Last week I received my new camera. I sold off a ton of my old camera equipment (it was gathering dust in the storage room) and used the proceeds to by a Pentax *ist DL to go with the 4 lens I had set aside. (I also had enough left over to buy a new bbq grill to hook up to the natural gas outlet we’d just installed, but that’s another story…)
Anyway, I’m really happy with the camera purchase. When taking pictures, it’s all about the lenses — and this new camera lets me use my favorite lenses again.
Here is Ruby!
My second week of stay-at-home-dadness has begun.
Last week went surprisingly well. Granted, Kate is only working half-days so I’m only alone with Ruby for 6 hours at a time instead of 10. But still, I enjoyed my time with Ruby. I’m getting much better at just sitting and playing with her for long stretches. A few weeks ago, that would have seemed really boring, but I think we’ve both changed: Ruby is more engaging, and I’m more willing to be engaged.
I was also happy to find that Ruby takes a pretty long nap in the morning. Right now she’s asleep in her sling, and I’m completely free to use the computer. She’ll sleep like this for an hour or two, especially if she’s in the sling, and so I have a nice slice of time to work on Feedwhip every day. She tends to take more frequent, shorter naps in the afternoon, which are less conducive to concentrating on my code.
Because she’s more awake and active in the afternoons, we’ll probably use that time for running, shopping, or other physical activities like gardening or cooking.
I am deliberately trying to be an uncautious parent.
At a drop-in parent’s group we attended a few days ago, one mother worried about whether she should tell her child’s name to strangers she encountered while walking in her neighbourhood. Another told us we should remove any fleece liners we may have put in our car seats “because they weren’t recommended by the manufacturer”.
American culture has become obsessed with safety and abhorrent of risk. We end up spending way more to avoid misfortune than the misfortune would ever end up costing. Not only is this bad math, but we’re also missing out on the flip side: instead of asking what’s the worst that could happen, ask: what’s the best?
If you tell that stranger your child’s name, maybe he’ll be able to smile and wave and say hello to your daughter every single day. If you use that fleece blanket, maybe your child won’t cry every time she gets in the car.
Instead of worrying about avoiding that single giant horrible thing, I’m going to work hard to create a million tiny wonderful things.