This post is part of a series of behind the scene posts authored by the Where The Boys regular contributors. This is our opportunity to share with you the very best of us and our different perspectives on mothering / capturing / documenting our sons. Our hope is that in these posts you find encouragement and inspiration in your journey of celebrating your son(s).
There were nine plus years separating the births of my two boys and, at the beginning, the logistics of their age difference was more or less a non-issue. Seven years later, however, they each have defined schedules and (widely varied) personal preferences. Add that to the schedules of two working parents, and our days are a jigsaw puzzle of carpools and bus times and work appointments, and not everybody gets everything they need every day. We all make sacrifices, however begrudgingly, and hardly a day goes by where our schedules are in concert with each other. But throughout the year the chaos is punctuated with traditions that pull us together for a moment and give us a chance to catch our collective breath.
An annual pilgrimage to The Beach finds us on the same wavelength for one blissful week each August. Time moves at an entirely different pace there—nobody has an agenda and we are never late for anything. The boys reconnect and I fill up on whatever that Energy is that powers me through the following months. Images from these visits decorate the walls of our home and jars of sand and tiny beach treasures on bedside tables provide small reminders. Even Squibby The Cat bears the name of our favored beach.
Looking through images from summers past I am both transported through time and stopped in my tracks. Nothing changes but everything is different.