Thursday, December 31, 2009

Happy Trails, Decade!

It turns out, it's pretty easy to get one's family to read your blog. Just blog about them!

The fallout from my last post was far-reaching.. extended family far. So, not that far. But I'm glad for the discussion; it was healthy. And it's nice to know my family will be faithful readers now. You know. Just in case.

It's New Year's Eve, and that means one thing. Many things! Another year. Another decade, gone. Vapor. I could talk about how hard that is to believe, how time starts to sprout wings and fly when kids stamp out time for you. I could talk about my resolutions, all the things I resolve to do for 2010. Lose the baby weight. Remember my coupons. Repay the kindness the friends and neighbors have showered upon us for our newborn treasure. I could talk about whether we'll say "Twenty-Ten" or "Two-thousand and ten."

But that would be boring. Let's talk about... something much more pleasant. Hopes and dreams.

In my life, in my mind's eye, I'm constantly capturing mental snapshots of little moments, big moments, the light in my toddler's twinkling eye, the colors of the sky just before the sun goes down, my husband's grin when he's made me laugh so hard I can't speak, the love I see looking back at me from my parents' eyes, our wedding guests' faces, beaming at us. To reference the last post, the way my brother stopped my self-pity in its tracks when he stood stoic on my sidewalk, telling me to stay happy in the face of whatever life throws. Pausing in the chaos that is my family, allowing me once again to be thankful from whence I came, and the family that loves me.

Mental snapshots are fine. Are important, to draw upon whenever needed. But every now and again, you want the real thing.

Now, I will have that chance. For Christmas this year, the angels (and my husband) heard my pleas and answered them.. in the form of a digital SLR (single lens reflex) camera. The kind that can capture what the eye really sees. When you see a great photograph, it was probably taken with an SLR. I've been using [real] film until now, and the 90s called. They wanted their pains in the asses back.

So, with that. Here is my boring resolution. I resolve to release those hopes and dreams from their metaphoric cages, and start shooting. Really shooting. I resolve to begin a Photo365 project, form a partnership with the network of photographerbloggers out there who inspire and critique, celebrate one anothers' work. Hopefully I'll follow a different inspiration every day, but certainly, my adorable cherubs will adorn the digital walls.

Come visit. Tell me what you think. Including you, O Facebook Friends! I'll post the url in my next post here. Maybe that will make me feel free. And official.



Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Family Ties

The thing about family is you can't choose them.

You might be tempted to choose differently, at the moment when they drive you the most insane, at the height of the insanity, when the emotions are high, nobody is listening to anyone else and above all else, nobody cares what anyone else is saying (just that they themselves are heard.)

I was listening to an interesting interview on the Diane Rehm show on NPR, when she asked the inviting question, (paraphrased) "why is it that we can pour our hearts out to our friends, but when it comes to family members, it's so much harder?"

My family is a little crazier than other families. Take the morning after Thanksgiving, for example. Let me rephrase. The morning after hosting five adults and a couple of small children in a one-bathroom house for 24 hours. Let me rephrase. The morning after five adults and two small children and two 70-lb dogs crammed into a tiny kitchen around a tiny round table, feasting on turkey, memories, and each others' company. Let me rephrase. I had a glass of wine for the first time since February of this year.

I come from a very unique family. Everyone loves to talk, hear themselves talk, and espouse on various scientific and sociological theories. Don't get me wrong - it's generally very stimulating conversation. Often heated. Seldom quiet.

When it comes to the "day's plan", it tends to be a free-for-all at holiday gatherings. Okay, at all gatherings. Thanksgiving Day is no exception, nor, to bring us up to speed, is the day after. My father disappeared and re-appeared. My brother made off to the nearest Starbucks for a cup. I was at my wit's end, trying to nurse a newborn baby, entertain and calm an increasingly desperate-for-attention 2.5 year old toddler BOY, whilst keeping voices down so as to not wake the baby. And we're still in the post-postpartum stage, remember? Meaning... my emotions are still a bit fresh.

I wanted to get out of the house. I needed some human interaction (besides that of a 3-week old.) I hadn't exactly chosen this path, of playing hostess after playing patient after playing I'm-more-pregnant-than-anyone-should-ever-be bit role in my family's chaotic drama. Why didn't anyone understand that?

They did. They got me out of the house. To Starbuck's, and, mercifully, to a Tall (Skinny) Light-Whip Mocha. Apparently I wasn't smiling a whole lot through the course of the morning. I did have a lot going on, and sleep is sort of a thing of the past.

But all good things must end and brothers must be driven to the airport. It was the far airport, and he was leaving on Black Friday. Biggest shopping day of the year. My parents couldn't agree on which was the best way to take him, even though neither of them knew and needed for me to tell them. My father decided he had to take my brother to the airport, to ensure he was there three hours early. My mother decided she had to go, to ensure my father drove the right way. I bid them all farewell.

My brother grabbed me for one more bear hug and pointed at me and said, looking forcefully into my eyes, "You. Stay Happy."

I made my way back up our steps, back up to our temporarily smaller version of chaos of just managing two kids. I had tears in my eyes. He did get it. They did get it. My family did understand, and more importantly, they loved me.

The thing about family is you can't choose them. But I come back to the same truth, over and over again.

I'd choose them every time.




Copyright © 2008-2009 C.D. Bucher. The content on these pages, including text and images are the sole property of the author and may not be used or reproduced in any manner without consent. All Rights Reserved.

  © Blogger templates The Professional Template by 2008

Back to TOP