I took a lot of photos while in New Orleans. I’m not happy with most of them– but this one. Oh, this one. When I was standing there next to that cross, sun beaming on my face, I imagined this shot in my head. But could I bring it to life? Could I get the sun flare exactly the way I imagined it?
Using what I’ve learned about shooting in manual, I could.
And I did.
I love this. I really love this.
Missing Me
Last night, I returned home from a 5 day trip to New Orleans just a little bit after midnight. The kids were all fast asleep in their beds. That didn’t stop me from heading to each of their rooms to see their most beautiful faces. I tried to wake Gabby up, because she had made me promise to wake her up when I got home. She wouldn’t budge. So, I kissed her forehead and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water before I went to bed.
At the edge of the sofa, I noticed a piece of paper covered in familiar hand writing. I picked it up and began to read.
I can’t stop looking at your fase. How precious, I thought to myself.
I turned the piece of paper over to see if she had written on the other side.
She kept that photo close to her while I was gone because she missed me. She couldn’t stop looking at my face.
It feels good to be loved like that.
Pretty Sleeping Angel Baby Except HA HA Not Really
For the past twenty years, my husband has kissed me while I’m sleeping before he leaves for work. He tells me he loves to watch me while I’m sleeping, because I look so pretty while I sleep. One time, he said “you look like an angel.”
Over the years, I’ve come to believe him. I honestly and truly believed that I look like a precious, baby angel when I’m asleep.
Sometimes, the sound of him getting ready in the morning will wake me up, but I keep my eyes closed, knowing that at some point, he’ll look over at me with loving eyes and think “look at my beautiful sleeping angel! She’s so angelic with her sweet little angel baby face.”
There have been times where I’ve seen a baby sleeping and I’ve thought to myself “Aww, that’s probably exactly how I look when I’m sleeping. No wonder Tony can’t stop kissing me in the mornings!”
***
A few months ago, I drove with friends to Vegas. On the way home, I fell asleep in the car. Lucky everyone in the car, getting to see The Sleeping Baby Angel. I woke up to the sound of silent laughter. “What is going on!?” I demanded to know, as I wiped the drool from my face. (precious baby drool.) They eventually fessed up to taking photos of me while I was sleeping.
I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see.
My New Favorite Dress (That I Can’t Stop Talking About.)
(Size 14. Ross- $22.00)
Here’s the thing. I don’t make good Fashion Choices because I my Fashion Sense sucks. When I do find and wear something that people love and compliment me on, I feel so proud. Because it almost NEVER happens.
I’m trying to be more fashion conscience and to wear things that are stylish, but most times, I fail.
I didn’t fail with this dress. I got so many compliments when I wore it on Thursday night. And it was nice to get complimented on something I was wearing, because that pretty much never happens.
The way that I felt wearing that dress has me totally excited about shopping for clothes again. The fact that I can pull something like that off (fitted! with stripes!) has me thrilled in a “Oh, the possibilities!” kind of way.
I promise, this will be the last time I talk about this dress. (But I can’t promise you that I am not going to Ross again this week to find another awesome dress that I will love and write about here and on Facebook and on Twitter.)
***
(Don’t forget to click over to the review blog to check out the Tropicana and Walgreen’s reviews/giveaways.)
Love Is Made To Be Shared
“Did you see the picture I made for you?” my daughter asked.
“No, where is it?”
“Mom! It was on the driveway! I made it so you would be surprised when you came home.”
I had noticed the scribbles on the driveway when I had pulled up, but didn’t pay attention to the details.
I ran back outside to look. I had parked the car right over the beautiful picture she had so thoughtfully created for me. I went back inside, grabbed my keys and moved the car.
There on the driveway was chalk art, an image of me and my daughter, holding hands. Next to the picture, she had written the words “Love is made to be shared.”
I stood there, looking at it, taking in every detail. My daughter’s love, poured from her heart, through her little hands, laid there in the driveway for me to see.
Because I was too distracted by life to notice it. I had parked my car right over it.
That simple act of love created by my daughter reminded me that I need to slow down and take time to appreciate the beauty in the small things. To seek out and absorb the love that surrounds me, even in the most unlikely places.
Oh, Time.
Me and my boys, in 2002, the year that I started this blog-
Here we are, almost 9 years later.
Crazy, right?
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(Don’t forget to click over to the review blog to check out the Tropicana and Walgreen’s reviews/giveaways.)
Teach M(om)e How to Dougie
I was driving Andrew and his friend home from drama rehearsal. On a sidewalk of a busy street, there was a man wearing a Statue of Liberty costume, advertising a tax preparation service. I honked and did a little Upper Body Dance. Made the dude’s day, you guys.
My son turned to his friend and said “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
The both started laughing. I was all “Hey, that guy LOVED IT. Nothing wrong with my moves.”
That reminded my son of a story.
“Oh my God, Steven, want to hear the most embarrassing moment of my life?”
I expected him to tell a story about a time he tried to do a slick dance move in front of a girl and failed. Or something like that.
But, no.
“We were at Kam’s birthday party. All of my friends were trying to get Tyler to do The Dougie. One of my friends pulled his car up to the house, turned his radio on really loud and we all went outside to see if we could get Tyler to do it. Tyler refused to do it, but guess who went right into the middle of the circle and started trying to do it? MY MOM.. Everyone was laughing and cheering. Meanwhile, me and Ethan were standing there, mortified.”
My son’s most embarrassing moment of his life, brought to you by me, his mom.
I can’t figure out if this means I win or lose at parenting teenagers.
But I can’t lie, I feel like a winner.
Saved By the Burp
For weeks, my daughter has been asking if she could “please make some strawberry juice out of real strawberries?” And for weeks, I have been telling her “no.” Mostly because I knew that strawberry juice would taste gross and then I’d have to deal with the drama of Strawberry Juice Gone Bad. (And I know, I could totally google a recipe, but you know, LAZY.)
“But mommy!” She’d whine. “It won’t taste gross! It will taste good! Why won’t you let me try?”
Yesterday, I decided to stop being such a Mean Mommy! And let her try to make some mofo strawberry juice.
The thing about my daughter is that she doesn’t need help doing anything because she can do everything all by herself because she’s “strong and she’s brave.” In fact, she’s SO strong and brave, that the other day she was all “dude, you have no idea how brave I am. I’m not even afraid of aliens with the big black eyes. Except for when they touch me in my dreams.”
Not afraid of Aliens with big black eyes, dudes. She most certainly can make her own damn strawberry juice!
She gathered all of the things that she would need– Strawberries, a cup, a strainer, a spoon and a paper towel– and then she went to work, squeezing the crap out of those strawberries.
She worked so hard, getting as much juice as possible, all the while with a smile on her face because her strawberry juice was going to be SO DELICIOUS! She just knew it.
When she was finished, I suggested she add some water. She did not like this suggestion. She was all “Mom! I don’t need your help! And I don’t need water! It’s strawberry juice!” I pointed out how thick the juice was and, even though she did not like it ONE BIT, she agreed to add just a little bit of water.
She was ready to taste her strawberry juice.
She took a sip.
She made a funny face. Then her funny face morphed into an Angry Face.
“I TOLD YOU WE SHOULDN’T ADD WATER! IT TASTES SO GROSS!”
There I go, ruining my kid’s lives again!
The look on her face was one of pure disappointment. She had been so sure that she was going to make the best strawberry juice anyone had ever tasted. But it wasn’t. It was so bad (thanks, Mom!) I knew what was coming next… The Tears. All of her hard work had been ruined by me and my stupid ideas! She put her head down and closed her eyes and then, it happened.
She burped.
She burped so loud!
She looked at me, then she smiled.
“Wow, mommy. My strawberry juice tastes DELICIOUS when you burp it up! I TOLD YOU, I could make strawberry juice!”
Gabby totally wins at making strawberry juice.
My Camera, I Miss It
I’ve been neglecting my camera. Not for lack of desire, but for lack of a computer that doesn’t take 8 hours to open a single photo.
A new computer is not in the budget any time soon, so I’ll figure out a way to work with this one without wanting to take a hammer to it and smash it into a million tiny pieces. Because I miss everything about being creative with my camera.
.18.
Today, my first born child became a legal adult.
I have tried to put my feelings about this milestone into words many times over the past few days, but every time I sit down to translate these feelings into words, I break down and cry. I have cried so many tears over the past few days. I want to be happy about this new phase in his life. I remember turning eighteen– it was thrilling! I want to be thrilled for my son. But, the thought that in just a few months this child of mine will be free to live the life he chooses is too much for me to process.
Earlier today my son walked into my room when I was looking at a photo album filled with his baby pictures. Tears were streaming down my face.
“Are you CRYING?” He asked.
“Yes! I am crying. I just can’t believe that my sweet little baby is eighteen years old. Why did you have to grow so fast?”
He shook his head and sighed. “Mom, that’s life. Stop crying.”
But I can’t. I just can’t stop crying.
I know these are selfish tears, but I am allowing myself to experience these emotions, to process them. I can only hope that in the very near future I can come to terms with having an adult child.
I can tell you that in spite of the tears, I feel tremendous pride for the son that I have raised. He is kind– a gentle soul. He is considerate, respectful and loving. He is slow to anger, quick to forgive. He has the best sense of humor and isn’t afraid to laugh at himself.
And man, is he good looking.
Happy 18th birthday my Nunu. You are the most wonderful son a mother could ask for. I promise I’ll stop crying. Eventually. Maybe.