Tuesday, October 6, 2009

A Rarity

The block

The huddle

The wrong game?

The catch (great catch! Great shot!)

The line

The fall? The catch???

When Roque asked me if I'd seen the photos on the camera, I didn't think too much of it. We are always taking photos. He said he got some photos of the kids playing. That's not unusual either. So imagine my surprise when I was down loading photos this morning and saw the pictures that he captured.
He got photos of ALL the kids playing. TOGETHER. Yes, five children together, playing (together) the same game at the same time.
But wait!! There's more... He got photos of it! Yes, there it is...proof! Proof that they play together. Proof that the older three children actually exist and reside in our home.
I don't know how he did it. If he hid behind the shadows barely breathing in fear of exposing the fact that he was in possession of the camera, I don't know. I wasn't there to witness it. But I can attest to the fact that he accomplished a great feat. There's proof... and I stand and applaud!

He's going for it!

Is Isha ready to catch the ball or what?


A hug or a quarterback sac?

I Had To Do It AGAIN!

It began when Isha was 7 months old. Pure torture! I don't know if there are other mothers that can relate, but to cut my baby's hair just rips my heart apart. Yea, weird, I know! The child starts looking like a rag muffin, it should feel like the most natural thing to do. But for me it's not. It's a battle within. No, I don't know why.
Isha was blessed with a head full of hair when he was born. A fast growing head of hair, that is. When he was seven months he had long black ringlets. Truly beautiful. I know because everyone commented on my beautiful baby GIRL who "looks just like a living doll". Well mommy can field those comments much better than daddy. I finally had to concede and do the deed. So at seven months I was faced with cutting my precious baby's hair. SEVEN MONTHS!!!
You would think that the pain stops there at that pivotal first hair cut. Not for me. I had to cut it again before his first birthday. My (ex marine) husband is so gracious and does allow Isha's hair to grow (as you can tell from photos). But there comes a point when he says it's time for another haircut. And he's right. I did take him into the hair salon to get a "professional" cut once, shortly after his first birthday. I hated it. It was like his little personality had been cut away. So, for now I continue to take on the task of cutting his hair when it reaches that rag muffin stage.
I dread the day that clippers are taken to his beautiful head. So until then I wield my scissors and admonish my hubby, "Babe, back away from the baby!" and I go about my heart breaking task.