I don’t mean the bendy kinds. I wouldn’t know what those were if they walked up and punched me in the face.
No, I mean the sort which allow you to do what you need to when you need to do it.
You see, my kid, Mal, was the first kid born in AZ in 2013. I would say that is some sort of PII (personally identifiable information) which should never be shared, but there were news articles written about it. He’s never going to be able to use his birthday as a secure method of password retrieval, that’s for sure! But the other down side is that he’s never going to get very good birthday parties. He’s always going to be out of school and the like. And as a guy with a late December birthday, I feel his pain.
I have a new special someone in my life. She’s wonderful. Amazing. She’s just absolutely gorgeous.
I think I love her.
Deeply, though of course cautiously.
(I have been burned before, after all!)
But there is a passion here. A passion that only a photographer can feel for his ridiculously expensive new camera . . . that happened to arrive just in time for a trip to one of his favourite cities, no less.
Internet, I’d like you to meet Bessie II, or B2 for short.
It’s not often that you get told you don’t talk enough about your kids, but unlike some people that I’m married to, I don’t post a whole ton on Facebook (and my dearth of FB posting is literally infinitely more than I used to, since I only recently re-opened my account).
However some family members recently asked me to share some photos and stories of the kids, and rather than devote a ton of space and time to one story, I thought I’d spend a bit of time telling a few. 🙂
Why? Because the little brats are small and it’s not like they can read.
It’s been at least a post since I subjected you folks to something about my kids, so here you go again!
Despite copious opportunities to move and live elsewhere, I have (perhaps foolishly) chosen to return to that jewel of the Sonoran Desert: Phoenix, Arizona, after each one of my adventures. You might say I’m a glutton for punishment (for any number of reasons).
Like anyone who was born and raised in this area, I more or less write off the time between March and October as being a no-go for outdoor activities. There are exceptions, of course; both in people who refuse to acknowledge the heat and in activities which are worth braving 100+ degree heat in March.
I can’t really speak to the former because that’s a sort of insanity which I have not been cursed with . . . I have plenty of my own problems, thanks! But I am definitely familiar with the events make the heat exhaustion and sunburn worth it, and the list gets far more substantial the more time you spend two kids in a small house let me tell you.
I know that the typical season for posting First Day of School photos is early autumn, but my son just turned 2 on January 1st (yeah, he’s a New Years baby) and so he only just started his very first day at Pre-School today.
Wow. How amazing is that? I would willingly swear on anything you asked for that he was born just a month ago. Last week he said his first word (“dada,” naturally). He only took his first steps yesterday.
I have no doubt that tomorrow I’ll be teaching him to drive (while using every trick at my disposal to seem as calm as possible) and next week I’ll be watching him graduate from college.
Times like this morning, when you discover that your kid pee-sploded last night’s PJs. No big deal, it happens. So you go searching for others and you find a pair of PJs that you bought for him before he was even born because you knew that they were awesome and that he would need them eventually.
Yeah. Days like today, when your kid is running around with the cape of his Superman pajamas flapping in the wind, totally unaware of who Superman really is, makes the hours of screaming tantrums (approach being) worth it.
If you read this blog, odds are excellent that you also read the travel blog that my wife and I keep over at PleaseSendBBQ.com, however in case you don’t you may want to read today’s incredibly exciting news.
And if you read all the way to the bottom of that post, you’ll find that yes, the Rhodes family will be growing by one. Kendra and I have already been asked a few times where the name Georgia Marie came from, and I figured I would lay it out here.
Those of you who can do basic math will be able to tell that Georgia’s . . . well, her “genesis” came about while we were living briefly in Barcelona, Spain. Barcelona as a city is obsessed with St. George (of “St. George and the Dragon” fame). They have festivals (La Diada de Sant Jordi, a festival during which you give roses and books to your sweetheart!), statues, and building art all dedicated to the Saint.
Georgia seemed only appropriate not only given where she came from, but also given how much we loved the city.
Marie . . . Marie is my maternal grandmother’s name. Known by everyone of my generation that has ever met her as “Gigi,” Marie Elward née Aber was born in to a typical mining family in north-western Colorado (read: incredibly poor). She grew up in Hayden, CO where there were such fun stories as how she had a dog sled which would take her to and from school. At the age of 20 she was crowned the 1951 Miss Colorado, however this lasted for only about 36 hours before there was a minor scandal (the type of which we, in modern day, would hardly notice, but back then she personally decided to abdicate her position).
(that would be her in the middle)
Between the odd summers and regular winter visits, I was practically raised in her house as a second home, and we’ve always been very close.
When Kendra and I first got together, I told her three things:
I don’t know if I want to have children.
If I do have a child, any boy will be named Malcolm (Shiny).