We do what it takes

We took this picture of Jared in the summer of 2008 at the Boundary Bay Airshow.

I can usually only show this picture to fellow parents, because without your own experience to draw from, this picture is just one of a little boy who is bored out of his skull, the very same skull on which some scary stranger in a uniform just plopped this massive helmet weighing more than his head, and being told to "SMILE! SMILE!". A little boy who would much rather be watching Bob the Builder at home than being dragged around by the hand through hundreds of stationary airplane displays and too-loud jets roaring overhead.

Oh, all of which were absolutely true, by the way...

See, other parents will understand that this is a picture of freedom, of escaping the inside of the house, of a life outdoors that does not only consist of swings and teeter-totters. They understand that we take these pictures to say, "Look, he had fun and got to experience something new", although we know that it was actually US who wanted to see the airshow, US who wanted to speak to other adults about the amount of horsepower this plane engine packs, rather than what the baby was packing in his diaper. It makes us feel better if we can pretend we are out here in the sweltering heat for our kids sake, selfless parents that we are.

But drat, sometimes the bloody kid just won't smile...

Pregnant aquaintances often ask us seasoned parents for advice ... well, OK, they don't ASK as such, but I know they are just too shy to ask, so I give the advice out freely. So the one thing I always tell them is to do what it takes. As a parent, you become so totally consumed with the life of your child that it is so easy to lose yourself (and your relationship) in all of it. You have to do what it takes to maintain your sanity.

It might mean that you have a romantic dinner at some fancy restaurant with your foot rocking the sleeping newborn in the carseat that you pushed under the table. Or figuring out that having a pedicure takes about the same time as feeding a 2-year old a whole box of Smarties one by one. Or maybe you realize that Dora can keep 2 kids entertained on the TV downstairs long enough for Mommy and Daddy to ... well ... uhm ... just lock the bedroom door, OK?

This morning at breakfast, Jamie and Jared are fighting over the same spot at the table. I'm in the kitchen short-order cooking the hot chocolate that was demanded minutes earlier. Rob has his head stuck in the freezer treasure hunting for some frozen waffles which I already know we've run out of. The Backyardigans start singing a catchy tune on the TV (it becomes catchy after 78 times of hearing it).

The next moment Rob twirls me around, pulls me into his arms, and we dance ... cheek to cheek, fingers entwined, and swaying to the rhythm of Uniqua's "Simon Says"...

And I smile when he whispers softly in my ear ... "We do what it takes..."

Abundance

Kids don't get the concept of "too much of a good thing" really well.

Ask Jared at his daycare's Christmas party last year... he ate so much candy and cake and cookies and chocolate, that halfway through his class rendtion of "Jingle Bells", he had to leave the line to go and throw up. (sidenote: do all things that are bad for you start with the letter c??)

But after a quick cuddle in Daddy's arms, he sat up, looked at the snack table, and asked, "Can I have a cupcake, Daddy?" (see, another "c"!)

So it came as no surprise when I snapped this pic of Jared at the chocolate fountain, chocolate moustache already well-established ... basically "double dipping" the already chocolate glazed Timbit in the fountain.

Too much? Never!

I'm like that when it comes to taking pictures of my kids. Never too many shots of my little angels (or demons, depends on the hour). And I've decided to embrace my little addiction with a vigour similar to my little man's chocolate drive.

As much as I would like to carry on blogging with well-composed, well-framed photographs of landscapes and interesting architecture, time and again my lens is drawn down to the little ones, to their wide eyes and even wider smiles.

But I rest assured in the knowledge that in 20 years from now, the landscapes and architecture will still be there, but my kids chocolate moustaches need to be captured today.