’t say I’m too regretful given what’s come to life in our own back hills. It’s a sight to be seen and a sight to remember because who knows when the next drought will hit.
Tall weeds of beautiful blooms paving the way, making trails into caves and lining the memories of all of us here in Southern California. Giving thanks and gratitude to Mother Nature.
Truthfully speaking, it’s hard to get out these days — Catering to Sonny’s nap schedule segments the day in such a way that doesn’t allow for a lot of spontaneity or even scheduled adventures, for that matter. Not easily, anyway. But there’s a season for everything and we make do. And if it weren’t for the naps, well, nothing would get done. So ya, season for everything. In any event, I left Sonny home to nap with Willy and took the older boys to the beach; a rare warm day following the most rain I can remember witnessing having grown up my whole life in California. A day that had me dreaming of summer days. And for what felt like the first time ever, I actually got to close my eyes for a bit; not to sleep, but to relax and take in the sounds. Free from sweet Sonny, who at his tender age demands nearly all of the attention of whoever is watching him. If for nothing else than for safety alone. It was nice to enjoy Hooper and Van, to take note of how much they’ve grown and are changing. We came home more burnt than we should have, I blame the fog for deceiving us and the nearly empty spray can of sunscreen that, in hindsight, probably blew more air than actual protection. In any event, it was nice to take an afternoon ‘off’ and to enjoy these older boys of mine, one on one. Or two on one; how it always used to be.
Slow days, in Arizona. Celebrating the life of Willy’s grandma, watching storms roll in and out, and sleeping in… well, some of us, anyway.
Life is a whirlwind these days and its evident by my absence here, a place I love to spend whatever free time I manage to find (but rarely ever find, it seems). Life moving faster than the wind moving pages of a paperback book. For us all, I presume. Hoping that this new year brings with it a slowness December seems to always lack; time to regroup, organize, clean up, breathe.
In any event, we spent part of an afternoon at the stables here in San Juan, where our friend Sarah has a few horses she was kind enough to let us visit. And ride. And pet. Hoping to bring the boys back more often and maybe even squeeze in a lesson or two as Hooper, especially, has always had a love for horses. And Van, well, cowboys.
I justified living in a townhome for a long time, my parents recalling frequently the expansive land they raised my sister and I on, whispering the notions we’ve all heard about kids needing a yard. I tried to think ahead, to when the boys would be older and more independent; the freedom to ride their skateboards through our small downtown to get to the beach. I wrote off the lack of outdoor space highlighting the community surrounding us, neighbors that truly cared for us (and still do). And really, it wasn’t until the day that Hooper came up and asked if I would go outside with him so he could run that I felt as though something was in fact lacking. His little legs carrying him around in a circle formation like a hamster on a wheel. I spent the following week anticipating a letter from the HOA notifying me that children are not allowed to run in circles on the road because, well, safety hazards in overprotected America and old crotchety neighbors that live to taddle.
Our search for a home was more about meeting our needs than meeting our dreams. Sure we hope one day that the home we envision can come to fruition but until then, it’s nothing more than checking boxes on a list. And none of this is to say that the house we now call home isn’t a dream; it is. We feel incredibly grateful for all our home provides for us; not a day has gone by where we haven’t talked about how happy we are here, under this new-to-us roof.
During the reconstruction we spent many of evenings in the backyard, waiting to finally move in; sitting on chairs that were left behind and eating dinner out of a plastic bag, red letters reading ‘thank you’. The boys would ride their bikes, climb up the hill, and pee in the bushes; they were marking their territory. Point being, by the time we finally moved in, they had their holes dug, their plants – errr – watered, and their forts constructed. They knew the outside of the house better than the inside. And now, weeks after actually living here, the same is true.
They spend entire afternoons outside. I was told yard space would be a game changer, but I didn’t anticipate the playing field changing so drastically. It’s far from the vision we have for it but already it meets our needs and then some. Jimmie’s needs too. I mean having a doggy door has changed my life in areas I didn’t know I needed help. As in, I would starve him if he ever grew out of the little flip door.
An evening on the beach, from our first night in Baja, Mexico. Feeling the kind of freedom and surrender that is sure to follow hours spent coupes up in the car. An evening spent collecting shells under cotton candy filled skies on a beach we practically had to ourselves.
More from Mexico to come.
We’re not big on celebrations over here; well, not in the traditional way, anyway. Take birthdays, for example. More specifically, my birthday. Where the only gift I opened from Willy was a box with a folded piece of paper with a picture of a barn located just outside of Sequoia. Presents by way of experiences, if you will. And some chocolate covered caramel.
We had intentions of making it up the mountain until we saw the outline of the road, which resembled the scribble scrabble of a two year old more than it did a paved path. And given our past experiences with Hooper and his upheavals from the mere turnabouts in Tijuana, we opted to stay lakeside instead. And when taking the majestic sunset each night, I can’t say it felt like we missed out.
I’ll be sharing more from our trip to Springville soon. Still trying to get caught up here with all we’ve had going on as of late.
And on the Childhood Unplugged front, you may be interested in our latest feature of Deborah Parkin, which you can check out here.
These monthly posts really highlight how fast time is flying these days. Seems not-worth-stating since the speed of time is a given; all of us scratching our heads in disbelief. Where did summer even go? Last summer we bbq’d at our favorite spot on what-seemed-like a weekly basis. This summer? We made it out twice.
We’re heading out to Arizona for the weekend and the realization that I only recently got around to posting about our last trip to AZ and have yet to post about our more recent trip outside of Sequoia has me up in arms. If time were a tangible thing, I’d be looking for it under the sofa cushions because it’s surely hiding somewhere around here.
In any event, I hope everyone has a lovely holiday weekend; complete with the slow passing of time, children who behave, and weather that reminds us that despite the beginning of the school year it is still, indeed, summer.
A warm, summer night, in Arizona, walking the long dirt road to the dairy across the street all while slappin’ the mosquitos and taking turns being the leader. Oh ya, and Bitsy, the cow who’s been in their lives since day one.
Life with now three little ones has kept moving. No rest for the weary, so they say. We had a nice smooth transition for the first month or so, with neighbors and family pitching in with loads of helping hands and warm meals. What followed soon-there-after was a few stress-filled weeks with Willy unexpectedly having to travel for work and a few other curve balls that all seemed to be thrown at once, from different directions and at varying speeds.
The baby is not what makes having three children hard. It’s the other two, who oftentimes resemble caged animals; the kind that will eat the young of those that travel into their habitat.
In any event, sometimes getting their energy channeled into one direction is as simple as putting on some music, seeing who can count the most red cars on the road outside our window, and talking about all the different colors that paint the sky as the sun goes down.
And sometimes, it’s not.
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The Salton Sea, a place I can’t seem to abandon whenever we’re out in the desert; equal parts mystical and enchanting, disgusting and desolate. And different every time we go.
We stopped at a hole-in-the-wall bar / restaurant in Bombay Beach, a place you’re sure to sit shoulder to shoulder with the local crowd. It’s walls adorned with dollar bills, so many in fact that I always think should the place run into financial ruin the money on the wall is sure to pay for another months rent, at least. I’ve heard whispers that Anthony Bourdain ate here once; not that the food is to rave about, it’s really the only option for miles. In any event, the fried chicken and french fries never seem to disappoint. Unless you’re a three-year-old on the verge of the fucking fours and your goal in life is to make every step of life difficult; in-which-case, not even fried deliciousness can contend with a sour mood.
We stepped out with bellies full, minus said three-year-old, the warm on-the-verge-of-summer air wrapping around us like a blanket on a cold night. The trains passing in the distance and the sun setting beyond the horizon. We pulled off the road at a spot we’ve been several times in the past and stumbled upon an abandoned wood boat we had never seen before; the mystery of the Salton Sea proving, as always, to produce more questions than answers.
Given the day prior, which included a trip to the ER, this day was in some way payback for prior suffering. Even if for just a few moments in time; moments where that soon-to-be four-year-old let go of the fact his cowboy boots were soggy (I mean who goes into the pool with their cowboy boots on?) and explored an abandoned ‘pirate ship’ while the trains chugged on and the setting sun said goodnight.
More on our last trip to the desert to come.
Please join me in supporting the other photographers participating in the Childhood Unplugged movement by clicking here to see all our submissions. You can also follow us on instagram (@childhoodunplugged) and be sure to use #childhoodunplugged for a chance to be featured on our Instagram feed.
I’m moderating the feed over on Childhood Unplugged this week, sharing images of motherhood. Feel free to join in by hashtagging your images with #cu_motherhood. Also want to take a moment to give love to all the women out there – both the ones that are mothers and those that long to be. There is so much surrounding conception and pregnancy and birth and life that is out of our control and while it is important to celebrate those that have children here on Earth, it’s also nice to acknowledge those who’s children live in dreams or heaven or in another form all together. I imagine this last weekend was difficult for many and I hate for their pain to be buried, or unheard.