From the Vault: Mother's Day 2009

I came across this email I'd sent to a photography colleague a couple years ago, about my ill-fated Mother's Day in 2009.  Thought I'd share it with you because in hindsight it was pretty funny.

Mother’s Day was a two-day event in the eyes of my 5 year old son, Thomas. On Thursday, I was set to attend the “Moms and Macaroni” luncheon at his preschool. The night before, he excitedly declared that the next day was Mother’s day, and then told me an elaborate story about the dyed-macaroni necklace he made for me. He then stopped, looked around, and said in a hushed whisper, “but shhhh….you don’t know about the necklace.”

Thomas woke up on the actual Mother’s Day in a bit of a snit. He did not want to give me the card he made and the gift certificate for a massage my husband got for me, so he ran past me and threw it at me instead. The envelope for the gift certificate was made of vellum and hit me squarely in the eye. As my eye watered up from the blunt force trauma, Thomas said I shouldn’t cry because it was Mother’s Day.

He later redeemed himself while I was in my office editing photos (I know…I shouldn’t have been working on Mother’s Day)…snuck down to my office and re-gifted the aforementioned massage certificate (this time gently) on my desk…then said he had something for me and handed me a bouquet of tulips and grape hyacinths…with dirt and roots and the actual bulbs still attached…that he had ripped up from the garden. He did all of this while dressed in a monkey costume that he wore this past Halloween.

FYI…It’s very difficult to be angry on Mother’s Day at a little boy handing you uprooted flowers and bulbs while dressed in a monkey costume, even if you can only see him out of one eye.

Finally, my 14 year old daughter, who has been at odds for me for months in her adolescent angst, gave me a homemade card and a beautiful bracelet made by Ugandan women that the purchased at a fundraiser. I’d expected nothing from her and this was a total shock.

I ended the day going to a local farm and purchasing some lovely perennials, which I planted in the big hole of now-absent bulbs.

So, regardless of how the day pans out, be happy on Mother’s Day.

Weinermobile Comes to Missoula!

Truly, what COULD be better on a week-long Spring Break full of grey and blustery days than a visit from the Oscar Mayer weinermobile?  Not too many things.

Back in the day when Thomas first started going to daycare, he would cry and cry and cry.  He'd stop as soon as I left him at my friend Jill's house, so the crying was strictly a theatrical performance for my benefit.  Nonetheless, I resorted to strong parenting techniques and careful consideration of his needs.  Um...actually I didn't.  I bribed the little guy.  At the time, Thomas was into cars.  I mean IN TO CARS.  He would line them up, stack them up, flip them over, drive them across the brand new stainless steel refrigerator, dishwasher and stove (pressure was off on scratching those suckers VERY quickly), and would, in essence, love the cars to death.  Now...Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars are not necessarily cheap, especially when you have to bribe your child with a car a day five days per week (yes, you may exclaim "WHAAAAAAAT?" now).  Hey...he's the baby of the family and the baby of the family gets what he wants.  Did I mention that I AM also the baby of my family?

I digress...

So in an effort to cull the tide of matchbox-hot-wheels-debt, I did what any other sane mother would do.  What?  Wean him from his car addiction?  I think not.  I resorted to far more creative endeavors.  Ebay.

I would search the "GIANT LOT OF MATCHBOX LOOK!" ads and look carefully at the contents for interesting vehicles and then I would place my bid.  47 vintage matchbox cars for $18.00 + shipping?  I'm IN.

To make a long story longer...one of the lots had a weinermobile.  Now, I am NOT a fan of hot dogs.  I consumed many in my day when I was younger, but the thought of these suckers just turns my stomach.  Thomas, however, is a hot dog aficionado.  But when I saw the weinermobile in this Ebay listing, I decided I had to have it.  Despite my disgust for hot dogs, I am a fan of the weinermobile.  As a child I always wanted to see it, but it was never in my neighborhood.  Until THIS week.  And to the weinermobile we went...in gusty winds of 30 mph we drove to the Wal-Mart parking lot and there, in all it's mustardy greatness, it stood.

Our Hot Dogger (I forgot her name) was actually a recent college graduate from Pittsburgh!  She was excited that we had roots in da Burgh and that we were fellow Steelers fans.  Thomas was excited to look around the inside of the vehicle, which sported a squiggly line of mustard down its center and weinermobile embellishments on the seats (you can see one behind Thomas' head).   Thomas was especially impressed with the "bun-roof".  He was most concerned with how they drove the thing, and more so how they parked it.  How DO you parallel park a weinermobile?  Between two buns?  He asked our Hot Dogger lots of questions and she rewarded him with nothing less than a Weiner Whistle to add to his collection.

When little things think BIG...

Thomas was dwarfed by this car.  He thought it was pretty cool.

Blowing his weiner whistle...

Thomas is also a new fan of bologna.  My brother would be so proud.  On the way home I told him about the Oscar Mayer bologna song and he wanted to learn it.  We then had a song-creation contest.  He deemed me the winner with this little ditty:

I have a little boy...
T-H-O-M-A-S...
And most days he's a joy, but others he's a mess...
Oh, he loves a sandwich every day,
In fact, it's in his DNA...
'Cause Thomas likes to have his way with B-O-L-O-G-N-A.

Thank you, thank you...I'll be here all week.

Unfortunately, the weinermobile will not.  It's off to points unknown...but we enjoyed it while we could.

Spring has Sprung in Missoula

It has been a very long winter in Missoula, and even spring has entered in stealth mode, giving us patches of warm, sunny days and then surprise sucker punches of snowstorms like the one that hit yesterday morning.  When I got up in the morning, the city was blanketed in a fresh coat of snow.  Thankfully it had melted off before the afternoon, but not before I stepped out to snap a few images.

Thomas and I often play a game of "what's your favorite season?".  His is invariably summer.  Mine is often split between spring and fall.  I like spring because of the newness of everything, and because when the maple trees start popping open and the lilacs start to bloom and the grass starts to thicken, Missoula becomes alive and bathed in a shade of spring green that finally makes me understand why Crayola dedicated a specific crayon color to it.  I like fall strictly because it reminds me of New England (minus the reds...I miss the reds), and I like to wear sweaters on a crisp, clear day.

Montana Spring Runoff:  Gardener-style... 

Crocus, undeterred by the snowstorm...

Lenten rose...

Future delphinium...

Future daffodil...

Future iris...

My favorite (and only) clump of purple crocus...not quite sure what happened to the rest of them...

Forgotten, unharvested onion...my friend says it looks like they're having a convention...

Volunteer tulips that took up residence in my vegetable garden about 10 years ago.  They must have been dormant bulbs in the yard and then when we moved the garden, they woke up.  They are a brilliant shade of red when they bloom, and I just haven't had the heart to relocate them elsewhere.  So I plant around them every year and wait until their leaves turn yellow before I cut them back.  Last year they nested next to the green bean trellis.  Not sure what will go around them this year...

Future raspberry...

Future strawberry...

Future honeysuckle flower...a favorite among our hummingbird population...

I love when the aspen leaves start to pop out.  They remind me of those big wooly-bugger caterpillars we find every so often...

The forsythia bush is getting ready to bloom.  I saved this bush years ago by hacking it nearly to the ground and allowing it to regenerate.  Andy has always said I should just dig it up and replace it, but I find great satisfaction in watching it heal itself and grow back much stronger.  I think the same can be said about people...

Thomas watched all of this from the comfort of our house.  He would tap on the window and then jump away when I'd try to take his picture.  This was the only shot I got, but I think it captures his gleeful personality. 

A Reminder of What Life is all About...

Another post that I wrote in December and failed to publish.  I have to admit that I am hesitant to publish it now, as it was written at a time where I was really examining a lot of things.  BUT, in the words of my good friend Vince Darius, I'm "keepin' it real", so here it is.  I am happy to report that I came out of my photography break motivated, eager, strong, committed, and renewed.  Sometimes a break is good on multiple levels.  I am looking forward to spring and summer shoots and getting right back in the game.

December 11, 2010:

It has been an incredibly long time since I've blogged. In fact, it's been one year, two months and seven days since I've blogged. It's not for lack of things to say, and certainly not for a lack of images taken (I think I logged well over 30,000 images last year, including two beautiful weddings--one locally and one in Alaska, a new crop of students at MCT's Next Step Prep, a host of theater performances, and some gorgeous portraits). I have to admit that for many reasons this past year has been very difficult. Without boring you with details, the past year has been an intense period of soul-searching, examining my character, personal goal setting, and determining the things that I need to jettison from my life. It has also been one where I have struggled with some health issues that have made me stand up and pay attention.

Whoa. Aren't photography blogs supposed to be uplifting? Why, yes, I suppose they are. But one of the things I like about photography, and the thing that draws me the most, is that photography is real. I'm not a big fan of over-photoshopped images, using stamps and overlays and airbrushing and whatnot. Enhancements are great. Replacements are not. Photography is real, and whether people like it or not, I am pretty darn real, too.

I digress.

For those who know me personally, suffice it to say that this past week has probably been one of the crappiest on record. I have been tested to my core, and I'm not particularly happy about the things my self-examination has again revealed to me. I have been reminded over an over again about a blog post I read years ago by one of my photography idols, Zack Arias (zarias.com). He was a full-time photographer in his first career. He was very driven and very ambitious. As a result he lost everything. He had to sell his camera equipment to make ends meet, and in the end, he lost his family and his marriage. Many years later he was able to begin a second, far more successful photography career. He got remarried. He has a beautiful family. He did it right the second time. He never ceases to remind his followers of his mistakes and cautions us against making the same ones.

I paid attention to that blog post years ago and it is relevant because I am at that place.

Photography hasn't done this to me. I have done this to me. But what I learned from Zack and countless others who have chimed in on his blog is that at some point you have to draw the line and take a giant leap back from it. Regroup. Refocus (pardon the pun). Redesign. ReWhateveryouneedtodo.

This is a very cryptic blog. It isn't meant to be. It's just, well, real. This is how my mind works sometimes. All the time.

The bottom line is this. Once this holiday rush is over I am taking a break. I may blog. I may write. I may take an occasional snapshot, but for the most part I am taking a photography break at least through the month of January, maybe a little bit longer. There are some things I need to fix. Some things that can't be fixed that need to go. And some things that fall into the "can this be fixed?" category that need some careful attention.

I'm not quite sure where this break will take me, but I have faith that it will take me to the place I need to be. My father once told me that no matter what choices I have made in my life, for good or for bad, I have always landed on my feet (once this meant I had a broken foot). I am absolutely convinced this will happen. I appreciate your support in this decision and your patience.

Matt and Sarah Engagement Photos

Oops...this post was originally saved waaaay back in December, and then I forgot to hit "publish".  Technogeek I am admittedly not.

I had the pleasure of photographing Matt and Sarah on a chilly December day in downtown Missoula. They are just the sweetest couple and they have a special place in my heart.  When they first came to me to ask if I would photograph their wedding next summer, it was hard to hide the tears of joy I felt to be asked to perform such an honor.

They are just a delightful couple and they are so in love that it just gives me goosebumps typing this blog. I am SO EXCITED for their wedding I can't even describe it. Sarah is just beautiful, and she has such a kind and encouraging spirit. They have a gentleness with each other that just reminds me of how love should be personified.

Thank you SO much for shivering away today you guys. I hope the Ugly Christmas Sweater party goes well!

All I Really Need to Know I Learned from a Recent Job Interview

Note to readers....this post has NOTHING to do with photography, really... but maybe in a weird way, it does...

I had a job interview this week. It was the second one I’ve had within five months. Job interviews are humbling for me after being in my former job for almost nine years. I’ve decided that after the age of 40, while I’m completely comfortable in my skin and am fully aware of my clinical skills and my ability to do outstanding work, it is hard to sell myself. So I sat through the interview, and I gave what I thought were good answers. I kicked myself afterward thinking, “Ugh…I should have said (this) or (that).” Afterward I did all the rote things that you do with a job interview. I thanked the committee. I sent thank you notes. I talked to my friends and my professional colleagues about how it went. But in the end, I’m not sure if I’ll get the job. If I don’t, it will only be the second time in my professional career that I didn’t. And it will be humbling.

One of the questions in the interview was “what was your most challenging life situation, how did you deal with it and what did you learn from it?” The follow up question to that was how I handled stress and dealing with the stress of this potential job. I didn’t hesitate when answering and said that having my son has been the most challenging experience for me. The principal and the teacher on the committee know Thomas, but the rest of the committee does not. I didn’t go into huge detail, other than to say that raising Thomas had challenged every parenting assumption I had, including comparing one child to the other, that he has challenged my ability to remain patient, and that he’s taught me to learn to back off and let things happen instead of trying to control things and run the show (for those people who know me, they understand that this is no easy task). I talked about handling stress through photography, creative writing, and other creative endeavors.

Afterward, out of all the questions I pondered, I realized that this was the one I felt like I flubbed. So given that, here’s what I should have said:

My most challenging life experience to date has been being a parent to two children who could not be more different. I’m sure every parent says this and I’m sure they are correct. In the case of my daughter, I have had to work through having my own expectations for my child that she doesn’t necessarily share now that she is sixteen, knows everything, and I am completely dumb. I am currently working through the stage where she begins to exert her independence and I try to control her under the guise of “setting boundaries”, when in fact I see her making the same mistakes that I did and my heart breaks for her some, if not most, days. I have learned to develop a thick skin and rely on the abundant friendships I have cultivated over forty years, on whom I call when I’m told that I’m hated because I won’t turn over the car keys on an icy night, or when I have checked her grades on Zangle, or when her toast burns and it’s somehow my fault. I have learned to work through the guilt over getting pregnant sooner than I wanted and never feeling prepared to parent her, relying on what I knew from my own childhood, and finding that I was woefully unprepared. I also realized during this time that my parents only passed along the tools that they were given, and that their life circumstances were affected by situations far worse than my own. I learned to forgive wholeheartedly and not just with lip service. I forgave painfully and begrudgingly at times, but I did. It doesn’t make the days of raising a strong-willed, brilliant, intelligent, defiant teenager any easier, but it does remind me to at least TRY to make my words softer and be encouraging as she makes her own mistakes and discovers things about herself that I can’t teach her.

In the case of my son, I have faced more trials than I have wanted, beginning from conception. He was a hard-fought second child, not only in convincing my spouse that having a child at 35 and 42 respectively was a great idea, but also in actually conceiving and carrying that child. We almost lost Thomas at 20 weeks in the pregnancy and I was placed on bed rest for 13 weeks. Every day I worried that this would be the day we were going to lose him. Every day for 13 weeks. That is 91 days. That is 2184 hours. That is 131,040 minutes. That is 7,862,400 seconds. That is eternity. On the day Thomas was born his heartbeat dropped to a dangerously low place and he was born by emergency c-section and spent five weeks in the NICU. He had irregular blood sugars and an irregular heartbeat. There were concerns that something was wrong with his heart. While we weren’t strangers to the NICU, as our daughter had spent three weeks there, it was a daily fear that he would suddenly die. He didn’t, and in the end we brought our 4 lb. 2 oz. bundle of joy and for the first time in 34 days, his older sister got to hold him. Life was good. In the months that followed, he had to have surgery to correct a urological problem (= four hours of pacing on a hospital waiting room floor) and then the bomb dropped at his 18 month developmental checkup. He was measuring at least six months behind on all of his screenings. We were referred to the Comprehensive Development Center for a likely diagnosis of autism. I’m not sure why, but as a mental health professional, hearing that possible diagnosis was worse than hearing my child could have cancer.

The next year involved weekly therapy, occupational therapy, and multiple disagreements between my husband and me. He followed the ostrich theory of put-your-head-in-the-sand-and-he’ll-be-fine theory, I followed the throw-everything-except-the-kitchen-sink-at-him theory. And ne’er the two shall meet. I stood my ground and pushed to do everything I thought Thomas needed, but our little boy continued to scream and throw tantrums everywhere we went, would pound his head into the floor so hard that he had a constant bruise on his forehead, and would throw himself around in his crib as if he were in constant pain. We began avoiding public places, taking him over to friends’ houses, and sometimes even to the park. We endured the comments of well-meaning people who told us he just needed to be held more, that he needed a comfort object, or that he needed a spanking. I cried myself to sleep on more than one occasion next to his crib. Then, we discovered that he was hypoglycemic and the world suddenly changed with a drastic change in diet. Our two year old who could speak five words (poorly), spoke over 500 words a month later. He began making eye contact and learning some sign language. He was able to sleep through the night and learn how to calm himself. I felt like I had a new child all over again. He still has challenging behaviors and still struggles with managing his emotions, but in comparison to what we were facing, this seems like a piece of cake to me.

In the time that has ensued, I have learned to parent differently. I have learned to be incredibly patient, even though this is a constant challenge for me. I have learned to let my child communicate to me what he can or cannot handle, and not to push things too quickly, but to push things enough to challenge him and help him learn he can overcome his fears. I have learned how far a gentle reminder can go versus a harsh punishment. I have learned to love unconditionally and challenge myself because this is not something that comes naturally to me. I have learned to go with the flow and let mistakes and catastrophes happen, only to realize that they aren’t nearly as catastrophic as I thought they would be. I have become more patient with and forgiving of my spouse, who brings to the table as many outdated and bent and twisted parenting tools as I do. I have learned to recognize that EVERYONE has a story, and that my interpretation of that story isn’t always accurate, and to listen better when people talk.

I have also learned that having an overall appreciation and gratitude for life is the most positive thing I can do for myself and those around me. I have learned to make lemonade from the lemons that life gives me, even when I realize I AM the lemon. I have learned that every day I can learn something new. A new skill. A new craft. A new attitude. A new way of coping or doing or thinking. I have learned just how much of a virtue patience is, and that much can be said in the silent spaces between words.

So I may get the job or I may not get the job. What I get instead is the time to reflect and think about how I answered questions and why I answered them the way I did. And I’ll learn something from it. And it won’t just be lip service about “learning from that experience”. At my age, I actually WILL learn something from it. And I will be ok.