Marley: “CC is basically our sister now. A sister we only see occasionally.”
Avery: “No she is not our sister. What does basically mean?”
Family
Avery: “Is Flash a part of our family now?”
Me: “What do you think?”
Avery: “Yes, he is.”
“Birth” Cast Shoot
Birth Cast – Images by Christine Prichard
Did a quick shoot of the cast of “Birth” at WorkPlay yesterday before rehearsal. The photos will be used to publicize director Elizabeth Hunter’s reading of the play, which will be performed at Alabama School of Fine Arts for one night only on January 30 at 7 pm. A talkback panel and reception will follow the show. Tickets are $20 in advance, available through the Alabama Birth Coalition website. Tickets may also be purchased at the door for $25. Funds raised from ticket sales will help ABC do its work to educate the public about birth choice and to help change laws in Alabama to make practicing midwifery in an out-of-hospital setting legal and safe.
As some of you may know, my daughter Marley was born at home in Birmingham just over eight years ago, and was attended by midwife Karen Brock. Because there is no vehicle for licensing CPM’s in Alabama, my health insurance did not cover the cost of Karen’s services, which by the way, were more attentive, caring, and comprehensive than any OB I’ve ever rubbed elbows with. Continue reading ““Birth” Cast Shoot”
Morris Avenue shoot with Marley and Avery
Marley and Avery on Morris Avenue – Images by Christine Prichard
Marley, Avery, and I spent about an hour today on Morris Avenue and shot some photos. We had intended to go to Sloss Furnaces to shoot, but discovered at the gate that Sloss is closed on Mondays. After a few tears on Avery’s part, I vetoed Marley’s idea to go to the Birmingham Botanical Gardens, and headed downtown. Continue reading “Morris Avenue shoot with Marley and Avery”
A Flash of Anger
So Flash and I got in our first fight.
Well, kind of. Sometime back in the spring he told me he couldn’t picture us ever arguing. “Quaint and sweet and totally unrealistic,” I thought while smiling coyly at him.
But he’s probably right. Even if I tried my best to raise his dander, I don’t think Flash would ever get in a yelling match with me.
He’s more of an “internalize it” kind of guy. Maybe that’s why I picked him.
In our 17-year relationship, Mike and I had a rich history of verbal battles that were mostly unproductive and emotionally draining. That man LOVED verbal duals, and they could become less than diplomatic in short order. Even though we agreed on almost every subject, we managed to fight often and loudly. One of Mike’s favorite things was to call talk radio hosts and argue with them on the air.
Fast-forward about seven months from Flash’s sweet comment. It’s holiday time. Add to that baseline stress, so far this December: Continue reading “A Flash of Anger”
No whining, Mr. Crabbedy
Call it blending of the minds, the synergy of creative forces, or just plain bad hearing, but Flash and I came up with a nearly perfect way to describe Avery’s less-than-charming side.
In a word: “crabbedy.”
As I was getting breakfast ready under a fog of Benadryl and lack of sleep, Avery asked me one of his standard morning questions: “Am I staying for nap today at school?” Unfortunately for him, the answer was “yes.” So I cringed, waiting for the whining, pleading, and stomping onslaught to begin.
“I HATE NAP!!!!!” Avery screamed, only the preamble to a verbal tirade that I endure on a daily basis. Why he does this, I’m not sure. It is rare, if ever, that I give into this type of behavior.
To be fair, I know nap time is hard for Avery. He rarely falls asleep anymore and is forced to lay on his cot for at least an hour while much of the rest of the class sleeps. This is very difficult for a boy of Avery’s energy level, and I feel for him. I’m amazed that they can even get him to lie down, really. Continue reading “No whining, Mr. Crabbedy”
Patterns
So much has happened at The Okey Dokey Ranch in the past month, it is hard to know where to begin.
Suffice it to say, the long-awaited arrival of Flash has more or less taken place. He keeps saying things like “when I get here,” as if he hasn’t moved in yet. (I don’t think he considers himself “here” until the house is arranged to his liking; we’re not there quite yet, I am told.) Yet it seems like he’s here to me. Much of his stuff is here. And he’s rearranged so much of our living space, I feel disoriented in my own home. Yet grateful. Things had gotten pretty chaotic around here. And this guy has the perfect combination of obsession and organizational skills to tackle things like building shelving and rearranging furniture and CDs until things make more sense. Continue reading “Patterns”