Life Happens
by Karla ° Monday, September 28, 2009
I have not worked full time since the day Ava died, April 14th, 2005 and I spent a great deal of the year after her death oscillating between collapsing on the floor in a heap of grief, running and volunteering with the elderly.

I clearly remember the day I had a miscarriage 10 months after Ava died, too. I was minutes away from a craft session with a group of wonderfully young at heart ladies and had stopped at the store to pick up some supplies, used a public restroom, looked in the toilet and saw the gray matter and saw the blood. Disoriented, half in denial, half depersonalized, I drove to my volunteer location and holding back tears explained I would not be in that afternoon. And then I called Mark and spent the next six hours in an Emergency Room waiting for someone to tell me that, yes, in face, I was a having a miscarriage.

Watching a child die, and then having a miscarriage, to be blunt, over four years later still haunts me in ways I never could have expected. The entire story behind the psychology and brain fuckedness of that is a whole other post, one which I’m not sure I’m ready to share, but I vowed, VOWED I would cherish the time I had with my living son for as long as possible.

I was fortunate enough to stay home with him for over a year and then, then? I started to crave a few seconds alone. And then those seconds turned into minutes. And those minutes turned into hours with some adult conversation. And those hours turned to putting my son in daycare one day a week, two days a week, FIVE DAYS A WEEK!

And then, before I knew it, my kid is almost three, I’ve suddenly ended up in a photography contract for the next few months and my house is a disaster, I often fall asleep before my two-year-old does and LO! I have not even updated my blog and man, that makes me feel like shit. It’s just, you know, life.

Thanks for your patience.

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New Client Inquiry
by Karla ° Sunday, September 13, 2009
Just received a New Client Inquiry via that is totally professional and SO not SPAM in least.


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I blame the butterflies
by Karla ° Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Every now and then I like to blame things that happen in my life on the likelihood that the vibrations of the Universe shifted some random nebula’s interstellar dust cloud off balance and then a speck of it hits Earth and because it was traveling at, oh, what? A bazillion trillion times the speed of light it caused our pretty little planet to tilt ever so slightly off its axis and ultimately, that damn nebula is responsible for my kid’s meltdown because we do not have any chips in the house.

I guess that sounds kind of like The Butterfly Effect, too. You know how you might have a kid that is at that tender stage where he is afraid of the dark but you can still manage to rock him to sleep at night because you are his mommy and even though you cannot sing worth crap its sounds beautiful to your child. But then, as you’re singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for the 100th time, across the world there is this beautiful little gossamer butterfly somewhere in Thailand that gently flutters its wings sending an innocent wisp of a breeze drifting through the air across Asia and Europe until it collides with the heated blast of some dude’s fart in France, propelling that once gentle breeze into a turbulent air mass across the Atlantic ocean where it gains momentum and inertia over such a massive body of water for a couple of weeks until it eventually hits Ajax with the biggest mother fucking storm in the history of all storms making my already afraid of the dark child scream in terror as the entire house shakes under the violently loud thunderous booms happening directly outside his bedroom window. At night. In the dark.

So yeah, after the massively crazy storm we had a few weeks ago Nate couldn’t stop asking if the Thunder was going to get him, and of course, we did our best to reassure him that thunder is only a noise outside and that there is nothing to be afraid of, but gawd, what do us parent’s know right? Because no amount of soothing or consoling and trying to assure him that thunder is not scary seemed to matter.

And to make matters worse, Nate has cathedral ceilings in this room with palladium-style windows, so there is a little section at the top of them that doesn’t have blinds and in the eyes of a two-year-old, this means that if he can see the dark, then clearly, the dark CAN SEE HIM, too, which basically means that because some stupid butterfly in Thailand decided to flap its oh so dainty little wings and cause a massive Thunderstorm in Ajax, we now have a tiny human that will not sleep on his own and insists on nestling directly between Mark and I every night, which also means that butterfly is totally responsible for the reason why Mark and I don’t get to have sex anymore.

So you know that saying, Necessity is the Mother of all Invention? Well last weekend Mark had a brilliant idea. The windows in Nate’s playroom are fully covered in blinds, so we asked Nate if he wanted to switch rooms so he could get a better night’s sleep because he wouldn’t be able to see the dark outside anymore. And by better night’s sleep, we meant we would like to resume our regularly scheduled (or not) intercourse programming.

We let him think it over for a few days and he seemed really excited about the idea so we made a BIG DEAL about the room switch, you know, telling him how proud of him we are, what a brave boy he’s being, blah blah blah.

Last night was the first night in his new Big Boy bedroom and before bed all three of us snuggled together in his Big Boy bed and told silly stories and although a bit reluctant, Nate fell asleep on his own. At least for a little while because when Mark and I went to bed a few hours later, we found Nate curled up with his blue blanket, on the floor, outside our bedroom door.

I’m pretty sure he isn’t really afraid of the dark so much as he doesn’t want to be alone; an innately profound characteristic of humanity. And how can I argue with that?

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