Cold Spaghetti

Crazy girl and her awesome hat. Courtesy of Emmy and her amazing find. My kids in hats: something that always makes me smile.

“Will, what are you going to ask Santa to bring you for Christmas?”

“A Robot.”

My kid has his heart set on some “robot” that I worry he’s invented (“it talks and changes into a car”). Anyone know of a robot like that?

“Goodnight, Will. I love you.”

“I love you. Mommy? Will you ask Daddy to come in and cuddle with me?”

“Daddy’s working. How ’bout I cuddle with you?”

“No. I need Daddy. You can go work.”

“Why do you need Daddy?”

” ‘cuz Daddy’s a boy and we’re faster than girls.”

It’s official. I’m calling myself a photographer.

An offer of a semi-reoccurring photography “gig” (am I hip enough to use that word?) came through a few weeks ago, so I had a choice to make. Be official or let the offer slide? I decided to throw caution to the wind and put myself out there. I’m not sure why I hesitate to use these official words. Maybe I feel uncertain about putting something so personal into a business model (typing the words made me cringe). Or maybe I hate being pigeon-holed and “photographer” sounds so specific and defined. Either way, odd though it may sound, this was a big deal for me, the choice, the commitment, the stake.

But I did it and now it’s so. Introducing… Four Leaf Clover Photography. It’s still pretty basic (be kind). Website tweaking once the world stops spinning (or I get some help from my favorite web-minded folk).

Maybe I can actually have a hobby that is self-supporting?

The first official venture was a fundraiser for the school. For a donation to the school in lieu of a sitting fee, I offered to photograph kids/families before the holidays. The whole thing came on a little last minute, but a few families took up on the opportunity — and it was great fun! I’m happy overall with the results and learned a lot. I’m hoping to have the opportunity to do this more often and continue to learn. To that end, suggestions welcome.

Among the many things that have happened since our lives turned into an extended episode of Candid Camera was a visit from Nana (Paul’s Mom). That amazing Mom intuition must have been at work months ago, when she arranged her travel to arrive the morning after Paul’s appendectomy.Despite the work that greeted her (me with papers to grade and a fellowship to finish; Paul in the hospital — leaving two kids and a house in need of extra support) we managed to take a few moments outside. Nana also pitched in at school, spending a day with the kids (i.e.: providing us with translation for the cryptic activities Will describes when we ask him what he did at school that day).






It was wonderful to have the visit and we can’t wait for the next!

The Stats:
– 1 call to babysitter (our hermanita, Michelle) since Kate was asleep.
– 1 quick visit to Med School neighbor for a professional opinion.
– Just under 4 hours at Children’s Hospital.
– Zero stitches, one big tube of glue.
– 15 minutes of holding and maneuvering (fatty tissue was problematic).
– 2 minutes on the exam table before he fell asleep during the wound cleaning.
– 1-2 day follow-up with PCP.
– 1 bet that after 1 year, the scar won’t be visible.
– 2 very tired parents.
– 8:30am. Time we’re suppose to be on the 9th floor of Oschner for Paul’s post-op visit tomorrow.

This morning, properties behind on taxes went up for auction from the city. This is when properties with deliquent tax bills go to folks willing to pay the back taxes. If the owner doesn’t exercise their right of redemption, you get the property. A great opportunity if you’ve got some cash to sit for a little while. Jefferson Parish (next door to Orleans) had a similar process awhile back — where an inside connection gobbled up everything before the locals had a chance to bid. Orleans Parish pledged to do better, making an online process.

Paul and I registered at the website days ago. We checked out a few properties. This morning, Wonder Woman Hermanita Michelle came and took the kids to school so we could be ready for the 8am opener. We were. When we went to buy, the system did not recognize our payment source. Hmmmmm…..

I sent this note to them and cc:ed the News folks at the T-P, not that any of it means anything. I guess the good news is that someone is investing in the city — the bad news is that it’s the same old people profiting at the expense of others.

Dear New Orleans Tax Sales,

I would like to log a complaint to the “currently open tax sale” and officially request formal documentation of the auction process.

I attempted to buy several properties this morning, having registered myself and payment source several days ago. For some reason, when I attempted to buy these properties, the system refused to recognize my payment source. Whether deliberately manufactured or due to a process — one that was NOT outlined, described, or even suggested on the website — this “systems error” caused loss of auction to both myself and others. The phones to your office have also been unreachable all morning.

Therefore, I would like to know the formal process to protest this process, whom to contact and with what forms, as it arbitrarily denied my right to bid.

UPDATE: At around 8:30, the system magically recognized our payment source and we did purchase a lot on a street not far from the school. We feel certain that the city will say the system was so overwhelmed it randomly worked for some and not for others… but I’d be willing to bet that a search of new owners will not look so random…

Can the world just stop so we can catch up?

Eventually, I will post about the past two weeks. For right now, I just want to give a shout-out to the Big Man in Red, to whom I owe a great debt.

We have been (once again) finding our selves in serious contemplation of leaving Will on the steps of his Grandparents’ house and running for the border. In his highs and lows of development, he recently hit another Very Low Low. Back to having accidents. Biting his nails (not that this is ever stopped, but we noticed it getting worse). Talking in a baby voice. Being incredibly defiant, even having a few crying, stomping, kicking episodes — which were rare to begin and had seemed a thing of the past. Then Emmy pointed out that Ana had begun doing many of the same things, something she chalked up to the situation with the death of their teacher’s husband. (Lightbulb: these were all behaviors mentioned on that handy social-work provided form.) I sort of thought Will had handled it, talked about it, and was okay. Don’t boys tend to move on faster from emotional situations? Maybe not. Either he is acting out from confusion or stress, or he’s regressing at each birthday. Both are distinct possibilities.

Nevertheless, we had company (Paul’s Mom, my parents, my Brother and Sister-in-Law). We had a birthday party. We had a lot of stuff going on. And then, Saturday afternoon, we started to put up the Christmas Tree.

This is where Santa comes in. Will began to ask about presents and Santa and presents. The perfect segway for parental warnings of good behavior, lists of children who do not behave, and keeping to the straight and narrow for a bountiful Christmas morning. Presents from Santa seem to be quite a motivator, because we have had some really nice, helpful, sweet moments with him in the last day. Let’s hope it’s a sign he’s moving on into territory befitting to what Will tells me is more suited to a 4-year old. (He says 4-year olds don’t whine, hit, bite, cry, talk back, act defiant, or have a bad attitude.) Cheers to that!

From Aunt Julie to Will… Mommy’s Most Favorite Birthday Message.

Thank you to everyone for all the birthday wishes!

Deep thoughts to come.

How does a preschooler understand the complexities of love?

One of Will’s teachers was notified during school on Monday that her husband had been killed in a car accident. Just like that. Right before the holidays. Even with the strength of youth, the support of community, and the love of many, how does one survive that kind of loss? How can this terrible thing happen to someone so good, giving, and patient? I do not understand.

Will had questions, too. Thankfully, a social worker had provided talking points for how to address our kids’ questions… not that I had read it with enough detail. I had to wing it on gut and distant training, keeping my own stuff under control. He wanted to know if we could find children “to give Miss. Kynisha since hers got killed by the car.” So, first we talked about people, how we are irreplaceable, nontransferable. “If I lost you, Will,” I told him, “not even a hundred children could take your place.” It occurred to me that maybe he was struggling with understanding relationships and maybe he had placed the event and seeing his teacher so upset within the context of a relationship he could understand: one that involves a child. I tried to address it. I explained that Kynisha’s husband had died, “it would be like if Daddy died. If Daddy died, I would lose my husband.”

“But Daddy is a DADDY, not a husband.”

“Well, Daddy is a Daddy AND a husband. He is YOUR Daddy and MY husband.”

“Just like Katey is my husband.”

“Kate is your sister, Will. She is your sister.”

“Kate is my sister AND my husband.”

Pause. Refocus on the important parts. “Kate is very important to you. If she died, you would be really sad, right?”

Very very quietly: “Yes.” Then, “Mommy? I need to be quiet now because I feel really really sad for Miss. Kynisha.”

“Me too, Will, me too.”