1 June 2015
Figs, Figs, Figs, Figs, Figs and Let Someone Try to Stop Me
I have an amazing niece and two amazing nephews, and I love them dearly. I have always been close to them; one could even say that I raised them. I changed their diapers, bathed them, fed them.
A day before I was planning on a special shoot for the “Summer Festival,” I was informed that they would be sleeping over at us. I won’t lie – the news was hard to take...I mean, to sleep, they will surely not allow me, and tomorrow I have to be focused and fresh to prepare, style, shoot, and so on...on the other hand, I have missed them very much.
The youngest perpetrator, eight months old, decided to spread the fragrance of his intestines on my bed. I took my eyes off him for a split second, and my bed was smeared with &^%*.
My middle nephew, four years old, is a special guy, I can see even now what a hunk he’s going to be. He’s already good-looking and can twist all the girls at preschool around his baby finger.
My niece, the oldest, is already grown up, eight years old...her ancient aunt no longer interests her, she used to look up to me, loved everything I loved, hated everything I hated, I was like a guru to her and it felt great...but, over time, the little one grew up and became interested in all kinds of things that children like, such as Justin Biebers of various kinds. Oh, how old I sound
My mom works with children, and so there have always been little tykes around me. Most of my friends are already married with children, only I have decided for now to forego the sticky experience called “motherhood.”
I went once to my best friend’s daughter’s birthday party. What didn’t they have...flying clowns, diabetes skewers and a puppeteer that looked like a jellyfish.
The jellyfish had a helper with a crown of hair as big as Japan.
Then, Jellyfish and Hoopoe did an incredible puppet show.
They were so good that they even got the adults going, namely, me.
Imagine me holding hands with twenty wild kids – Jellyfish, Hoopoe, and me.
So, the night with my niece and nephews passes, the oldest and middle child fight over what TV show to watch, crying and yelling, I get up to separate them, and on the way the little one starts to cry for a bottle. I prepare a bottle for him and bring it to him, passing by a mirror on the way. I tell myself I must go on diet. I suggest a compromise to the children, the compromise is accepted. Back to the bedroom, the little one is screaming because the bottle fell out of his mouth. I put it back. I pass by the mirror, promising myself that I’m on diet from tomorrow, I go back to my bedroom, there is screaming from the other room, what now? I go over to separate them, on the way the little one starts to cry, the mirror yells out at me, “Go on diet already!” and I...I want to die!!!
Dear Parents, truly, I take my hat off to you.
The night passes peacefully, well...kind of...the little one decides to test my patience, or he really wants to see what I look like after being woken up twenty times.
Morning arrives, thank goodness and 180cc of Similac. I pass by the mirror and I tell it, “Shut up! I know I have to go on diet.”
I prepare all the materials and ingredients for the great summer festival.
As hard as the night was, as soon as I start cooking, everything passes, the exhaustion, my irritation...
This year I have given figs the honour. Lots of recipes, lots of photos, that’s it...I’m super tired, I don’t even have the strength to write the recipes down, you’ll have to forgive me, I have been acting in the capacity of mother and photographer and stylist.
Tomorrow is diet day...
A song to sleep to: Paul Mauriat: L'amour est Bleu