When Cheating is Fair

The geometry teacher and I volunteered to play games at the pep rally this Friday. We decided, since we were half the age of the first string football players, we could cheat, and after throwing cones, tackling the other side, and unblindfolding ourselves, we won. Go Gators!

Mine

One morning as I was driving up I-10 into a violet-fire sunrise, my heart told me a secret my brain already knew. I am in love with Christopher. Then this weekend under a tangerine-hazy sunset Chris made me want to write entirely in cliches, complete with heart-dotted "i"s. I am the happiest girl in the world, and in eight months it'll be all you-and-me-and-Sam make three, a family.

Of course, I immediately started making plans for the wedding. I would need a parrot applique for the wedding dress, a fire thrower, Star Wars action figures, an Elton-John pianist, a priest, a deacon, a Methodist preacher, a biker with a chainsaw, and a Mexican wedding shirt. (For those of you that know me well, you know that this is not a random, made-up list but an actual (mostly-actual anyway) accumulation of items and people). Immediately, I was thrown off the wedding-planning committee. I'm thinking of it as for the better instead of the worst. C'mon, though, am I the only one that thinks Chris doesn't look excellent in the Jack Black outfit?

Chris is an excellent sport. I figured this out early on, as we had our first date with my entire family. It was supposed to be a double date, but word got out that we were going to a restaurant. Chris actually called for a second date. I should have known right then and there.

Many thanks for the warm wishes and congrats!

Toddler Real World

Amberrific came up with this brilliant idea for a Toddler Real World show.  She took most of the footage and I hacked it together... all that's missing from this video editing is the duct tape. I hope you enjoy. 

Sam Potter

These glasses may officially be my favorite yard sale find. Sam and I are readjusting to Louisiana weather after 10 glorious days in Kentucky, where we splashed, laughed, camped, and relaxed. I think my guardian angel must have been sitting on my shoulder suggesting that we head for the hills this summer. 

I'll write more later. Try not to check back every 30 seconds... the anticipation, I know, will kill you. In the meantime, enjoy this ridiculously nerdy photo of Sam with his sista by anotha motha, Reva. 

Airborne Sam

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

The suspect at the scene of the crime.

The scene of the crime.

And you thought it was just a book.

Summer Rocks

Sam still in his p.j.s at 7:30 a.m. Phew, we're being some lounge lizards this summer. It's great to be able to spend some time at home with Sam. Every day is an adventure, especially if you get out before 10 a.m. when it suddenly gets to be 95 degrees.

Sam's Show

Yummy Gummi!

Sam loves u-pick eating. Early this spring Papa gave him a lowquat off the tree. Now the gummies and blackberries have come in, and Sam is all about picking his own fruit. He eats the ripe ones, the green ones, the pits, the leaves, occasionally some mulch.

To him, this is the important thing: "I do it myself, mamma". In other words, "Back off, lady; I'm eating here."

The gummi is an important Maples tradition. The bush, as far as Mr. George legendgoes, is a kin to the Russian Olive. All I know is that it is good eating and spitting. Yummy, gummies.

P.S. I'm sorry to my Facebook friends, who apparently can't see the pictures. If you ever travel away from Facebook, try the full-color version at lizmaples.blogspot.com.

Are You Sitting Down?

Once upon a time I had a job at Toys-R-Us. I walked around and straightened things, maybe put some Spiderman underwear out. I spent 5 hours at a time on my feet, and at 23 I thought I was going to die. Yes, I thought it was awful.

Then I started working at the flower shop. After really busy mornings I would sneak into the storeroom, take off my shoes, and put my bare feet on the cool floor. Just for a moment. It was all I needed. I thought, my feet will never recover. Woe, is me.

Then I moved in with Emily and her two kids. I didn't even contribute that much. Maybe made dinner and helped clean up, but after working all day (by working I mean sitting at a computer screen and occasionally strolling over to a meeting where I continued the sit-on-my-buttness), how was anyone supposed to survive?

Then I started teaching. After my first three days I went to the store and bought an expensive pair of running shoes. I felt like I was playing defense all the time. Up the aisle, down the aisle... Talk and move. Don't stand still, don't let down your guard or they will attack and leave you duct taped to a chair.

Then I was pregnant and teaching. Insert expletive here.

None of this. I repeat, none of this has anything on parenting a toddler. In the span of one minute Sam can read a page of a book, climb on the couch, forget the book and climb down, climb back up, lick the dog (yes, he licks the dog), read another page, close the book when Mama even mentions one thing about what might be on the page, climb down the couch, see a cup, climb up the kitchen chair, knock everything off the table, climb down the chair, get the cup, take one sip, manage to spill the spill-proof cup, climb on the car, go two feet, run over Mama, attempt to run over the dog, spy the book. Repeat.

I'm not kidding. I timed it.

Mother's Day

I shot this mother-daughter duo the day before Mother's Day. They were just so cute together. They wanted me to take pictures of the Mom whispering in her daughter's ear. This is one of the things I feel like I'll miss out on, not having a daughter. I love Sam, don't get me wrong, but, maybe it is just that because as a daughter I'm already familiar with the deep, connectedness we, as women, have with out mothers. I can't imagine something as profound as that happening between a mother and her son. Why isn't this in the "What To Expect" books?

The Crud

Sam has had the crud for two weeks. He won't run a consistent fever, I say fever, the doctor won't consider 99 a temperature. He is still eating, but just a little bit less than normal. He is coughing, and I think his nose must be halfway to China by now. I say, please get sick enough for me to do something about it. The in between sick is killing me.

Can we not have a machine that we hook up to our kids, like the one mechanics have for cars, that just tells us what's wrong? Either that or Sam, buddy, it really is time you just started talking.

Where's the limo carriage?

This baby tux was worth the 25 cents at the garage sale. Sam was a nice compliment to Brennan's prom photo-op.

Uh-Oh Spaghetti-O

This was worth the 20-minute kitchen clean-up.

Brennan

I can hardly believe it, but my oldest nephew, Brennan, is graduating from high school this May. He is so funny and sweet. I remember how I took him and his brother, Tyler, to a Warped Tour concert, and neither one of them would get in the mosh pit. I, of course, dove in. Brennan held my stuff for me.
He was such a card on this shoot. It was almost too easy. He has a bitchin' Camaro and he climbed all over the thing, so I could shoot. I am so proud of him. Congrats, Brennan.

Class of 2009

I shot my second batch of senior pictures over spring break. She told me she looks at the pictures every day, and even though I know that is part teenage narcissism, it still makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

She was really wary of taking pictures around the Cathedral gardens downtown, so I sent her this gem at the end of the batch. It says, in case you can't see, "She doesn't bite."

Watch Out Walls

I turned around, and Sam was sitting on the kitchen table. We have officially started climbing. The chairs, the couch, the stroller, the bathtub, me ... My chairs now look like they are in a line-up, all pushed against the wall as far away from anything dangerous as possible.

I think this was all triggered by a visit to Sam Houston, when Sam discovered he could climb the steps and go down the slide on the playground. We did it about a gagillion times. This was after he took a 15 minute hike down the orange trail, and then sat down ... I had to carry him out.

We went home, me with the memories and him with a butt full of sand and a mouth full of S'mores.

The next day the climbing commenced.

Where's the Beef?

I'm soaking some pinto beans to cook Tuesday for my dad. When I left the house he was giving me the third degree. "Do you have sausage? Onion? Cornbread mix? An egg?"
Yes, Dad.

I wonder what he would think of this lovely ham flavoring that came in the bean bag? I mean why buy ham when you can just use the chemical 322o8-T?

Ever since I talked myself into cooking these beans I have been having a hankering for those watery Kentucky pintos with the raw onion and pickle relish. I mentioned this to my mom and she told me that she would pass. Oh, and that she would be bringing rice, so we can have proper beans.

Egg-travaganza

On Palm Sunday Sam and I went to my brother's annual Easter egg hunt. There were live baby chickens and baby ducks there.

Jason hid a bazillion eggs. This is the 2-and-under field he is preparing. This entire copy paper box was full of eggs.
Sam filled that entire basket up by himself, no lie. He lugged it everywhere and would hardly be persuaded to stop hunting. When his basket was full, I had to dig him out of the other kids' baskets. Finally finished, he collapsed into a glass of ice water.

On the way home Sam says, "Who stole all the bubble gum out of my eggs?"

My Dream Man

This sounds really sexy to me right now, "Honey, I'll stay in the car with the baby while you jump out and buy the milk."