Higgins & McFarland family

Skeletons

2012-02-07T14:16:00.000-05:00

Nothing worse than being fast asleep and hearing that familiar noise coming from the closet.

clank....clank...rattle...

yep, those skeletons are dancing again, calling my name, making me run in and hush them, hide from them, try to beg them to stay stuffed in the closet where they belong. Ashamed that they are there, hoping no one heard them.

Usually I wake up in the morning and have a heart to heart with my tired, worn out face. Concealer helps, but under it you can see that my skeletons and I were up far too late hashing things out.

I creep through my day, afraid that it is written all over my face, this heavy thing that I work so hard to hide. Afraid that I have a scarlet "V" for victim pinned somewhere on me. Afraid that people can see the scars that those skeletons left behind. Afraid that they would have done x, y, and z differently and ended up different... whole... without skeletons following them wherever they go.

We all have skeletons of some sort or another. Things we would prefer stay hidden, but that help make us who we are nonetheless...

But, I did a brave thing a couple of weeks ago and have only just recovered enough from it to share it.

I saw something icky on facebook and it made my stomach sink to my toes. My face burned red... because you know how we allll think that something is meant for us? I felt like this person knew... and was judging. And it felt awful. And I found my voice. And I said, "It happened to me. Don't judge us." And I could hear my skeletons take a deep and sharp breath. They are scared, you see, that I just may drag them out into the light and send them on down the road.

I was deleted, de-friended and told I was not a Christian. But that is okay. Because I know in my heart that God himself put that strength in my spine that day. Because my God doesn't work in shame and fear. He stays up with me, right beside me, when my skeletons keep me from sleeping. It is the ultimate love, unfathomable. And when I stop and let myself feel it, I just know that I am okay.

I was shaken. I cried all day...some tears of sadness, some of worry (I was "out") and some of just plain ol' happiness. Because sometimes you can embrace your skeletons. Sometimes you can dance with them. Sometimes you can look them in the eye and say "You don't scare me."

I am not quite there, but every day I am getting closer.

Dear Aidan,

2012-01-17T18:12:00.001-05:00

Dear Aidan,

We have had a bumpy ride together, my sweetest boy.

The moment of your birth was scary, traumatic. A vacuum ultimately saved your life. We breathed a heavy sigh of relief, thankful that it was over. Of course, most everybody knows now that our relief only lasted twelve hours. You stopped breathing the morning after your birth. It would be two years later that we finally had an explanation: autism.

I wear a blue puzzle piece with pride, and my heart on my sleeve when it comes to you, son. I tell the tale to anyone that I can grab of your amazing journey from ill to amazing. Some days when I watch you playing, I can't help but cry. You are a miracle, a powerhouse, an unstoppable gift from God.

The day that I realized you were autistic was an uncharacteristically quiet day. I was worn out and decided to let you do whatever you wanted. Ten minutes of quiet later, I snuck in to see you watching the dust in the rays of sun streaming through your curtains. I fell asleep curled on the floor of the hallway outside your room. When I woke up, two hours had passed and you had not moved. Still staring at dust.

I creeped close to your face. "Aidan?" You moved your head around me to see the dust. I closed the curtains the rest of the way. You screamed. I knew. I screamed. We both sat on the floor of your room and cried until I opened the curtains back up and snuck away to my room, collapsed on my bed and cried until I threw up. Two years of denial smacked me in the face that day.

From that moment, we were on a journey together.

For the last 6.5 years, you have made possible every impossibility. A doctor met with me early on to manage my expectations. My wishes for you were what every mother wishes... to do well in school, to have friends at the playground, to meet a nice girl, to fall in love, to get married, to raise children that you will love as I love you. The doctor told me that day that I needed new expectations. A first word by kindergarten. Parallel play. Parroting of basic social behaviors. My dreams for you were not meant to be.

Luckily you dreamed big enough for us both. Your first word was three... "I want juice." You began to ask us to play trains with you. You hugged me willingly, snuggled your face into my shoulder like you had never been comfortable doing since birth.

I opened my dreams back up for you. I hoped more from you and you exceeded my wildest dreams at every turn. And then one day, the surprising part of your story became not what I wished you to become but what you had once been. No one can believe all that you have done in eight years. I cannot imagine what is still in store for you.

Autism is all over the news right now. In Virginia, parents are standing up and saying "enough!" to insurance companies refusing to cover treatments. Everyone knows someone that knows someone that is affected. It is a buzz word. But for some parents, it is life. For some children (many children) it is just a part of them... like hair color or height.

But for me it is all of these things and more. It is the sadness of watching my son stare at dust for hours. It is the anxiety of wondering what is next? and it is the deep, deep gratitude of knowing that you have friends on the playground... that you are brilliant at school... and that every single day you rush home and into my arms.

My hero is a mere 37 lbs.

Love,
Mommy

Knit with love

2012-01-15T11:16:00.000-05:00

Man oh man...it has been a long time since I have picked up some yarn.

It seems like each day rolls into the next faster than I can keep up and there has been so little time for so many things, which only adds to that feeling that no one is getting all that they need from me.

Who'd have thunk that yarn could solve that?

I needed hats for some newborn sessions that I have coming up. I found several on etsy that made me drool but at $45 a pop, I just cannot justify the expense.

But buying yarn with a coupon? I can justify that expense.

Voila!

I forgot how relaxing it is to knit. And immediately gratifying. From the first row you can see progress... so different from parenting or even photography.

In the course of a night I can usually complete a beautiful hat, but the best part? Is taking my knitting from room to room while my children are unwinding post-homework. It is amazing the things they will share when they think you are not really paying attention. Knitting once again has allowed me to sit still (rare for me) and focus...on my project, on my family... such a beautiful thing.

So, my home is becoming over run with hats, these are my faves. I plan to sell them here to other photographers just to maybe keep the pile of hats to a minimum. But, in the end, an army of hats is a small price to pay for feeling connected to my family again.

The gift of love...

2012-01-13T14:45:00.000-05:00

There is love. Like "I love those shoes!" Or, "I love that house!"

Then there is an unimaginable, unfathomable love that our Lord has for us. A love that promises eternal life. A love that saves our soul.

Then somewhere between the two, there is love that saves us here on Earth.

The love you feel for your children. The love you feel for your husband. A love so strong that you can cry just thinking about it. The heart swelling rush you get when your child puts their chubby hand in your when you cross the parking lot and you know that if you needed to, you could stop a car with your bare hands to protect them, this tiny thing that you love so much.

My love for Brian is so unbelievable, especially to someone like me who has spent the better part of my life believing that the real me, the deep down sour, nitty gritty, warts and all parts of me didn't deserve to experience that kind of love.

It simply takes my breath away some days. And today was one of those days. A band aid was ripped off my pieced together heart and it broke a little. The sadness bubbled up to the surface and you know how once you let it, it keeps flowing. I felt heartbroken, crushed and alone, scared, broken. I felt so set-back in my journey of being whole again.

And then my phone rang. I wish there was another word because love seems so over used. The way I feel about my favorite shoes does not do justice to the way that I feel about my favorite person. His voice pours into all the cracks and chips in my sad heart and fills them up with gratitude and peace. I love him.

Whatever the road that brought me here, I would walk again and again to have him. Our story is only in it's first few chapters, (and it is alternately a comedy and a romance and even a horror story) but I know that I will spend the rest of my life writing the remainder.

I go into the weekend refreshed, reminded of the miracle that is love. And grateful to spend my weekend that those that mean the most to me. Have a wonderful weekend!

Grace

2012-01-11T17:58:00.001-05:00

Only a second because it has been insane crazy here, but I did want to share this. A friend posted it on her Facebook wall and I thought it was too powerful to not pass along....

I pray that 2012 is bringing blessings to you all!

Bidding adieu to 2011

2011-12-31T09:12:00.000-05:00

2011 is nearly over and I am happy to see it go. I think. It was a such a difficult year but like so many storms, it opened into a year of beauty and growth and appreciation for the tiny things that mean the most. It was a year of wanting to pull the covers over my head for about six months straight, followed by opening the curtains so wide and flooding my heart with sunshine and warmth and saying, "I bend but I don't break."

It was a year of facing some hard truths. It was a year of hearing "Post traumatic stress disorder" not in relation to soldier returning from war but me, a mother of five children who need me whole. It was a lot of crying. And feeling like I would never be "me" again. It was at first being so upset with myself because I couldn't just pretend anymore. And ultimately, being so grateful for that because I needed to acknowledge some of my past so that I can blow it away like dandelion seeds.

I have always known that I was strong. But I used to think that strength came from never being weak. After the past year, I know that sometimes strength comes in allowing yourself to be weak. Allowing yourself to feel sadness, fear, guilt, grief. Allowing it to just about break your heart from the weight of it all. And then allowing yourself to forgive all of it. Forgive yourself, forgive others, forgive the turn of events that turned you from girl, wife, mother to victim and then to forgive even more, until your heart is full again and you know that you have come full circle and can claim "survivor."

That is what 2011 was for me.

It is heavy and debilitating. This I know. The beginning of 2011 brought illness and heart issues and sleepless nights and hives and shingles. My body physically was unable to handle it all. I felt insane. Crippled by fear. I still am, some days. But what I am afraid of has changed so much. I was afraid of facing my past. Afraid of being damaged. Afraid that some day my husband would realize what a fruitcake I am and leave. Afraid that my children would wish they had any other mother.

After walking this walk with my amazing family, I know that I can let that all go. We are a family, blended and different than some, but so bonded that those are such silly worries. They love me. I love them. Fruitcake or not, we are in it together. It was a long walk, but it is not one that I had to walk alone.

Today, as the year draws to a close, I am afraid of one thing only: wasting a single moment of now. All of the things that you believe to be true become TRUE in all capitals when you are faced with trauma. Your beloved children are medicine to your soul. Prayers are answered. 'Let go and let God' works. If you lose it all, but still have a partner who's kiss gives you goosebumps, you find that you actually still have it all, too. That you can be scared. That you can need more. That you can want things to have been different. That you can want things to stay the same. That you can want things that you don't have words for but your heart aches for nonetheless.

It was a new kind of clarity that 2011 brought. And they were lessons that stuck. My house is a wreck right now. I chose happy children over mopped floors. Last night we ate frozen yogurt for dinner. Aidan has worn pajamas for three days in a row (albeit three clean pair, still only pajamas). I am not positive anyone brushed their teeth today. And I haven't worn a bra all vacation. SO there. Memories were made these last ten days, lazy happy memories.

After everything that I lost in 2011, I will be forever grateful that this was the year that I learned to just be. I would walk it all over again to find peace like this year finally brought.

No resolutions here, this year. I am like humpty dumpty but they could glue me back together. But the glue is not quite dry and I have fault lines. No sense in setting myself up to fail with promises of "I will do this..." or "I will no longer do this..." I am just living in the moment....

...and wishing you all a very blessed, healthy, happy, funny 2012!

Post Christmas...

2011-12-27T21:54:00.000-05:00

Christmas changes as you get older. The post gift opening frenzy is not nearly as fun. You worry about the commercialism. You worry about bills. You worry about too much sugar and New year's detoxes.

New Year's comes and you count your pennies, your wine bottles and your big girl panties among your resolutions. More saving. Less drinking. Less eating. More running. More praying. Less complaining. More giving. Less wanting. Less yelling. More playing. Never enough, always too much or too little of everything.

But five children have a way of making you ignore what is lacking and focus on the now. Sometimes you have to stop the worrying and embrace that you are enough. At least when you allow yourself to be. That they love their heaps of gifts but they love you more. They love that you are a momma one minute and a ninjago sensai the next (even if you have no idea what this even is.) That yes, they love the commercialism but if you sit and talk with them about the birth of our Savior, they will listen, excitedly to the greatest story of blind faith, a virgin birth and forgiveness from a God that loves us so very much.

That weight worries or financial worries or family worries or planned resolutions should not rob them of you....here....now. That tomorrow is never a given but today, a day assembling legos, lies before you an open book of memories to make.

Tonight my resolutions seem silly. Unnecessary. I plan to keep it to one simple promise to myself and my family: more days like today. Messy and pajama-ed and without rules. That is neither too much nor too little. It is just enough.

Thanks be to God...

Owen

2011-12-26T09:10:00.000-05:00

Nothing he has ever done has been the way he was supposed to do it.

Morning sickness for two trimesters. False labor. No nurses on duty the morning after Christmas so instead of being induced, we sat at Denny's eating too much breakfast on a cold, clear early morning. Long labor. Cries of pain. Cries of joy. He was eight pounds until he peed on the nurses. That is my Owen.

He would not sleep until I curled him into bed next to my belly and pressed my lips to his forehead. This is how we slept for an entire year, my baby boy and I. My body begged for sleep but my heart begged for more sweet snuggles from the cutest little boy with the longest eyelashes.

I knew that one day he would toddle away from me and become his own person. I knew that one day I would have to beg for a snuggle here and there. I knew he would be a bundle of energy, always intent on mischief in one form or fashion.

And, of course, I was right. He is stubborn. Defiant. Unpredictable. Mouthy. Independent.

He is like me, through and through (my husband will be glad that he has this in writing) and I adore him, respect him and want to beat him all at once.

He is shy. He is brilliant. And sometimes, he surprises me with the depth of his compassion, understanding, and deep, deep love.

He is momma's boy. Ask him, he will tell you. We are getting married on Tuesday (always, always on Tuesday) and he will love me forever. I make him tell me over and over and over again in fear that some day, there will be another lady that he loves more. And of course, she will be very lucky. He is just the best.

So I am soaking up these years. I cannot believe that five have passed already. Five years of sweetness, bliss, and a bit of angst. He is ornery. But he is my heart.

Happy Birthday, Owen Thomas!!

the beauty of Christmas Eve EVE

2011-12-23T20:36:00.001-05:00

Christmas looks a little different around here this year. Red noses have replaced the crafting. Barking coughs have replaced the carols. Naps extended late into the afternoon for the entire house and bedtime arrived early, leaving a tiny window for cookie baking and decorating.

But still, some traditions must be squeezed in. Santa needs cookies, and my kids need the tale to tell "Every single year we baked together."

So we pressed on. Thick, buttery sugar cookies. Full of vanilla and almond extract. Mounds of royal icing. Jars and Jars of sprinkles and jimmies and candies.

This is what Christmas Eve EVE calls for around these parts.

Christmas Eve Eve tastes good around here, too...

This year it tastes like cough medicine and cookies. It also tastes like stir crazy children. And fights between brothers that have had too much togetherness. It tastes like presents that need wrapped still and a last minute run to the store for a few last gifts. Like family and warmth and a continuation of memories made around our trees.

I am blessed. Lucky. Fortunate. Grateful. Bewildered, even, by the gift of my family.

May your holidays bring many smiles and happy memories...

A perfect Christmas eve-eve song...

Twelve days...day eight and the food bank totals

2011-12-21T15:12:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow's gift is personalized piggy banks. You know the idea that if you post a picture of a babe in a bikini on the fridge, you will not lose sight of your goal? Same idea...hahaha. If you write on your bank what you are saving for, it will be less tempting to spend it on strawberry ice cream (which a certain ten year old has been known to do).

These are the cast of characters: chalkboard paint, tape, banks and a piece of sandpaper

First, tape off the section of your piggy you would like to paint. Rub the inside with sandpaper so the paint will adhere better. Paint on three coats, letting each one dry between coats one hour. Allow to dry over night. Peel off tape and rub all over the chalkboard surface with a piece of chalk to season it. Wipe off and they are ready for use!

We don't have pigs. We have lions and horses. I wish I could tell you that there was some sage reasoning behind this. That I thought that pigs had had the run of money-saving for too long. That we don't eat pork. That we wished our wee ones to "save like a lion" but alas...they were what the dollar tree had and there was no way I was going to pay $3.99 for a pig when there were perfectly good lions and horses for $1. So feel free to follow suit. We can start a revolution.

What would your bank say? I think you know that mine would say "lenses"!

And...
The last news on the food bank. We collected 72 pounds of food and enough money to provide 240 meals to local families. Let us not forget that sometimes the best gift of the season is the one we give!

Twelve days of Christmas, day seven

2011-12-20T21:56:00.001-05:00

Today's gift was coupon books. These are quick, easy and were a big hit with my brood.

Mine included such things as your favorite dessert, skipping dinner, choosing a red box movie, 30 minutes of alone time with mom, a wii dance off with mom and dad, no yelling when they've goofed up... but you can choose whatever would mean the most to your children. In my house, quality time can be hard to come by, so that is what I focused on.

Tomorrow's gift will be chocolate modeling clay...it is like edible play doh. We will also be starting on some cookies for Santa, wrapping some family gifts and talking some more about the real reason we celebrate Christmas. One day this week, we will also be accompanying Santa to the food bank to see the fruits of our labor delivered and banked for the busy holiday weekend.

I realize that somehow my blogging got off track from sharing the plan for the following day to sharing the current day, so here is the recipe for the modeling clay:

~10 oz semi sweet chocolate chips
~1/3 cup light corn syrup

Heat chips in a microwave safe bowl for one minute. Check, stir and microwave for an additional 15 seconds. Repeat in 15 second increments until the chocolate is melted. Stir in the corn syrup and spread to about 1/2 inch thick on wax paper. Cover with a second sheet of wax paper and allow to cool overnight (do not refrigerate) to allow to set. Sculpt away!

I will follow up with pictures tomorrow! Tomorrow I will be sharing how to make personalized piggy banks cheap and easy!

The sixth day of Christmas and a santa recap

2011-12-19T18:14:00.000-05:00

Today was the sixth day of Christmas (ummm.... because I skipped yesterday. I was just too tuckered out and I felt like Santa...in our home....was enough).

I just made these simple as pie mustache mugs...

Simply buy a plain white mug at the dollar store and using ceramic paint markers, draw a little mustache on the lip of it. Then bake according to your package directions. For my Fimo markers, it is at 325 for 35 minutes. Voila, they are then dishwasher safe. The plates that I made last year have held up very well-no chipping whatsoever!

They are fun and silly to use, simple to make, guaranteed to bring a smile...

Our Santa party was a ton of (chaotic) fun. There were 40 ish kids here at casa mcFarland-Higgins. That is a lot of squealing!

When our guests arrived, I set them all to task making their letters to Santa. My favorite of the group was simple and said only "Dear Santa, you're great."

How sweet is that?

I do love the deep, deep heart of children.

So imagine their surprise when there was a knock at the door at 5:30!

Who is it?!

It is Santa!!

Oh my word. They were so surprised! They all waited their turns in line like good boys and girls to give Santa their lists and hear if they made the naughty or nice lists.

Their parents each brought a donation to the Fredericksburg area food bank and a dish to share. We all enjoyed food and friendship set to the flickering of candlelight and the light of the tree.

It was really special for me. I loved seeing how happy the kids were. I loved knowing that it was for a good cause. The reminder that no matter how much my family worries sometimes, we are spoiled by knowing where our next meal is coming from.

And you'd better believe I made sure to ask Santa which of those lists I had made!

Twelve days of Christmas...day five

2011-12-16T19:32:00.000-05:00

Slipper socks!

Are those not just adorable?

When making our twelve days of Christmas gifts, I always err on the side of the littlest kids. So, even though these are a little young for the eldest two, I know they will still get a chuckle out of them and the little ones will adore them!

So, basically, I bought a package of white socks, in keeping with my $1 per child, per day budget. I dyed them green using Rit dye in the sink. (yuck).

Using felt sheets that were on sale a JoAnn's, I cut zig zag strips for the monster's spikes.

I cut a straight line down the middle of the sock, sandwiched the zig zag between and stitched them closed.

I turned them right side out and then used puffy fabric paint to draw silly faces on them.

I also put their initials on the bottom of each sock so a)they knew who's were who's and b) to act as a non skid surface.

Quick, easy, and kind of cheesy...three of my favorite things!

Up tomorrow is Jolly Rancher lollipops. Five minutes and the simplest project ever.

twelve days of Christmas...day four

2011-12-15T08:55:00.001-05:00

My children are hoarders. They love to stuff things in other things and carry those things all around the house.

My children are also fighters. They love to yell at each other and accuse one another of taking their belongings. In a house with so many, it is tough to carve out your own space and they fight hard for it.

So, for today I made them each a bag to keep their treasured belongings in. For the boys, it will likely be cards or lego figures. For the big girl, her laptop maybe, or her toiletries for when she goes to her Daddy's house. For tiny, it will likely be barbies or babies.

The boys were simple. Just create a fabric rectangle and stitch along three sides. Fold the fourth side down all around and sew and hem. Slide a rope or ribbon through for tying the top. I also stitched the ribbon so that they don't lose their ties. Literally less than five minutes per bag!

The girls were not so simple.

Cut strips of fabrics approx 18 inches long by 5 inches thick.

Fold in half and stitch closed on the raw side with long and loose stitches.

Leave a long tail on your thread and pull it to cinch the fabric.

Place on your bag and pin into place. I traced a plate for my outer circle starting point.

Repeat the process until your have a nice full circle.

For the center, use a tightly cinched flower to finish it so that no raw edges or canvas peeks through.

Make sure you hem all of your raw edges as you go. I just tucked them under and sewed them right onto the bag.

Tomorrow, I will be sharing how to make monster slipper socks quickly and easily...

The last time

2011-12-14T14:09:00.000-05:00

This morning I snapped at my children. Because I am cranky and I didn't sleep and they were moving too slow. I fussed because I was worried and stressed and it broke my heart because I knew they didn't deserve my crankiness. I spoke with an edgy tone because I just wanted to speed the morning along and not linger on the wrong foot that the day began on. And I burned my toast.

And I swore it was the last time.

Like we all do, I swore that somehow, next time, I would manage to swallow my frustration and serve them eggs instead. Because us over-achieving mommas live in this world where mommies should never yell, they should be robots that only smile and kiss and laugh and have minty fresh breath. But of course, I know deep down in my heart that this is not realistic and that I will, in fact, yell again. And feel sad again. And have to apologize again to my sweet babies. And do a ridiculous dance while singing Lady GaGa to make them laugh, to make their day start out better now that I had reigned in my own grumpy morning feelings.

Because I realize more and more that right now, in this instant of this day, is a last time. The last time is approaching, when Gracie will know that shaking her head means no and will switch herself and use the right gestures. And I will cry because I just love those weird toddler quirks that are so darned precious.

Today was the last (first) time that Owen will hear the story of baby Jesus at preschool and be so inspired, so moved that he will scrunch his little face up and ask the deepest questions the whole ride home. I pray his love of our Lord will stay with him, but today will be the only first time he asked me, "Was Jesus's mommy afraid when the angels came to talk to her?" with such wonderment and curiosity.

Today could be the last time that Ava says baby "cheesus". I will miss that. It makes me chuckle every time, for I believe that God gets a laugh, too.

Today will be the last time that I am exactly this age. You never know when your last day is. You must savor them because things happen and you go to the doctor and you hear bad news and it makes you question all of the days before that day. Makes you wonder if you have wasted a single second because you are suddenly so afraid that those seconds are numbered. I know this because I have heard it a lot lately from three friends battling cancer.

It inspires those around you to count their seconds, too. But we are all living a life of limited days. Any day could be the last and instead of focusing on our shortcomings, we should celebrate our life each and every new potentially last day that we get.

It is unrealistic that I will never yell at my children again. It is unrealistic that I will never fight with my husband again. It is unrealistic that I will never stick my foot in my mouth when talking to a friend. It will not be the last day that I apologize. Or feel badly. Or wish I had done things differently. But it is a gift to be here in this moment and I will work harder on making it the last day that I take for granted. The last day that I wake up grumpy instead of with gratitude for the gift of a new day, full of possibility.

I pray that today is the last day that I forget how blessed I am.

Twelve days of Christmas...day three

2011-12-14T10:00:00.008-05:00

Mock sushi was a big hit yesterday! If you didn't get a chance to try it, it is a great one to keep in mind for April Fool's day!

Today's gift gave me trouble. I knew that I wanted to make hair clips for the girls, because Emma has been dying for one since Ava's birthday fascinators. But what about the boys? I thought about buying them lego figurines but that felt like it defeated the purpose of the twelve days of Christmas. So I decided on belts in a simple plaid for them to wear for our holiday parties.

I made the felt flowers following the directions below and then simply added a felt tab to the bottom of the flowers and slid an alligator clip through the tab. I made Emma's a wee bit more mature buy rolling the circle into three pieces instead of two to mimic a rose.

I will try to explain the flower process....

First you need to cut 9-10 circles. I use a drinking glass as a template.....you want approximately 2-3 inch diameter.

Place one of the circles on a piece of thick paper or an old plate (so no glue leaks onto your table).

Fold the next circle in half...

And in half again...

Now see the pointed corner? Snip that off with a pair of sharp scissors. Put a blob of hot glue on the now blunt corner and place on your bottom circle.

I usually start in the center and work my way around. I also alternate the direction of the petals so it fills in more naturally.

So for a flower like Emma's above you will fold in half, then roll into thirds, snip, and glue.

For the bottom, just hot glue a little strip of felt onto the bottom of the rose so you can easily slide a clip or even a head band through.

The boys belts were almost as quick to stitch up...
I cut three strips of fabric, approximately 3 inches wide each.
I folded them into themselves and sewed with the right sides together, leaving a space to fold it right side out.
Unfold the whole thing and press flat.
Iron the raw edge into a hem and secure with a pin.
Top stitch around all four sides.

Hook the buckles through the fabric and secure with a pin. Stitch in place, securing by going over it twice. Voila!

Tomorrow's project is bags... Stay tuned....

Mock Sushi

2011-12-13T16:42:00.000-05:00

Well...after a little confusion from Owen as to what the twelve days of Christmas was about (he was thinking legos, but got a corkboard....you can imagine the fall out) we are off to a great start. Everyone has already hung up a thing or two of importance and have their new boards proudly displayed in their rooms.

And momma was a crafting fool today. I am making great headway on the twelve days, which is good because I also have a party to plan. And a one year session for a very special baby girl on Friday. Whew! But be warned, there will be a shortage of pretty pictures this week. I am just trying to capture them as I go along.

So, tomorrow's surprise is mock sushi!

Cute, huh?

You need:

rice krispies
a bag of marshmallows
fruit by the foot
gummy works

(gross, right?)

Make rice krispie treats using your favorite recipe. Push into a cookie sheet and allow to cool.

About two inches from the bottom, arrange an overlapping layer of gummi worms, like so:

(I should have done three deep but was worried about running out)

Cut about two inches above the worms and roll into a tight log...

Really squeeze it so it sticks to itself.

Using a sharp knife, cut into rounds, reshaping as needed.

Wrap with a piece of fruit by the foot and arrange on a platter.

Chopsticks are a bonus!

Up tomorrow are lovely hair clips for the girls and belts for the fellas to wear when they meet Santa on Saturday.

Making my Christmas list

2011-12-12T11:38:00.001-05:00

This weekend, Santa comes to my house (look for the recap Sunday!) so it inspired me to get cracking on my own wish list. In case the big guy really does sneak in and give gifts, I am going big this year. I always, always say that I don't really need anything, which is true. But...as I get older, I value a gift a lot more. I save for things now, in this tight economy, and the idea of something just arriving just because thrills me.

Dearest Santa,

...it is only five tiny things....

1. These patterns from Snazzie drawers, DIY photo props. They are all no sew and perfect for all of the beautiful babies that I have lined up for early next year

2. A better bag for my lenses while I am shooting. My current fancy bag weighs about a ton with a few lenses, my camera, a flash, a flash diffuser. I can't carry it around from spot to spot while chasing tiny tots and would love a sling style to keep my lenses corralled. This one is cute

3. Thesestudio lights with softboxes from Alien Bees (in pink of course). It is a lot to carry to people's homes but I need more reliable lighting for newborns.

4. This beautiful lens. Makes me want to cry. I am saving every penny for it right now but if Santa wanted to just bring it, I would believe!!

5. This desk chair from Ballard designs. LOVE it. My poor back needs a more comfortable spot!

See, Santa? Only five little things. I'll even leave you beer instead of milk! I have been a very good
mostly good
kind of good
naughty but nice girl this year!

XO,
Stephanie

twelve days of Christmas...day one

2011-12-12T10:00:00.000-05:00

I spent a little time with my glue gun over the weekend and was able to knock a couple of days off my list. It can be a tad overwhelming when twelve are staring you down and you have a holiday party to plan and a house to keep clean.

It doesn't have to be big.

The handmade twelve days of Christmas is not about big gifts. It is not meant to compete with Christmas morning. These are not gifts that are meant to be heirlooms. They are just meant to send the message to your children that you love them enough to bundle all of your love into something you made with your own two hands each and every day leading up to Christmas. Think trinkets, not gifts. Just little items to spark excitement and let them hear loud and clear "you are loved." And a funny thing happens. With an extra thing on your "to do" list, you would think it would add to the stress. I have found just the opposite. It makes me focus on the greatest gift I have ever received: my family. I turn on Christmas music and craft while they nap. Each day's project should be able to be completed in about two hours (for my five).

So, without further ado, here is what my children will be opening tomorrow, the first day.

What is that you ask?

They are personalized cork boards for each child to keep track of their art work, or a photo that is dear to them, or any old thing they wish to display.

The board themselves are sold in a pack of four for $5 at wal mart.

You will also need:
modpodge
hot glue
tissue paper
card stock
ribbon for hanging
push pins to include with the finished product

First, select a favorite picture from this year of your little ones

Cut a piece of tissue paper so that it is the same width as printer paper but a little bit longer. Wrap it around your card stock (letter size) and tape securely on the back. When it is time to print your picture, gently feed the tissue paper/card stock sandwich through.

Remove the tissue paper from the card stock and trim to size, You will have one thin picture.

Now I have no more picture because mod podge and I battle, and it is definitely a two handed job. Everything that I make with it appears "shabby chic" because I am so awful with it. But, you will apply a thin layer of it where you want to place the picture on your corkboard.

Gently lay your picture on the modpodge and smooth out from the center to the outer corners. Gently.

Now apply a medium thick layer all over your picture. Again, very gently.

Spread it out from the center to the outer corners. If any air bubbles appear, smooth them out.

Allow to dry approximately two hours.

Next up, cut your ribbon to the size you wish for hanging. Hot glue securely to the back of the corkboard.

Ta da... Now wrap them up and don't forget to include push pins!

See you back here tomorrow for mock sushi!

Christmas countdown

2011-12-11T09:33:00.000-05:00

The Christmas spirit has found me big time. Just in the "saint nick" of time...yuk yuk. And it is a good thing because I am down to the wire on my twelve days of Christmas crafts, not to mention attempting to throw together some sort of soiree to ~~use an excuse to drink with friends~~ celebrate the holidays with friends.

Two things happened the other day. First, my grandfather (Hi, Pop Pop!) sent me a sweet email that made me puff up with pride. I am a little things kind of gal and it made my day. I smiled ear to ear and made quick work of the editing work that needed finished. Kind words really do go a long way and you never know when someone may really need to hear them. :) I even printed it out and tacked it up above my desk, for those days when I need a pick me up.

Next up, I was ~~wasting time~~ perusing facebook and stumbled upon an awesome opportunity to have the "real Fredericksburg Santa" come to my home in exchange for a donation to the Fredericksburg area food bank. Santa? Here? in my home??! Sign me up! I am probably more excited than the kids will be, but I am officially patched up and so looking forward to seeing their faces when Santa lands his sleigh here next Saturday.

So next on my list was the twelve days of Christmas. Remember last year? I made something handmade for each of the five children every day for twelve days? Some days were bigger things (pajamas) and some were small and simple (homemade marshmallows and hot chocolate) but each day brought a gift made just for them by their momma and a chance for us all to talk, enjoy being a family and discuss the miracle of Christmas that extends far beyond gifts and Santa claus.

So, here is my list. I will be beginning Tuesday, so look for a post each day showing the finished product. My list is not necessarily in order, we will see how the mood strikes each day....

1. chalkboard piggy banks (so they can write what they are saving for)
2. chocolate modeling clay (edible)
3. personalized tote bags and maybe a wallet for Noah/Aidan
4. memo boards
5. mustache mugs
6. coupon books
7. monster slipper socks
8. jolly rancher lollipops
9. sweater mittens
10. Christmas hairbands for the girls and lego ninjago pieces for the boys (not handmade but they will not enjoy hairpieces, nor personalized shirts nor little ties...all my other ideas)
11.mock sushi (dessert)
12- Christmas day!

I hope the spirit has found you! Now, I had best scoot and finish getting ready for Santa!

peek a boo

2011-12-08T12:28:00.001-05:00

Gorgeous ornaments from my friends house...but wait....

Peek a boo! There I am! I turn up in the craziest places, usually in the eyes of my clients...which usually makes me laugh because I am often making ridiculous faces. Or in my children's eyes...which is also funny because I am usually making stern faces. But today, in ornaments, which does make me feel all holiday-ey.

have you checked out my new website? Please do! It is www.stephaniemcfarland.com. I will be introducing you to my clients, giving tips for getting the most out of your own photos and of course, offering special deals and of course, sharing tidbits of my own family. Follow along if you'd like!

Back to basics

2011-12-07T21:05:00.001-05:00

This year I have had trouble finding the Christmas spirit.

We have hardly begun our shopping, save for our annual black friday date.

I ordered our cards, but put the wrong date on them and have to order them again. (Seriously??! "Merry Christmas, 2012!")

It took me until Monday of this week to put the decorations up, far different from my usual impatience for Thanksgiving to pass so that I can festively light my home and deck all my halls with reds, greens and 8 Christmas trees.

And that was after a failed attempt at decorating on Sunday that involved my family downstairs sifting through our decorations and me upstairs crying my eyes out.

Sometimes the holidays are hard for me.

They bring back a sad memory for me of a little girl in a ladder back chair who believed that Santa was her daddy. That little girl waited as long as a tiny one possibly can until her heavy eyes won and she fell fast asleep, still wishing of meeting him. Just for a moment. I understood that my dad had to work all year to bring happiness to all of the children of the world. I just wanted a few moments to hug him and tell him that we were okay. That memory breaks my heart, both as woman that little girl grew into and as a mommy who understands how much that must have broken my mother's heart.

Usually the gift of being a mommy to my five precious ones pushes me along the holiday path. Usually the joy that their Daddy brings them lifts the sadness and reminds me to celebrate the beauty that is the present. It is all we know that we have, no sense in crying over yesterday or worrying about tomorrow.

But then something magical happens. I think of a virgin told she was pregnant. I think of the man that loved her and the Lord enough to listen, to believe. I think of the King born to them that saved us all.

It hits me hard, each and every year. I have a Father. He is in heaven. He was born of a virgin and became man to save me. That is love. He was crucified. That is love. He heard my prayers as a child and hears them today. Only sometimes, I don't listen to the magic that is all around me. Sometimes I cry in my bed when my family is downstairs preparing for the glory of His birth. But little by little, it creeps in. The air becomes cold. The days become short. I long for hot tea, warm blankets, lazy nights with my husband. Inevitably, my thoughts turn to a manger, where a young girl must have been so scared. Cold. Worried. A star so bright. A night so clear. A tiny baby asleep in hay. A world saved.

And I am reminded, again and again, that no matter what I long for, it does not compare to what I already have.

Vegetable soup diet

2011-11-28T16:30:00.000-05:00

Today I am hell on heels.

Cup after cup after cup of vegetable soup will do that to me. I need carbs-bread, crackers, fruit to stay sane. Which is probably further proof that I am addicted and need to detox.

Below is the recipe for the vegetable soup diet.

Welcome to my hell.

But, over thanksgiving I knew that something needed to change. Having done a handful of detox type plans before, I knew that I was hopelessly addicted to sugar (as in refined carbs of every kind) and knew what that does to my metabolism. In fact, I have gained a little over ten pounds since I have had less and less time spent running and more and more time spent editing at the computer.

Anywhoo...should you be interested in a soup diet of your own, here is the recipe:

3 cups crushed plum tomatoes
2.5 cups pasta sauce
1/2 cup (small can) tomato paste
6 green onions
2 cups beef broth (I used low sodium)
1 bunch celery, with tops
2 cups fresh green beans
2 green peppers
2 lbs carrots
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon coarse salt
2 tablespoons paprika (I used smoked spicy paprika and it made the soup)
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
2 tablespoons prepared mustard
1 tsp black pepper

Combine tomatoes, paste, pasta sauce and stock in a very large stock pot. bring to a boil and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes

Chop all your veggies roughly

Add to simmering pot

Add your spices

Simmer for 60-90 minutes

That is it for your soup. At first taste you will think "this rocks! This is so yummy! This will be soooo easy!"

You will sail through your first day

On your second day, if you are truly carb addicted, you will want to crawl under a rug and die.

I am hoping it gets better from there, because I am unbearable today.

Okay, so the days go like this:

Day 1: eat all the fruit you want, except bananas. eat only soup and fruit and drink water, unsweetened teas and cranberry juice

Day 2: eat all the fresh, leafy veggies you want but stay away from dry beans, peas and corn. At dinner reward yourself with a large baked poatato with butter. No fruit.

Day 3: All the fruit and veggies you want with your soup, but no potato

day 4: Eat as many as 8 bananas and drink all the skim milk you would like along with your soup. This day lessens your desire for sweets and replenishes potassium lost during the previous three days.

day 5: Beef and tomatoes. Eat 10-20 ounces beef and up to six fresh tomatoes with your soup. Drink at least 6-8 glasses of water to flush the uric acid from your system. You may substitute skinless chicken breast or broiled fish but only one of the three

day 6: Beef (or chicken or fish) and veggies. No potatoes, No tomatoes. make sure you are eating your soup

day 7: Brown rice, unsweetened fruit juices and veggies. Stuff yourself with soup.

You should be down 7-10 pounds, but of course some is water weight and will be replenished when you begin eating normally. But the beauty is that your cravings for crap should be gone and you can get back on track with your healthy lifestyle.

I'll let you know how that goes because seriously, right now I would murder someone for a loaf of bread.

Stay tuned.....

Giving Thanks

2011-11-24T22:33:00.000-05:00

Today is a day that we all give thanks. A day where neighbors, friends, co workers, strangers all gather round the kitchen and share stories of years past. Of burned turkeys, of the year that Aunt Janice made an entire vegan spread for a certain picky teenager (who may now be a mom of five and the author of a certain blog...), Of my amazing grandmother who makes a meal so delicious that you just can't stop eating but always has leftovers to pack up in old margarine containers to be enjoyed for weekend lunches.

This is the year that Ava Grace's birthday fell on thanksgiving day.

A year so appropriate because I thank God for blessing me with her every single day.

The year that Owen read us his "thankful book" that he has been working on so diligently for weeks now.

It was the year that I said "this year will be smaller...less....simple...." and yet when dinner was on the table, it looked and smelled and tasted like any other year.

The year that I realized what a blessing and gift it is to see one chair pulled out. To know how lucky I am that the empty seat is mine. That once I sit down, our holiday meal will begin, unlike so many that are missing their loved ones this season.

The year of the pink birthday cake.

The year that we sang and Gracie looked so happy. Just pure three year old joy.

And that she blew out her candle and made a wish.

And that I did, too. I wished for health and happiness, for my Ava Grace and all of my other children. For a lifetime of togetherness at Thanksgiving, wherever our roads may lead, I pray they bring us together at the holidays always. For many more years of love and laughter (and even arguments) with the man that I sit next to at that table. For the ability to bury hurt feelings once and for all. For the grace to forgive others truly and pray for the best for them. For the rest of the wrinkles that cross my face to be laugh lines.

For a million more days just like today.

Before I was a mother

2011-11-21T20:51:00.000-05:00

Before I was a mother, nobody told me what an entire body experience it would be.

There is the obvious. Your body is involved in making the baby (wink wink) and it is the vessel that carries the baby. You feed the baby with your body.

But before you know it, you are consumed. Your mind full of worry. Your heart about to burst with emotion: love, fear, pride, joy. Your stomach full of butterflies as you watch them embark on whatever their latest endeavor is: in our home, we are currently facing potty training, Spelling Bees, a bully that crossed the line with Aidan.

Your neck aches from standing over the table and correcting homework.

Your thumb, singed, from helping a ten year old put into the oven the first dinner she cooked with out any help.

Being a mother broke me. It changed me from a yuppie wannabe in a Saab with a $200 haircut to a splintered shell of anxiety, questioning and insecurity.

No one told me I would spend so much time crying that my children would know that, usually, it is tears of happiness.

No one said that non toxic paste and the fat hands wielding it can fix a mommy's heart better than all the efforts of all the king's horses and all the king's men.

No one told me how alone it could feel, how scary it can be and how clueless it can feel being a mother.

But no one told me how beautiful it all is anyway.

I spent Saturday photographing two expectant moms. I wanted to tell them all of these things. I opened my mouth a few times and all that came out was "It is the best. Being a mommy is the best."

Because some things there are no words for. And that is because some things are better left unsaid anyway. Soon they will know the joy of looking into bright eyes and seeing themselves. And the pressure of trying to always be the person that you want to see, reflected in the eyes of your babies. The humor, the tears, the exhaustion, the wonder, the frantic calls to the pediatrician. The sheer vulnerability of allowing your most loved to take tiny steps away from you, long before you are ready.

Before I was mother, I didn't know. Now, I do. And still all I can say is "it's the best."

Because it is. Simply. Beautifully. It just is.

Ava Grace's high tea

2011-11-17T19:58:00.001-05:00

Today was Ava Grace's pretend birthday, because the real deal is on turkey day.

Yep, indeedy...she renders us ever so thankful, grateful and full of praise.

She had a few girlfriends over (and one special friend there in spirit!) and drank tea (and some pink lemonade, of course). Ate some very healthy sandwiches (fluffernutter and nutella, anyone?) and ate a serious cake.

I mean the cake stole the show. For me anyways...

I really love cake...

Big sissy was a smidge jealous, so we let her play along when she returned from school...

But we know who it was really about...

It was a beautiful day for a beautiful girl and I am so happy that we get to celebrate her all over again in one week.

Happy pretend birthday, Gracie face!

Monday, by the senses

2011-11-14T13:04:00.000-05:00

Nothing like a Monday to bring a beautiful weekend crashing down around you. It was a weekend that made me smile and laugh and even cry a little. All beautiful, all with gratitude, all reminders of the changing seasons-both outdoors and of our lives.

Big changes over here at the Higgins house. Our baby girl is slowly becoming a big girl as we bid adieu to diapers. For the others, this has been met with cheers and relief. For this one, my heart is heavy. There is no crawling, diapered baby behind her to remain my baby. She is it. And though it is time, and my heart swells with pride for her and her accomplishment, I am still sad to see the end of my babies in diapers.

Other than that, it is just a Monday.

Monday looks like...
...Beautiful sunshine, orange leaves turning brown and falling to the ground.
...three outfit changes of a little girl still learning her potty cues. All accessorized wildly and then embellished with hello kitty necklaces and high heels.
...wet towels left on the floor, again, by a pre teen who is nearly comatose in the morning. I will remind her again, but I am pretty sure that Tuesday morning will look the same. And Wednesday.

Monday sounds like...
...a little boy walking through the house and discovering that there are letters everywhere as he tries to string the sounds together to see what they might say.
...a dog who dutifully protects not only our home, but the homes all around us as well. Obnoxious.
...A hard working husband saying good bye before the sun was fully up to hop on the VRE to DC.
...bribes from a mommy desperate to get a decent run in.
...cheers from the children when they were rewarded with cookies. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do!

Monday smells like...
...homemade spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove. Fresh bread baking. A meal to take to a friend who had surgery last week.
...Fresh washed laundry being folded.
...a potty training toddler. enough said.

Monday tastes like...
...Paula Deen's pumpkin butter cake with fresh whipped cream. Because that is what I ate for breakfast. Don't judge me.
...Tension tamer tea. Yum...hope it works

Monday feels like...
...the beginning of a fresh and new week. Full of potential and a closing of the chapter of last week, which was a trying one.

I vote...

2011-11-08T14:07:00.001-05:00

Today is election day and I have been saving up my votes.

I vote...for SOOC shots ~~because today I am too lazy to edit pictures~~. So bear with me.

I vote for sleeping a little late and eating cinnamon rolls for breakfast. YuM!

I vote for heading out to play tennis and realizing that we had NO gas in the car. And ignoring the pull to the gas station. We live on the edge around here.

I vote for cute little boys who refuse to smile for the camera because it is "more annoying than Owen" that I insist. So I let him sulk because even his sulk is precious.

I vote for soaking up a day that manages to have it all: warm sunshine, clean crisp air and the most beautiful foliage.

I vote for staying in my tennis clothes until afternoon. I vote for perusing the online ads in preparation of the holidays, ignoring the to-do list that is SCREAMING my name. I vote for making fascinators for my daughter's third birthday party. I vote for feeling no stress, even though Thanksgiving is only two weeks away. I vote for feeling grateful beyond words and taking time lately to really appreciate it. I vote for not cleaning again today.

I vote for living in the moment today. The rest can wait.

My fabulous five

2011-11-04T10:49:00.000-04:00

There is a cycle to life, and I am feeling it more and more acutely these days. I don't know if it is my thirties, or the health issues that I had this year, or the minor crisis that we endured or just that I am simply so enamored with the beauty of my life that I am more aware of how quickly things are changing, but they are. And while it is good and right and natural that they will, it still stings sometimes.

I am so grateful for my business for filling the gaps for me. I had the chance to photograph this little fella Tuesday...

...and watching him fold his little body up and curl into a tiny ball just reminded me of how big my baby is becoming, almost ready to celebrate her third birthday. She talks all day long, especially when Owen is at school. She can sing some of "Jesus loves me" and she is always looking for an opportunity to help out. And she has an...shall we say 'edgy' fashion sense...

Noticing how big she has become only makes the older children seem bigger. Older. Closer to adults than babies, and that hurts this momma's heart big time. And yet, they keep returning to my arms, telling me all about their days, earning honor roll (all three!), leading their peers by example.

They just all make me so proud. Noah, Emma, Aidan, Owen and (baby) Ava Grace- you five are the stuff that dreams are made of and I love you so very much!

Quick Halloween recap

2011-11-03T09:13:00.000-04:00

I am completely swamped, which I am loving. Sweet babies that needed photographing... friend's Christmas cards ... One year old's celebrating birthdays...sigh...loving this month.

But...it does mean my blog is seriously neglected. Here are our Halloween pictures-aren't those just the cutest kids??! We had such a nice time. Which is good, because the event soon turned sour when I came back from dropping Owen at school to find that the dog had found (and eaten) Emma's WHOLE bucket. I have been cleaning up a lot of really nasty stuff the last few days, but it seems that he has used another of his nine lives.

How was your Halloween?

Saturday by the numbers

2011-10-29T19:52:00.000-04:00

35...the temperature

3...approximate number of minutes that it was not raining an icy cold rain

15...number of times I whined about being cold

2...the number of photo sessions that I had to reschedule due to the weather

1...pot of homemade chicken and dumplings

3...props that I snagged at the craft store for tomorrow's photo sessions (welcome back, sunshine!)

11...minutes until I tuck my munchkins in bed and enjoy a movie and glass of wine with my main squeeze

6...dollars that I spent on new shoes for Emma (I have been watching them and voila, they were on 75% clearance today)

1...hour spent on this picture:

0...number of important things in this post

Have a blessed, warm and beautiful Saturday night!

Supermomma

2011-10-26T15:39:00.000-04:00

Super busy day here at the Ranch. Diapers to change. Tantrums to tame. Laundry to fold (except I never quite got to that). And in the midst of the chaos, a business to run, calls to return, cards to design, ideas to gather and by golly, I really needed to run (which also did not get done).

I have said it before, I will say it again:

All mommies are supermom.

I can hardly remember what it was like to have my thoughts to myself. To feel lucid and sane and not feel the need to call the children's school and make sure that they are there, even though I safely delivered them at the door and held up the line so that I could watch them walk in.

I don't remember a time that I could drag my weary body up the stairs and go straight to bed, without the five minute ordeal of checking each child's breath, making sure there is nothing around their necks, kissing them on the head and whispering "sweet dreams" because I truly believe that if they hear it in their sleep then they will have sweet dreams.

I don't remember a time when my prayers were not desperate pleas of "please, never them, let it be me instead" whatever tragedy is haunting me that particular day. Whatever sadness or pain they have ahead, please let me bear it instead.

I took dinner to a new mommy on the street, a sweet friend and neighbor, a couple nights ago. I read her face and remembered all those questions that you don't even have words for. "Will I ever be me again?" is what it all boils down to. And the answer, of course, is "No." You will be someone who can erase heartache with open arms and a kiss. That can bathe a baby, cook spaghetti and woo your husband all at once, all without breaking a sweat. That will never once think of herself first again. That will rate each moment of her own happiness based on how happy her children are. That will forget entire years of her own life but will remember how old her baby was when he stood on his chubby, shaky legs for the very first time. That will trade in handbags for diaper bags and consider "high fashion" to be a tee without spit up. That will still check a nine year old's breathing at night.

Supermoms come in all varieties. Some of us stay home, some of us work, some of us work from home. Most of us would trade some parts of the job. Some of us are strong. Some of us have family to help us along. Some of us end most days in tears, feeling like total failures.

But to these faces, you are Super, Mom.

So just keep loving them. Keep kissing them. And keep wearing your spit up tees, because it is such an honor to bear the title of "Mommy."

What's on my mind this Tuesday

2011-10-25T15:28:00.000-04:00

Gratitude. For the beautiful family that I call mine. For the beautiful home that we have made from a house that we really did not wish to live in. For the group of awesome people that came over Saturday to share in it. For a fridge full of leftover food, and no need to cook dinner tonight. For enough food, warm clothes, and everyone safe at home tonight.

Beauty. The trees literally look like they are on fire in my backyard. My eldest daughter has eyes so brown and lashes so long that I can barely look her in the eyes when we speak. She literally steals my breath. I delivered a boudoir disc to the most beautiful client this morning and, as always, loved knowing that she got to see what a knock out she really is. beauty all around me...

Humor. Gracie has decided that SHE is the mommy now. So, when I am trying to scold her, she is scolding me for not calling her 'mommy' and I cannot stop laughing at her. I see another Higgins/McFarland girl about three decades ago, mommy to her baby dolls, now a mommy of five. And she makes me laugh and makes me smile, because I feel like I can count on her for a few grandchildren!

Love. My husband made this CD for his car last night from ITunes. He labeled it "Brian's Jams" and I could not stop laughing ~~at him.~~ I don't know if that fits under "love" or "Humor," though I guess they are one in the same in my crazy house. Either way, he has kept me laughing in the best of times and worst of times and I just love him so very much. He is my perfect mate.

Health. I received my first call today for I Picture Hope, an organization that I recently signed on with, and it broke my heart to hear such a young voice on the other line. So many young gals that I know have heard this news recently, and I cannot imagine the fear of facing cancer at the same time you are cheering your young children on at sports games.

Anguish. For the young autistic boy that went missing Sunday. He is non verbal, loves the water, and has been missing for two very chilly nights. As a mother, my heart breaks. As a mother of an autistic child, I can imagine how terrified he must be. Praying hard that he is found safely today.

Success. My business is growing a little more every day and I feel so blessed to have this outlet just for myself. The additional income is sweet but the boost to my heart is way more valuable.

How is your Tuesday?

All I've ever wanted

2011-10-20T15:25:00.000-04:00

This morning was chilly. The thermometer read 55 but with the wind whipping around it felt much colder. I snagged Owen's blanket while I stood on the porch watching Emma and Aidan walk to the bus stop and leaned up against the porch rails, snuggling close to my cup of coffee.

I remembered, vaguely, being about 17 and far too young to be talking houses, hopes and dreams with a young man. Not that that stopped me. I wanted a white front porch, two rocking chairs and a yard full of squealing happy babies running around. Five, I said. Five? he said. Five, I said.

Not long after, I played house for real, though still too young. We had the porch. We even had the rockers. But I was a child still, unprepared for the fact that life is not always the way you think it would be, when you are 17 and flipping through Southern living magazine.

I thought the house mattered. I thought the money mattered. I thought that if I only ever bought my clothes at the Limited, then that would matter. That I would matter. It was all that I had to go on...I had never seen a loving family in action. I thought that if I built a life full of the material items that I had never had, then the solid and nuclear family would come with it.

I placed too high a value on those things. I sought them out, often times at the expense of my family. I would drive an extra three hours, miss seeing my children before bed, be grumpy and irritable in the morning, all to close an extra deal, buy a few extra things. Because I completely misunderstood that all they wanted was the one thing that I could give them without end: my time, my love, my attention. They had never known a life without things and yet would gladly trade in all of those things for the sight of mom in the morning, watching from the porch, the Thomas blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

We climbed a ladder and gingerly tried to back down from it. Ultimately we crashed down and wounded ourselves a little. I took that fall especially hard because without all of those things that I had worked so hard for, I was afraid that I had failed my family.

But this morning, I had to smile at the white front porch. We fell. But, we fell and we landed right where I always wanted to be. I have the absolute strongest, kindest, forgiving, loving man. I have the five smartest, cutest, funniest, most thoughtful children I've met. I go to sleep smiling. I wake up grateful. And I have a white front porch.

Sometimes you have to lose it all to realize that you actually have it all.

Candy corn...homemade edition...you're welcome

2011-10-19T11:23:00.001-04:00

Psssttt...

ova here...come closer....

Closer...

That's right...today I made candy corn. Why you may ask? Because for some reason, when I cannot sleep, I sometimes get the urge to google strange things. A few nights back it was "how do they make candy corn?" Probably because I had consumed too much and was wide awake from the sugar rush. Anyhow...I found a recipe and gave it a whirl today.

Lemme tell ya: If you love candy corn, you will loooooove this. If you don't like candy corn, you just may convert. This is so creamy and buttery and dreamy. It almost tastes like burned butter frosting. YUM.

I used this recipe and followed it with only two exceptions: I did not have salted butter so I used unsalted and added a teaspoon of salt, and I was also plum out of patience (never in the pantry when I need it) so I did giant candy corns. I rolled the colors to about two feet and chopped into thin layers and then just formed them with my fingers. Pretty? no. Yummy? Oh yes. Gracie and I were the taste testers and I think we are both feeling a little green from too much sugar. Enjoy!

I am going to have seriously, deliriously happy children when they get home from school!

You are beautiful! And...er...so am I...

2011-10-18T17:25:00.001-04:00

First off, I just have one thing that I want to get off my chest.

You are beautiful!

But the heavier thing to unload is this:

So. Am. I.

I don't even know where else to go with this post because God has been acting in some serious mysterious ways lately. He sometimes likes to play around a little and make us go, "No way! NO WAY!" and laugh because He has a way of reminding us that we are teensy eensy tiny and weak in comparison to His strength. So why not stop trying to fight it/explain His will/ask for things to be different? Why not just go with it?

So He just blew my mind with the addition of a new friend into my life. A friend that I really needed to meet. A friend that has been in my exact spot and has really turned her life into something rad. And you know what? It is ever so nice to just be checked on, have prayers and sweet thoughts sent my way...because I am usually the checker-in-on-er and it's nice to be reminded that I am worth checking on, too.

Sometimes you have scars from your past that take some of that beauty away from you. They make you feel ugly or damaged or unwanted. Sometimes you get so good at the "together" act that even those close to you don't realize that you are held together with spit. Sometimes, someone that more than "knows" you but has actually been you can remind you that you are actually still kinda fragile and that is okay. Beautiful, even.

Anyway...in addition to all of this fabulous big sister surrogacy, she is also a fab photographer. So of course I went over to her page to ~~stalk~~ read her blog and I found the most beautiful project (yuk, yuk...pun intended) and couldn't wait to get on board. Because I live a life surrounded by beauty, every chaotic moment of it, and when I look at my children or my husband, I see the beauty for what it is. But when I look at myself, like so many of us, I don't necessarily see myself in that same light.

But I should. Because I am. And because I am raising beautiful girls that I pray will one day look in the mirror without hesitation and say "I am beautiful!"

I am beautiful because...
I was blessed with big teeth and when you have those, you have to smile a lot
Because when I daydream about men, it is always my husband. A loyal partner is beautiful.
Because when I wake up the first thought on my mind is my children. A mother's love is beyond beautiful.
Because I am forgiving.
Because I am funny.
Because I am a good dancer.
Because I love the Lord.
Because I have a few laugh lines that are kinda cute.
Because I used to not be healthy and now I am. Healthy is hot.

What about you? Why are YOU beautiful??

I hope you will check out her blog and submit your beautiful post, too!

The blog blahs

2011-10-13T12:04:00.000-04:00

Long time, no blog.

Sorry about that.

I have been so swamped with all sorts of good things. No complaints here! But I know my poor bloggy was feeling neglected so here I am with a quick recap and apologies for being quiet so long.

This week, we made some questionable fashion choices. Luckily momma was there with the new camera to capture them. I bet she will be tickled pink one day to see what a character she was when she was little.

We made some art.

In case you couldn't quite make it out, that is a portrait of his mommy. Because he loves me. Looks just like me, right?

We made a mess.

But I wouldn't trade a moment of their messes. It is music to my heart to hear their prancing up the stairs for their post-chalk bath. The sounds of a happy family, happy children, and the man that I love yelling at them to stop splashing water. Good. Stuff.

We are growing.

Together and apart, like families do. Preteens begin to want their space, and so do Mom and Dad. Toddler's assert their independance with the daily refrain of "Mymomma (which is what she calls me. which I love.) I! DO! MYSELF!"

We are creating things.

Both tangible things like stick ponies in preschool and intangible things like bonds, memories, and unbreakable family ties.

We are looking forward.

To the future, even tomorrow. Because you have to look ahead...no point in looking backwards. But some days, especially the rainy ones like today, it can be so sweet to look back just a tiny itty bit and remember feet so chubby the could not wear shoes. Nights of happiness so jolting that you could not have slept, even if the baby had.

I am glad to report that nothing but life has kept me away. Just beautiful, boring, everyday life. And some weeks it is best to just focus all your attention on that.

Pumpkin for my pumpkin

2011-10-04T14:30:00.001-04:00

Big milestone today- Owen's first field trip with this preschool class!

We got to see horses, llamas, a calf, chickens and then go on a hayride. At one point, Owie looked at me with a big smile and said "this is the best field trip ever!" Nevermind that it is his first...he is placing it at the top of his list!

We finished the day with picking two cute little pumpkins and a nice picnic lunch. It was perfect weather- chilly but sunny and beautiful. Autumn is definitely in the air and it gave me the perfect opportunity to snap a few shots for the blog header. Before my camera died. Because I didn't charge a battery. Whoops. I swear, the cobbler's kid has no shoes!

October-fest

2011-10-02T11:30:00.000-04:00

October 1st means one thing around this place every year. Time for the Halloween decor!

I adore Halloween. I love a fun a frivolous, stree-free holiday. It is also the start of a festive home for months to come. The Halloween decorations come down, replaced by browns and creams and burnt oranges for Thanksgiving. Before you know it, it is time to break out the Reds and Greens for Christmas. After January 1st, my house looks so plain as it spent months so brightly decorated.

It also signals the beginning of baking season for me. I bake stacks upon stacks of Halloween goodies and freeze them for the annual gathering we host. Then I begin on pies and puff pastry for Thanksgiving. Then it is time for Christmas gifts and cookies for Santa.

Crisp air smells of cinnamon, butter royal icing in these parts. Happy October!

I'm that kinda girl

2011-10-01T17:46:00.001-04:00

Remember that country song? Anyway...it seems a good heading.

I write a lot on my wee little blog about what kind of girl I am. I am so, so sensitive and naive and I let myself be hurt time and time again because I always believe in the good in people, regardless of whether they display it.

And until about 24 hours ago, I believed that this was a weakness.

One encounter with someone that I genuinely have tried to offer support and encouragement to really shook me up last night. I had had a very difficult week to begin with and it was really just the last thing I could take. September 20 would have been my first child's eleventh birthday and all these years and five amazing children later, that still hurts my heart just so deeply. The week was filled with worry for several friends that need my prayers, sadness for my own losses, and still, beautiful gratitude for the faith that allows me to know that some day, I will get to meet the little one that I never got to know here on Earth.

But some people need grief and misery to be a contest and if they aren't winning, they are not happy.

I could not sleep last night, I was so upset. Morning brought little relief. I felt distracted and anxious. I was worried about heading to the walk now for Autism speaks event that I was photographing because I knew that I was not in the right frame of mind.

And then I spent some time with my amazing new friend, Jaimie. She is so inspiring, despite challenge after challenge that befalls her family. She is smiling. She is encouraging. She is funny. She is beautiful and together and gracious and giving and articulate and ah-ma-zing.

She reached right into my heart and pulled the sad right out.

Not once did she compete with my own personal story about Autism. We shared, like only mothers of special needs children can. The worry, the sadness, the fears, the money...two mommas trying to save their kids...and the world...one dollar for autism research at a time.

I asked her (which I am sure she hears allll the time): "HOW do you do it? How do you stay so positive with all that you are facing?" (Autism is just the tip of the iceberg for her beautiful family) and she says "you just do. You just have to." and she says it with a smile and a sensory bag in her hand. Ah-ma-zing, I tell ya.

Beautiful woman. Beautiful attitude. I found myself smiling and my heart being lifted, because I realized that tragedy is in the journey, sometimes, not in the outcome. Beauty is within your power. Attitude changes everything. What a shame it is when no one can reach out to you because no matter what they offer, you see them through your own negativity. I am so glad that I am not that kinda girl.

I don't always have the right words. I let things hurt me too much, too deeply. But for the gift of seeing the good in everyone, I am no longer upset with myself. I would rather live my life giving myself freely than competing for the most miserable person award.

Because I am that kinda girl.

the Storm

2011-09-28T11:22:00.000-04:00

I had a very early wake up call this morning. A shaking baby girl came running to my side, illuminated by the flash of lightening from the early morning storm.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and drifted back to sleep.

It is the most amazing thing in the world that you can comfort your child just by being there, being mom, being warm arms in a scary storm.

It is amazing that you can question, as you both drift back off to sleep, how it is possible that such a tiny being can bring you such peace, joy, comfort just by clutching your nightgown in their chubby hands and pursing their tiny little lips in their sleep.

I hope that I can always provide them comfort, even though I know that the day will come that I cannot. But this morning was not that day as they filed in one by one with greetings of "Mommy! I'm scared" until my bed was as full as my heart.

Lacing up

2011-09-26T16:38:00.000-04:00

I love to run but some days my heart has different ideas. I wake up and feel like I can't breathe and a fish is flopping around in my chest and I know that running that day would be a very stupid idea.

{source}
But then I forget that I love to run. So what would have me sidelined for ten days keeps me on my backside for three weeks.

For the last few days I have had my running gear all laid out on the chest in my room, waiting for my now squishy body to squeeze back in it. Today just had to be the day. I was seeking clarity, focus and good old fashioned sweat.

I only did 3 miles but man! It felt so good. I could not stop smiling when I was finished. {I also forgot how hungry it makes me and have been needing to stay away from the pantry today.}

Glad to have that out of the way. The first day back is always the hardest. I feel so ready to tackle the rest of my to-do list today!

How is your Monday?

Thanks and praise

2011-09-25T09:27:00.000-04:00

My new year's resolution was simple but deep: I wish to forgive myself.

Not only that, I want to be forgiveable. As in, I want to say to God, "I know that I have goofed up...time and time and time again...but I am reaching and stretching and pushing myself to grow into a better person, more deserving of the love that You give, whether I have earned it or not" because to me, that is pretty amazing stuff, the love that God has for little ol' me (and you).

I want the proof to be in the journey, that He can see me not choosing the same path and making the same mistakes that I am sorry for to begin with.

And that I can love myself, knowing I am flawed, knowing that even though He knows I am a hot mess He still thinks I am deserving.

And I want my conversations with God to not sound like a Christmas list for Santa. Not to focus on all the silly things that I want or dream of, but to focus on my heart. To help me open it, examine myself more, other less, and stop my (sometimes) vicious tongue. I am hard on others, I am harder on myself, and I am trying to turn it all around.

So here it is, nearing October. Ten months of working on that resolution and I can only say that I think I will need to re-up this coming January. hahaha...But, I am making progress. But I had a moment yesterday that was so beautiful, I clearly know it was spoken into my heart.

I was typing an email, in response to someone asking about my son. This little character:

And as I was typing the tale that we know so well, "He was autistic. He was so sick and miserable and it broke my heart to watch him suffer, he was in pain and so was I. It hurts to be rejected time and time again." and the phone rang and it was that boy. And he was giggling and watching a goofy cartoon with at his grandparent's and just wanted to tell me "hi" and my heart just broke into pieces with joy and thanks and wonder. And then, of course, we know the ending of the email: "And now he is better. Healed. A miracle. And every time he hugs me it breaks my heart all over again because it is such beauty to be loved by my son."

And then I was overcome with emotion. How blessed are we?! What else in the rest of my life could I possibly want for? How much do I love to share his story and share the excitement of knowing that God has a plan that was bigger than any scary prognosis from his doctors and therapists? And then somewhere, under it all, the realization sinks in: God has forgiven me and blessed me with the gift of being his mother. And mother to three others. Step mother to one. Wife to the best man. That is a whole lot of blessings. A whole lot of happiness. A whole lot of learning to love myself, because He already does.

And then I think, maybe I am doing alright on my journey after all.

On brothers and sisters

2011-09-24T10:12:00.000-04:00

"Little brothers are really annoying"

"Babies make me crazy"

"But I don't want to be like him, so why does he want to be like me?"

"Can you keep that baby out of my stuff?!!"

"Mom, Ava Grace is sitting on me."

All quotes from my morning and it is only 9:37.

Big families are a symphony of noises. Giggles. Tears. Annoyance with eachother. Belly laughter as they hide under the bed. Muffled yelling as they call Mommy up the stairs to find them. A shriek when Mommy does find them and pretends to be scared out of her skull. A whisper of "I love you" as two leave for the night. Brothers, sisters, cohorts in crime, breaking the rules, laughing, "shhhh"ing one another to keep from getting busted. Big brother and big sister, talking low, their voices a steady hum as they talk about school, other kids, harder work, changing times.

A sniffle as that same Mommy gets a tiny bit choked up by the beautiful music her favorite five people make.

Grateful

2011-09-23T14:07:00.001-04:00

Today I am determined that my mood need not match the icky, rainy, ugly weather.

I am determined that, though I am exhausted and worn thin, feeling lazy and craving a nap, I will make pizza for my children and serve it smiling. Reminding myself that I am blessed beyond words.

Today I will remind myself, repeatedly, that this life of happiness is actually mine. Because sometimes I forget. Or I feel like I am faking it. Or I feel like I love them more than they love me and it scares me that one day they will all leave until I remind myself that this is the plan for them: to one day leave. Then I am okay, and in the moment, and drinking them all in with gratitude.

Today I will pray for a five year old with cancer, a friend who's marriage is failing, a mentor of Aidan's that has a biopsy scheduled for Monday, a friend facing foreclosure, family members that are coming to the end of a life-changing week, and for the little boy in Owen's class that cries every single day (this breaks my heart to pieces). I literally had to dig a scrap sheet of paper out to remember everyone that I know is needing a prayer.

Worry and sadness can wear you down. It can also make you stop for a moment, appreciate all that is yours, remember how different your life could be.

Wishing for something that is not yours can make you forget all of the wishes you made that came true.

Seeing what you are without can blind you to all that you have.

My heart is so open today, full of gratitude and love and happiness. It is a beautiful day.

Swimming

2011-09-20T13:34:00.000-04:00

I woke up this morning scattered and frantic. I heard Gracie but was not sure where she was. I ran to her bed-not there. I ran downstairs with only one thought on my mind "She is drowning in the pool!" and before I knew it, my pajama-clad self was standing on my back deck, gasping for breath, trying to figure out where on earth my pool went.

You see...I don't even have a pool.

But in my nightmare last night, I did. I am a dream-analyzer's dream come true (har har). The worry and grief that I try to swallow down during the day bubbles up and takes over at night. I often wake up exhausted from fighting epic battles in my sleep. I battle ghosts of lives past, I search for babies that I lost, I gnash my teeth and roar like a crazy person at predators that are after my children. When I wake, my muscles ache and my jaw throbs from such tense rest. Unresolved nightmares will repeat themselves night after night until I manage to solve them and save everyone. It is like that move 'groundhog day' for the anxiety-ridden.

Last night was a pool party, in my dream. But I have five children and I was so scared. My eyes darted from one head bobbing in the water to the next, to the next and the next, then back to the first. Guests of my party were trying to talk to me, offering champagne, but I would frantically shoo them away. I had to make sure nobody drowned.

Twice, I jumped in the cool blue water in a cocktail dress to save a child. But they were only slipping below the surface to see how different the world looks underwater. They didn't need me to save them, they were swimming strongly without me.

What a metaphor for my life. All this time that I am trying to save them from danger, they are splashing around in it, oblivious, appreciating the beauty. How many times can a mom jump in in her proverbial cocktail dress before they hear the message that I am obviously screaming at them: "The world is a dangerous place! Be very afraid! Stay up all night dreaming of drowning!"?

I know what it is to live afraid. To dip only a toe in the water of life because I am afraid it will swallow me whole. It is a feeling that I have not been able to shake because of tragedy and terror that I have lived through- A vulnerability that comes with knowing. But my children live happy, blessed lives. Their fears are learned not lived, and I owe them better.

I am such a work in progress, but I want so much better...so much different...for them. I want them to swim- in my dreams, in real life, through life. I want them to rest themselves at night, not fight pretend battles. And I know that the change must begin with me.

Tonight in my dreams I am anticipating a pool party. I will be wearing a dress. I will still count heads but I will not jump in. I will drink champagne instead. We all have to start somewhere!

Twelve

2011-09-19T08:41:00.000-04:00

Today he is twelve! There is a big difference between an 11th birthday and a 12th. At eleven, Noah was still quiet and reflective. In the last year he has found his voice and developed into a mini-Daddy- sarcastic, funny, spot on with his delivery. Still smart and reserved. Still sensitive and responsible. But now in new form. It becomes more and more obvious that our little guy is growins swiftly into a young man. Our discussions become more of the adventures to come: driving, girls, college. In just one more year, he will be our first teenager, ushering in a whole new era in the Higgins household.

He is a good boy, he will be a good man. I am so grateful that we get a few more years in the middle to enjoy him.

Happy Birthday, Noah!

Oktoberfest

2011-09-18T09:52:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, our small little town transformed into Germany for a day for Oktoberfest. Roads were closed, businesses were empty, doors propped open to enjoy the smells of brats and giant soft pretzels. Everyone was carrying around a commemorative Fredericksburg, VA stein and the locals were very friendly. They even had a nice dry Riesling for me to enjoy since beer and I don't get along very well.

The air was clean and crisp, not too cool to enjoy the afternoon but cool enough to feel the transition from summer to fall (our favorite season).

I took my camera with the intent of taking many pictures, but I only brought my 50mm and space was really tight so I packed it back up and enjoyed my wine.

Great friends, belly laughs (my ears literally hurt from laughing so much) and an afternoon with just the mister, the kids warm at home...sigh...so nice.

Another busy week is in store. Noah turns twelve tomorrow and I have a big realtor convention to photograph Wednesday. Just sitting around with my family today and soaking up the last morsels of the weekend.

Happy Sunday!

Estrogen and other matters

2011-09-16T16:59:00.000-04:00

Warning: If you are a mother to small girls, do not read this post. It will cause you to consider removing their vocal chords and locking them in a dungeon and I am suspecting that this would be illegal.

Ahh...there was a moment ten years ago, when I was an expectant mommy with visions of pink dancing in my head, a belly heavy with the weight and promise of a new baby girl.

People would laugh and say, "Girls are so dramatic! Just you wait!" And I would pat my belly and laugh, walking away thinking they just were bad parents. Clearly not all girl's were that way.

Clearly, I was wrong.

I can only say this: my daughter drives me to drink. She drives me to tears. She makes me yell. She makes me certain that God is having a good laugh. The real fun has begun now that we are in the double digits and are undeniably full of estrogen.

But, wine in hand at 4:35, I can also tell you this. She is magic, her heart is pure, she is full of emotion but also full of compassion. She hugs and loves and then will turn on you in a second, snarling and snarky. She rolls her eyes and then asks for new shoes. She huffs and puffs and tells you her day was just awful and then lists the fun she had with hand gestures, to boot.

She is complicated. Beautiful. A headache. The light in my life. My joy. My very first child.

She epitomizes that pesky expression about apples and not falling far from trees.

Girls are dramatic. Just you wait, moms of little ladies. They are also sweet and wonderful and wild and beautiful, frail one second, rock-solid the next. They are everything they warn you about.

And they are true blessings.

lemons, meet vodka

2011-09-15T08:53:00.000-04:00

There are days that cliches just don't cut it.

There are days that you simply cannot make lemonade from lemons. You ran out of sugar or the lemons are mealy or the water is brown.

Still, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. It is okay, in a pinch, to shake 'em up with vodka and enjoy a nice martini, too.

Go ahead, you have my blessing.

Yesterday was one of those days. (Actually, if I am being honest, the last few days were....) I could not seem to get out of my jammies. I could not seem to stop yelling. I could not seem to will myself to do ABCs with Ava Grace.

Then something magical happened.

Poop! Ava pooped in the potty, all by herself, and was so happy to come running to tell me the news.

{ring around the rosie...}

I'll tell you what- this is big news 'round these parts! We immediately called Daddy at work to tell him her big news. I listened to her tiny voice telling Daddy what a big girl she is and my mean, grumpy heart broke into a million pieces (not coincidentally like the Grinch's. I was that bad. I blame PMS.)

{ashes, ashes, we all fall....down}

It hit me hard: I am living the life that I always wanted. I am responsible for changing my mood. No one can do that for me, though poop can act as a catalyst. Some days you just have to keep staring those lemons up, down, sideways. Sometimes you have to say the hell with lemonade and add vodka instead. And a cute skirt and red lips and your favorite earrings (because if you have evah read my blog you know that red lips change everything) because if you feel pretty, it is hard to behave ugly.

We went for an afternoon photo shoot. We ate minestrone for dinner, too late. I sat at the table with my husband and felt giddy when he told me how cute he thinks I am. I smiled. I smiled big. My life martini, a little sour and a little sweet, did the trick.

Cheers!

Love

2011-09-14T12:55:00.001-04:00

The love within a family is like a river. Calm at times, the lack of ripples at the surface belying the depth below. A ripple carrying through so swiftly, quickly distorting the surface but not affecting what lies within. Sometimes so strong it is dangerous, leaving you grasping at anything you can find to just try and hold on.

Even on a sunny day, a river can sweep you away.

Last night brought tears to my house. It was one of those clinging-to-a-branch-to-keep-from-drowning nights. I could feel the strength of our family winning over the conflict that was creating ripples (to say the least). It was a night that made cliches make sense, where I "get" loving someone so much (or in our case, six someones) that it actually aches because you believe in the fairy tale and sometimes reality is harsh with it's reminders that nothing, no one, no family, no couple, no mother or father is perfect. That the road that led to here left it's mark. That to love someone is to not always like them. That the greatest gift you can give someone you love is acceptance, patience, respect, gratitude. That sometimes when you think you are giving those things, you hear that you are not. And it is painful to hear, more painful to accept as truth. Hard to spew your own heartaches only to hear that there are some that you have caused, too.

A reminder that when you are rushing downstream and grasping for something to hold onto, you are so very lucky when you find that what you cling to is your husband.

The water is smooth today. Another triumph for our family. Another memory that one day we will remember those (sometimes) difficult early days of our family. That we will marvel at how we made it through so many obstacles and grew closer through them each. That of the millions of people in this world, we are blessed with six others to paddle along with. That all you need is love. And like Dorie said, you have to "just keep swimming, just keep swimming..."

Score- McFarland-Higgins family: 1,219 and counting....

Beautiful AND smart!

2011-09-14T09:51:00.000-04:00

Have I mentioned before that Emma Kate is a genius?!

{see? Proof!}

Well...maybe genius is a bit of a stretch. But she is a straight A student, reading mentor in her school, a member of the gifted and talented program, the student that the teachers all adore and now she has a new addition to her fifth grade "resume"...

...PERFECT score on her SOL test! Awesome job, Emma bug!

They had a little ceremony for the twenty of so students that achieved perfect scores on one or more of their SOL tests, complete with cake and sugary drinks (all before my kids even ate dinner-they were happy to say the least). Some days you have to go with the flow and celebrate their accomplishments big.

And let 'em eat cake!

My ticker, molloscum contagiosum and my paper boys

2011-09-13T13:08:00.000-04:00

Warning: Completely random collection of information ahead...

I woke up Saturday with the horrid sensation that I had swallowed a goldfish and it was stuck, half in my throat and half in my chest. Flop. Flopflopflop. Long pause. Flop. Unfortunately, I knew just what it was: my heart. Why this time? Who knows? But I have to tell you it is a nasty, scary, nauseating feeling and I am hating taking it easy until it passes. We are at four days and counting and I said on the fifth day I would return to the doctor. The problem is there really is nothing wrong...my heart just likes to beat super low and skip beats. I am grateful for that, but I do wish the palps would pass.

Sunday morning I pulled out Emma's old clothes for little Gracie. Emma is a petite doll and Gracie is a solid bruiser. Which means that these are clothes that Emma wore in kindergarten and my 2.5 year old is wearing them now. It is so bittersweet to see my youngest in her big sissy's clothes and remember Emma so little. It also makes me sad because it makes Ava seem older because I have so many kindergarten memories tied into these clothes. Like this picture:

Taken when Owen was in my belly and Ava was only a dream. Check out Emma's shirt...

...on another sassy girl I know. Eeek! Time is moving so fast.

So all of this wardrobe-changing made Gracie go look in the mirror and point at her bumps. She has had molloscum for well over a year now and they are advising we let it run it's course. Have you ever had to deal with this stuff? It is nastiness but is harmless...doesn't hurt or itch...goes away (eventually) on it's own. All of my wee ones caught it at some point but never on their faces...except poor Grace. And now she is aware of it and self-concsious. Poor baby! Our options have been: freeze them off, cut them off, use beetlejuice (all can cause scarring) or a super expensive, not very effective cream. I googled natural remedies the other night and Apple Cider Vinegar was suggested. I am giving it a go and they *seem* a little lighter. Pray for my bumpy baby!

Finally, today was Owen's second day of preschool. He cried. I cried. It was the first day all over again. But our tears were quicker-drying and he was so proud of his work today!

The other kids in his class made one paper doll. He made two- one of him and one of his best friend and older brother, Aidan. I am so thankful for brothers that are friends, a teacher that is so patient and kind and the smile that my boy returned with today!

Ten years later

2011-09-11T08:23:00.000-04:00

It is ten years later and I know this: I cannot watch the news today.

I will pray this morning and then I will take the grief and sadness and sheer terror and put it aside. I will pretend that ten years ago I was not so frightened that I never left my house. Or that I never bought plastic sheeting and painstakingly measured each window and door and cut to size, labeling them all in clockwise order so that in the event of an emergency, I would stand some chance of saving my new baby girl.

I will pretend that I slept in 2001-2002. That I was not awake nearly every night terrified of what was coming.

{Credit}
True, today I will kiss my husband a little more and pull my babies even closer. I will look at the impossibly blue sky and remember what a beautiful day it was the day that thousands of Americans lost their lives. I will pray harder for our service members that have lost their lives since and those fighting today to keep terror off our soil. And I marvel at the bravery of first responders-countless tales of people that lost their lives because even off duty, they ran toward the burning buildings while everyone else was fleeing them.

But to do more than that terrifies me. I want to memorialize those lost the best way I know and I believe fear is not the way. I believe that living my life afraid means they've won and America is too strong for that.

To live in terror is the ultimate victory for the 'bad guy.' America has been through too much for that. I will remember her scars and celebrate her healing. Today and every anniversary after.

Keeping score

2011-09-08T11:58:00.000-04:00

I think people are often misguided. I think that their backward-looking vision is hazy, while their holding-others-responsible-and-deflecting-their-own-culpability is often 20/20.

I think it is easier to see what others have/have not done to/for you instead of focusing on where you may have let them down. It is easier to imagine a script of what you would like them to say, how you like them to behave, and then keeping a mental tally of their short-comings.

I have done this. In my friendships, in my marriage, even as a mother. You said "I know how you feel" but none of your children bang their head on the floor. So screw you.

In fact, I had an entire blog post typed up and saved regarding this, composed from a place of hurt and bitterness after reading something that I didn't care for. I felt justified in my anger. I wanted to sharpen their backward vision since they are so keen on blaming today.

But, then I had a thought today: what if God looked at me with the same score card? I would be down about a zillion points, with no hope of evening the score.

Isn't it amazing that he doesn't?!

Isn't it amazing that He loves us, forgives us, and even gave us His son to show us that there is no other love like that which He gives us? That there is no score? That we are beloved, simply because we are His children?

I deleted my post. I was ashamed. I am praying from the depths of my heart today that I can cast aside my hurt feelings and pray for happiness for that person. That I can rip up my score card and open my heart some more. That I can be a person who turns the other cheek and demonstrates God's love by living it.

Luke 6:36-37 ESV Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful. (37) “Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven;

The first time

2011-09-07T12:33:00.000-04:00

The first time that I saw Owen's face was when I was 28 weeks pregnant. I was bleeding. I was high risk. I had already suffered two third trimester losses. I was terrified. They sent me to a specialist for a four hour ultrasound. Four hours. After an hour, my specialist, a father of ten, gave this sobbing mother the sweetest gift:

4-D images of my son. The rest of the hours, I just stared.

The first time he crawled seemed by accident. He just pushed up on all fours and scooted a bit. I don't know who was more surprised: him or us. After that, he was a force in motion. Always on the go but always checking back every few minutes to touch my leg, just to make sure that I was there.

The first time he spoke my name, my heart nearly broke. The sound of "mama" is exhilirating, even still. So much is said with that one word. It means faith in you, love, trust, foreverness.

Today was another big first, and like most of the ones before it, I was not wholy ready. The first day of preschool. The first day that I woke him, fixed him breakfast with a gentle reminder to "hurry, you have school today." The first morning that I tucked a picture of his mommy and daddy into the front pocket of his toy story backpack and said "I am tucked right in here if you need me."

It was the first morning that I reminded him of 'The kissing hand' and how with just a smooch on his little palm, my love can stay with him long after the three hours have passed.

{very quick, blurry picture of us after returning home in a storm}

It was the first time he said to me "I want to be your baby, too, mommy. Not just Ava. Don't go home with just Ava. Take me, too!"

It was the first time that he cried and I could not do a thing to help him. I had to wave and smile and tell him "you will be fine" and I had to ignore my own breaking heart until I got to the car. And sobbed.

Some things I can do, but mostly he is on his own here. That kills me, but is a lesson to us both: it is his life and I can only guide him in it. God has only blessed me as his teacher and though I want to spare him any pain and sadness, there are times that he has to do things on his own. Even when it crushes us both. Preschool is the first such thing, but surely won't be the last.

I can bake him brownies (his request). I can scoop him up at noon and swing him around and congratulate him on his great new adventure. I can snuggle him on the couch and remind him that big though he is, he is always my baby. I can color with him and listen to his account of his day. I can look at how he beams from ear to ear with pride in himself.

I can remind us both that we are okay.

Super simple flower headband

2011-09-06T17:03:00.000-04:00

So, I adore all of these headbands I keep seeing on etsy. They are so simplistic but add such a sweet element of drama. My problem, of course, is that I want three of each: one for photo props and one for each of my beautiful daughters. That adds up. Quick.

This week I have two newborn baby girl photo sessions and I ran to JoAnn to grab a few new items for props. While there, I peeked at the flowers and saw what looked like the exact flowers that one of the shops sell on their headbands for $12.99 a piece, plus shipping!

So with my coupon, I bought the flowers for $2.98 and a package of elastic for $0.79. I came home, broke out the glue gun and some scrap material and voila:

{excuse the face...we were feeling less than photogenic today}

A fun, bohemian style headband for my beauty in less than five minutes.

Here is what I did:

-measure your elastic around your model's head. You want it snug but not so snug that it gives them a headache. Add 3/4" for the gluing.

-Pull the flower off the wired stem. Cut the green plastic stem as close to your flower petals as you can so it doesn't poke her in the head...

-Put a big blob-o-glue on the back of the flower

-Using a pen or toothpick, overlap the edges of the elastic in the glue and press down.

-let dry ten minutes

-Add a scrap circle of felt or flannel to cover the glue dot and make it more comfortable for your little one.

The one stem of flowers made three headbands. Each took less than three minutes total. I spent the money that I saved on a non-fat, no-whip white chocolate mocha. Definitely the wisest financial choice :)

The most beautiful bride.

2011-09-04T17:47:00.001-04:00

In the midst of the chaos and craziness of raising a family, of paying bills, of maintaining friendships and strengthening marriages, there are days that are so sweet that you just want to remember each moment so you can relive them later.

That is how I felt watching my dear friend walk down the aisle yesterday.

Her husband is a true gentleman. Her new family is so warm and fun and down to earth.

It was a food filled, arabic music playing, hookah-ing (never again, by the way...blech) cold wine poured, laughter singing in every corner, smiling until my cheeks hurt kind of night.

I love her. I wish her and her new husband health, happiness, patience, faith, strength, humor and many, many sweet kisses goodnight. {Selfishly, I am hoping for a little baby or two, as well}.

Congratulations, friend!

My morning prayer

2011-09-03T09:13:00.002-04:00

Dear Lord,

Thank you for my many blessings. When I look at the faces of my children, I feel your love for little ol' me. I see that, although I have made my fair share of bad decisions, your love for me is forgiving. You must think that I am pretty special for you to have given me them.

Thank you for sending me a man to love in good times and in bad. Thank you for mostly good times, though, and thank you for humor and grace in the bad ones.

Thank you for allowing my heart to break a time or two (or ten) because each time that it does, I more clearly hear your voice.

Thank you for the challenges that come our way. They make us stronger. They make the sweet times sweeter. They make me realize all that I have, and appreciate it, even when it is taken away.

Thank you for my baby steps toward accepting myself- and others- as we are. I am a work in progress, but the more I look to you for the answers, the easier it all starts to seem.

Thank you, Lord, for dealing with my rambling conversation that I call prayer. Thank you for not seeming to mind that I address you so casually, or talk to you over coffee.

Or blog about you.

Amen.

He's pretty awesome...

2011-09-02T08:00:00.002-04:00

{Picture by Tracy Brown Photography}
The day that we met I wore a black skirt and flip flops. I never wear flip flops, so I should have known it would be a special day.

He was a friend of a friend's friend. My friend and I chatted to the friend. Then we chatted with him. Then I chatted with him at a table alone. Well, we weren't actually alone, but it felt that we were. In one short hour, he went from a friend of a friend of a friend to the one that I wanted to share my life with.

To my girlfriend the next day, I professed that he was the one I was going to marry. My friend had to remind me that he had not actually shown any interest nor requested my phone number. She thought that perhaps I should stop talking about him and wondering when he would call and planning what I would wear on our first date and what we would name our first baby. I ignored her and named our first imaginary child Owen.

Two weeks later the phone rang. We went to dinner that weekend. We took things slow until that first time, many months later, when he pulled me under a streetlight downtown and told me he loved me. Then we jumped in feet first because there are just some things that you know you can trust.

We bought a house and built a life. We learned to trust in love again. We learned that two strong people can have mighty strong fights. We learned that when you make up, the love is stronger, the life that you share that much more weather-proof.

We had a baby. Owen was still my favorite name, now for even deeper reasons: it was a Higgins family name, unknown to me when I first chose it.

Meant to be.

I was scared in the beginning that one day I would look at him differently than I did when we were so new and fresh and giddy to be around one another.

I do.

I look at him and remember how scared he was for me to be in pain when I was delivering our Owen. And how he put his first diaper on there at the hospital and looked so drunk on love of that new little person that I just wanted to freeze the memory and re-live it again and again.

I remember that when I worked so much, such long hours in sales, that he held down the fort at home as both Dad and Mom when he had to, which is no easy feat.

I remember when my heart just couldn't take leaving our new baby girl to return to that life and I cried and cried and tried and he said "then don't." He is a true man, a provider, head of his family.

I remember that every single day of our life together he has sent me a text message in the morning telling me he loves me, even if we were arguing, even if he knew I wouldn't respond. He just wants me to know, before he walks into work, that he loves me. He will set his pride aside for a moment to tell me, and that makes me feel so special.

And I remember just last night when he had me laughing so hard that Owen thought I was crying, just another night in our kitchen.

I remember seven years of such happiness that I know that I was right to be worried: how I feel now doesn't compare to how I felt then.

I thought I was in love then. I know I am now. It just keeps getting better.

Happy Anniversary to my baby-daddy!

Rich

2011-09-01T10:22:00.000-04:00

He came in this morning, roused from his sprawled-across-the-bed deep sleep by the sound of Daddy and Noah leaving for school. His ears were red, his eyes fuzzy, his eyelashed impossibly long against the creamy paleness of his calm, sleepy face.

He didn't say a word, he just lifted the covers on my side of the bed and climbed in, scooting his little body as close to mine as possible.

These are the moments that make all the other moments melt away. I will gladly make a zillion breakfasts every day, double check backpacks, race around town for errands, return to laundry, attempt to work during naps when my body is screaming to rest for a few instead, clean mis-aimed pee pee off the floors and stuck on applesauce from my chairs, spend hours cooking a dinner that will inevitably produce mixed reviews, crawl in bed weary tired every single night to have just one moment of precious snuggles and sweet whispers from my babies.

Times are changing for this little man, and with it, he is as well. He is sharper, baby pudge dissapearing more and more these days. When he is huddled next to me, his little toes stretch much further so he has to contort himself to roll into that ball that fits right in the arch of my belly, where he once lived for nine long months.

It amazes me when people state that I do not work. Such as at a gathering with friends where all the other women do, in fact, work outside of the home. I can assure you that the type of mothering I do is absolutely 'work'. But even more surprising is when they catch themselves by the look on my face and add some clarification like 'well...you work for free....' because I can assure you that is not the case, either.

I work for tissue paper flowers, every mother's day. I work for writing projects for school that nearly always feature me as the heroine. I work for the nightly ritual of love-contests..."I love you more than all the clover in Ireland. I love you more than all the sand at the beach." I work for 'abstract' art projects proudly displayed above my couch on their very own gallery. I work for belly laughs, kisses, hand holding, and the bright futures they surely have. And, I work for morning snuggles.

I am rich with blessings.

VPPA, preschool and some zucchini

2011-08-31T18:23:00.003-04:00

Long time no blog...sorry 'bout that. After Irene ruined my plans with my friend to attend the VPPA conference, we woke up to a beautiful sunny sky. The phone ring just as the same thought came to my mind..."We should catch the second half!" so three hours later, we were re-packed and on our way to learn! And boy did we!...there was hardly time to eat much less snap a picture. Can you imagine? Two professionals, two cameras, countless lenses and...drum roll, please...not a single picture was taken. (So that flag picture is false advertising, though it was taken the morning after the storm). The important thing is that I came back completely energized and ready to hit the ground hard.

Don't forget to check out my website here and let me know what you think. And my spruced up, no longer neglected blog here as I have a month of blog posts ready to roll, so it will be far more interesting than it currently is.

And, in addition to my facebook page, I am now on twitter. Are y'all on twitter? Because I have to tell you: I am twitter-handicapped. What is the point exactly? What is up with all the alphanumerics? I am determined to learn because I was told by a professional that I need to. And I listen. ~~Sometimes...~~

So head on over, and like me, follow me, blow me kisses in whatever alphanumeric way one does that on twitter. Tweet away!!

I am now finished shamelessly promoting myself.

Okay, so moving forward. Today was Owen's preschool orientation. Ugh. I feel faint. His teacher is so nice, the classroom is bright and sunny and warm, and he is ready and rearing to go. My heart is heavy but excited. My sweet baby boy, leaving the nest for the very first time. Waaaahhhh!!!

Doesn't his little face just say it all?!

Finally, a recipe. This is a delicious, quick zucchini side dish to help use up your end of summer garden bounty. It is delish-er-us (as we like to say around there parts)

3 large zucchini
3 tomatoes, chopped
garlic salt
olive oil
parmesan cheese

I hate to even call it a recipe but I felt the need to share some kind of food-stuff here on my bloggy as I haven't in a while.

Anyway, chop your zucchini (I prefer half moons. Not sure why) and toss it with a smidge of olive oil. Spread out on a cookie sheet and sprinkle with garlic salt. Or crush garlic on top. I would have done that but my garlic is green and soft so I tossed it. Top with the tomatoes and a generous amount of parmesan, I would say 1/2-3/4 cup. Bake in a 400 degree oven until the cheese is melty and browny and yummy.

Sprinkle with freshly grated pepper and eat most of the pan by yourself. Wash it down with wine and call it healthy!

Ode to Irene

2011-08-27T12:15:00.003-04:00

Hurricane:
1 (1.5 fluid ounce) jigger amaretto liqueur
1 fluid ounce light rum
1 fluid ounce dark rum
6 fluid ounces orange juice
6 fluid ounces pineapple juice
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 dash grenadine syrup
1 orange, sliced into rounds
1 maraschino cherry

OR....

one part pissed off mother nature
three parts coastal evacuations
one part pray it passes us
shaken by 40miles an hour winds
and water it down with a ton of rain.

As for me, I will take the first recipe, please and thank you.

SO...I think we are ready. I have spent the last 24 hours making sure that if these storms are as bad as they say they could be that we are prepared to be indoors for a few days.

In that note, I have made the following preparations:

Bread baked, butter softened? check. (what goes better with natural disaster than carbs and cholesterol?)

cold wine? check. (Because a house full of kids and no power will require serious sustenance of the fermented variety)

warm shower, legs shaved, hair and make up taken care of? check (my grandma taught me to always have your "face on" in whatever storm you may be facing. And if there is a chance you're going to need rescued, wear nice panties.)

Manicure and Pedicure? check. (Although it was for the weekend seminar that I was scheduled to attend, I still feel better facing a tropical storm with good lookin' claws.)

friends called for a hurricane party? check.

Camera battery charged so that I can try to catch Irene in the midst of her tantrum? check.

Repeated singing of my new favorite song, 'C'mon, Irene'? check. and check. and check. and check, check, check. (I cannot stop, even though I know it is supposed to be "Eileen". I am beginning to annoy even myself.)

What is that you say? That is not official weather-channel protocol for a hurricane?

Well, it should be.

Oh yeah. I cancelled my plans to attend a photography seminar this weekend (boo!). And I have bottled water and all of that. Weather radio. Brought the patio furniture in. But really...I have wine...all will be fine.

Stay safe everyone!!

Flying times

2011-08-25T14:02:00.000-04:00

Last night I held my first baby in my arms. It was a difficult night. She didn't understand what she was doing out in this great big world, arms flailing around, her skin cold. I was unprepaped for my new role of mommy and each of her mewling cries sounded like the one before it. I was not yet able to listen and hear, "Aah...she is hungry. Now she is wet. Now she is tired."

Except, though it felt like last night, it was ten years ago. And even though I have done "back to school" many times before, I still cried after they left.

So many firsts, so many new experiences, so many words of encouragement spoken to their faces and silent tears of worry spilled when they are not looking.

It seems that we were just getting used to the warmth of summer, long days that bled into short nights. Every day togetherness and lazy days. The routine that no routine at all brings about- eat when you are hungry, shower when you want, wear what you like. And already, those days have come to a close and they wore their back to school pants today. Always pants on the first day of school because even though the weather doesn't require it, the mind does-a clear beginning of 'fall' when it is in fact, still summer.

My babies are growing so fast. I feel like their precious moments spin around me and I have to reach out and grab them all before they have passed. I am not at the stage where I realize what this means for my own life: that I, too, am slipping quickly into new territory. I am solely focused on the little people that are both babies and big kids, independant and dependant, helpless and helpful, all at the same time.

Today begins their next journey. Seventh grader. Fifth grader. Third grader. (Owen's preschool starts Sept 7th, so I have a few days before my heart has to begin to let him go, just a little). I know they are having a great first day, glad to be back with their friends, excited to learn new things. I am excited for them. But I am taking pictures, saying prayers of thanks and reaching out for those memories, catching them and holding them as tightly as I can.

Because even though it seems like just yesterday that I was rocking them to sleep and thinking time would be kind to me and slow down just the tiniest bit, it didn't, and I am determined to capture it all in my heart.

Happy first day of school to Noah, Emma and Aidan Patrick!

Shaken, not stirred

2011-08-24T12:34:00.001-04:00

Today was supposed to be back to school...

But, school was interrupted by shaking, rattling and rolling...so, we got dressed still and took back to school pictures instead. My kiddies were so bummed about school being cancelled and wanting to try on their new gear.

Yesterday afternoon brought an exhaustion that I have been feeling for the past shingle-plagued week.

I treated myself to an afternoon rest.

Shortly before 2:00 I thought that I heard the UPS man.

Then I thought the kids were in my "good" dishes in my china cabinet.

And then...I realized that the noise was something different, something scary, and I also realized that the room was moving with it.

I screamed for the big kids to get in the basement and I ran into the little kid's rooms and grabbed them and dragged them to the basement as well. I truly thought it was a tornado.

Then the sleepiness started to lift and I realized that there was not a cloud in the sky. And that the floor was in fact shaking, not just my knees. And I heard glass crashing from my cabinet.

Earthquake.

It still didn't seem possible, but here is what I did realize: we were in the basement, and heaven forbid the house collapse we were in effect in a tomb. I dragged them back upstairs (middle floor, by the door) and said "pray!" and we all hit our knees and talked to God. And the shaking stopped.

Scariest thirty seconds...evah.

It was the beginning of the scariest night...evah. Where I realized how pathetically unprepared we are in the event of a true disaster. That morning, my gas light had been on in my car and we drove all around town to run errands. I only had cash and I didn't want to run in to pay, so if we had needed to evacuate, I would have been helpless, with my little ones depending on me. and no damned gasoline.

Emergency supplies? We have none.

A plan? Puh-lease.

And then there is my guilty, fearful Catholic self that is afraid that it is something more biblical and that scares the pants off of me. We will save that one for another day.

Today, I am thinking 'emergency preparedness' and I am every so grateful that our little Earthquake was just the wake up call I needed to get it in gear. Because one minute you are taking a nap and the next you are pleading to God to keep you safe. Life. Happens. Fast.

They cancelled school, so tomorrow is our big day, take two. Stay tuned...

Bright sunshiney day...my ass

2011-08-21T18:37:00.000-04:00

I have shingles. On my face and ulcers in my eye. Fun times.

My husband is out of town.

The kids go back to school next week.

When I cleaned out their drawers yesterday, I realized that they have no clothes. Like literally, nothing appropriate for school.

I cannot seem to get a call back from Owen's school and I am not sure if he is able to attend or not. Which stinks.

Shingles, apparently, requires obscenely expensive medicine to fix. It also has to be taken every four hours (forget sleeping well.)

And I look like I have leprosy.

And it hurts like hell.

With Brian gone, and the three oldest gone for the weekend as well, it was lonely. I love the craziness that is "us."

I started down this slippery slope this morning, over oatmeal with my two youngest.

Owen asked "when will my Daddy be home?" And I started crying and could not stop. It is now evening, nearly bed time and I am still all sniffly. But in the middle of it, I tried to cheer us up with that song about a bright sunshiney day. At the end of it, I believed it, in spite of the stubborn tears. Because there are answers for it all, and for that I am ever so grateful. Daddy will be home tomorrow. My eye will heal. The kids will love back to school. Money is just money...even though it seems larger and more omninous when the balance in the checking account starts to dwindle. Somehow, by the grace of God, there is always enough.

Some days, you just have to laugh while you cry and sing while you laugh and sing "It's gonna be a bright...bright...bright, sunshiney day" and then when your kids are smiling and you feel like you have given them the gift of your relative sanity, you can feel free to add under your breath...

"my ass..."

Every momma has to blow of steam sometimes!

Chosen

2011-08-20T09:14:00.000-04:00

For this child I prayed; and the LORD hath given me my petition which I asked of him
~ 1 samuel 1:27 from KJV

I have babies in my heart today, and I am so excited to pray for my friend's new family, the blessed arrival of her daughter, S.

I am praying for my three friends with baby showers today, expecting miracles of their own: two baby girls, one baby boy, fresh and new and full of hope for the world.

I am praying for the family we met a few nights ago with seven children of their own. Seven. Four biological, three adopted, all adored and adorable. The beauty of their family stayed with me long after we exchanged numbers and parted ways. A family that looked different, yet the same, all inter-woven with love and humor and faith.

And, I am praying, with gratitude, for being chosen to be a mommy to my own brood. I am praying for contentment with my five blessings, an end to the wanting of more. To the wondering how many more miracles are out there that would wander into my bedroom and say "mommy, can I sleep with you? I brought my pillow..." like my Owen did last night.

I get asked a lot for advice by new mommy friends, or friends going from one to two, or two to three and trying to figure out how to juggle it all.

My advice is simple: be present. Rouse yourself for the midnight feedings and take the time to feel their fingers wrapped around yours when you soothe them back to sleep. Their fingers grow so fast and before you know it, you will ache for the feel of those paper thin nails clinging to you. Carve it into your memories.

Be grateful. When you remind yourself that children are a blessing, the ugly moments become sweeter. And there are ugly moments, they are part of life. Motherhood can be dirty and thankless and draining and lonely. Thank God anyway.

Forgive yourself. The mistakes you make will become a running list in your mind. Some you will learn from, some you will make again. All will tug at your heart and make you feel queasy. Forgive yourself. Apologize. Know that no one except you expects you to be perfect. But that even when you are making those mistakes, your little ones are watching and learning. If you don't want them to learn your mistakes, teach them by way of apology. "I am sorry that I lost my temper and yelled. Mommy should have listened to you before I raised my voice. I love you and I am very sorry that I was wrong." I have watched my children, hurt and wounded from a harsh tone or snappy words, bloom again when I told them I was sorry. Even when we are wrong, we can teach right.

Take lots of pictures. Keep a journal of their milestones, or just jot little memories in a notebook. It does not need to be award winning literature, just a documentation of their little lives. Even though it seems like the biggest memory to date, I promise you will not remember the date he/she rolled over. Jot it down.

For every criticism, praise them ten times. I am still working on this. But be concious of what you are telling them about themselves, not just in words, but with praise. If you are not telling them what is wonderful about themselves, you are wearing their self esteem thin every time you criticize them. Don't leave them searching in the world for affection...they will often find it in the wrong places.

Do not discipline with fear. Children who are afraid of their parents have no place to turn. We are firm, we become dissapointed, our children never want to let us down. But fear? Never. They know we are a safe place, and they talk to us accordingly. I am very proud of that.

Laugh every day. Act silly...dance goofy...sing their favorite song in your very worst voice and jump on the bed with them after their baths. Soon enough, it will be like...totally...um...embarassing but they will smile anyway because home is a fun place to be.

Remember that God chose you. He knows you are up to the task. If HE knows it, you should believe it. He makes no mistakes.

Ready to party

2011-08-18T12:40:00.001-04:00

Two days later, we are still celebrating the force that is Emma Kate. Tonight is her sleepover and let me tell ya: tweens are tough business. You can't get away anymore with a pin the tail on the donkey. Tonight is make your own pizzas, cake pops, a few movies and a super fun DIY photo booth. I figure what the heck? It is all the rage at weddings, might as well make use of my flat living room wall.

I gathered what we had. I searched high and low and came up with a few things and then just had to try my hand at those fake moustaches that are everywhere you look on etsy. I only had straws to use as handles, but it works. A five minute scavenger hunt and some help from my fave little people and we are up and ready for business.

Total cost: $0, Totally cool? Oh yes...

These were just quick trial shots, totally blurry but cute and fun! I will burn them to a disc while the girls sleep and tuck them in their goodie bags for a fun take home reminder of the fun they had.

They will go to sleep, right? Right?!

She...

2011-08-16T14:21:00.000-04:00

She is beautiful, this is simply the truth. Not just the ramblings of a mother so in love that she is blinded by it, though this is true.

But, no, she is fully saturated in beauty. Her heart is beautiful, her soul is beautiful, her laughter is a melody, her eyes will reach into you and grab hold and not let go.

She is my first baby.

She does everything in her own time, usually with a bit of a mess involved. Her original mess was thinking that she would like to arrive a little early. Bedrest followed. Misery, pure and simple. And then when it was time for her to be born? No thanks...I will wait. She waited and waited and waited. Finally she was induced when I was 42.5 weeks pregnant. She was due July 31, but apparently believed that August 16th would be a better day to be born.

She had so much hair, ten tiny fingers and ten little toes. She had a birthmark between her eyes that looked exactly like a candy cane. It faded but still makes itself known when she is angry or sad or too tired. I do not know how many times in the first year of her life I wondered if she was really mine. Such beauty, such sweetness, such pure awesomeness...it hardly seemed possible. Every cliche I'd ever heard now rang true for me: I would die for her, she owns my heart, babies smell like heaven.

She grew, she changed, she stood on her own two feet. I cried when she took her first shakey steps at seven months. I was wounded that me carrying her was not enough, that she was ready to break our all-day-and-all-night togetherness.

She has not changed. She still feels beyond her years, worries beyond her years, and gives of her own heart more than most anyone I know. She is dynamic- the perfect mix of goofy joke-teller, gifted ballerina, and morning cuddler. She is on the cusp of great things, with a decade now behind her. Not a woman, not a little girl, but changing dramatically every day.

Your first changes you. I went from a young wife to a young mommy, and I would roll the word around on my tongue..."mommy." It is my most treasured description, and it began with a tiny girl with jet black hair.

Ten years ago today.

Happy Birthday, Emma Kate! I love you to the moon and back!!

What a day what a day what a day

2011-08-15T12:55:00.000-04:00

The weekend ended with a bang, literally.

Perhaps the worst-looking storm we have had recently rolled in shortly after dinner. We were inside with friends enjoying a hearty pasta dinner with amaretto cheesecake and plenty of wine, when a kind neighbor came to tell us that our friend's lexus had the windows down and it was going to storm. Wooops! I opened the glass door and the wind practically sucked me outside. Thank heavens for her!

All day yesterday I was complaining of a burning feeling on my eyelid. It got so much worse late last night and I had a hard time falling asleep, only to wake up around 3:00 with the feeling of un-right-ness (sure, it can be a word). I tossed and turned and tried in vain to fall asleep again until the sun was starting to break through the dark.

I wish I had investigated that un-right-ness.

Brian shook me awake at 7:00 with the following pronouncement: "The dog. What is wrong with the dog?! There is crap everywhere. Piles of it! Everywhere! Must be twenty piles of crap! Everywhere!"

Now, I know the discussion is gross enough but at least I didn't take pictures. Because let me tell ya- the man does not lie. Crap. Everywhere.

There I am, with one eye open (the other hurts) in my Pj's without the benefit of a teeth brushing or coffee, cleaning up mess. Happy Monday morning!

I feel so bad for my poor guy. He is just pathetic. Every time he goes out I have to hose him off and he can't even keep water down. I sure hope this passes by morning so I don't have to take him to the vet.

That's the bad news. Here is the good:

Remember this mommy that I photographed? She had her baby, a little fella, and today is my day to get my hands on him! I cannot wait!

My stuff is all packed and the sun is shining! Can't wait to share baby J's first photo session!

On warm fuzzies, cool rain and cold ice cream

2011-08-13T17:41:00.002-04:00

Even when the house is sleeping, it is full of noises. Five sleeping children who roll over and mumble the most delicious sleepy speak when you kiss them on the cheek and readjust their covers.

A snoring pup.

A husband who can never seem to get his blankets quite right and spends much of the night attempting to. Roll to the right, fluff the blanket. Roll to the left, spread out the blanket. Back to the right. Back to the left.

But when they are awake, my house crackles with energy. Everyone talks at once, seemingly all day long. I often think I should count the numbers of time I hear "moooo-ooo-oooMMMM" each day, and the number of ways it is said, the number of meanings it can convey: "mom, I need help" or "Mom, I have been wronged" or "Mom, I want to whine to you and have you listen and make it alright." One word conveys it all, and only a finely tuned mother can understand the many layers of "mom."

And it is enough to break any bad mood that you are the one they are calling. That somehow God gave you the ability to understand with your heart what their hearts need from you. It is intuitive, when one allows it to be. When the worries of the world are cast aside and you can focus on the roles that He means for us to: wife, mother, "mooOOOooooMMMmmmyyy."

We are carving out a beautiful weekend, full of nothing special and everything fabulous. Togetherness by way of ice cream on a cool summer night. A fifteen degree drop that reminds us that lazy summer days are coming swiftly to an end.

Morning tea parties while Daddy cuts the grass.

And a good, faithful friend or two...

Preparing to hit the books once again in two short weeks

...and for a certain big school girl to turn ten (on tuesday!) A number that seems inconceivable since when I look at her, I still see a tiny girl in pigtails. I still hear the littlest voice that called the same call day and night, "mooommmyyyyy."

And it is every bit the miracle now that was then.

Seven things about little ol' me and my Award (I'd like to thank the academy...)

2011-08-11T16:21:00.000-04:00

So, my fabulous blogger friend, Krysta, over at My life in food nominated me for this versatile blogger award and it comes with a few rules. Fun! I love to ~~break~~ follow rules. So they are that I will tell y'all seven things about me and then pass the award along to seven fellow bloggers that I lurve.

On a sidenote, I love blogging. I love a glimpse into other lady's hearts and homes, I love the ideas that I collect (thanks, Pinterest for giving me a spot to keep 'em!) and I love that my love of blogging forces me to sit down, more days than not, and reflect. The nice thing about reflection is it lets you adjust what needs adjusting, you know what I mean?

So, without further ado (because I know you are DYING to know more about me...hahaha) seven things about me:

1. I hate my name. Stephanie? I hate it. It is harsh and long and not a classy monicker. I always wished I was named Anna or Elise or something with a vowel. Which probably explains why my four birthed children all begin with vowels: Emma, Aidan, Owen, Ava.

2. I am terribly afraid of dying and leaving my children. In fact, this blog is born from that. If I were no longer here, they would not have to look too far to feel my love, devotion, humor, worry...all in my own voice, in real time.

3. I am a very deep thinker and I am so easily hurt. If you read my blog that probably does not surprise you, because I purge my deep thoughts all over these pages. However, if you know me socially, I am the girl at the party with the loud laugh that should probably have declined that last glass of wine. I think people are surprised by what I have gone through and am still working through and how much I consider people's feelings in everything I do, often at the expense of my own. Just another thing I am working through...

4. I told my husband I was going to marry him literally the moment I met him. It was a complete connection of souls. I had to talk to him, be near him. He was not so convinced but eventually knew that I was right. He is the kindest man I know, with a devilish sense of humor and I thank the Lord for sending him my way. You cannot know how much I needed him, but He surely did.

5. I gained 85+ lbs in each of my pregnancies. Disgusting, I know, but kinda Ripley's fascinating to imagine gaining and losing well over 300lbs in eight years. What can I say? I took that "eating for two" bit literally.

6. I love to run. Isn't it strange? It soothes my soul. I listen to music that only inspires me when I am moving along (Dr Dre anyone?) and I talk to myself. Embarassing when I accidentally speak aloud, but it is my moment to say "you are strong, you are fabulous, you are a great wife, a great mommy, keep on truckin'." It felt so unnatural when I read the article suggesting it but now it feels healing to say kind things to myself while working to stay sexy :) And it is a reminder how fortunate I am to have a healthy body that is able to run.

7. My in laws call me "sassy." Like for my name. See if you can follow this: my brother in law, Brian's brother, was married to a meanie named Stephanie. She really did a number on their whole family so they can't bring themselves to say my name...hahaha. That is okay, though, because just look at #1.

Now for my seven recipients:

1. These Hands She is so sweet, newly married and now expecting a wee babe! And she is a writer and that makes my skirt fly up (as PW would say).

2. Daily dose of crazy from the freaking hysterical Dre. She is funny. Read her. Laugh. You will thank me!

3. Then there were five by Kel. She is amazing, and an outstanding photographer and so quick and giving with her friendship and guidance. Fabulous woman!

4. Blue Sky Confections by fabulous friend and former neighbor, Jenny K. She is amazing and the artist behind my beloved logo. She is also maybe the nicest person that I know. And beautiful. Can't say enough about her!!

5. Connie Grant Photography is a local-ish photographer who is so talented and kind and encouraging. Just so nice to have her in my corner!

6. The Macs. Read this. Begin with Cora's story and cry your little heart out, I know I sure did. But keep reading for her profession of faith in the darkest moment a parent can imagine. So inspiring.

7. The 24 year age gap Hysterical. She uses bad words and is fo real honest about motherhood. Love it!

Because blogger is a pain in the rear, I can't seem to get the actual badge but I can assure you it was fabulous...

Happy blogging, friends!

Mommy martyrs

2011-08-10T16:36:00.001-04:00

Recently I came across this article about motherhood and the task of raising babies that know where they rank. It also addresses one of my pet peeves: the things people say to a mother of a large brood.

I have been finding motherhood to have many layers of challenge. The original challenges of sleepless nights and spit-up-streaked shirts fade and a new tide of tantrums and defiant "I do myself!"s arrive. Next comes worry about backpacks and packed lunches and leaving mommy's side for the day and whether they had a friend that they sat at lunch with.

Soon, seemingly overnight, they need deodorant and a talk about self-respect and keep you awake at night with worries about bullying and how terribly cruel children can be.

These are the challenges I expected when I saw double pink lines time and times again. Like a tide, new wee ones roll in every two years and I always feel more and more confident in my ability to handle those most basic functions of a mommy.

But then there are deeper challenges that I am being faced with more and more. One child is in the midst of some emotional ickiness with some scary consequences and I am worried for her. In the great scale, it may be small, but it is her tiny voice that tells me it is hard to be heard in our home that cracks me.

I thought that the fact that our home is alive and wild with the sound of happiness and joy and big-family-ness made all well and right with their childhood. But, even in joy, we all want to have a voice and have it be heard, be important, be special.

This article really put words to what I have been wondering more and more: what will they remember as defining moments of their young lives? Will it be the time we spent in the kitchen? The times we spent cuddled on the couch? Books I read to them? Fevers I comforted them through? Or will it be the chant of "I am trying to do something, please give me a moment" that I seem to say so often, or the "Do I have to do everything??" that also occasionally slips loose?

I want them to always know that they are first, most, the best things in my life. Do I always treat them that way? No. Sad, huh? Not that I treat them badly, but like the article said, sometimes I am trying to fool them, when I am distracted with a million other things, into believing that my mind and heart are fully focused on them. And like she says, you can't fool your children.

Children know the difference between a mother who is saving face to a stranger and a mother who defends their life and their worth with her smile, her love, and her absolute loyalty.

Mommies sometimes make ourselves martyrs. Especially mommies with an education or a past life that included such marvelous things as fat checks and fancy trips funded by the company. Even in trying to convey to my little ones that they are the most important things, I sometimes manage to convey that my life at home is somehow less. Which makes them feel less, I am sure.

It is my goal to stop being a mommy martyr. Stop whining about things that need to be done and stop reflecting on a life that never fulfilled me anyway. Stop trying to justify my worth by making my children question theirs. Because before you know it, their feet grow, their wings spread, and off they go.

I am being reflective, not hard on myself. I am a good mommy, my kids and husband even say great. And increasingly, that is more than enough for me.
Their opinion is all that matters to me, and their love makes me swoon. They are the only things that I treasure.

Now I am off to make them believe it.

Changes...

2011-08-09T12:25:00.000-04:00

My family has been through an awful lot of changes this last year. Our lease has been renewed on our new "home" and it has really made me reflect about what a difference a year makes.

We have less of a lot. Less money. Less bling. Less of a chance of going anywhere fabulous on vacation or buying the latest goodies for our brood. Less time spent perusing shops downtown looking for the perfect find. Less time spent dog earing pages in decor mags because home is where the heart is but painting is for a home you own.

But the beauty is in finding more in less. More time spent with my children now that I am home full time. More time stealing a glance at my husband and seeing the most clearly what a man he is, a leader, a provider, a rock. More time knowing that all the trials I thought I couldn't face, I really can face and rise and triumph. More time relaxing because now we can. More time holding eachother out of joy not worry. More time sipping that lemonade made from all the lemons and finding it is sweeter than I imagined it would be.

More peace, more love, more laughter, more faith...all delivered by less.

My family is thriving. My marriage is thriving. My business is even flourishing. Doors closed, windows opened.

Sometimes we don't want to hear cliches. Especially in the depth of sadness. They seem trite and insincere, a mechanism to silence someone who is experiencing sorrow from someone who is not. But from my heart, they are promises that I know will be fulfilled, a reminder that today is sad but tomorrow may bring something joyful. That when a door closes, there is often a window. That life will hand you lemons, that is guaranteed, but it is most often within your power to make lemonade. That what doesn't kill us really and truly does make us stronger.

It is always half full in my house. It can make me look like a bumbling idiot when I am laughing while I am crying, digging through the sad to find a shard of hope. But when I wait out the less I always find the more.

Back in the 'burg

2011-08-08T11:40:00.001-04:00

We just returned from our road trip to western, PA. It is a seven hour drive, which takes our family ten hours, and can I just say that I have the best children on the planet?! More complaints from mom and dad than from the wee ones. Being cooped up in a car with them makes me happy, though. It is a nice reminder that your entire world can fit in seven seats and it is time to let the rest of it go.

We visited Lake Erie and saw a beautiful sunset.

I wore practical footwear, as always. Two inch heels instead of four.

We got to see Uncle Bennie's house for the first time. That is Brian's brother. He and his wife, Kathleen, bought a gorgeous home on a few acres on a tiny country street with amazing views of the mountains. Bee-au-tiful!

A beer or two may have been consumed. Perhaps a bottle of wine, as well. I won't name names though...

Let's just say that the parade the next day was a tad hard on my ears.

(The float is grandma's class float, by the way, and they really tried to get her out with them. They'd have had better luck if it was not ten thousand degrees outside! It was miserable!!)
Add in a couple of visits with both sets of great grandparents...

Including Owen Higgins, our Owen's namesake...

Great grandma Millie is having a hard time lately, and to see these two still holding hands really choked me up. I feel blessed to be loved by a man from this family and to know that I can count on that. What a gift.

That is our week in snapshots. Now just two weeks to get ready for back to school!

2011-08-01T12:19:00.000-04:00

I have a chicken pox scar almost dead center of my forehead. It is skin-colored, small, only visible if my face is turned toward the light. It is long healed but there still, deep.

You see, I scar easily but heal fast. I am a survivor. But when the light is right and my mood sentimental, I can easily remember being a little girl, with pink undies, standing in my beloved babysitter's living room, arms outstretched while she dabbed calamine lotion all over my burning, itching body. I remember being tightly wrapped in a cool, crisp sheet and bundled on the couch, making it harder to free my hands to itch. I loved her like a mother and she was killed by a drunk driver. That is yet another scar, a story retold when the mood is right and my heart remembers the sadness that came when a young man, her son, delivered the news.

Or the day my life changed again in 2005 when I was a victim of a random and violent crime, and the devastation that followed. The only tolerable moments of the day were those fresh from sleep, before my mind was fully awake, before I remembered that I no longer existed as I had before and the belly-aching grief overtook me when it all came back into focus.

But I am a survivor, and like all wounds, it soon scabbed over and began to heal. Those precious few moments became longer and longer until it was the moments of pain that were few and far between, usually before I slept, usually not from the event but from the months of mourning that it stole from me.

In terms of sadness, I am no stranger. I have a tale that weaves sorrow, pain, trauma with hope, happiness and self-reliance. That, of course, is not without a downside. I can be cold, indifferent because when you turn off grief, you sometimes turn off everything else along with it. And I smother my family. They are my everything in a way that many people don't understand because they have not had to. Doesn't mean that I love them more, but I do believe that I love loving them more because they are like medicine to my weary soul.

But here is where my lesson lies: I cannot judge how other people handle their wounds. I cannot think they are weak because they lick them, pick at them, uncover them for the world to see. I cannot resent that they look at my life and think that I have never been broken and feel angry and cheated that they have. Everyone handles grief, scars, wounds, sadness differently and perhaps grace comes with practice, maybe it is the blessing of a sad tale. You know to cover the wound, let it heal and run your finger over the scar only when you need a reminder of how far you have come.

Or perhaps, I was right all along: there are survivors and victims. And that is alright, too. I need to stop judging the victims. I need to realize that we all need to heal in our own way, in our own time. Maybe victims need a survivor to reach their hand out, maybe they would rather them not. I need to stop guessing, I need to start offering my ear if they need it, and shutting my mouth if they need that, too. I need to remind myself that the happy ending doesn't negate the sorrow of the journey but that from my place of joy, I don't need to preach the sadness of the past.

I am on a journey to look only forward. The scars have healed, but they are there when I need them to remind me of the bittersweet journey that I took to here...

And here...

Get outside!

2011-07-27T11:54:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the first day, post-rain, that I could take my wee ones outside and actually breathe. We have had temperatures over 100 degrees that, when coupled with the dense humidity, has made playing outdoor unbearable.

A house full of young children, stuck indoors...you can imagine.

They have been acting like caged animals. How many times a day can I hear "Moo-OOO-OOOmmmm..._______ did ______ " Sometimes it is like a game of mad-libs-remember those?- or a game of clue. In one column, there is Noah, Emma, Aidan, Owen and Ava. In the next are places: couch, bathroom, under the bed, outside, in their nose (don't ask) and in the final column are actions: pinched me, licked me, spit, rubbed chocolate, spilt milk, yelled, called me names.

Any one moment of any one day involves some mix up from the three.

It is annoying as can be. Aggravating.

And funny- so, so funny. They are the funniest when they are naughty, but I can't let them know that.

Nevertheless, the constant refrain of "I am going to lose my mind today" was getting old and I am glad we got a little sunshine, reasonable heat and time to play.

Today they are back at it, but luckily I can send their little booties out the door to run off some steam.

By the power vested in me

2011-07-25T20:48:00.001-04:00

You are cordially invited to the wedding of

Mommy and Owen

Taking place tomorrow, after breakfast, in our kitchen

Yes, it is official. After four and a half years of brainwashing and nightly whispers of "When you grow up, let's run away and get married" my boy has finally decided the times has come to make an honest woman out of me.

Tonight when I was giving him his nightly dose of over the top mommy-love, and I spoke of our betrothal, he said to me "Mommy, tomorrow. Let's do it tomorrow after breakfast."

Naturally, I accepted his proposal.

When asked what we would do at our wedding, he said simply "we will hug and kiss and we will be in love forever."

Sounds about right, and I will happily marry him again and again and again, every single day of my life.

There are moments of exhaustion in this wild ride of motherhood. Then there are moments of such sweetness, where their little hearts speak to yours.

It was silly and sweet and precious, one tiny moment that I document here for him to one day remember. We will all laugh over it's innocence and silliness. But I believe I will remember it differently, deeper, tighter. I will remember the silent prayer that we will always kiss, always speak, always love as deeply as tonight, even when one day he no longer wants to marry his mommy and someone else is waiting for him at the end of the aisle.

Sunday seven

2011-07-24T19:58:00.000-04:00

The seven best things about this weekend:

1. Catching up with an old and dear friend and seeing her in her beautiful new role as mommy. Capturing a few precious memories. Remembering how exciting it was when there was only one baby in my arms and she was turning one year old. Such a blessed time.

2. Going to the grocery store alone and seeing another mother juggling her three young children and the realization that I wanted to run home and kiss my babies. Sometimes the grass is greenest right in your own fence.

3. That my prayers lately are prayers of thanks. I am ever so grateful for all that we have, as well as for the perspective shift that has occured over the last months. I am grateful that He was patient with me through these difficult times and that His love for little ol' me made me remember good old fashioned grace.

4. Filet mignon for dinner. It doesn't get any better than a great steak on the grill, simply seasoned. Nothing says "summer" more clearly.

5. The boys went to the store and us girls took a bath. Well, Ava took a bath while I cleaned the upstairs but it is precious to me when my sudsy baby is all fresh and sweet. A toddler can transform into a tiny peanut in a second when she is warm and wrapped in a towel, and as fast as they grow, I am thankful for that.

6. Emma's splendid time she had at the sleepover she attended over the weekend. She stayed up until 2:00 in the morning and when I asked her how she felt she said "Alive!" and while that is a touch dramatic, I like her sentiment. Time with friends often makes me feel "alive!" as well.

7. Making some decisions still weigh heavy in my heart but I am feeling confident that I can make them. It is not a resolution, but it is peace. I am trying to balance a thin line between the past and the future and living in today, with my wonderful husband and beautiful children, I know that this is all that matters.

Indecent

2011-07-23T20:12:00.000-04:00

Well...today was a day of contradictions.

It began with tears for a goofy reason. You may or not know that I offer boudoir photography, which I adore. I think it is so awesome to help a woman feel sexy and confident, especially after child bearing takes that feeling from many of us.

So, I also belong to a group of photographers that participate in weekly challenges and this week's theme was "hot."

You can see where I am going with this.

I posted my most tame and completely unexposed photograph:

And went to sleep. When I woke up this morning, complete controversy had erupted over my lil ol' photo. Which, ironically, is certainly not my best boudoir shot but I use it all the time because I feel like no one could possibly object. Haha...think again.

But here is what surprised me. I cried. Weak, right? I just felt completely attacked because I took photos of a wife and mother and helped her feel like a woman for a day.

Then I began to feel like a bad mother because eventually my children will know that I do this for a living.

Then a bad Christian because so many were concerned that they would not want their pastor to see such images.

Really?!

Then I went to photograph two young ones, on the verge of different horizons. A rising high school senior and a one year old, just finding her land legs.

I was still emotional from the entire ordeal (and I have PMS. There, I said it.) and kept trying to find my focus.

I had to stop and remind myself of what I believed from the start. I am photographing wives. Is there a more biblical relationship than marriage?

Would either of today's subjects be here is one man had not found one woman irresistable?

I have a boudoir mini session coming up and one woman is celebrating her 30th wedding anniversary, with sassy pictures for her husband. She is worried about her tummy (aren't we all?) and her sex appeal (uh-huh) and I know that when she sees her finished product she will see herself just as her hubby obviously sees her: sexy. I stand behind my photos and am grateful for the opportunities they have brought me. I am grateful that my children have such a healthy relationship with their bodies and sexuality (in age appropriate ways, of course. They live in a house where mom and dad have the hots for eachother, what can I say?)

Anyway, the whole she-bang made me sad. I began to wonder if anyone else wondered "why" I did it. I believe that I can welcome a woman into her session that is insecure, nervous and unsure about the whole underpants-photography-thing and I can release her inner bombshell. I believe that she can carry that confidence into her marriage, her mothering and her heart.

That is why, and now you know.

Another day...

2011-07-21T11:18:00.000-04:00

I am lost in thought these days.

I am blessed.

I am blessed with a man who finishes my sentences when I need him to, when I've run out of words (this is a rare occurance, though, naturally). Who isn't threatened that sometimes I need to hold things in. Who knows that sometimes I need to cry alone in the bathroom, and that sometimes I need him to come in and make it better. He is learning the difference and he is special, rare, all that I could ask for.

I am blessed with children who are different and yet so alike. All cut from the same cloth, yet each with a unique piece of the pattern that is our family. When one is away, there is a hole. Together, we are woven tight because we all belong.

I am blessed that when I pray, I feel peace. I feel an answer, even when I don't know what it is. Sometimes the only answer you need is "I am here, I hear."

(check out that haze, by the way. That is what 100% humidity looks like)

Belonging, praying for peace, fibers of a family- these are the things that keep me awake lately. Even more so, they are the things that play out in my dreams in the most bizarre productions. The cast of characters is often different, because I don't know who the leading actor is. I am trying to fill in the gaps in my children's fabric, even though my own fabric is pieced together. Like trying to hold water in your hands, some seeps through here and there and before you know it, your hands are empty.

And like from the beginning of time, I want to give everything that I am to the little people that I have made. I want their fabric to be thick and durable, all-weather, beautiful to look at and warm in a storm. I believe that the strength of theirs fortifies the holes in mine, but that is not their job.

I must patch myself once and for all, so that they can build themselves stronger, raised by a mother of strength and solidness. I am looking inward, reaching outward, and facing those things of which I am afraid.

But for today, big decisions can wait a little longer, but weaving our threads tighter must be done today, now, for tomorrow. We treat the kids to Burger King, we hold hands and sit at our own table. It is like a date for us, but it is freedom for them, and they like it.

I take them to play tennis and tell the tales of playing with my grandfather when I was little. Aidan asks me "But how come you always did fun stuff with Pop Pop and not with your Dad?" and I feel my fabric fray for a moment. It was timely. I hugged him, comforted by his strength for another day, and I served him the ball. I said "We will talk about that some other day, baby."

Smack your granny cinnamon rolls

2011-07-20T12:41:00.000-04:00

These rolls are so yummy and gorgeous that you will want to smack your granny. Smack your granny good. I am not sure what that means, but they fit the bill.

Another time I will share with you my dead ringer knock off of cinnabon cinnamon rolls. They are so good but take forever to make and must be made the morning of, which means getting up at 5:30 to make them for your hungry troops. That is holiday worthy but these are perfect for any other special occasion.

These beauties still take a while to come together but once they do, you just pop them in the fridge overnight so in the morning you simply take them out, preheat your oven and bake them. Even easier than the stuff in a can for the morning rush and oh-so-delicious. Watch out, Granny!

Makes twelve rolls:

1 cup milk
1/3 cup butter
1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast
1/2 cup white sugar
4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
3 eggs

FILLING:
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

GLAZE:
1 teaspoon light corn syrup
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups sifted confectioners' sugar
2 tablespoons half-and-half cream

Directions
1.Heat the milk in a small saucepan until it bubbles, then remove from heat. Add the butter and stir until melted; let cool until lukewarm.
2.In a large mixing bowl, dissolve the yeast in the milk mixture. Add the sugar, 3 cups of flour, salt and eggs; stir well to combine. Add the remaining flour, 1/2 cup at a time, stirring well after each addition. When the dough has pulled together, turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and supple, about 8 minutes.
3.Lightly oil a large mixing bowl, place the dough in the bowl and turn to coat with oil. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise in a warm place until doubled in volume, about 1 hour.
4.Deflate the dough and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and roll into a 10x 14 inch rectangle. Lightly brush the far edge with water. In a small bowl combine the cinnamon and 3/4 cup brown sugar and sprinkle over the rectangles.
5.Cut the dough into 12 equal pieces; place the pieces in a greased 9x13 inch baking pan, or 12 inch deep dish pizza pan. Cover with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator to rise overnight.
6.The next morning, preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Take the rolls out of the refrigerator and let stand at room temperature for 30 minutes.
7.Bake the rolls for 25 to 30 minutes or until golden. Meanwhile, combine the corn syrup with the vanilla in a small bowl. Whisk in the powdered sugar and enough cream to make a thick glaze; set aside. Drizzle the glaze over the rolls and serve warm.

Weekend round up

2011-07-18T08:53:00.000-04:00

It was beautiful this weekend. Virginia heat is so brutal, combined with suffocating humidity, that the summer feels like a four month journey into a sauna. There are so many things we love to do outdoors with the kids but I really hate to take them into the heat for any period of time.

But the last few days have been cooler, around 90, but with lower humidity. If you can find shade from a nice, tall tree, I swear it is at least ten degrees cooler. A strong breeze blew through all weekend, as well, making a good weekend a great one.

Saturday was a graduation party for our neighbor's two oldest children. They are a family of seven, too, so they still have three children at home but I can't imagine two of them breaking my heart like that at once! Anyway, the food was amazing and the kids had a great time, too. We came home for movie night and a few glasses of wine and some cuddle time on the couch. Perfect after my hubby was gone all week on travel.

Yesterday we headed out to soak up some sun at Chatham Manor. The place is amazing and I plan to do some senior portraits there next weekend so I wanted to form a more cohesive plan in my mind. Then we headed to downtown fredericksburg for a little shopping and lunch. By shopping, I mean dreaming, because there are ridiculous things that I long to buy that are out of the budget. Like this guy:

About six years ago I almost bought a cigar Indian just like this for $800 but I didn't want Brian to think I was an impulsive buyer (that was when we had seperate finances) so I went home to think on it. A couple of days later I ran into the shop to buy him and he was gone. Well...duh....he was way underpriced and some smart cookie snatched him right up. As you can tell, I am still on the hunt. This fella is $2000 and I am tempted to ask if he will take layaway...like two year layaway...

What will I do with him you ask?

Hush now...and don't ask silly questions.

So, that's my story, these are my pictures, and now on to a new week. We have Noah with us all week (he switches between his mommy and his daddy) so I have a few fun things planned. The kids are dying to know how to use a camera and I have my bridge Dslr that I am going to teach them a little on this week. They are calling it "camera camp" which I think is adorable. Maybe one of them will pick up something!

To eternity

2011-07-16T11:33:00.000-04:00

The other day, I was reaching into the freezer and was greeted with a note. My daughter, Emma Kate, had left it there for me and patiently waited for me to open the freezer so she could see the look on my face. She knew it would make me light up to see "Mom, I love you to eternity"

And light me up, it surely did.

But at the bottom was one more sentence that really got me thinking: "Tell me how much you love me."

Darn, blog friends, that one made me think. Hard. I tried to find something cute and silly to explain how deep my love goes, but I try to do that every day. I wanted to tell her something new, something grand.

I wanted to tell her how ten years ago, I would have gladly given my own life for her, even when she was just a tiny grain of cells all jumbled in my belly and making me sick as could be.

I wanted to explain what it is like to be awake in the middle of the night, nursing a baby, thinking that life will never be better than that moment right there.

How can I ever explain what it is like to hurt so deep for them when they cry, even though you know it is a part of life, that with the happy comes sadness. The desire to protect them from pain of any kind can make me switch from sane to irrational in a split second.

The punched in the gut, breathless, dry-heaving feeling when I see a child murdered, abused, missing on the news. Are there words to describe the pain that you feel for all children once you have your own?

A mother's love is like no other. It is dangerous, intense, profound, consuming, obsessive. I know the feel of their hair, every freckle on their faces, the different shapes of their toenails, the sound of their breath when they sleep. If I were blind, I could find them by smell. If I couldn't smell, I could find them by touch. If I couldn't touch, see, smell, hear...my heart would just know them.

I would die for them, I would kill for them, I live for them. And it is just amazing how one soul can carry that same insane love for many children, all at once. It multiplies but makes you even more vulnerable. Five little pieces of your whole, out in the world, out from under your wing.

But there are no words for that. So we use cliches and analogies and distances we think they can imagine being the same. Every night I tell them I love them to the moon. But that is not nearly far enough.

I told Emma there was no way to explain, but I wrote a little note back anyway. It is on the fridge waiting for her. I hope that when she finds it, it makes her heart happy like hers made mine. And one day, I hope she remembers this conversation when her own little ones ask such a question. Only then will she really understand what I am trying to tell her.

Welcome home, Daddy!

2011-07-15T20:04:00.000-04:00

Daddy returned home today from a four day business trip. Pizza Friday got shaken up with a picnic in the backyard, under the trees.

Our time together is filled with sarcasm, practical jokes, and jokes about our day. Many stories begin with "wanna hear a horrible story?" and we all laugh. It is beautiful because most days, we are seven people that get one another.

We talked about college. For the first time, we realized that five children means that we will have college expenses for thirteen years straight. How did we not calculate this before?!

Sweet relief...

We ate and laughed and talked and drank under our tall trees and tissue paper pom poms.

I think Daddy felt welcomed.

The chaos of our crazy family made me feel complete now that we are together again.

My girls

2011-07-14T20:34:00.000-04:00

I have been tackling photography areas where I feel particularly clueless (as opposed to my general cluelessness that comes with being a newbie) and trying to master it enough that I feel like I can handle situations as they arise.

On my list has been indoor and dimly lit shoots, trying to offer a backdrop in situations where outdoor shoots are scheduled and the weather icks out or for a client that wants that more traditional look, brutal afternoon sun, unruly clientele, timeless post production (as opposed to the artistic looks that I prefer today), keeping the camera attached to my face (as in trusting that I know the appropriate settings and not "double checking" the display afterwards, as suggested in a blog I read), hotshoe flash, back button focus.

{Reading that list begs to wonder what I do know?}

So today was an adventure in flash and it pissed me off big time. We got a couple cuties and tomorrow will try again.

Practice makes perfect, right?

I can't take the heat!

2011-07-12T18:45:00.000-04:00

I have been loving the balloon pictures I have been seeing lately. I think it is a sweet and whimsical idea and just wanted to make sure that I had a general feel for it before I went doing it with a client.

Today I took the kids at the worst possible time: 11:45. It was 100 degrees and the sun was beating down on us making the images very "hot." But, I did like the setting and the idea and think I will definitely add it to my bag of tricks.

And it reminded me of another hot summer day.

We were at our start of the downward, economy-induced spiral and had cancelled everything. everything. No television, no internet, no using gas to go anywhere since we lived in the boonies and I drive a premium guzzling SUV. It was hot, Gracie was a baby, I was losing my mind so I took them for a walk. They looked so grown from behind that I snapped a pic with my Iphone and then took them to the store for some ice cream. Because I knew the days of making everything right with the world with ice cream would pass quickly and I wanted to savor them while they are here.

Kinda like the idea with the balloons, actually.

But tomorrow is definitely a pool day to make up for the heat today.

Weekend

2011-07-11T09:24:00.000-04:00

My weekend involved...

bare feet

a mile run for hot dogs

mud

two pregnant women

a very special little baby boy

baked ravioli

a lot of whining children

a lot of laughing children

the looming threat of hubby's upcoming business trip

couting of my blessings

and gratitude for it all.

Friday's concert was disgusting. I am hardly a mud kind of girl. And boy was there mud. But, these girls are just the best and for them, I will lose my beloved nine west wedges in 12 inches of mud.

Saturday morning, way too early, brought a session with this little one.

He was due july 4, and was supposed to be "sophia" but he arrived two months early, a fella instead of a lady. What a surprise for his doting mommy and daddy. His parents, clearly exhausted after their ordeal, are love-drunk on his sweetness and I was so thrilled to be able to capture a few images to remember these crazy fast-passing days.

And this beautiful momma-to-be and her beautiful daughter.

Daddy is in Afghanistan...talk about stress. Mommy is one tough cookie and can more than handle herself, but I can only imagine how rough it has been. She is a total trooper.

And yesterday, this cute and young couple. Kellie actually used to be my nanny and it is so exciting to me that she is starting her own family. She will do great as a new mom!

They were such good sports, too. It was wicked hot, we were all melting but they took me to a family friend's farm...sounds quaint, right? Um....it looked like it should be on a national registry. I almosy wet my pants it was a complete photographer's dream. I want to sneak back...but would probably get arrested.

Tomorrow my husband leaves. Today we eat kabobs on the grill, trying to savor the last few moments together for a few days.

Happy Monday!

Aidan Patrick is eight

2011-07-08T08:30:00.000-04:00

I have told his tale many times but today he is eight and I will tell it all again. It is our tradition, to re-tell their story on their birthday, as much for them to know it as it is for each child to know that the moment that I met them is burned into my heart, no matter how many babies we've brought home. They are my one and only them. I get all silly and cry and they smile so wide, knowing my tears are happy and sad and loving and that this show is all for them.

I set up a clothesline of baby clothes, pictures, drawings they have made and little awards and prizes they have earned...their years chronicled in a few feet. Maybe more for me than them, but I hope one day they do it for their wee ones.

And I cry over pictures...like this picture of a picture of my grandma, the infamous Peggy Walters holding my little fella. Look at those chicken legs!

And then I start our story...

The day that Aidan was born started early- at 5:30 to be exact. He was enormous and had broken my pelvic bone and it was time for eviction. I couldn't believe that this girly woman was giving birth to a son, and I held onto the bear outfit that I brought for him to wear home from the hospital, trying to imagine a boy version of his sister in it.

He was born with difficulty and required a vaccum. He was weakened from the trauma and needed oxygen. It saddens me now because these were my last moments with my son before everything changed and it was time spent mostly watching him instead of holding and memorizing him, due to him having to stay in the incubator.

The next morning, early, 12 hours after delivery, they took my brown eyed moose baby for his hep-b vaccine and he didn't look in my eyes again for four years.

After the seizure, he stayed in the NICU for a week and I had to return home without him. Those days are a blur of racing to the hospital to feed him, then home to a confused baby Emma who didn't know if she really had a "brudder" or not. I wore my hospital band and people would ask if I had a baby and I would break down sobbing because I didn't feel like I knew the answer...it was total mommy limbo. We didn't know what was wrong, so for days and days and days there was no prognosis. We really didn't know if he was coming home.

Day seven began like the nightmarish ones before it. I called the nurses to check on my baby and they said "get here as soon as you can and bring a carseat." Discharge!

The feeling of sitting in my own home, on our sofa, with a sleeping 10 pound baby boy in my arms is forever written on my heart. Having him home left me terrified, as his problems were still a mystery. He had a new health ailment every single day: a malformed bowel, non stop colic, milk allergy, severe reflux, the looming threat of seizure, and a concern about spina bifida that required an emergency appointment with a specialist (which by the way, was a dimple...haha...little dimpy butt baby). But the feel of his fuzzy head against my cheek was all that mattered in that year. We thought it was colic but he was home and we would get through it.

We wouldn't know until two years, numerous doctors, countless evaluations and a very grim diagnosis later that we were not expected to "get over" autism.

My boy had other plans though.

Somewhere in his little heart he knew. He fought so hard.

He won.

Every single day he teaches me about determination, will, grit and grace. He is funny, he is kind, he is thoughtful. He humbles me. When he looks me in the eye, it takes my breath away. God gave him the deepest eyes, and after years of yearning for that connection, I love staring into them. He makes me laugh because he is so easy, so carefree, so relaxed- my only special needs child and he is easier to care for than any of the others. He needs love, encouragement a couple kisses and a stack of pokeman cards. What a boy!

He is special, so special. He is eight. He is healed. He has a life of promise open to him. While I am heartbroken at how quickly he is growing, I am so proud of all that he is, that I can't wait to meet who he becomes.

Happy Birthday to my "favorite" child, Aidan Patrick McFarland!

Bittersweet

2011-07-07T16:02:00.000-04:00

This motherhood thing is sweet. And it is bitter.

I think it is what the word bittersweet was originally coined for.

What else describes the feeling of joyous excitement for a child's milestones, while experiencing a heart heavy with loss all at the same time? I both celebrate and mourn each and every one of my little one's accomplishments. Each step they take is one step closer to their futures, one step away from me, one more tentative stretch of their wings to see if they will hold.

Bitter. Sweet.

Ava moved to a big girl bed yesterday. Well...more like her bed moved to a big girl bed, as we only took the side off, but she happily went along with.

Walking up the stairs feels different, knowing that for the first time in nearly ten years, there is no baby in a crib in my home.

She sleeps well, loves the fact that she can scoot out of her "diggirl bed" and play with the lone toy she has snuck in so far, a "mommy car."

I know before long she will bid adieu to her basket of her favorite books and they will be replaced by a twin bed, requests for knocking before entering and pink leotards for dance class not just for dress up.

It will break my heart. I know because I have lived it. When I look at Ava, sometimes I see Emma instead. It seems like yesterday that they were one and the same.

And yet it is so very exciting to see her blue eyes asking to please go to bed, after only an hour awake, because she wants to lay there and feel her big girl freedom. She wants to open the door and say "I awake!" She wants to feel her wings spreading and see the happiness it brings me.

It is so, so sweet, sweet enough to break my heart...

Bittersweet.

Pucker up, baby Gracie

2011-07-06T13:27:00.001-04:00

Well, I believe in working with what you have...and I happened to have both a princess and a frog, so....

...today's theme was "princess and the frog." She didn't seem to mind that he didn't turn into a prince, she was happy with him just the way he is!

Backdrop fun

2011-07-05T14:13:00.000-04:00

I don't know why I didnt' attempt this a while ago but it felt all intimidating. I have a maternity shoot coming up and I really wanted to do some black and whites on a black backdrop so that all you really could see was momma and her beautiful belly. I planned on buying a backdrop stand and black backdrop for the event but wanted to give it a trial run with natural light vs my new fancy flash (that I hope to not use too often).

So...enter a black tablecloth, duct tape and my kitchen wall.

Remember that I was simply trying technique and snapping away without paying too much attention, so a couple are a little blurry.

But...seriously? That was so easy and I think that I just saved myself $300!

The evidence:

Fashion on a budget, my top ten

2011-07-05T10:01:00.000-04:00

My husband achieved perfect man status (yet again) this weekend when I said that I wanted a new outfit and he said, handing me the debit card, "then go shopping."

Alone. He gave me money and sent me on my merry way.

Heaven.

Now, to clarify a bit: I always have access to our family's money and my husband encourages me to do whatever I need to feel attractive and he totally "gets" it. Me? Not so much. I am a stay at home mommy with a closet full of clothes (half don't fit) and have a hard time parting with money. My shopping "sprees" are well thought out and involve a general strategy of combing through to see what I actually need so I am armed with a list. There is nothing worse than standing in a stuffed closet and feeling like you have 'nothing' to wear because there are only items, no outfits.

I am always asked about my wardrobe and no one believes when I tell them the deals that I find. I think the devil is in the details and I like nice things. In our old life, if I wanted to go shopping I would head to tyson's or the boutiques downtown and spend a mortgage payment on five or six things. Those days are long gone so I have to work with what I have, but that doesn't mean that I want to take my look from bloomingdales to wal mart. I am lucky that I have so many of those sturdy, timeless items left hanging around to add to an outfit, as well as a closet full of ridiculous shoes (my favorite) but here are my ten favorite items/places to shop that jazz up my everyday discount finds and make them feel classy and fresh:

1. I think every girl needs a pair of really nice diamond studs. These are mine and I wear them at least three days a week, for the last several years. They are timeless and they add a little light to your face, even if you are sporting a pony tail and tank top with jeans.

2. Steve Madden shoes. They are so fun and funky and really well made for the price. I start my outfit with my feet because I don't look good in busy patterns by my face. I can go wild on my shoes and simple in my clothing choices.

3. Papaya clothing. I don't know if it is just this season or always, because we just got them in our mall but I found the best spring tops here for $20 or under. I got several of this style and they are every bit as comfy as a cotton tee but way cuter. I am not expecting them to last long, but maybe they will surprise me.

4. Modcloth has everything, with varying price ranges but they are all pretty reasonable. I don't think there is much that is over $100. I am in love right now with this fun headband that makes a ponytail pretty adorable.

5. Stella and Dot. Adorable and well made costume jewelry, reasonably priced (or free if you host a party that involves a lot of cosmos). These earrings are my favorite right now.

6. Ross. OMGoodness, I heart ross. I only buy really casual stuff there because it often isn't the best quality but $7.99 for summer dresses? really?! You can't beat that!

7. Monkees, downtown fredericksburg, VA. This is my favorite dress right now but I am waiting patiently for their big twice a year sale. I am pretty sure I will be able to snag this $378 dress for $75 or so.

8. The limited jeans. I almost always buy the drew pants/jeans and snag them when they are on sale. If you are going to wear cheap tops then you really need a pair of jeans that fit you well and these work with my big backside. I also like these for fall with a snug turtleneck and fabulous belt...

9. JC Penney is awesome for having great sales. I can't order anything online though because I really need to feel the fabric first. I am in love with this dress.

10. Charlotte Russe has the absolute best, best, best occassion shoes and jewelry. These are a favorite pair of my shoes that I wore all holiday season. Everything is SO cheap and if I am looking for a trendy item that you don't want to spend a ton of money on, this is my go-to place.

Ahh...a frivolous fashion post. That was kinda fun!

Happy Fourth

2011-07-03T13:54:00.000-04:00

Making a wish for a safe and happy holiday weekend for everyone. Let us not forget what a blessing it is to live freely. We may disagree with politics, lifestyles or religion but it is quite a luxury to be able to express that safely.

And, as the country song goes, "if you drink, don't drive, do the watermelon crawl..."

2011-07-01T19:38:00.000-04:00

Some days I complain. A lot. This was pointed out to me by my husband this morning, in a not unkind way, but truths can be hard to swallow and leave a girl stammering "wha...but...wait..." and then you realize that sometimes, though it may sting, the truth can be freeing.

But there has been so much in my thirty something years to whine about. More than enough pain and blame and sadness and nightmares to go around, and here it all is...resting on my shoulders.

Waaaahhhh!

Life has thrown us so many curveballs and for some reason I thought that I was immune to them. That can really bring a gal down. I am a big believer in the power of positive thinking and hard work and controlling your own destiny. Because there was a time when I believed that in life, I would get what I put in.

And I work...hard...at everything.

I don't believe that anymore. Here is what I am learning to trust: God loves me, and has a plan. Every painful step of His plan, the sadness, hurt, trials that I am meant to go through for reasons only He knows. I know that in my life as wife and mommy, there is more joy than anyone person deserves. I am quick to thank Him for my blessings, but assume all the weight of my shortcomings and dark moments. I need to remember that my spirit can be crushed from time to time, but if I reach out, He is there to help me back to my feet.

And in the meantime, there are other feet that need me to be stronger.

They are artists...

Helpers...

And sometimes just a mob of crazy fools...

But they look to me before they decide how they feel, and lately I am just plain letting them down. My problem is that I look to me, too. And when I run out of answers I feel like I have failed.

I am just looking in the wrong place. Today I am looking to Him
.

And I feel better already.

Jumpin'

2011-06-30T08:14:00.000-04:00

I love the wedding photos where the whole bridal party are jumping and it is so cute and fun and celebratory. I am on a mission to confidently execute the same.

Not that I shoot weddings, but I do shoot children and families and those are pretty fun, too.

"shoot" families sounds kinda bad, like a camera 'gangsta' but that is okay...a girl deserves a little edge somewhere, right?

So, the confidently is the key. I can get them when I practice on the kids but they end up jumping five times. Yesterday I practiced again because the light was beautiful, the breeze was blowing and it was a free afternoon.

Here we go...they're gearing up...

On the count of three...

Drat! Bad angle and that meant I actually had to walk down the deck stairs. I was feelin' lazy.

Go Emma, Go Emma

Owen...

I like how my ham bone even looks at the camera mid-jump. He cracks me up.

I feel better about the jumps. I think I just didn't have my shutter speed high enough. Whew! It feels great when you can scratch something off the list!

Nothing special Monday

2011-06-27T18:51:00.000-04:00

I used to pride myself on a few things: I never, ever left the house without a shower. I woke up early and full of energy, ready to start my day. And, I loved the promise of a Monday morning- a week ahead full of possibility.

Ha. Ha. HA!

Today, I woke up with my hair literally sticking straight up. I practically fell down the stairs to pour hot coffee into my very large mug. I drank it through one, squinted eye, trying (and failing) to muster a smile for my little folk.

Then, I took them to vacation bible school without a shower.

Fail, Fail, Fail.

It's age? It's the non stop go-go-go of my house? It is laziness? Heck if I know, but I am beyond tired. I am taaaaard, as my Georgia family would say.

But the day won't stop and as my egg carton says, it is the day the Lord has made so let us rejoice in it.

Rejoice? Alright, let's try.

I know that there is so much to rejoice in, and here is my list of Monday, nothing special, but special nonetheless, things that I love right now about today:

Vacation Bible School. Seriously?! Catholics don't "do" VBS so it is foreign to me. Let me get this straight: you leave your children. For three hours. In a positive environment. FOR FREE?! This tops the list, for sure.

This week's bread. It is the same recipe I always use, but for some reason it is soooo good this week that I want to eat sandwiches all day long. Yum...

Emma and Aidan are home from Florida, after TEN freaking days. I was insane without them (more than usual) and it is so nice to feel complete once again.

Turkey Hill light raspberry lemonade. Specifically, turkey hill light raspberry lemonade with peach stoli vodka added. ohhh yesss, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.

That my husband came home much earlier than expected from work and we got to hang a little while it is still light out. He's cute and funny and I have a tiny crush on him, so the more time I get to see him, the better. (I might just marry him)

There you have it, one nothing special, special Monday. Bring it, Tuesday, I think I am ready.

Just please don't bring it toooo early.