five minute friday: she

Posted on September 20, 2013 by Cole | 12 Comments

…where a brave and beautiful bunch gather every week to find out what comes out when we all spend five minutes writing on the same topic and then sharing ‘em over here.

Go:

“What did I do wrong?”

I had been sharp with her. Unnecessarily so. She hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just tired of not being listened to and had raised my voice in response to the cacophony of the little ones running away from, while simultaneously giggling at and ignoring my repeated requests. She had been sitting quietly on the couch watching Word Girl. It was almost bedtime for them and my head was filled with the swirling clutter of our kitchen, the undone daily to-do list, the mountain of unwashed laundry and the books and toys that the children seemed to see as a household obstacle course to be serpentined through rather than picked up after. She was sitting amidst the three ring circus of our living room and I wanted some help cleaning up.

She’s almost seven now. Light years from the toddler who used to grin with a carefree enthusiasm that was hard to pin down. She takes our words, our tones, our looks or lack of them into her tender heart and mirrors them back in her daily interactions with others. I hear it as she scolds her dolls and reminds her friends and sisters of the rules and how to act in both their very real and make-believe-land and I frown making a mental note to temper myself. To give her more emotional freedom to remain the unencumbered little girl that darts between big-sister-hood and little-girl-dom on a whim. Who frequently entwines her unending mommalogues with requests to be the baby next lifetime around with predictions that when she grows up she’ll be not only a teacher but the person in charge of them.

She.

She’s not a baby anymore. Not a toddler or a preschooler to be shaped and shepherded at every turn of the schedule and activity. She is venturing out into her school and her community and becoming not just the person I expect her to be, but the girl she wants to be. A girl who matches her striped shirt with rainbow polka-dotted jeggings because she likes the way the patterns play together. A girl who wants to sing Katy Perry loudly in the car with the windows rolled down rather than listening to me sing another verse of the unending family version of the Barney song. A girl who loves to both get a smiley face on her weekly spelling test and ask in baby tones if I’ll carry her to bed tonight. A girl who wants to be the one to choose which restaurant we go to for dinner but will still only eat cheese quesadillas and mini-corndogs most nights. A girl who begs me to not take her picture in front of her friends but photobombs the shots of her sleeping sisters.

She didn’t do anything wrong.

She. She’s just growing up before I know how to let her.

Stop.

corner view: a day in my life

Posted on May 15, 2013 by Cole | 6 Comments

Corner view is a weekly Wednesday gathering, originally hosted by Jane, now by Francesca. A topic is given and you can see impressions; be it photographic or writerly in form, from around the world. Come see the world’s corner view via the links on the sidebar!

Momma tried: The Day

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Cole | 1 Comment

There were flowers. There were pancakes. There was brunch with local fare.

And yet- there was not a single hour where I didn’t haul out my stern momma voice. There were tears, bleeding, complaining, whining, arguing and naps that were too short. There were chores undone and big deals made of the chores that were done on the heals of much too much nagging. There was a portrait drawn of me with a note that the six year old wishes she could give me time to myself. And there is the cringing mother wishing the kindergarten teacher hadn’t had the frown of reading that. Then there is the six year old in all her exuberance bursting into teary flames after she manages to rip my card clear in half in her desire to “help” me open it. The next morning that same six year old informed me that I wasn’t lame because I didn’t get to market to buy more of her breakfast cereal- after all- we had had a busy mother’s day where she “had to clean the entire house by 7:30pm”. Ahem. So yes, it could have gone better. I could have been kinder. I could have lowered what I already thought were pretty low expectations. God willing we’ll get a chance to do it all again next year. After all- that day right there- that’s the stuff isn’t it? That’s the stuff of motherhood.

corner view: synchronicity

Posted on February 27, 2013 by Cole | 7 Comments

On my birthday I knew what I wanted to do. As a Midwestern girl by birth, living my adulthood in the South, with a winter birthday, the flowers I would celebrate with were always purchased ones. This year, turning 40, I wanted to embrace my acquired Southerness and capture the beauty that Mother Nature offers up on my day. Once the children were down for their midday nap, I told Lovey I was heading over to the local Botanical Gardens to snap some pictures of what was in bloom. I grabbed my camera, the baby and my purse and opened the screen door to find….snow. As a Southern girl from the midwest- I hadn’t been treated to snow on my birthday in many, many years, and yes- living in the South- snow any day is a treat. Just ask Zuzu. Two years ago it snowed on Christmas which reportedly had not happened in this area in over one to two hundred years. The snowy clouds were light in our area but offered the lovely overcast that is just right for capturing the beauty around us. My birthday bouquet:

five minute friday: bare

Posted on February 8, 2013 by Cole | 1 Comment

…where a brave and beautiful bunch gather every week to find out what comes out when we all spend five minutes writing on the same topic and then sharing ‘em over here.

Go:

I take the teacher note out of the Quail’s backpack and read it to her four year old self: “The Quail was not kind to her friends today. She pulled her friend down and her friend did the same….” The Quail looks down at her shoes while bird-perching her bottom lip out at my words.

“Momma, that girl was mean to me again. She took my prize and hid it and wouldn’t tell me where it was.” Zuzu’s voice wobbles through her tears.

“Momma I got my sticker and stamp taken away today. But I was only talking quietly. Lucy was talking loud but Mrs. Campbell didn’t hear her. She didn’t get hers taken away. It’s not fair.” Her tears flow hot at the injustice of kindergarten rulings. Her embarrassment at having gotten in trouble worn as plain as the clean back of her hand where the daily stamp is missing.

“Back away from each other and Quail go to time-out. We do not hit or spit.” I raise my voice to be heard over the wild ruckus of the girl’s disagreement and then proceed to wipe the spit off my face that was sent there flying out of the Quail’s frustration. I feel myself pause- I need to be heard, but I need to not yell and frankly- that’s hard some days.

Each day we start again. Each day I promise myself I will not yell. I will listen. I will instruct calmly. I will model what I want to see in them. Each day I feel the frustration mount as we repeat the same lessons over and over. Including the new promise to not yell *this day*.

The basic lessons:

We do not hit, pull or spit.

We ask for help when we need it.

We listen to our teacher, parents and grown-ups in charge.

We do not yell.

The bare bones they are, these daily repeated lessons of ours. How to get along with others in this ole’ world. How to be kind.

These basic lessons- they bare repeating each and every day as we wake up and try again.

Stop.

I am 40.

Posted on February 2, 2013 by Cole | 5 Comments

photo courtesy of Zuzu

I am 40 today. To be honest, I think I’ve always been a little bit 40, even from way back when a very young me mostly dressed in orthopedic Doc Martins and gray woolen cardigans with Kleenex tucked up the sleeve while sipping tea from the perch of my 1940’s solid maple Ethan Allen swivel rocker listening to Prairie Home Companion. Really the only “funny” feeling I have with this technical change in decade is the discombobulation that is coming with being officially older than the age my mother perpetually resides at in my head (It’s 37 if you are curious). I’m arriving to my 40’s in a pretty happy and contented state of being. One where “I’m good” would be the answer to most questions about the state of my life, and the changes I still feel I’d like to make one day. One where my daily boiled egg, cup of yogurt and coffee leave me feeling perky. Sound in the knowledge that it’s ok that I haven’t slept more than 5 hours at a stretch in over 6 years rather than finding it insomnia inducing.

Which isn’t to say that I don’t see room for improvement (like maybe increase that hours of sleep a night number for starters). What exactly would I like to change in this coming decade? I’d like to yell less. I want to be more patient. I’d like to read more by myself and with my family. I’d like to increase my technical knowledge of photography. I’d like to declutter my home, my brain and my email folders. I’d like to have a seasonal, familial, daily rhythm to the food my family and I eat and the time we spend together. I’d like to have a weekly pattern of walking, gardening and yoga. I’d like to completely rid my brain of the guilt that piles up when I don’t meet my own expectations in life so that I can move on more quickly to trying again. I’d like to write a book. I’d like to make a yearly book of our family’s life and one of our families recipes. I’d like to use more of what I already own more regularly. I’d like to go back to seeing more live music shows and traveling regularly. I want to continue to see the magic in the ordinary of our days.

What have I learned in the last 40 years? Here are the highlights- and yes- I know there are many contradictions in here. A little secret- there are many in life as well:

What other people think of me is none of my business.
It is ok to feel happy, angry and sad. They are my feelings and I don’t need to apologize for them. That said I am responsible to create my own happiness, control my own anger and curb my own crying.
Ruminating over things that aren’t going well only makes ME unhappy.
I prefer to find the good in my day and document it. And I prefer to let the rest go at days end.
I prefer my chocolates mixed, my jewelry sentimental, my coffee strong with milk and my flowers colorful.
When the next day comes, I’ll try again.
Not only do I need the ability to try again, but it’s good to give the people in your life another chance as well. We all make mistakes.
Listen to other people’s opinions about life, but remember they are only opinions.
When someone compliments you, say thank you and smile.
Share what you have.
It is important to say sorry when someone is hurt by you, even if you didn’t mean to.
It is possible to enjoy variety- McDonald’s McRib and High Tea.
Not everyone needs a detailed explanation of what you mean.
Not every situation needs resolution; sometimes the best course of action is to just let it go.
If I didn’t photograph or write about it, it’s hard to remember that it happened for me.
Daily structure, rules and routine help me to look outside of those for inspiration.
When people offer help, if it really would be helpful- say yes and thank you.
I feel better when I eat my fruit and veggies, get lots of sleep, take a walk, go outside, floss my teeth and drink lots of water.
When something is bothering you, try to think about how you could fix it. When something is bothering someone else, just listen.
In parenting my children, I understand and appreciate my own parents so very much.
When I can’t stop ruminating on something, walk on it, photograph it or write about it. There is freedom in taking control of your thoughts so you can move on.
Your experience in life is yours alone.
Don’t try to control other people’s actions. It doesn’t work.
Everything passes in life- the good and the bad.
Expectations should be in flux- lowered when you become overwhelmed and raised when you could do better.
When you can’t change your situation, change your perspective and attitude.
I like to be cooked for, read to and invited over.
In the moment, I am much more capable than I think I am in the preparation.
A daily family meal is defined as us being together for the meal. It doesn’t matter who serves it, what it is or what time of the day it happens.
I enjoy the feeling of a good melt-up (think opposite of a melt-down)
Trying something new is just as great as returning to our old favorites (food, vacations, friends, activities).
I’d rather have an ongoing list of things I want to do than have that list neatly checked off.
When people tell me they see something good in me, I start to see it in myself and I live up to that expectation.
Being able to laugh about the daily awfuls helps me to get over them.
It is so very important to be kind. To others and yourself. Whether deserved or not.
I learn a lot in a quiet moment.
I’m inspired by images, words and food others make.
I’d rather ask a question than assume I’m right or understand all that I need to.
You can learn just as much from those younger than you as those older than you- if you want to.
I am crystal clear how lucky I am to have the family, friends, community, health and teeth that I do.

Bless you all.

When you turn 40….

Posted on February 2, 2013 by Cole | 1 Comment

…you mostly get to do what you want. Maybe it doesn’t all go seamlessly, or exactly how you picture it….but it’s still how you want to spend your day…and…because you’re now 40- you’re ok with that and choose to remember the special parts and let the rest go…unless of course you can joke about those other parts now. That’s ok too. You know, because you’re 40 and all now.

On my day I had a few things in mind. I wanted to eat cinnamon-roll pancakes. I wanted to drink a latte. I wanted to see what was in bloom on my birthday. I wanted some time to do my thing (photograph/edit/write/blog/reflect). I wanted to drink another latte. I wanted my family to bake me a cake together. And I wanted to go out for a tasty dinner. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check, and check. It’s good to be here. It’s good to be 40.

five minute friday: afraid

Posted on February 1, 2013 by Cole | 3 Comments

…where a brave and beautiful bunch gather every week to find out what comes out when we all spend five minutes writing on the same topic and then sharing ‘em over here. Go:

Once upon a time fear was something I wore like a coat on a brisk fall day. As a young girl I was prone to anxiety to the point where it caused me to reexamine what was essential and what I could let go of each day. I stopped every extra-curricular activity my friends still enjoyed. I so wish it could have been the fear that was let go.

Over time, those feelings- the frequency, the intensity have lessened and lessoned. They are no longer a daily companion, someone who holds me back and makes me think twice. They do still rear their ugly heads. Mostly in the night. When I least expect it.

It started again in the last few weeks of my pregnancy with Zuzu. I was like a dog roaming our house looking for a spot to rest my weary head, heart and hips. I cried to my OB that I couldn’t breathe at night. That my allergies were preventing my sleep. I was so confounded as to why the medicine they gave me in response did nothing. After Zuzu’s birth it came on even stronger. I would try to hold her and lay down and find myself rushing out of the room in tears asking someone else to hold her while I tried to calm myself.

Then came the late months of my pregnancy with The Quail. This time I knew the feeling that woke me in the night with a start. That made my heart flutter and my breath catch. This wasn’t allergies. It was anxiety. After the Quail’s birth I let the fear have one night in my head and then I asked for help. I knew how awful post-partum anxiety could be and I didn’t want to give the Quail’s first weeks over to it as I had Zuzus’.

When the later weeks of Sugarplum’s pregnancy came I was prepared. I asked for help sleeping in the last month and when she was here I asked for help on day one. Only one night still caught me, the night my milk came in I was certain the flu had gotten me for how horrid I felt. But it passed. As did my fear.

My fear- it isn’t conscious. It’s hormonal. It rears its head when my hormone levels surge. It always has and I would expect it always will.

The difference now- the difference is I’m no longer afraid of it.

Stop.

five minute friday: cherished

Posted on January 18, 2013 by Cole | 5 Comments

…where a brave and beautiful bunch gather every week to find out what comes out when we all spend five minutes writing on the same topic and then sharing ‘em over here.

GO:

I know I am. How could that not be the case, when the biology of it is as pure as her gaze and as constant as her daily mommalogues. When I stop to really think about it, I know she doesn’t have to think about it to feel it. And yet, I ruminate, I wonder, I resist her growing love of things outside of and ahead of me. Her independance. As certainly as I send her out seeking them again and again.

She opened her backpack and amidst the tumble of papers was the little booklet that caused my eyebrow to raise up and my heart to give pause. Last week’s primary lesson was on the five senses. They illustrated their favorite sights and sounds, tastes and scents and things to touch. They noticed the ordinary in their day and drew out their love.

“Do you know what I love to see Momma?”

The question was as filled with innocence as her eyes were with joy.

I smiled back in anticipation.

She wakes with Momma on her lips. She chatters through her shower, her dressing, her meals; her play. In a room filled with people, she directs her sites on me instinctually. We remind her to pay attention to everyone. We scold her for the rudeness of her solitary focus. We explain how it makes others feel left out when her mommalogue runs throughout everyone’s day. And yet, it continues. And we try again.

And there, as the story of her day unfolds before me I see a new chapter illustrated on her heart. Her favorite thing to see? It wasn’t momma. It was her teacher. The content of her mommalogue, the newest center of her story was the kind smile of the sweet teacher she hopes to be, one day, to hear her tell it.

It makes me pause and listen- to take her in with my five senses while I still can. To notice, to listen, to cherish and to feel that constant attention of hers while it still wraps around us. For the time being.

Stop.

corner view: serendipity

Posted on December 5, 2012 by Cole | 12 Comments

Serendipity is a good name for my journey in photography right now. I’m still working on learning the mechanics or science of it while simultaneously still loving the art of what shows up on my screen, well, rather serendipitously!