Who We Call When Annie Leibovitz Is Busy

"Ollie" by Ollie

I really tried to resist this post. I really did, but then I gave in. I gave in to the mommy-ness that is posting a dump full of photos of your offspring. Like this:

About three years ago Chup and I bought my mother, The Councilwoman, her first slr. She didn't use it much and I ended up stealing it back to use for my own life-capturing moments. What? Blame my mother, she is the one who taught me such behavior in the first place.

Needless to say from the ensuing photos on display, the slr is crappity-crap-crap, almost-disposable, with a two month expiration date. These days it is Ollie's fourth favorite toy. Close behind The Chief's head, and dimes which he calls pennies. Someday I will teach him the difference, but golly, is that chocolate cake in my fridge? With raspberry sauce?

Tonight as I was closing up shop, I transfered the photos of Ollie's camera on to the laptop. There were about forty self-portraits (evidence that he will always be his mother's son), and seventeen or so of me nursing. He always takes pictures of me nursing, and if I knew that I could make tons of cash by posting those beauties I would. I would and I wouldn't care. But they are usually of me making a face that reads "PLEASE DON'T TAKE THAT PICTURE RIGHT NOW!" and the next one, "I AM GOING TO RING YOUR LITTLE . . ."

But the rest of Ollie's photos were dedicated to documenting The Chief's morning as I went oblivious. It is really an interesting study to see, at the end of the day, that someone followed you around taking photos of your life without your awareness. Oh Brad Pitt! I understand!

So here it is, The Chief's morning with time stamps. You might not care, but my mother does. Especially now that she doesn't have a camera to capture such things. (What kind of person would rob from their own mother?)(Me.)

Please note, I was oblivious to all photos. Did I say that already?

8:45 Hold The Chief by the armpit and check e-mail. Our favorite morning ritual:
9:37 Feed The Chief. Looks like something gooey (I can't remember). And a fir wreath with a tender glow! Fat holidays to you and yours!

Kung Fu. 11: 26 I don't know what is happening actually. Make that part up for me.

12:02 Uh oh. Crazy eyes. That means only one thing and only one thing only. Nip, nip, nip nap time.

(Ooooh. You know what I am going to do? Save some of this raspberry sauce to put on The Chief tomorrow. A subtle play on sweet on sweeter. Then I am going to indulge. Eat the whole baby.)

(Is my cannibalism acting up again?)

(Ollie better not get that on film.)

Well, that is all my photos for one post. I guess this officially means that I am am Mommy Blogger. I guess.

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