47/52

one golden afternoon : joining the dots between the spaces : two little mermen, crabhunters, handfuls, heartbreakers. but that protective hand.

onwards // upwards

Twenty two, the week there will be no portrait.

It was too emotionally draining, too busy, too sleepless. 

And I am too exhausted, too close to the end of my rope.

Actually I think I unravelled and slipped right off the end for a few blips...

This week I became the mother and partner I never want to see myself be again.

And yet, early into week twenty three, I was hopeful. I loaded a fresh battery and switched on my camera.

Alas, I didn't take one shot last week. Which is kinda sad.

But I'm so glad to be moving through a new week, even though today began at 4am and yesterday is a blur.

Shots are from a few weeks back of the gorgeous one testing out his climbing. The concentration! The looking like a baby and a little old man all at once! 

*Sigh* 

Love him.

20/52

Even in the biggest landscapes his focus is on the detail.

An afternoon exploring the sand dune country nearby. He was such a trouper and did a lot of meandering walking. And running! He absolutely loved it.

I love the way he stops in his tracks to notice a seedpod. Plays peek-a-boo with his shadow. Names sheoak and banksia. Does his little 'funnywalk'. He even slid down a rather large dune - not bad for the kid who doesn't really do playgrounds.

It's been another hard week. He has been having night terrors, though we had no idea what they were. It's such a relief to name them. And to be able to do things to prevent them. His have been triggered by over-tiredness. There's a lot of frustration and developmental growth going on too.

It all makes me really, truly appreciate the calm. The sometimes quiet pottering in the kitchen or the garden. His happy banter. And especially his mimicry: 'Oh dar-wing!' or 'Oh mi-tter, mi-tter!'

Joining in with Jodi.

You can see the whole series of portaits here.

19/52

He is all hair and frustration.

We have had a hard couple of weeks, he and I. 

His frustration at not being able to do what he wants is bubbling over when he wakes from naps. Cue seismic meltdowns and sabotaged afternoons. 

I am trying to do even more to encourage and reaffirm his blossoming independence. But really, when you're not quite two, you don't have terribly much of it.

And that is making life hard right now for this headstrong fellow.

(I have no idea where he gets it from.)

Joining in with the always inspiring Jodi.

You can see the whole series of portraits here.

18/52

Hello pelican!

Oh Autumn, I love your white light and icy sea blues.

I am so glad to be home after four long days of provisioning in the city.

After unpacking and putting away our month's supplies, we celebrated with a quick jaunt along the shoreline at our local.

You can't really tell, but he is full of cold. We came home from the beach and made chicken soup. From fish stock and miso, with two types of seaweed. He told me it was tasty! Here's hoping it'll pass quickly, and the rest of us weather through it.

Joining in with Jodi.

You can see the whole series of portraits here.

17/52

These two.

It looks like he is being admonished, but they have just separated from a kiss.

I was not at all enamoured of any of the (decidedly few) shots I took this week, and am growing desperately frustrated with my camera woes. Not to mention the internet woes which have prevented me from working towards a fix for my camera woes. I wasn't going to post this - too blurry. But a quick drag of my heels fumble around Lightroom may have just saved the day. Let's call it dreamy?

Charlie Brown from out of town - one of our many names for him - turned 21 months over the weekend. This is where I would usually say 'that means 19 months', but I feel we're done with the two-months-behind thing. He is 21-months-going-on-seven, talks like a three-year old (or more?) and has suddenly discovered his imagination. The day I took this, he told me he saw a hippopotamus outside our window.

It has been a hard few days with him. We have both been moody. He is bursting at the seams for independence, and has been on a hair trigger. 

I have tried to be zen about many things. 

Oddly enough, my zen runs inverse to requirements. The more serious the situation, the more levity I command. The fishing sinker he wouldn't release from his mouth? The floury asbestos in his paw and the military game of persuasion to get him to wash his hands?

Zen!

Instead I lose it watching our precious rainwater gushing down the sink, and our hard-won food plants being torn to shreds.

I am on a learning curve too.