A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
As they say in Thailand, same same, but different. The way they both appear to be biting, just slightly, their bottom lips; their gaze off into the distance. I really love these two.
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
This guy has the hardest time when the littles are, well, little. Van is all about me; as soon as I hand him off he’s throwing himself back in my direction. But apparently when I’m out of sight, I’m out of mind. I caught these two sharing a moment before his bath and I grabbed my camera and hung out outside the door, out of sight. This may be my favorite picture of these two. He may love his mama, but as Willy said the other day, “When he’s sweet, he’s really sweet”.
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
It’s been a hard last few days. Hooper’s had a runny nose for a few weeks now and came down with a 103+ temperature just a few days ago. Willy had a fever as well and spent two consecutive days in bed, for the most part. And, oh yeah, now Van’s sick. Somehow, amongst all the shit thrown my way, I’ve managed to get Van’s clothes sorted and organized; that kid grows faster than pubic hair after marriage. I’ve also managed to put together a special gathering at our house today. I cleaned the yard, brought stuff that had been stashed in the corner out to the garage, and cleaned the house. And, oh yeah, I ended last night with two glasses of wine; so it ain’t all snot rags and shitty diapers. I’m sure my fate as the only healthy one in the house is doomed and I’m trying hard to ignore the reality that I most likely will be joining them soon.
Best cure around, according to Willy: Grandpa’s cough syrup. AKA whiskey. Ain’t nothin’ like attacking the germs with the peaty burn of whiskey.
Something you may not know about this man: He’s the easiest going guy, for the most part, but is the most particular about the most peculiar things; Like the ice he puts in his drink. He’ll engage you in a conversation about how the right kind of ice cubes make his whiskey taste better and you’ll walk away from the conversation no longer believing the ice in your freezer is adequate.
You can check out other photos from the series here.
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
I laugh every time he uses the word accolades. He harbors resentment for whoever decided on the five day work week. I get mad when he stares at me while I’m trying to fall asleep. He drinks a lot of milk. I am his wife, he is my husband. BooYah!
“A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.”
I went on a date two nights ago with this handsome man I sometimes call my husband. You don’t want to know what I call him other times. It reminded me that I need to be okay with leaving the kids with a sitter from time to time to enjoy an evening out with the this hunk of meat. Before we even turned off our street, we turned toward one another and high-fived. Indeed, I love this man.
Side note: Standings over on Top Baby Blogs are reset. You’re two clicks away from voting. Would you be so kind? Your parents won’t mind at all if you do. If you caught The Cat in the Hat reference then you must have a toddler too.
Getting ready for work. He always kisses me goodbye and greets me with a kiss when he returns home. The highlight of my day is when he calls to tell me he’s coming home; partly because I can’t wait to see him and partly because that means this mama will have much needed help!
As a side note, it just dawned on me that this wee little project is going to highlight how quickly these weeks fly by. My goodness does life speed up when you have children.
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
