Next Saturday is March 4th. Next Saturday, I'll be enjoying a day in Kansas City with friends, attending a concert we've all been excited to attend. I'm sure it will be a day full of fun and laughter as my friends never fail to disappoint in the entertainment department. But next Saturday is March 4th.
I've never written publicly about the significance of March 4th in my world. Only very few of my closest family members and friends know the meaning of this date and how it relates to my life.
I ask those of you reading this to keep an open mind and heart. Because some of those that read this may view it as hurtful or confusing. And it is not my intention to hurt or confuse. However, the purpose of this blog is to help me deal with life and to hope that it helps others, so I'm opening up in regards to a very personal subject.
What is March 4th? March 4, 2017 would have been my father's 48th birthday.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking. What do you mean would have been your father's 48th birthday? Your dad is still alive and well. (I am in NO way discounting the dad that raised me from the time I was 3 by writing this post - if you feel that is my intention then maybe reading this blog is not for you).
Jesse Dwane Cantrell. Born March 4, 1969. Died August 22, 1987.
My mother named me Jessica after him. Before I was adopted by my dad, we even shared the same initials, JDC (Jessica Danielle Childers - Childers being my mom's maiden name).
I never got the chance to meet my biological father. My mom learned she was pregnant shortly after my father's passing. It wasn't until I was ten or so that my mom told me about him. I'll never forget the details of that day, the smell of pork chops frying in the kitchen or the sadness in my mom's voice as she told me about him.
At 14, I spent a month of my summer in North Carolina with my Grandma. I expressed to her that I wanted to visit his grave-site, not to stir up trouble or questions, but for myself. She and my Aunt Betty took me to visit. I'll never forget how I felt, walking up to a grave-site half covered by a plant, for a man that I'd never known or get the chance to know, but who is very much a part of me.
I don't know much about my father. For years, I could hardly get my mom to open up about him (although I can't say that I blame her or would be any different given the chance to walk in her shoes). But this year, I've gotten her to provide a little insight on him and who he was.
He was a gifted guitar player (I wore a guitar pick of his pinned to my dress as my "something old" on my wedding day). He was outgoing. My mom learned to drive a "3 on the tree" from him. She says I get my free spirit from him. My creativity, my artsyness, my ability to write. And some of my stubbornness (but let's be honest, I get a lot of that from her too).
Some days I swear I feel his presence around me. Isn't that crazy? To feel the presence of someone I've never known?
March 4th sneaks up on me every year. My mood the few days leading up to it is often "off." I've had a great life, blessed beyond measure, but March 4th stirs up a lot of feeling and emotion within me.
So this year, on your birthday, I'm going to commemorate you by spending an evening with my friends, at a concert (because I know you loved music, even if you wouldn't be thrilled with my choice in it). Hope you're looking down and smiling.
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Thursday, February 9, 2017
Mommin' Ain't Easy
"I'm a mother. My hobbies include neglecting my hair, repeating myself over and over, daydreaming about bed time, constantly picking up my couch cushions from the floor and never peeing by myself."
The above quote is my life in a nutshell.
Some mornings, I look at myself in the mirror and think to myself, "daaaannng girl, lookin' good!" Others, I could double as a zombie from The Walking Dead. Mornings in our household are a little hectic. Two adults trying to get themselves ready for the day on top of getting two children ready? I can tell you this, it's nothing like a morning from a Leave It To Beaver episode. There is no sitting down for breakfast as a family and talking about the day ahead. There is chaos. I have a fourth grade boy who is less than enthusiastic about getting out of bed most mornings. On more than one occasion, it's taken him more than five minutes to get his shoes on and tied. Some mornings it's followed up with "Mom, I need to read this to you," or "Tristan, why haven't you eaten your breakfast yet?" Pair that with a two year old who takes her time on the potty, sometimes even refusing to go before we need to leave. One that's got her own sense of style and doesn't always want to wear her "sparkle shoes" or sit still long enough to let you tame her wild mane. Not to mention, before walking out of the door every morning we must have ALL of the following things: 1) her blanket 2) her monkey 3) her milk and 4) her snack.
When I first became a mom, I'd always imagined I'd be one of those moms who was good at everything. You know, the mom who schedules pictures of her kids every 6 months and has them framed and on display for everyone to see. A mom who always made homemade treats for birthdays and holidays, who had the best themed birthday parties on the block. The mom who never missed a school event.
But...those days are in the rear view mirror. Because, quite frankly, I struggle to keep my poop in a group most days.
I yell when I don't mean to. Sometimes it's because I'm running late, sometimes it's because I've heard "Mom" so many times I feel like I can't catch my breath.
I forget to check backpacks.
I forget to send checks for lunch money.
My homemade Valentine's look like something you'd see on a Pinterest fails board.
I forget it's picture day and send my kid with his hair a mess.
There are days my daughter's clothes don't coordinate. Heck, sometimes she goes to daycare in her pajamas.
Sometimes I sit in the bathroom longer than needed, just to get an extra five minutes to myself.
I intend to make the hours between 9pm and 11pm "me time." But that time often ends with a child in my bed and the TV show that I have recorded and have been anxious to watch getting shut off and replaced by Mickey Mouse, Sofia, PJ Masks or Full House. Or the book I've been so excited to read, gets read for about five minutes before I fall asleep. And let's be honest, I'm kidding myself by even thinking that I could make it to 11pm.
Case and point? Last Saturday evening, Jacob and I were kid-free as they were spending the night with my Mom. We went to an early dinner at 4:30 and had the whole night ahead of us! Guess who fell asleep on the couch at 8pm? Yep, me.
And yet, despite the trying times, being a mom is the one gig I wouldn't trade for the world.
I hope that years from now, my children look back on their childhood with fond memories. I hope remember that mom always tried, even when some days it didn't seem like it. I hope that they realize that even though there are tough times and I don't always handle mom situations well, I love being their mother. Every. Single. Minute.
So yes, I'm going to continue to "fail." I'm going to give in to a two year old who wants cookies for breakfast. I'm going to embarrass my nine year old by yelling "I love you" out of the window of the truck while in the drop off line at school. I'm going to buy that new toy or game they want, right now, instead of making them wait for their birthday or Christmas. I'm going to let Tristan stay up past his 9pm bedtime, on a school night, to finish a movie we started. And I'm going to let a wandering two year old climb into my bed and snuggle her until she goes to sleep.
Mommin' ain't easy, it's one hell of a ride. But dang-gone-it. It's the best ride of my life.
The above quote is my life in a nutshell.
Some mornings, I look at myself in the mirror and think to myself, "daaaannng girl, lookin' good!" Others, I could double as a zombie from The Walking Dead. Mornings in our household are a little hectic. Two adults trying to get themselves ready for the day on top of getting two children ready? I can tell you this, it's nothing like a morning from a Leave It To Beaver episode. There is no sitting down for breakfast as a family and talking about the day ahead. There is chaos. I have a fourth grade boy who is less than enthusiastic about getting out of bed most mornings. On more than one occasion, it's taken him more than five minutes to get his shoes on and tied. Some mornings it's followed up with "Mom, I need to read this to you," or "Tristan, why haven't you eaten your breakfast yet?" Pair that with a two year old who takes her time on the potty, sometimes even refusing to go before we need to leave. One that's got her own sense of style and doesn't always want to wear her "sparkle shoes" or sit still long enough to let you tame her wild mane. Not to mention, before walking out of the door every morning we must have ALL of the following things: 1) her blanket 2) her monkey 3) her milk and 4) her snack.
When I first became a mom, I'd always imagined I'd be one of those moms who was good at everything. You know, the mom who schedules pictures of her kids every 6 months and has them framed and on display for everyone to see. A mom who always made homemade treats for birthdays and holidays, who had the best themed birthday parties on the block. The mom who never missed a school event.
But...those days are in the rear view mirror. Because, quite frankly, I struggle to keep my poop in a group most days.
I yell when I don't mean to. Sometimes it's because I'm running late, sometimes it's because I've heard "Mom" so many times I feel like I can't catch my breath.
I forget to check backpacks.
I forget to send checks for lunch money.
My homemade Valentine's look like something you'd see on a Pinterest fails board.
I forget it's picture day and send my kid with his hair a mess.
There are days my daughter's clothes don't coordinate. Heck, sometimes she goes to daycare in her pajamas.
Sometimes I sit in the bathroom longer than needed, just to get an extra five minutes to myself.
I intend to make the hours between 9pm and 11pm "me time." But that time often ends with a child in my bed and the TV show that I have recorded and have been anxious to watch getting shut off and replaced by Mickey Mouse, Sofia, PJ Masks or Full House. Or the book I've been so excited to read, gets read for about five minutes before I fall asleep. And let's be honest, I'm kidding myself by even thinking that I could make it to 11pm.
Case and point? Last Saturday evening, Jacob and I were kid-free as they were spending the night with my Mom. We went to an early dinner at 4:30 and had the whole night ahead of us! Guess who fell asleep on the couch at 8pm? Yep, me.
And yet, despite the trying times, being a mom is the one gig I wouldn't trade for the world.
I hope that years from now, my children look back on their childhood with fond memories. I hope remember that mom always tried, even when some days it didn't seem like it. I hope that they realize that even though there are tough times and I don't always handle mom situations well, I love being their mother. Every. Single. Minute.
So yes, I'm going to continue to "fail." I'm going to give in to a two year old who wants cookies for breakfast. I'm going to embarrass my nine year old by yelling "I love you" out of the window of the truck while in the drop off line at school. I'm going to buy that new toy or game they want, right now, instead of making them wait for their birthday or Christmas. I'm going to let Tristan stay up past his 9pm bedtime, on a school night, to finish a movie we started. And I'm going to let a wandering two year old climb into my bed and snuggle her until she goes to sleep.
Mommin' ain't easy, it's one hell of a ride. But dang-gone-it. It's the best ride of my life.
Monday, January 30, 2017
Learning to Dance with A Limp
Spring - clean
verb
1. to clean (a house) thoroughly; traditionally at the end of winter
It may not be spring or the end of winter, but "spring-clean" is exactly what Saturday consisted of at Hill Haven. Saturday's cleaning session stemmed from a text message, received from my husband at 1:35am last Wednesday. It simply read: "FYI. We are getting both our children's beds set up this weekend."
You see, I'm not a "by the book" parent. I'm more of a "go with the flow and see what happens type of parent." So, it comes as no surprise that more often than not, I have a two a half year old that sleeps in my bed and a nine year old that crashes on my bedroom floor. I'll admit, it's not always the most glamorous situation (case and point on Tuesday evening/Wednesday morning when Tristan, who was not feeling well, groaned all night and his little sister flipped at least a dozen times while in my bed).
So Saturday, we spent the day tearing down beds, setting up beds, tearing down closet doors (those awful gold trimmed mirrored doors), sorting through toys and re-arranging. Tristan's room was first and then we made our way to Brynlee's.
While cleaning Brynlee's room, I decided to rearrange the books on her bookshelf. Both the kids and I are guilty of throwing the books in random piles and arrangements on the shelves as we put them away. In the midst of re-arranging I found a small, lime green birthday gift bag on the second shelf. Unsure of what it was, I decided to open the bag and investigate. In it I found a stack of birthday cards, one's that I'd saved from Brynlee's first and Tristan's eighth birthdays.
Flipping through the cards, an envelope with the words "Miss Brynlee" written across it stood out among the others. It was written in handwriting that I'd recognize anywhere, handwriting that I'd seen many times over the last 28 years, my grandmother's. Inside, the following message was written, " Happy 1st birthday to someone who is so sweet and beautiful she takes our breath away. Love, Gramma Gloria"
Just like that, the tears come.
It's been almost a year since my Grandma left this Earth. Some days it hurts so bad I can hardly stand it.
My Grandma always kept bread ties. I never understood why but she did. She had a stash of them and by golly, she'd find a use for them. In the months since my Grandma's passing, I too have starting saving bread ties. For what I'm not sure but I can't seem to bring myself to throw them away. Maybe it's because of the smile that comes across my face every time I get into my silverware drawer and find them, a reminder of her and the memories we shared.
My Grandma was special. And I know, everyone probably argues that same point about their own grandparents but the relationship I had with my Grandmother is one that I will cherish forever. Yes, she could drive me crazy. Heaven forbid you had mismatched sheets on your bed. My Grandma thought in black and white while I enjoy exploring the grey areas, seeing what they have to teach me. But she was there for everything, all the big moments, but more importantly, all the small ones in between.
She was the creator of traditions - because of her we play bingo every Christmas Eve. She taught me to love being in the kitchen (even though to this day I am still a terrible cook). But hey, I'm learning. She was my biggest supporter. She believed in me. She believed that my writing was a talent and that it'd take me places.
And it was then, seeing that envelope, reading that message, that I realized it really is true what they say. Grief does come in stages. And no matter how hard you to try to prepare yourself for grief in any of it's forms, there's going to be times when you're not ready, when you can't take it. But there's also going to be times that you find joy in the memories, that you laugh instead of crying.
I came across a quote about grief: "You will lose someone you can't live without and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you will never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It's like a having a broken leg that never heals perfectly - that still hurts when the weather gets cold but you learn to dance with the limp."
In a nutshell, yesterday was hard. My heart hurt. And the truth is, there's going to be tough days in the future. However, slowly and surely, I'm learning to dance with the limp.
Just like that, the tears come.
It's been almost a year since my Grandma left this Earth. Some days it hurts so bad I can hardly stand it.
My Grandma always kept bread ties. I never understood why but she did. She had a stash of them and by golly, she'd find a use for them. In the months since my Grandma's passing, I too have starting saving bread ties. For what I'm not sure but I can't seem to bring myself to throw them away. Maybe it's because of the smile that comes across my face every time I get into my silverware drawer and find them, a reminder of her and the memories we shared.
My Grandma was special. And I know, everyone probably argues that same point about their own grandparents but the relationship I had with my Grandmother is one that I will cherish forever. Yes, she could drive me crazy. Heaven forbid you had mismatched sheets on your bed. My Grandma thought in black and white while I enjoy exploring the grey areas, seeing what they have to teach me. But she was there for everything, all the big moments, but more importantly, all the small ones in between.
She was the creator of traditions - because of her we play bingo every Christmas Eve. She taught me to love being in the kitchen (even though to this day I am still a terrible cook). But hey, I'm learning. She was my biggest supporter. She believed in me. She believed that my writing was a talent and that it'd take me places.
And it was then, seeing that envelope, reading that message, that I realized it really is true what they say. Grief does come in stages. And no matter how hard you to try to prepare yourself for grief in any of it's forms, there's going to be times when you're not ready, when you can't take it. But there's also going to be times that you find joy in the memories, that you laugh instead of crying.
I came across a quote about grief: "You will lose someone you can't live without and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you will never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It's like a having a broken leg that never heals perfectly - that still hurts when the weather gets cold but you learn to dance with the limp."
In a nutshell, yesterday was hard. My heart hurt. And the truth is, there's going to be tough days in the future. However, slowly and surely, I'm learning to dance with the limp.
Thursday, January 26, 2017
30 Before 30
Today was one of one of "those" days. You know, the type that occurs when you're on the fence as you wake up about whether or not the day to follow will be a good one or a not so good one. One of those days where the smallest of things makes you mumble under your breath and want to pull your hair out. And there's no reason as to why you really feel this way, you just do.
But now, it's 5:53 pm and I've decided to turn this day into a new beginning. You see, I started this blog years ago, made about four blog posts and then put it in the pile of things that was supposed to become a regular in my everyday life but became quickly forgotten. So today, I turn that around.
Back in July, two months after I turned 28, I wrote a "30 Before 30" list. Partially because I needed to do something for myself, to put my wants in one space and set out to achieve them. What better than a "30 Before 30 list." It too got stashed away and left to be forgotten. I'd come across it now and again, look through it, close the notebook it was written in and move on with my day. But today, today I'm putting this list out there, out for the world to read, out there for accountability. The first thing on the list? To start writing again, for me. To explore the possibilities of starting a blog and getting my thoughts out there in hopes that it would help me find an outlet on days like today, to find my way back to something I am very passionate about and maybe, just maybe, help some other people through days like today too.
So here it goes, here goes the "restart" of my blog. Here goes publishing my "30 before 30" list for everyone to see and for me to accomplish. Let's do this!!
But now, it's 5:53 pm and I've decided to turn this day into a new beginning. You see, I started this blog years ago, made about four blog posts and then put it in the pile of things that was supposed to become a regular in my everyday life but became quickly forgotten. So today, I turn that around.
Back in July, two months after I turned 28, I wrote a "30 Before 30" list. Partially because I needed to do something for myself, to put my wants in one space and set out to achieve them. What better than a "30 Before 30 list." It too got stashed away and left to be forgotten. I'd come across it now and again, look through it, close the notebook it was written in and move on with my day. But today, today I'm putting this list out there, out for the world to read, out there for accountability. The first thing on the list? To start writing again, for me. To explore the possibilities of starting a blog and getting my thoughts out there in hopes that it would help me find an outlet on days like today, to find my way back to something I am very passionate about and maybe, just maybe, help some other people through days like today too.
So here it goes, here goes the "restart" of my blog. Here goes publishing my "30 before 30" list for everyone to see and for me to accomplish. Let's do this!!
30 Before 30
1. Start writing again, for me. To explore the possibilities of starting a blog and getting my thoughts out in hopes that it can help me find an outlet on days like today, to find my way back to something I am very passionate about and maybe, just maybe, help some other people through days like today.
2. Get healthy. Eat better. Lose 15-25 pounds. (I am 8 pounds down from when I originally made this list). Be more active (I've been going to the gym for a solid 3 weeks now).
3. Be a better me. For myself, for Jacob, for our kids.
4. Take more pictures of us. Of our children. Of nature. Find beauty behind the lens.
5. Get another tattoo. An anchor? The kid's names? Both?
6. Partake in a paintball fight.
7. Find adventure. Try new things. Say yes more often.
8. Go on a random road trip with friends.
9. Travel to a new city or state.
10. Play messy twister.
11. Become a "regular" somewhere.
12. Learn to cook. I've screwed up hamburger helper for Pete's sake!
13. Start a new family tradition.
14. Know that it's okay to say how I feel. Holding it in doesn't provoke change.
15. Rekindle the romance and friendship with my husband. Times get tough. Sometimes giving up seems like the easiest thing to do but 11 years is too far to come to just walk away.
16. Go to a Chase Rice concert.
17. Worry less. It's okay to go a day without makeup or the perfect hair. And lazy Sundays are and should be a thing.
18. Finally watch the Lord of the Rings & Hobbit trilogies.
19. Find the prettiest waterfall in the state of Kansas.
20. Experience a drive in theater.
21. Re-read the Harry Potter series & have a weekend marathon.
22. Continue to make more time for family.
23. Lear to let go. Of hurt and of anger.
24. Make time for myself.
25. Home improvement projects. Kitchen (done), wall decor, office area.
26. Explore the opportunities within an online course or certification.
27. Find the best cheeseburger in the state of Kansas.
28. Read more.
29. Go to a musical.
30. Never back down. Go after my dreams.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Talking Seagulls, Polyjuice Potion, Quarters Miles & A Classic Love Story
A little girl sits on the couch, in a trance from the scene on the television. She begins to sing along to the song playing through the speakers.
"Look at this stuff, isn't it neat? Wouldn't ya think my collections complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the girl, girl who has...everything. Look at this trove, treasures untold, how many wonders can one cavern hold?"
As the song plays on she makes her way from the couch, glides over to the coffee table and pushes herself up on it, shouting out..."part of your world!"
No, this is not a scene from AFV (although I am sure it could have easily made the cut). I watched The Little Mermaid time and time again as a little girl. I could repeat the movie forwards and backwards and sing along to every song along the way. When I would go swimming, I would hold my legs together and dolphin kick, pretending that I was off on an adventure in an underwater kingdom with my best buddy Sebastian, looking for treasures and dodging sharks.
This is why I am thankful for movies and literature. Because for that 385 pages or hour and a half, I am lost in another world, living in another person's shoes. I am able to be whoever I want and let go of whatever else I have going on around me.
"He's not relaxing is he?" I watch the Devil's Snare curl around Ron's body. "I've got to do something.....Devil's snare, devil's snare...it's deadly fun but will sulk in the sun."
"I live my life a quarter mile at a time. Nothing else matters; not the mortgage, not the store, not my team and their bullshit. For those ten seconds or less, I'm free."
"Why didn't you write me? Why? It wasn't over for me, I waited for you for seven years. But now it's too late."
Ariel....Hermione Granger...Dom Torretto...Ally... who and where will I be next?
"Look at this stuff, isn't it neat? Wouldn't ya think my collections complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the girl, girl who has...everything. Look at this trove, treasures untold, how many wonders can one cavern hold?"
As the song plays on she makes her way from the couch, glides over to the coffee table and pushes herself up on it, shouting out..."part of your world!"
No, this is not a scene from AFV (although I am sure it could have easily made the cut). I watched The Little Mermaid time and time again as a little girl. I could repeat the movie forwards and backwards and sing along to every song along the way. When I would go swimming, I would hold my legs together and dolphin kick, pretending that I was off on an adventure in an underwater kingdom with my best buddy Sebastian, looking for treasures and dodging sharks.
This is why I am thankful for movies and literature. Because for that 385 pages or hour and a half, I am lost in another world, living in another person's shoes. I am able to be whoever I want and let go of whatever else I have going on around me.
"He's not relaxing is he?" I watch the Devil's Snare curl around Ron's body. "I've got to do something.....Devil's snare, devil's snare...it's deadly fun but will sulk in the sun."
"I live my life a quarter mile at a time. Nothing else matters; not the mortgage, not the store, not my team and their bullshit. For those ten seconds or less, I'm free."
"Why didn't you write me? Why? It wasn't over for me, I waited for you for seven years. But now it's too late."
Ariel....Hermione Granger...Dom Torretto...Ally... who and where will I be next?
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Memories Live On Through Color && Shades of Grey
Glancing through my Facebook photos, I come across a picture dated July 11th, 2007. It is a
picture of Jacob, Tristan and I at the hospital, our first picture as a family.
For me, to look at a picture is to travel through time. I am taken back to that moment in my life,
reliving every bit of it; thoughts and emotions.
July 11th, 2007 was the first happiest day of my life. Looking at this picture, I am once again
on the fourth floor of Newman Regional Health, nineteen years old and a first time mom. I
remember the overwhelming emotion that overtook me as Tristan’s first tiny cry escaped. The
feeling of warm tears falling down my cheeks is both an old and new sensation because thinking
back to this moment, I begin to cry. I remember an eighteen year old boyfriend who not once left
my side in our three day stay. This was the same boyfriend that would sneak our baby out of his
bassinet or from beside me in the hospital bed during the middle of the night to hold him close
while they both slept.
There is a school picture of me, taken in probably the second or third grade, sporting a badly
scraped up nose. My family was living in a trailer south of Emporia and the roads that ran
throughout the park were gravel. One day while riding my bike, I seemed to overlook a good
sized rock in the road. My front tire struck it and I was sent flying over the top of the bike’s
handlebars, landed in gravel and felt the trickle of blood down my face and over my hands.
Wouldn’t you know? School picture day was just a few days away. Looking back at this picture,
my nose begins to hurt only to be followed by my hurting eyes. I was wearing a t-shirt with the
word “groovy” written across it in bright green, pink and purple lettering.
On the top of my mom’s dresser sits a picture frame engraved with the year 2004. The light
wooden frame holds a picture of myself with my Grandmother and three of my great aunts;
Babe, Janice and Betty. The picture was taken after breakfast on Christmas morning of that
year. The women in the picture are holding up frames with a poem about the three of them
written by yours truly. Ever since I was a little girl, these three women have been an inspiration
to me. I wrote this poem in the hopes of giving them something that might mean as much to
them as they mean to me.
These are just a few examples of why photography is so important to me. It enables me to relive
a moment time and time again. They say a picture is worth a thousand words but to me it is so
much more than that.
picture of Jacob, Tristan and I at the hospital, our first picture as a family.
For me, to look at a picture is to travel through time. I am taken back to that moment in my life,
reliving every bit of it; thoughts and emotions.
July 11th, 2007 was the first happiest day of my life. Looking at this picture, I am once again
on the fourth floor of Newman Regional Health, nineteen years old and a first time mom. I
remember the overwhelming emotion that overtook me as Tristan’s first tiny cry escaped. The
feeling of warm tears falling down my cheeks is both an old and new sensation because thinking
back to this moment, I begin to cry. I remember an eighteen year old boyfriend who not once left
my side in our three day stay. This was the same boyfriend that would sneak our baby out of his
bassinet or from beside me in the hospital bed during the middle of the night to hold him close
while they both slept.
There is a school picture of me, taken in probably the second or third grade, sporting a badly
scraped up nose. My family was living in a trailer south of Emporia and the roads that ran
throughout the park were gravel. One day while riding my bike, I seemed to overlook a good
sized rock in the road. My front tire struck it and I was sent flying over the top of the bike’s
handlebars, landed in gravel and felt the trickle of blood down my face and over my hands.
Wouldn’t you know? School picture day was just a few days away. Looking back at this picture,
my nose begins to hurt only to be followed by my hurting eyes. I was wearing a t-shirt with the
word “groovy” written across it in bright green, pink and purple lettering.
On the top of my mom’s dresser sits a picture frame engraved with the year 2004. The light
wooden frame holds a picture of myself with my Grandmother and three of my great aunts;
Babe, Janice and Betty. The picture was taken after breakfast on Christmas morning of that
year. The women in the picture are holding up frames with a poem about the three of them
written by yours truly. Ever since I was a little girl, these three women have been an inspiration
to me. I wrote this poem in the hopes of giving them something that might mean as much to
them as they mean to me.
These are just a few examples of why photography is so important to me. It enables me to relive
a moment time and time again. They say a picture is worth a thousand words but to me it is so
much more than that.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Love A Little
Is it too much to ask for a simple thank you? Does it take too much effort to relay a positive message than to let negativity seep through? Lately it seems like every time I log onto Facebook or overhead a conversation, all I see and hear are negative things. In my twenty-three years, I feel like I have a lot to be thankful for. I'm not saying my life is perfect, it throws curve balls at me just like everyone else, but negativity is not something I want to have constantly hanging overhead. So for the next week, everyday I am going to blog about something or someone I have thankful to have in my life. Some of these things will seem obvious but others may surprise you.
I am thankful to wake up to an amazing husband and a wonderful son. They give me a reason to smile and laugh every day. Although at times they can both drive me crazy, I wouldn't be the same without them.
Jacob and I met when we were sixteen. That way six years ago. In six years we have been through many things together; high school, a break-up, teen pregnancy, his mom's diagnosis of cancer, my parent's divorce, becoming a young married couple and most recently, the search for a home. Not to mention all the the memories crammed in between.
Becoming a mother at nineteen was definitely not something I planned. At first I wasn't sure how things were going to pan out. I was in my freshman year at Emporia State and Jacob was a senior at Northern Heights. He could have ran, he could have doubted me, doubted us, but he didn't. Not once. He was at every doctor's appointment, he rubbed my head when I had trouble sleeping, wiped away my tears when I was scared and unsure.
It's amazing how two people can create such a little miracle. Now at almost four years old, Tristan is the light of our lives. He had our hearts from the moment he entered this world. It's the little things he does that pull on my heart strings; the way he gets excited by trains, cars and monster trucks, his goodnight hugs and kisses, his chuckle when he's being tickled. I can't help but smile when I think about the positive change he has brought to our life. Parenthood is really a blessing.
No, I don't know what the future holds but I have complete and total faith in the three of us. It may take a little work but these two are completely worth it!
I am thankful to wake up to an amazing husband and a wonderful son. They give me a reason to smile and laugh every day. Although at times they can both drive me crazy, I wouldn't be the same without them.
Jacob and I met when we were sixteen. That way six years ago. In six years we have been through many things together; high school, a break-up, teen pregnancy, his mom's diagnosis of cancer, my parent's divorce, becoming a young married couple and most recently, the search for a home. Not to mention all the the memories crammed in between.
Becoming a mother at nineteen was definitely not something I planned. At first I wasn't sure how things were going to pan out. I was in my freshman year at Emporia State and Jacob was a senior at Northern Heights. He could have ran, he could have doubted me, doubted us, but he didn't. Not once. He was at every doctor's appointment, he rubbed my head when I had trouble sleeping, wiped away my tears when I was scared and unsure.
It's amazing how two people can create such a little miracle. Now at almost four years old, Tristan is the light of our lives. He had our hearts from the moment he entered this world. It's the little things he does that pull on my heart strings; the way he gets excited by trains, cars and monster trucks, his goodnight hugs and kisses, his chuckle when he's being tickled. I can't help but smile when I think about the positive change he has brought to our life. Parenthood is really a blessing.
No, I don't know what the future holds but I have complete and total faith in the three of us. It may take a little work but these two are completely worth it!
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