Buyer Beware : Bunchems

As I was combing my girls' Christmas lists, I noticed Bunchems.  The little balls of velcro-like barbs which looked perfect for my girls AND perfect for this momma who values open-ended play.

Haven't heard of them?  

Here's what they are:

{ photos from product page at Amazon.com }

I am a serial review-reader.  I ALWAYS read reviews.  I was shocked at the reviews I found;  

"A Toy Spawned From the Darkest Depths of Hell"

and  

"Burn Them!"

Review upon review with accompanying photos of nightmarish hair tangles.  Here are two photos from two different Amazon.com reviewers { + there are LOTS more }

And another ...

{   the linky-dink to Amazon's reviews ...  Amazon.com Reviews for Bunchems    }

My verdict : NOPE!

Be careful if you have long-haired-little-sweets in your house.  I do.  

And I have long-haired-little-sweets who launch stuff at each other.  

They're super tempting, but I'm skipping the 

imminent { MOST LITERAL } headache!  

Please share!

That Darn Sofa.

PARENTING ALONE.

Prior to my failed marriage, this was my scariest fear.

I thought that there was absolutely { no way } I could ever be a single 

parent of little ones + a baby.  

a baby.  

Of course, people do it ... But HOW!?

{ Sleep is one of my love languages. }

+++

I was parenting WITH someone and I was overwhelmed.  

How would I EVER have the strength and fortitude to do it alone?  

I was still completely overwhelmed.  

I felt like ...

{ I WAS DOING IT ALL }

But isn’t that such the human condition?  

We all think are SO critical to what we do.  

Only we can do the job we were hired or volunteered to do.

Like taking a day off will set the world into chaos. 

IT DOESN'T.

  

{{ We’re just one tiny element of a day. }}

+++

That’s how I rationalized my internal struggle of feeling overwhelmed;  

"It’s just normal."  

You feel under-appreciated + overwhelmed.  That's life.

After all, I had a partner in this job that constantly reminded me that he had my back + that he was doing JUST as much as I was ... if not more.

But man, it just didn't add up.

+++

I was being told how much help I had, yet, it really didn’t FEEL like it.  

+++

I now can see that this was tactical.  

A pre-meditated emotional maneuver to keep me powerless. 

My once independent spirit was slowly, yet methodically stripped down to dependence.  

I was being changed.

Then … Rationalizing kicks in.  

"Feelings are just feelings.  They’re not always accurate.” 

{ what i know now is that these weren’t just feelings, it was my gut.  my intuition. }

+++

Get up.  

Get it together.  

Stop complaining. 

+++

I had a girlfriend who, just a year or two prior to my mess, was faced with parenting her very young girls alone for one year while her husband was in training/schooling half-the-country-away.  I trembled for her.  It made my stomach hurt.  But, she just bucked up and put in some major sweat and they made it work.  

And then the year was over and she made it. 

I WAS IN AWE.  

+++

It’s like moving a sofa with someone.  

You think the weight is distributed evenly, because you BOTH are helping.  

And you’re thinking; 

“Wow.  I could NEVER move that sofa on my own.  

I’m so glad I have your help.”

"Wait ...

Are you SURE you’re holding the other end of the sofa?"

“Yep.  Got it."

"Okay ... But, are you SURE you're holding it?  

It's just so ... HEAVY."

“YES!  

Of course I’m helping you hold the sofa! 

It's a heavy sofa.  It's going to be heavy.  

You're fine.  Just keep going.  

... and stop complaining.”

But.  Then they’re like,

“I think I’m tired of this whole sofa thing.  

Can you just hang onto it from now on?”

And you’re like,  

“Oh my goodness.  

How am I going to hold this {HEAVY SOFA} all by myself!?  

There’s no way.”

+++

But.  Guess what.  

{ YOU ACTUALLY WERE DOING IT ALONE THE WHOLE TIME }

+++

... and then they're gone.  

{ and you're holding the sofa alone. }

AND YOU'RE NOT DYING.

And it's all okay.

{{ And it's no different from when you THOUGHT they were holding the sofa }}

And you’re actually feeling great.

 {{ super sweaty.  an occasional stumble.  a few tears. }}

+++

But, you got it.  And life is good.

And that sofa is actually making you 

[STRONGER]

So, you keep hanging on.

+++

And you realize that you’re a healthier person because 

you’ve been left to hang onto that sofa alone.  

And you KNOW you have that sofa alone.  

+++

And honestly, the sofa is better off ...

because that person hanging onto the sofa had super dirty hands 

that was actually making the sofa look worse.

+++

But you,

YOU KEEP HANGING ONTO THAT SOFA.

{ alone.}

And it's so hard. 

But it really is 

{SO DARN GOOD}

::: lisalivesaloha :::

A Toast.

I rocked Harper to sleep the other night.

I can’t remember the last time I did.  

My girls are lovely little sleepers + I've always catered to a healthy sleep schedule.

{ dominant sleep gene from this girl, no doubt in my mind. does that even exist? }

So.  We’re rocking.  She’s drowsy.  I’m thinking.

A few days before, on Harper’s birthday, I was having a conversation with a friend.  

I ended up reflecting on the events surrounding her original birthday.  

The day she entered this world.

Of course there was excitement + anticipation.  But.  A few hours into labor, I recall wondering how on earth I could have ever forgotten that pain.  And why am I doing it again.  

But, here I was … Again. 

I also sharply remember { in desperation } wanting to quit.

I wanted it over.  

I wanted the pain to end.

  

But mostly, I just wanted to stop.  

{ can i get an "Amen", girls!? }

Huge problem with that.  

I was stuck.  

There was only one way for it to end:  Through the pain.

{{  And here we go.  Truths are transferrable, parallels are everywhere.  }}

During these past 2.5 years, I’ve been working through a painful reality in my life.  

A place I had never pictured myself, I literally had the rug ripped out from my comfortable + content little life.  

Steeped in the newness of the imposing reality, there were moments when I wanted to give up.  I wanted to pull the covers over my head + sleep the days away.  I wanted to yank the rip-cord and have the parachute open and then float dreamingly down to a normal place of contentment again.  

Riiiiiight.  

Sorta like bailing on labor + delivery; THAT was simply not an option. 

{ that's the thing about pain. }

+++

I was alone with my thoughts on my sweet Harper’s birthday evening.  

That night, I toasted to the pain.

I toasted the pain, because I’m starting to see that ...

 It is actually the pain that ultimately ushers in the 

{ really good stuff }

And i know it's coming. 

xo.

Lonely Isn't Alone.

I have been busy beyond belief with my amazing photography clientele.  

Best autumn ever + I'm so excited to move on to the next season!  

{ BiG things in store for my clients in the New Year! }

My largest challenge has been resisting my drive to 

{ :-:-: deck my halls :-:-: }

I have a long list of edits I have vowed to complete before Thanksgiving, and decorating with my crazy-cute Christmas stuff just doesn't pay the bills.  Sadly.

So, I apologize for my lapse, 

but I am aware haven’t been paying as much attention to the world around me.

Head down.  

Tap, tap, tapping my tired fingers to the bone.

You all know the story.  I won't bore you with the details.  

Until this morning.

I’ve been sorta dreading { actually, very much dreading } the parade of Holidays because I’ll be spending the bulk of them very much alone;  

... without my two little sweet peas.  

But also without a significant other.  

So many events would not only easier with someone by my side, but really, 
a little more complete, even.

< yuck. i can't believe i said that out loud. >  


It's NOT that I think I need someone else to feel complete; 
but I believe we are programmed to not be alone.  

Better in pairs.  You know?

So.  As part of my Friday reward for myself, I pull into the crazy-long Caribou drive-thru 

to gift myself an extra shot of espresso.  

While I’m waiting my turn, I’m pouring my heart out to a dear friend.

{ Okay. This is where I get vulnerable.  

And it’s a smidge embarrasing, but it was a divine appointment.  

I’m sure of it.  So, I share ... }

I press send on this stream of thoughts: 

The car ahead of me pulls forward.  I roll up with exact change in hand and the sweet girl at the window tells me that the woman in front of me has paid for my order.  

She not only paid for my order, 

but she reached out for her hands,  
squeezed warmly and asked her to tell me that she ... 

“hopes that I have a really fantastic day.”

That's it?  

{{ That's it.  And that's all I really needed. }}

With this, I smiled, accepted graciously + paid for the gentleman behind me.  

That's love.  We're all in this thing together.  

... Even when we're alone.  

Far From Normal : Throwback

Well.  Just so you all know.

This is the girl who stood in front of the television on any given night and ran through my repertoire of faces for my family.  And told stories with animated faces, all for a laugh.

And this is what so many of my best childhood memories are made of. 

= 

Not Being Normal.  

{{ And. I looked like a boy.  Thanks Mom. }} 

She Says Yes.

It happens without much notice, as with most things.  

How quickly you get backed into a safe, comfortable corner + decide to dwell there.  
{ I’d be willing to guess that a large portion of the population resides here. }

I had slid into this world + I didn’t even recognize that I was existing there.  
Over the course of years, an unhealthy relationship had imbued me into placing myself on the back-burner; eroding my confidence + ultimately impairing who I was. 

I had never been one to turn down a new experience.  

Ever. 

Was this the “new normal”?  

It certainly didn’t feel fulfilling, but comfortable enough.  It was just easier to say no.

So, when out of the blue, my life was flipped on it’s head.  “No” was no longer an option.  
I no longer had the luxury of turning down opportunities.  

That’s kind of a deceptive way to put it, because turning down opportunities isn’t really a luxury, it’s a life half-lived.  A life of simply existing.  

Breathing but with no real life.

I made a marked decision.  Not only did I want to focus on saying “Yes”, but I had to.  

Even when I was filled with fear + hesitation.  Even when didn’t think I wanted to.  
Even if I was exhausted.  
≈
Even if.

{{ oh my wordy.  you guys. }}  

As I'm typing this { right after “turning down opportunities isn’t a luxury …” }  

I received an email from my lovely auntie pointing me to a communications position that was just made available.  

Opportunity.

What do you think I did?  

I placed this post on pause for a few minutes + followed up.  

On the spot.  

Good opportunities aren't always accompanied with signs + wonders.  Not every opportunity is right for every person.  But when you table the fear, you would be amazed at what will happen when you allow opportunity through the door instead of just letting it knock.  If it's meant to be, it will be.  But, you have to say yes.

'Cause guess what?  

Opportunity isn’t gonna keep knocking.  

After you flip off the lights + peer through the blinds; it’s gonna walk away.

Opportunity is gonna knock on someone else's door who is keeping the porch light on, the walkway clear + a fresh pot of coffee brewing.

Amen.

That Sparkle.

{{  I really didn’t anticipate launching this blog right out of the gate with thoughts on photography + portraiture; Promise. }}

I love capturing everyday moments.  I’ve been narrowing my niche down + am finding that the sessions that I love the absolute most end up being the ones simply working with the kiddos.  They're so unbiased.  They don't worry about if there's something in their teeth, a blemish on their skin or an extra roll around their waistline.  Most of the time, they're not even terribly concerned about the photos at all.  I wish I could bottle the feeling you get when you make a child’s eye sparkle; or at the very least capture it.  Forever. 

My love affair with the camera didn’t actually fully materialize until after I had my girls.  I was surrounded by all things photography growing up.  My dad had a darkroom in our basement and a creative eye.  My sweet Grandpa Appel took pictures of everything.  And I mean everything; even funerals.  For real.  But he took photos with a contagious grin + an amazing heart.  We rolled our eyes + tried our hardest to stay out of his line of fire.

I've only recently given thought to his why.  I have figured out that he loved life so much, that he wanted to capture everything.  My grandparents had a large bookshelf in their sunroom which chronicled their life, complete with a handwritten index for the 50+ albums orderly arranged on the shelves.  All extra documentation penned in his blue manuscript.  Treasure.  

{ this is a note that my grandpa tucked underneath a picture of us.  love. }

-----------

  FYI : My grandfather could be the topic of a whole entire blog.  Or book.  Or both.  Another story for another day ...

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Imagine the unimaginable, just for a minute.  You have just a few short minutes to grab whatever you could from your dwelling, right before a tragedy.  {Yadda, yadda, yadda.  We’ve all heard this before.  Yeah, whatever.}

But what do most people say?  I bet I know what my Grandpa would have grabbed.  

What’s the one thing you get snagged on while you’re cleaning out your “stuff”?  

What’s the one thing that actually creates { or even reinforces } some of your earliest memories?  

What’s the one thing that you love flipping through at reunions with friends + family?

My coterie has been inundated with funerals lately.  And guess what everyone clings to?  Memories, of course. But pictures.  We pour through pictures to select the choicest shots that will demonstrate the LIFE that was lived.  Not the dates, but the dash.  

I love feeling like I’m creating little keepsakes.  Little treasures.  I hope that these images will be shared + displayed.  Tucked away into a box someday, only to be discovered again; embraced by grandchildren + great-grandchildren and passed along and photocopied and scanned and shared and loved all over again.

Photos are the tangibles when everything else of a moment has slipped into an intangible reflection.  They’re moments preserved + emotions delivered, again + again.

I love capturing life.  Life as it’s happening.  Life in emotions.  Life in the sparkle of those unadulterated eyes.  It’s amazing.  

And it’s unmistakable.