Skip to main content

Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food.


Here's another from the Hits 'n Memories basket. This was taken at around the time that Henry started standing up unaided.

We're getting serious flashbacks now - to the point that the post-traumatic stress long suspected is almost confirmed - as Ezra begins that constant test of endless attempts to climb into the oven, get his hands on the steak knives, scale up the pantry, rewire the heat pump on and on and on it goes...

Oh yes, they look all sweet and innocent with their chubby little thighs, beatific grins and ebullient zest for life. Yet, on a daily basis, this zest takes on an ephemeral quality. All of this want need to learn at every single point through the day wears you down.
Labels:

Comments

Roddy said…
Wait until they have children of their own, then you can smile. Your mother and I are. Love to you all. Treasure these moments, they are so precious.
8 June 2009 at 20:58
Anonymous said…
This is a nice shot.

Our Flower Pot
9 June 2009 at 00:31
lemon said…
He looks so alike to you in this photo. Obviously, but still, amazing miracle of life!
9 June 2009 at 00:57
Anonymous said…
I visit every once in awhile to see how your boys are doing. The baby has teeth!
Seriously cute and auburn colored hair
9 June 2009 at 04:41
Neva said…
I remember how the drill goes! What a hoot! Nice shot.
9 June 2009 at 14:56
yamini said…
Ohhhhhhhhhh, this photo just made me cry with joy. Henry is looking such a sweet, little, innocent darling!!!!
And, having said that, I completely understand the pulls and pressures that you and Jen must be enduring on a daily basis. Parenting can be a very demanding job and what's more, u dnt even get paid for it ;-))
But i'm sure both of you would also be enjoying at the end of the day (our compliments must also be helpful to some extent, isn't it?)

P.S. I really enjoy Roddy's comments. He seems to be enjoying it all especially since the life has come full circle for him. God bless him.
9 June 2009 at 16:08
Priyanka Khot said…
Ah! it was when Henry was this age that I fell absolutely in love with him. :-)

Nostalgia has hit you big time I am guessing. M not complaining... I got to see Henry is the days when he wasn't so camera shy.
9 June 2009 at 16:47
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, you're mad.
10 June 2009 at 15:42
Kris McCracken said…
Abe, thanks. It was Jen's...
10 June 2009 at 15:42
Kris McCracken said…
Lemon, I think that he looks slightly insane is this one.
10 June 2009 at 15:42
Kris McCracken said…
Pasadenaadjacent, this one the first baby. The second baby has a lot of teeth too though!
10 June 2009 at 15:43
Kris McCracken said…
Neva, it can be torture.
10 June 2009 at 15:43
Kris McCracken said…
Yamini, enjoy Roddy's comments?!?

I was thinking of banning him...
10 June 2009 at 15:44
Kris McCracken said…
Priyanka, nostalgia and the fact that he won't stay still long enough to take a photo!
10 June 2009 at 15:44
Dina said…
A great picture, Jen.
Little kids look great in black.
This is one post I can actually understand and agree with. :)
11 June 2009 at 22:50
Kris McCracken said…
Dina, good to see you back!
13 June 2009 at 13:37
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral
5 comments
Read more

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke
38 comments
Read more

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.
36 comments
Read more