Ese'me Street

fear. not.

2020-03-30T14:48:00.000-05:00

Arms crossed, blank stare and a restless posture, that is my view as I stop and take in what is brewing in the corner of my eye. He is thinking. He is a thinker, always has been. If it has arrived at his lips to speak, it is because he has spent countless seconds, minutes, hours, months even, calculating the worth and weight of his words. He is a man that carries a level heart and mind to anything he approaches. As he navigates his business in these unsure times, he still finds a way to take on the clients potential financial burdens for the services he continues to provide. I ask him, "What are you doing?", and he replies, "Getting ready to send this email for my retainer fee with ______ Airlines," but not without an emotional disruption to his overall demeanor as he speaks, and he follows with, "and I just want to make sure it's fair." How can you quantify what is truly fair? I mean, whether we are navigating a new normal in our country or living out, historically what might return as a new normal, how can we truly objectify, monetarily and tangibly produce our worth to someone else? Is it possible to state what you feel you can provide in hopes that someone aligns with your thinking and actually reward you accordingly? Appraising our worth is not our job, ever. Yet we spend so much time, professionally in this instance, doing it. Maybe your business requires you to, maybe your relationships force you to value your time or maybe your role as a mother ignites a need to be validated in your efforts, especially now. Whose job is it then? Who does that role truly belong to? Our church at home this morning was everything my heart needed to hear, and affirmed what my heart had been longing to audibly hear. It has been months where God has placed a prayer redirection over my family. Simply put, my focus has been on Jesus and Jesus alone when I approach Him on behalf of them, in prayer. That they would seek and find, pursue and surrender everything they are to Him, period. I can't help but be reminded of how simple His pursuit of us is. How in all things He wishes to dwell, and if we invite Him to, He will take on that burden and yoke us. (Matthew 11:25-28). Let your worth and who you are be defined by the One who created you. Easier said than done, I know. Half the time, when I blog, which hasn't been since last year, I write for myself. I write so that I can be pushed outside of my comfort, so that I can be reminded of how far I've come and to visualize where I want to be. Sitting across from my husband, my brother in Christ and my partner in life, I'm reminded of how inconsequential my love for him is in comparison to God's love for him. Husband, father and business owner are some of his most invaluable roles, but the struggle he currently campaigns internally to translate onto this email, I know is found in the decision he made to follow Jesus over 15 years ago. He will always be a man that invites the Lord to be a part of all the decisions he makes, and that is truly where his incomparable worth resides anyways. And so should yours.

Hope these lyrics can speak to you, even if I can't.

Social Club Misfits - Enough (ft. Austin French) (Lyric Video)

it's real...

2019-08-11T13:05:00.000-05:00

April was a pivotal month for our family. The heaviness in my heart for change in my personal life was stirring for about 2 years prior. I was struggling at work with happiness. Toggling back and forth with the notion of grad school. I thought maybe God was pulling me outside of my current employment to another job title. The list goes on and on. So I started to really pray for that unsettling emotion of change on the horizon. I started to ask the Lord for His will to overtake my own desires of immediate gratification in my professional career, and just asked Him to prepare me and open the right door at the right time. Time passed and I applied to other jobs and even to grad school, to no avail. Mother's day came around, and I got to go part-time, and for a moment, a long moment, I thought this is what the horizon had for me. But that unsettling feeling was back. So my prayer continued. Around this time, Marcus really began to struggle at his own job with personal satisfaction, so he threw the "what if I quit and go out on my own" on me? Normally, and historically, I had slapped that notion away, almost immediately. But this time, I could sense and see the ambition in his voice. Not that I hadn't before, it is just that my personality when it comes to things like this is of operational fear. I am scared, and tend to shut it down, almost immediately because the game of "what if" brings on a serious boil and the ability to simmer and slowly cook is unyielding. This moment, however, was different. And I realized that for 2 years, God had placed a seed of change in my heart for my husband and not myself. This is where the two become one in a marriage became truly instrumental, and God was preparing me for the change...Marcus's change, our change. And the fear operating, stress responding and no way in heck, chance taking Monica was no where to be found, because I had been simmering and slow cooking for so long. God had been preparing me for quite some time, so when Marcus yanked the pot from the burner, I was there...ready. He has started his own company after faithfully devoting himself for 19 years to someone else, and is working now, harder than ever, but for himself. Our family couldn't be more proud. We love him, and he is already making big moves!

Airworth Aviation
President

dead end to no end...

2018-02-14T00:27:00.000-06:00

There comes a time in one's life when you are truly held accountable for where you are in your life. Well, truth is, you should always be accountable. But sometimes it isn't as obvious as one would think. Sometimes it's a faint brush of air that suddenly allows you to shift your axis and see that the weight has been off center. I got whiplash recently from the absolute submersion of motherhood and all that it means...to not only exist in the role, but to be successful at it. It's hard, y'all. This gig is drowning sometimes. I am my weakest link. And when I'm drowning, I'm taking my kids with me. Leaving them no true lifeguard and showing them that treading water is enough, when we all know basic swimming can safe a life! I hate that about myself. To say and to know when you are in the wrong is one thing, but to snap yourself out of it and to completely put the nonsense to a stop, is crucial. Sometimes I can't see it, when it's happening, and sometimes I can. Marcus can jolt me, when he's around. But the most damaging of times is when I'm alone, and my own conviction guides my compass but I knowingly ignore it because my selfish desire takes precedent...and it's stupid, it's irresponsible and it's detrimental to who I'm molding and encouraging my children to be. I have said it out loud. It exists, and I share it with you. Because if you struggle to be a mom you can be proud of, me too! I started a new quiet time focusing on what I like to call, "my mental mommy thinking", and the major overhaul it needs. I came across this book, that aligns itself beautifully with scripture, and it has been helping me to give GRACE! Somehow, I expect God to forgive me on the insurmountable errors I make, yet I expect near flawless children ~~all of the time~~ some of the time.

So...

I thought I'd share what the first few days of my reading have taught me, in hopes that maybe they can help you too. When you are at your wits, with rising tides and the treading of water has crippled your ability to swim, fogging your goggles...Remember, in the beginning, God!

I have never taken this job for granted, except that I have. Does that make sense?! I recognize, almost daily, sometimes through tears at the most inopportune times, how incredibly blessed I am to have two healthy, sweet boys. But that job, as much of a gift that it is, is work, hard work. Work that has been thought of, designed and made possible by God. He was there before it, there awaiting you until you arrived in it, and now patiently awaiting your request for help getting you through it.

Genesis 1:1 "In the beginning, God..."

I have let my short comings dictate how I behave in situations with my kids for far too long. I'm committed to changing how I am with them, escorting those dangerous faults of mine into the hands of my Creator, because that's where they belong.

Some of my biggest down falls as a mom have been the things I tell myself about my kids when they're ~~getting on my nerves~~ just being children, and testing the boundaries for growth. I support my feelings of disappointment with negative thoughts, provide myself with elaborate power point presentations to solidify their actions and justify my warranted outbursts of punishment. It can take up major real estate in my mind, it then bleeds into my heart and I'm done. Satan has officially won.

Phillipians 4:8 "Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things."

It's my job to fill them with such things, period. Even through discipline, the underlying foundation of all things should be LOVE(ing).
Plant a seed of trust and water it with words of admiration while they are young, and I dare say that when they are grown, they will flourish into what we believed they were all along. -Parenting Scripts

I am overwhelmed.
I am hopeful.
I am fervent.

H A P P Y V A L E N T I N E ' S D A Y, everyone!

May your homes and hearts be filled with so much love today, and every day that follows. This holiday is silly, but it sure does give us an opportunity to go overboard in showing those who are in our life, LOVE! And my kiddos have been given the opportunity to do just that, in school. It's kind of my favorite thing to do for them. I get input from them, they yes/no, pick out, turn down and then I take it from there.

Adan is in 3rd grade and they have been studying measurements, hence the ruler. I got the idea from here and fashioned my own printables using my trusty helper. Luca is in preschool for the first time ever, and he has been learning how to write his name, along with the alphabet, hence the pencil. His valentine is on repeat, it was similar to one I did for Adan in first grade, but who's counting?!

Close up! #dying

Aren't they cute?! #dyingagain

I'm reminded...

2016-05-23T04:46:00.001-05:00

I'm awful nosey, this isn't news. I can spend an unhealthy amount of time cyber stalking people, and unashamedly brag about it here, just now. On Instagram my explore option is never lonely, because I find myself clicking away like I have some investigation that needs solving. In real life, even when you think I'm not looking, I am. I have seen a father push your kid off his knee, because he was not interested in playing with him, even though your gentle child approached with love and a huge smile. He was brash and uninterested, lifted his head quickly to make sure nobody saw, but I did, I saw you. I have seen a husband not meet you, his wife, in the eyes as you attempt to engage him in conversation about the score, and he ignores your questions because he is too angry about the game. As you walk away, he looks around in shame because he realizes he was being a jerk and hopes no one heard your empty requests. But I did, I heard her...and I saw you. I have seen a coach yell at your kid, push him in frustration and go about his role like nothing ever happened. Either nobody saw it, or nobody had a problem with it, but I saw you and I had a problem with it. I have seen my son try and get your attention all while being a foot away from you, and you ignored him. You didn't look around to see if you were being watched, but you were, and I saw you. I'm not quite sure how to move past some of these encounters. I'm not quite sure how to mentally let go of them and let in the other part of you that's not a jerk. These are all very real things that have happened, and yet it has also been a very symbolic example of what I have always struggled with...my whole life. Once I am exposed to your flaws, I am turned off and mentally dismiss you. That is wrong, beyond wrong. But I've done it for so long, that I forget we are all imperfect. And expecting perfection out of anyone is an unrealistic expectation. I own a very real part of myself that may not be received well by others. And moreover, I'm quite certain you've seen parts of me that have turned you off. How judgmental of me to label you from the beginning. You've read me write it before, how we are who we are at our worst, and you read me share a confrontation I had with Adan's opponents mom on my blog awhile back, exposing exactly who I am. But in case you were still wondering, I am a woman who falls short, every single day. I am a woman who struggles with moving on from first impressions. I am a woman who struggles with witnessing others interactions and then finding a healthy and appropriate way to deal with it. I remember reading a print a while back about how one of the best things you can do for your marriage is to stop taking the negativity towards others, of others to your husband. How speaking ill of someone to your husband, even if just to vent, invites him to partake. Truth is, I do it because I want validation for my feelings. I want others to feel what I feel. I want audible feedback and joint justification for choosing to feel like I do. I am approaching it all wrong, my first vent belongs to God, those feelings, issues and judgments that I carry around, are begging to be laid at His feet. He should be my ultimate soundboard, He is my ultimate soundboard. But if I was being at all honest with myself, I would also have to share that in surrendering my feelings, invites conviction and realistically may be the sole reason I am slow to approach. Because I know that I will realize that my methods are wrong, acknowledge that I need to change them and move on from the grief of observation. You see, once I hand it over I know what's coming. And why would I want anything else? I should be running to God when I'm tormented or bothered. But this is where my flesh and spirit find its most common battle, and where my global issues truly live. In my heart I know that in visiting with Him about this or anything else, pointing me to forgiveness, mine and His, will be the end result. And why in the world would I want anything else?

So as I close this month long prayer time, I am going to add a specific request for myself, I'm going to ask that God continue to let me see, because seeing is not the problem; but that He continue to let me see maybe what others don't. I am going to ask that He lend me His eyes when I find myself focusing on the flaws and realize that everyone else is falling short as well.

My blog serves as my journal, and I used to add pictures of my family often, then I started doing more and more photography, and that became a prime ending focus for my posts. And what better time than now, with this post, to reignite the best part of who I am.

This sweet angel turned 7 on May 14th. He is sweet. He is sensitive. He is loving. He is growing up way too fast.
The older he gets, the less involved I am getting with his birthday "hoopla", mostly because he doesn't want parties at home anymore, and most places don't allow for a ton of "hoopla". He wanted Hulk and he wanted TopGolf, then I showed him the invite and he changed his mind to Jumpstreet. I love to personalize goodies for the friends, and I'm not NOT gonna do that, so they all got Hulk Tees with their names on 'em. The logo was found here and I enlarged it on a program I use, added the names, bought Iron on paper from Hobby Lobby...ironed them on...and viola!

See? I mean Hulk had a golf club and everything...
...that boy, he'll never know what his momma does for him! But I'm not complaining, I'd do, will do, anything for those boys.

Any part of me that is good is because of my Heavenly Father and these 3 humans. As I left for work last night and circled around front, this was my view. They are perfect and I can't believe I'm fortunate enough to call them my family.

Belong...

2016-05-08T06:31:00.000-05:00

I had one girlfriend message me on Facebook, regarding my post from last week. She mentioned very real and personal struggles that she was having in her role as a mom. Feelings that I can say with 100% certainty, I have had, and am almost certain you have too. They consume her thoughts, they invite doubt in her role as a mom and welcome insecurity as a woman. We spoke about how she is not alone in her feelings, and I too suffer at the expense of my own self worth. She is my first prayer in the morning, and throughout the day, when she pops in my head, I pray for her. It has been a pleasure, and I will continue doing it for the rest of the month. This weekend many of you got the chance to celebrate the privilege that is being a mom. It is hard. There is no way to prepare you for the role. You can be educated, you can read up and you can have the best support system in town, at your beck and call, but nothing can actually truly prepare you for the role. I don't like to think of memories before my kids because it doesn't feel right, to think of my life before them. Marcus and I will look at our kids, and have conversations about how there is no way that people love their kids like we do, because we love them so much. I'll often times have similar conversations with my own mom about that topic. I'll mention the notion that she couldn't have possibly loved me like I love the boys. She'll call me out on my ignorance, and remind me that she not only did, but does. Why did I get this blessed? How in the world did I get to live here, be born here and be loved so greatly by two amazing parents, grow up without a need, marry an amazing man and then have the gift to raise two children of my own? How, why...? Sometimes, when I get caught up in that type of thinking, my flesh runs with it. I accept the camouflage, and somehow allow myself to believe that it is a good thing, and that somehow it will lead to gratitude, demonstratively. The reality is, it is not. Satan is the biggest illusionist of all, and many times he has me fooled. Questioning God's plan for my life thus far and wondering why in the world I am not suffering like so many, is just as much of an insult to Him, as when I question why in the world so many actually are. When He placed it in my heart to lead this month in a mommy dedicated prayer time, He already knew about my friend, and how she would read my blog and lean on me for that. He already knew that it would be in those moments of her opening up to me, that I would see myself in her. He already knew that every morning when I went to Him in prayer that I would be at my weakest because I would be completely and utterly relying on Him, depending on Him, for the words coming out of my mouth. And He already knew that this time of prayer would open up my heart to the promise that if I can trust Him with the needs of my friend, and trust Him to help her in the most important role she will ever have, then I too should trust Him enough to just be grateful for how I got here. Don't you see...I was hand picked, and so were you.

Ladies, my fellow sisters, lovers of your children, fighters in this land for a better place to leave your offspring, women of heart and soul...YOU are Beloved!

Happy Mother's Day!

Ps, I would still love an opportunity to add you to my mommy daily dedication prayer this month, not too late! (message me, email me, or send me a text)

Forming...

2016-04-29T23:12:00.000-05:00

I have been doing this parenting thing for a few years now, and it has not gotten any easier. In fact, I believe the older they get, the harder it becomes. I will let my mind take me to some pretty scary places if I let it. The other day I got to thinking about my children, and what their future will be like; their wives, their children, their old age. Truth is, I think about it often. I have always prayed for my children's future. In all areas of their life. But lately, the weight of their wives has been extra heavy. So I pray for them, even now. What does that look like? Well, I just ask that God would mold their wives for them, starting now. I ask God to send them loving, patient, kind, honest, genuine and caring women to partner through their life. I ask God to send them women who are of same faith, women who will pursue Him alone, and can then pursue Him too, with my sons. I also ask that my boys would know when to fall in love, and to only give their heart away to the right woman, the woman they will marry. I know that it has to be enough, that it is enough, prayer. And quite frankly, it is the best thing that I can do for them. But sometimes I let my mind go there, to the unwelcome yet haunting inevitable, potential time where we are all headed. I see them, in their old age, alone, wifeless and childless, and it kills me. Before I even have the chance to ponder the question, I am reminded of the answer. The one that lives inside of me and pretends to not exist, pacifying my incessant need to control everything. My steps, our steps are marked, and so are my thoughts, and even when I find myself veering off into a thought process that does not belong to Him, I'm shielded. And that shield comes in the form of my fellow, Christ loving, mom friends. It's familiar, their response; because I have been here before. I hear it living in the replies of my parents advice, when I emotionally breakdown and share my insecurities as a parent; because I have been here before. But I am also stubborn. My own selfish human desire seeks it anyways. It, the want for my children to have a wonderful long, happy life, never wanders far. I'm not going to lie, trusting my heavenly Father to bring forth a will that I too will rejoice in, is hard. How in the world can I trust that deeply when it comes to my own children? Well...they are not mine. They do not belong to me. I often find that God will teach me some of my most important lessons through an internal struggle that comes in the form of a third party. I am compassionate, and suffer greatly at the hands of others' sadness. I am at the forefront of their turmoil, internalize it, carry it, give it to God, and through His resolve, I'm shown that the lesson truly lies with me. And I'm awakened with the thought of what my prayer should be truly focused on, when referencing my kids. It's just that I can sometimes be my own worst enemy, and will allow the fog to distract me from emmulating the only type of catalyst I should be focused on. And that my friends is love. Love is what God does best. Love is what Jesus was. And in the end, love is what will win.

Is it as hard for you as it is for me? Do you think about your kids future like I do? Are you afraid for what they will face when they get older, or is it just me?

I am beginning a specific daily dedication to prayer for myself and anyone else who needs it, focusing on mothering. If you are a mom that is struggling with something, and need help or want help, can I pray for you? You do not need to believe in prayer, because I do and I will go to God for you. I would love to have the opportunity to love on you through prayer. Please either comment below, text me or send me an email.

resting...

2015-12-12T21:36:00.001-06:00

I can't believe that this year has succumbed to it's end already. I have no idea where the time has gone. I can't quite remember if I read it or overheard someone say it, but it has been living in my mind for the past few months..."If you are an adult, and you aren't tired, you aren't doing it right!" And lately, nothing has rang more true in my life than that. I mean, it made it's way onto our Christmas card, well sort of. As the holidays approach, I am reminded that although I am looking forward to the time with my family, there are so many people who will be alone on Christmas and New Years. What can I do to make that less prevalent of an issue? How can I contribute a part of myself to aid in someone else's loneliness? I'm not quite sure. Adan had a great idea a couple of years ago. He wanted to bake cookies, fill a large jug with hot chocolate and pass it around to people who don't have anything to eat. Unfortunately, for a couple of years now I have encouraged the idea, but never followed through on it. This year will be different. On his break from school, we will be doing just that. We will bake cookies, fill the jug with hot chocolate and drive over to the hospital district south of Dallas passing out goodies and passing out the love of Jesus. There is something to be said about the simplicity in a child's thinking. The solution is so concrete, yet for us adults, navigating through such simplicity can handicap us. I have found that if you enter a situation with the intent to find your answer, in most cases, you will. Searching for what may be missing in your life isn't any different. Many of you, especially as the holidays approach, find yourself in a place that is dark. You put on that brave face every single day, put one foot in front of the other because that is what is burned into your heart, yet you still can't fill the void. I have been there, in that dark place. I may not have known the place existed at 7, but the decision I made so long ago did in fact allow for an easier transition into resolve when the darkness came later. Where do you think that ingrained desire to be better, to want more, to be complete comes from? It comes from God. I pray that as you finish out this year, you will open your heart to the promise of concrete simplicity, placing that handicap we keep so comfortable at bay, in His hands. Merry Christmas folks, may you be happy and may you find a real peace this season.

This was the first time I ever photographed such a large group, and I was ~~terrified~~ beyond prepared. They were sweet, they were fun, energetic and they made me feel like I could accomplish the task. I hope you enjoy these few faves below...

mirror...

2015-12-10T20:20:00.000-06:00

There was only a few of them. But it didn't take long for more to join, slowly but surely, more of them made their way downstairs. Every single time I glanced over, more out of touch with the performance they were becoming. Some of them sleeping, others just staring off into the empty part of the room. And I found myself getting emotional. Here I was, standing with a camera in hand, snapping away at this sweet first grade class sing away, and all I kept thinking about was what difference of extremes in age I was surrounded by. These children had no idea who they were performing for. Truth is, neither did I. I have always had a bit of a soft spot for the geriatric population. As a matter of fact, I always thought that I was going to be a geriatric nurse. There is something honorable about being able to care for someone in their last days, especially when they have lived a life full of memories. Memories that have difficulty surfacing, but live so freely in the lines on their faces. Memories that can't make their way to the forefront of thought, but live so freely in the grey of their thinning hair and in the expressions behind their eyes. So there I stood, as the children sang, emotional and overcome with a sadness. One that contradicted any rational reason to not cry. But I did. I let the tears fill my eyes, and I let them stream down my face. She was here, I'm certain of it, the woman who made sure to always have fresh baked bread on Sunday afternoons, so after their spirits were filled from service, they too could be filled with the makings of yeast, warm water and sugar. Not to scarce was the man either, because in his presence I'm sure we were also. The one who rubbed his knuckles to the bone every other night, as he held down that second job. The one that would allow him to feed his family of eight. But what I'm most certain of, is the great old souls of which we were also in the presence of. And as the class began to wind down their performance, the teacher thought it would be appropriate to sing some old church hymns, Christmas themed ones. Almost as quickly as the music began, I could see it. One by one the once empty expressions filled with a recognition. And almost as as quickly as the lyrics left those sweet young lips, I could see it. One by one their heads lifted in recognition. The once uninterested, mentally drifted group began to sing along with a fervor to praise. So I stood, in awe struck wonder, realizing that I too would one day gaze into nothing. I asked God to always allow me to experience moments like these, to pull me close to Him, and asking Him to never lose interest in me, even "when" I reach this old age.

Having a baby is a special time. It's the beginning of life. It's the opportunity to love. And I was asked to swing on by this families house to snap a few of them in their home. Here are a couple of my faves...

whose view...

2015-12-03T22:44:00.000-06:00

He was loading the nail gun. It was easy for him. Many things are. I sat there, an onlooker, watching as he put up studs, nailed them secure and did the math in his head. I told him that I loved him, and he paused, looked up at me and said he loved me too. As he continued to reframe the wall, I told him how cool he was. He smirked. The kind of expression that leaves a gap of acceptance and security but one that is always guiding me towards his heart. He is beyond talented, in everything that he does. We started talking about redoing our house since we purchased it three years ago. We had always planned on someone, some company, coming in and doing the work. We have a rental in Arlington that he remodeled, and taking on a project of that caliber again, wasn't something I wanted, he wanted. But here we are, changed current...and somewhere along the way I have found myself living with my builder. Truth is, we could write a check for this. We could write a check for a lot of things, but we don't. He is that man. The man that wants to have his sons learn what it is to actually take care of a home and a car. He is amazing. He teaches our oldest the importance of knowing the difference between a phillips and a flathead, and in that same breath, extends instruction on loading the washing machine. I have said it before, how he is a way better father than I am a mother, and I love him for it. I don't waver for one minute in that truth. We are partners and I am beyond fortunate to have him lead our home.

I get a little bit of anxiety when I have to shoot kids. They are mobile, they are energetic and they have minds of their own. I get nervous because I want to do a good job. Then I realize that if I will just let them be, take a deep breath and follow them around, the shot will just present itself. May these sweet faces remind me you of what joy childhood is. Here are a few of my faves.

gratitude is finite...

2015-11-30T11:53:00.001-06:00

I drove home, after a very long shift. I walked through the door and helped to get the morning going. They were packing up and driving to Waco soon, and I would be left all alone. Wiping faces, brushing teeth, lacing up shoes and an insufficient amount of hugs and kisses were had before they all piled into the truck and drove away. It was Thanksgiving Day, and I would be spending it alone, without the most important people of my life. As the door shut behind them and I exhaled audibly, I made my way to our bedroom, for what I thought would be some amazing sleep. Except that it wasn't. I woke up every single hour, on the hour. Every single time that I looked at my phone and saw the time, it was a reminder that I was that much closer to having to go back to work. It was a reminder of how much time had already passed since I had seen my family. And it was a reminder of how soon I would have to pretend to be okay with working another night shift, on a holiday, without my family. Moments like these make me not like my job. Moments like these make me wish that I did something else for a living. And yet, moments like these make me stop and realize that even though I am obligated to report on holidays, weekends and overnight shifts, I am not obligated to lay in that hospital bed with those children. I am not obligated to carry a parents emotional burden of having a child so sick that their chest has to be opened in order to fix it. And I am not obligated to remain in such a victim rich outlook. I am however obligated to change my attitude, because I chose this life. I chose to study this in college and I choose now to continue it in the matter in which I do. I will get to go home in 12 hrs, every single night that I show up, but those children and their families do not. That obligation, the one to stand firm on a character that was instilled in me by no one other than the Lord, allows me to continue to carry out such an honor. Because that is exactly what I do. It is an absolute honor to have these parents look me in the eye, and trust me to keep their child safe and most importantly...alive. Every day, every night...even on Thanksgiving.

My heart was so rich after having met this family. They are brave, they are full of joy and they love each other very much. And I'm pretty sure their children will carry their tradition of love, forever. Here are a few of my faves.

a revolving door...

2015-11-27T17:08:00.001-06:00

For ~~my entire life~~ the past few weeks, I have been mentally resisting my usual mantra where my personality has sat so comfortably. Look, I know we all grow and we can come into experiences that change who we are, I know that. It has however, taken the better part of my brain to establish a covenant with my heart and allow for an evolving thought to be accepted. The climax of that thought produced the realization that I am not as much of a people person as I thought I was. I have been faking it, for quite some time, all of my life maybe. I do not enjoy the get to know you phase, at all. I want to skip it, and just get real with people, like right off the bat. Why can't we all just do that? Like feel the vibe out, and if you feel me and I feel you, then bam! Instant friendship. Then I had a thought. What if it is that way? What if everyone applies that process already, and I have consistently year after year, season after season, been weeded out? It's obvious I know, my outgoing personality, that is not a secret. But what if I have been compensating for the potential lack of initial "reach out" from others? The only thing I do know is that I am tired of the game. So stinking TIRED. The older I get the more okay I am with just letting that struggle with intimacy go...I think. You have read me write how much I struggle with getting the love back, and I need to move on! I mean it, I am so sick and tired of being spoken about in light and then not being treated as such. I am fulfilled in many other areas of my life, through my husband, my children and most importantly the Lord, so why can't my mind negotiate with my heart on a more consistent basis? If it did, it would produce an outcome worthy of change. Truth is, I have felt the shift, personally and professionally, and I don't really have much of a choice but to be okay with it. Don't get me wrong, I am not committing myself to silence and reverting to pantomime communication, but if you see me "disengaged", know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me, I'm just not playing the game anymore.

This sweet family has about the most gentle aura I've ever been around. And taking their pictures was beyond my pleasure. Here are a few of my faves.

timing...

2015-11-18T19:18:00.000-06:00

The more I try and clean, the more he makes it impossible to. Luca is determined to pull out every pan. He is determined to hide every Lego and he also manages to open every drawer in my dresser and pull apart socks I never even knew that I had. Those are not things that we teach. I never once showed him how to pull open the drawers or pocket tiny toys and make them disappear, yet somehow he just knows how to do it. But the more I thought about his incessant need to bridge the incline that is my attempt at cleaning, the more I think I understood his intentions. Him and I aren't very different. I find the path of his destruction is aligned with my need to check off those "tasky" engagements. Sometimes it's dishes, sometimes it loading the washer and sadly, sometimes it's scrolling my phone. We are a people made for closeness. Of course it wouldn't be something we are taught. It is something that we are just born with. The desire to be noticed, to be fawned over and to be flat out paid attention to, I believe it is innate within us. When he makes landscape nightmares of our home, leaving traces of pots and pans, underwear and diapers, I know he is telling me something...he wants me. My job isn't to teach him to not make a ransack of our home, but to teach him that I am present for him. And that is something that he will learn as I disengage from everyday distractions and focus my attention on this life that has been entrusted to me. Is keeping a tidy home important? I guess it depends on who you ask, but for me, sitting in this season with Luca is way more important than having ~~polished baseboards~~ beds made. Listen folks, they will only be this age once, ONCE! I know you all have read me write it, and as much as you here my say it, just know that I will never tire of making it made known...time will wait for no one.

The seasons are changing, can you feel it? The nights are colder and the breeze is getting stronger.

With this changing weather, comes a tide of family closeness. And when I get a chance to take one's picture, it makes for a great fall evening in my book. Here's a peek at a few of my fave "time stoppers" from this sweet family.

refinement...

2015-11-11T23:09:00.000-06:00

We asked him to get in our bed, in between the both of us, because we wanted to get cozy snuggles, but we also wanted to tell him how much we loved him. He loved the idea, and did not hesitate to crawl in. Back and forth we went, Marcus and I, telling him how special he was, telling him how adorable he was and telling him how irreplaceable he is to us both. There was ulterior motive in Marcus' suggestion, he was making an appointment with Adan, and I was going to be lucky enough to witness. You see, these two, they are part of a daddy and son bible study that a fellow dad started at TCA. They are in the midst of studying the great warriors in the bible. Marcus has been wanting to introduce Joshua to Adan, but in order to know Joshua, you must first meet Moses. And as our love fest began to wind down, Marcus started to ask Adan about Egypt. As I laid there in observance of what was taking place, I was reminded of Our Savior's promise to be present when two or more are gathered in His name. I was overcome with emotion, and as the tears surfaced, my instinct was to bow my head and rest it in between Adan's shoulder blades, so I did. My sighs were audible, the tears were visible, because our son had just made us a worshiping three, and I was emotionally fulfilled. I thanked God immediately for this moment. I told Him that I was undeserving of such a memory. But just as quickly as the words left my mouth, He reminded me that I am...and so are you.

Being a mother has changed me, in ways that I never knew could. The love that I am capable of giving is immeasurable. I see things that I could not see before and having a chance to witness sweet love in person when someone asks me to take their picture is pretty awesome. Love is visible everywhere, including these below. Here are a few of my faves from this sweet family.

In the spirit of...

2015-10-31T14:29:00.001-05:00

Our family has been very busy these past few weeks. My schedule hasn't changed, I am still working the same, so I'm not quite sure why it has felt so hectic lately. I have also had more and more opportunities to photograph, so that could also be our culprit. It's Halloween, and we are headed out for some much needed family time and I love it, the kids love it and I hope you find time today or tonight to love on your children. Somewhere, some parent is standing vigil over their child in a hospital, wishing for the rush of door to door trick or treating. We all know how silly these holidays can be, and how they can be such an annoyance at times with all the preparations we all feel the need to have, but we are lying to ourselves if it isn't a tad bit for us too. I love to see my kids faces when they are having fun. I love to see them laughing when they are in the company of family joy. When they are robbed of that, whether it's because of weather or unforeseen circumstances...or heaven forbid sickness, hospital bound sickness...it saddens me. We are so fortunate to not have that as a variable in our lives, and I pray for you families who have been robbed this evening. Happy Halloween, here is hoping you can find the BOOtiful in your evening.

In the spirit of all the holidays that are so fast approaching, this sweet family requested some photos of their little brood, and of course I said yes. These are a few of my faves.

My sacrifice...

2015-10-19T11:34:00.000-05:00

As I got ready to leave for work last week, I told him "I know you're going to call me". He assured me that he wouldn't, and they went about their evening routine like mommas worries were just that, mommas worries. While at work, I began to wind down the beginning part of my shift, and my phone rang. I knew it. Right then and there, I just knew it. His fever had spiked to 104F and I was not there. My work and home personality are very similar, I am essentially the same woman. However, when poop hits the fan at work, I am calm. I have been present for some very high stress situations, and somehow I can navigate through the situation just fine. It is exhilarating, the sense of urgency I have underneath my demeanour, and I love it. This call however, the 2 seconds of undertone in his speech, that...I COULD NOT HANDLE. I lose my shit, to be quite frank. The list appears in my brain, and instinctively I run it down quickly with Marcus..."did you...did he...have you...has he...", and like clockwork, his reply is slow and it takes all of my mental strength to not throw the phone down, run to my car and drive home. But I can't. Because just on the other side of the wall, there is a baby lying in a warmer, who has just had surgery. She is slow to recover, very sick and her mom sits at her side, weeping audibly. She is in no position to drive, she has no support and is broken. This is the face of my profession. It is this truth that jolts me still. For the better part of my life I have been a mother and I am also a wife. From time to time, I have been known to be a friend. And my family would still consider me to be a daughter and sister. But for three nights a week, I am not allowed to be any of those things. I can't be any of those things. And as perspective begins to weigh me down, it also ultimately anchors my emotions. It calms my insides and allows me to move forward and find a solution for our son. And as I pull myself together and walk back into my patients room, I know that I am not allowed to be sad for my child, for I must only show compassion for this baby and her mom. I am not allowed to grieve my sons inability to sleep, for I must show them endless hope. I cannot share my son's personal story of sickness, for I must show this mother that the only baby that is important to me right now, is her daughter. Because it is. I am committed to be present for 12hrs at the bedside of some of the sickest children in our city. And I do it.

***pls note, the dipiction of the characters described are of a fictitious nature and only serve as an illustration of what a pediatric ICU may look like from time to time***

It seems I have had more and more opportunities to photograph lately, and I am not complaining...one single bit. I work with Callyn and she requested some photos of her brood together before they became a family of 6. Here are a few of my faves // #CALLYNallgirls

ps...the 4th is a surprise sex, but my money is on a girl, hence my hashtag, lol.

In my flesh...

2015-10-10T18:13:00.001-05:00

I lost it. I was waiting for it, truth be told. I let it happen, spoke it into existence and let the sins of my past wash over me. With my youngest at my hip and my ego on the horizon, I lost it. I allowed myself to get dark and proud. Who am I? I am notorious for saying that when people are at their worst, believe them, because that is who they really are. I have treaded in that very pool of truth before, and I was there this morning. As we pulled into the parking lot of the football fields, Adan said, "I don't have a good feeling about this game," and I asked him why, and he said he just didn't think it was going to be a good game. I told him to just have fun because that is what matters and if he has to throw the ball, throw it to his friends. And that was that, except that it wasn't. If his game was any premonition of what was to come, I did not heed it's warning. I had an exchange of words with an opponents mom, raised my voice and used horrible judgement. The worst part was, I had "enough sense" mid arguement to realize I still had my work jacket on, with my employers name stitched just below the lapel. And I thought to myself, "what example am I setting, I may one day take care of her child?!?" And it was that very thought that catapulted my spirit emotionally still. I fought it, His/God's voice. He silenced me...eventually. He reminded me that it is His love stitched in me that should anchor my compass. Allowing that to be what is visible for all to see, that is what matters most. Except that it wasn't, not this morning and I am ashamed. Turns out, I am who I am at my worst, and that is okay. I am grateful that I had the "better sense" of my seed, weigh greater in me. I am even more grateful to have said "yes" to it, before we left. I found her, walked up to her and told her I was sorry for acting that way. Whether she accepted my apology or not, I will never know. What I do know is, His perfect Glory goes before me and His love is, was and always will be...forever.

Our yearn...

2015-10-09T12:19:00.002-05:00

It burned. It began to bubble inside of me, and I could not contain it. So I quickly turned away, and starred out of the window as Marcus drove us all home. I was feeding the boys some snacks, and realized I was gonna fall mighty short, given their appetites. As the last scoop of yogurt was placed in Adan's mouth, he asked, "is that it?". Uninhibited in my response and sustained in my moment, "yes" was the truth, so that is what I told him. Just as quickly as the words left my mouth, the feeling came over me. You see, somewhere in that very moment, there was a mom struggling to scoop something, anything into her child's mouth. She is scraping whatever remnants she has available to feed her hungry children. And as I starred out of the window and caught a glimpse of my reflection, I could see her. She loves her children. To provide their bare necessities is a struggle for her. It broke my heart, knowing that it is not a struggle for me. My heart ached at the thought that "this snack" wasn't going to satiate my children in the interim of the commute. It was a palpable emotion and I broke down, hid my tears from my family, but nonetheless, I cried. Not for me, but for her.

Being a mother is the most special job I have ever had. I remember my oldest sister telling me how I would soon miss Adan inside my body once he was born. I thought she was ridiculous. Turns out she was right. Our bodies are the most precious and badass building machines. So when someone asks me to photograph them while they are in the heart of their infrastructure, I oblige. These are a few of my faves from #expectKING maternity...

Where it falls...

2015-09-11T15:11:00.000-05:00

I got home the other day, and I found the boys in Adan's room with Marcus, watching old videos on the laptop. As I inched over onto Adan's bed to get a peek myself, I realized that most if not all of them were memories buried so deep it was nearly impossible to recall them. I lived them, I was present in them, I partook in the element of adventure, yet I can't really remember it. This 2D imagery was holding my memory hostage and my inability to regain composure over it's loss of control was too much to bear. I did not like the feelings that were brewing inside. Somehow allowing myself to move past that time was not punishment enough, I had to also forget that it happened too. It is a prison of evolution, one I do not like to participate in, apparently. I mean seriously, do you? How is it that we can be so present in the moment, attach ourselves to the very element of life, preserve the experience and then attempt to catalog it in our safe of memories, yet flat our forget? I'm sorry, but that is just not fair. Or is it? Why do we forget some of the most precious times in our life? Time does not stop for anyone, that is not new news. It waits for no one, and often times pokes fun at those that think holding on to the now will somehow prolong the tomorrow. It just doesn't work that way. I am guilty of this, on more than one occasion. I'm really not quite sure why it happens or why I feel so cheated. But if freeing up my safe of life moments allows for current events like these below, then so be it.

Where the process began.

Cupcakes with little sombrero's

Just some of the decorations. You can't go wrong with some tissue paper poufs.

A Mexican Fiesta isn't a Mexican Fiesta without Jarritos!

These darling flags added just the right touch to our patio ceiling.

Just in case you got lost along the way.

I'm not quite sure how we got here, at the ripe old age of 1, and Luca agrees. (based on that face, ha)

He couldn't get enough. (my attempt at ruffle pipping was kind of a bust)

...as evidenced in this picture.

His Mercado bag was full of everything NOBODY should eat.

If you don't have a pinata at a birthday party, it ain't a party. (OK, my disclaimer is this: unless you host outside your home, otherwise, we will always have a pinata)

Mercado goodie bags. (or as I like to call 'em, Mercado Danger Bags full of rotten Mexican candy...you know, in keeping with the theme n all)

His. Smile. Is. Everything.

If I dip, you dip, we dip...and we all sure did!

of the essence...

2015-06-23T20:03:00.000-05:00

We all piled into the car, as if this drive was anything new. The commute came and went, my hearts heavy beats had absolutely no control to lapse the short hand backwards in time. My wifely, supportive duties were yearning for hibernation. The part of me that is supposed to support and encourage, doesn't always willingly participate when it is summoned, especially when it involves having to say goodbye. He was leaving us. He was going on a plane, far away, and he was leaving us. I get out of the car to meet his embrace, and I do not want to let go. I never cry when he leaves, but this time was different. I couldn't hold back the tears, and my gates opened. There on the sidewalk of the terminal, I let the concrete have it, as it took my drained heart and absorbed any strength I had to hold it together. And as I made my way back into the car, I could see that Adan was still sleeping. Waking him was going to be the beginning of a sorrow we all hate to acknowledge. As Marcus leaned in to scoop him up, the weight of a sleeping 6 year old became too much to carry, and they both held each other as if all the time they had spent together up until now was bottled into this moment, and never to reemerge. I hate to see Adan cry, especially at the expense of sadness. As he puts Adan back down in his seat, I see him glance over at Luca. It was copious, it was obvious, and it was bearing down on his heart and glaringly visible on his face as he began to unbuckle the car seat. Marcus rarely cries, so when I see him breakdown because he will miss his children, it reminds me of the kind of man he is. He is the most present man I know, and I cannot for the life of me seem to wrap my mind around not having him around. I know that these trips he takes are just temporary, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to you all, that in his absence I am weak. I always envision my/our life without him, while he is away. I attempt to navigate life here, with our sons, imagining what it would truly be like if he never came back. It is horrible. It is unimaginable yet a lingering living thought that wanders inside a place that deserves hollowness, yet I manage to give it plenty of layering, mental depth. He is aware and observant, when I think I'm paying attention. He is smart and witty, when I think I have had the last word. He is playful and energetic, when I think I have mastered the game. He is gentle and sexy, when I think I have approached with ease. And I miss him. His children miss him. He left us on Father's Day, and we will receive him on Father's Day, because everyday should be a celebration of the time we have together. Perth and Brisbane will have him for a week, and we will gladly receive him for the rest.

Time and Love. Two of my favorite things. When you have both, you have it all. The Horkey's are a special family who have been given both. Acknowledging that these are gifts from God, make them even sweeter. I was asked to come to their house to snap some pics as they hung around their house. And these are a few of my faves.

London

aka Londy

Jude

aka (still working on it)

Chelsea, London and Jude

Love has no end!

the fade...

2015-05-30T21:42:00.000-05:00

I called him hoping he'd be on his way, and lucky for us, he already was. I could hear the muffle of traffic in the background, attempting so hard to be the drown of the lengthy commute and distract me from the joy that is his arrival. As I shuffled on the floor with Luca, Adan pounces the idea of freedom in the air, as he reminds me that he is almost done with kindergarten. And just like that, my internal calm is awakened with the conflicting anxiety that lives dormant within me unless referencing the impending growth that is my children. I'm fine, I'll be fine...and just like that, Marcus walks into the house. He navigates the room with his eyes, and Luca takes off as if the last 9 hours we have spent together meant nothing. His arrival has ulterior motives, and shares those with our oldest as the invitation for a haircut is exchanged. So they take off, leaving behind the bean and I. As evening approaches, and bedtime arrives, I enter the kitchen from putting Luca down for the night. What I find is the lengthy torso of a young boy, the nape on a neck belonging to someone more mature than he, a stance that preteen children wish to accomplish and a hairline that has been groomed with tools that have my most inner soul shaken. We had a plan, I had a plan. You see, Adan isn't supposed to have clippers on his hair until he goes to 1st grade. That's always been my own weird hang up rule. Somehow that assertion in decision making keeps him in a coddled image in my head, and it allows me to hang on to an innocence that has probably never truly existed when referencing follicles. Attempting to gain control over something I truly never had, is tormenting me. Marcus let that woman cut his hair too short, and I cried. I cried at the sink, I cried over my dinner plate, I cried as I put him to bed and witnessed his eyes drift into sleep and I cried as I made the inevitable transition into maturity, because that is where I should have been all along. His growth, Luca's growth, our growth as parents isn't anything that can be paused. I'm fine, I'll be fine...and just like that, acceptance walked into the house.

Sometimes not having control is the best part. Who am I kidding? It is so hard to live, but so easy to write. Sometimes that lack of control can prove to be just what the lens ordered. I was asked to take a friends maternity pictures, and since we can't control the weather, forging on was an ambivalent notion, but one I think we all hoped would pick a side. There was a window of time where the rain had stopped and it looked like there might be just enough time to snap away. And boy was there ever. The overcast turned out to give way to just the right amount of lighting, making post production easy.

These are a few of my faves...Wells Maternity

Um, hi!

Cutest and sweetest couple EVER!

Seeds...

2015-03-13T13:20:00.001-05:00

The alarm ding went off and my heart jumped, it still does, after 12 years with him, excitement ensues at the idea of seeing him. He walks through the garage door and there he stands, surveying his family before walking into the den. I fight every urge to hand him Luca because I know how important this time will be for Adan. No different than any other day, Adan whispers, "tell him I'm invisible", and as I do, he nudges even closer to me, as if hiding will assist his ploy to actually be out of sight. Marcus participates, it's cute, acting as if it is the first time he's ever been asked to play along. He enters the room, falsely surrendering to the find. "Where is Adan," he says, as he continues the persuit. And I can hear Adan giggle, his breathing becomes faster and he starts to pinch me a little as if to let me know, "mom, I'm so good, he has no clue where I am." And I sit back, as an observer of my family, I am in absolute joy at the thought that my husband is not only our son's daddy, but he is also our son's companion, his hero and these silly moments will carry Adan in the future. He will look back at them, as I have so many times before when I think about my daddy and the silly things he did with us to make us smile, and he will carry the love, always. I can't help but think of how truly blessed I am. To have participated in this cycle. I have witnessed many that need to be broken, but this one, this one has a tertiary effect that can only reap goodness, and will be given to Adan so one day he too can be this man for his children. My cup is so full, thank you Lord.

I always carry my camera, it's with me always. And if I had it to do all over again, I would have gone to college for photography and writing. So I blog and take pictures to fill that void, and it serves my soul in a different way. It affords me time alone, with no children and no husband. I am alone, behind the lens or on my computer, out letting my insides in the only artistic way I know. I love it. Sometimes, just sometimes my friends get wind of my desires and ask me to do them a favor, and I oblige and the results are below.

#newbyginnings Maternity FAVES

Age is becoming, no?

2014-11-22T11:42:00.001-06:00

I had already woken up twice, and the thought of pumping was the last thing on my mind. So I crawled back in bed, but not before standing at the foot of it, staring at what was in it. He was half covered, but fully engulfed in his dreams as his arm draped over our oldest son's chest. It was customary, these arrangements, when Adan casually got "cozy snuggles" just before bedtime on our bed, over a Friday night. We knew what he was doing, it wasn't the first time, and Marcus and I both secretly hoped that it wouldn't be the last. Six am arrived all too quickly and the little bean was awake, so I pried myself up from laying horizontally at the foot of our bed, with just enough energy to ask Marcus to get Luca. Duty called, and a couple of hours of sleep later, my boobs were being beckoned. And as our weekend morning ritual was coming to an end, we drove to IHOP. Even though hot chocolate, tea, pacifiers, Sofie and Lego's is what took up the most real estate on our table, it was the look in his eyes and that grin that carried the most equity. "What day is today," he managed to let the words escape from his lips as he rocked the baby to sleep in an over crowded restaurant. It took everything in him to refrain and allow me to discover what day had landed us in that very place, in that very moment with our very present and real life. As I pillaged through my bag and found my phone, Novemeber 22 was staring at me, convicting me with the, "how could you forget" expression. I looked right at him, holding back any self control, and said, "ah man, it's our anniversary!" As we both let that resignate between our gaze, laughter was the obvious resolution to our impeccable ability to let ourselves get absorbed in our every day life. And quite frankly, where we are right now, immersed in love with our family and for each other, forgetting what day is today isn't going to be a culprit for anything other than a celebration of what it meant for us 6 years ago. We vowed to love each other forever, we vowed to support one another and we vowed to be the others resting place when our souls need a break. And on this Saturday morning, we were just that for each other; as a family we will celebrate our every day life to honor that very day.

Marcus, our serendipitous love, our predestined love, Our Creator's Will lived out between us both, is everything I have ever wanted. You are my dream guy and I am so thankful to God for you. I love you so much. Happy Anniversary big poppa.

my news...is your news...

2014-11-05T22:14:00.003-06:00

She sat on the rug, with her baby in her lap. "Will I make him cry too, when he grows up?", she thought, as she stared into his cowlick on that brand new baby head. It took everything in her, to not break down at that very moment, "please...PLEASE keep it together, I can't let him see me cry", she repeated over and over in her head as she stared into the face of her oldest son. How is it that she could love him so much, and yet, hurt him just the same? Her grace empty tank was rust filled and the little energy she had left in her body was just the catalyst her anger needed to lash out at him. It was homework time, and as much as her intuition told her to not push forward, she was stubborn and continued. Baby in her lap, a loaded verbal gun at her disposal, and against her better judgement, she went ahead. A few minutes in, her mental rhetoric began, her conviction to stop arrived and the look in his eye that a different approach was desired was blarringly evident, but she plowed through, ignoring every clue to do the very opposite. She had been here before, in fact, she was here every day since kindergarten started. "We will be successful, we will be successful" her mantra echoed. Meeting everyone else's expectations was a goal she just had to meet. Nevermind the fact that meeting her son, where he was, should have superseded her current fuel to meet theirs. He deserves more, he deserves better. And yesterday she decided to be just what he needed. She will lovingly greet his weaknesses with gentle applause, for it is in those moments where he will find his strengths. She will graciously meet his lack of concentration with whispering redirection, for it is in those moments where he will find his focus. She will patiently instill a desire to learn, for it is in those moments where he will find his momentum. She will intentionally love him through his lack of confidence, for it is in those moments where he will find me.

I love you Adan, more than I could have possibly imagined. I promise to love you more and more everyday, in not only the ways that you need, but in the abundant ways that your little 5 year old heart desires.

Will it, should it...

2014-09-29T22:25:00.000-05:00

I was having this wierd feeling, like someone was watching me. And it happens often, mostly because the shadows of friends past are around me constantly, all the time. I don't get it, and I'm not sure I like it either. I had a friend, a good friend, one I thought would be around for the long haul, and well, let's just say that she isn't. Turns out...she IS still around. She is in the faces of my new friends, and shows up in the actions of strangers. Makes me crazy, because my ploy to out of sight out of mind her can't be applied here when my brain is the culprit of my own live friends past feed. I have always believed that we aren't allowed to move past something, someone, some instance without taking with us the lesson that is to be learned. It will repeat itself over and over again until you take a solid moment and absorb it into your newly obtained blueprint for life. I have been trying to rebuild my friendships for a while, being okay with not getting the love back, yadayadayada. I've actually adopted a new way of thinking and honestly it's worked out great, or so I think. I mean, I feel like it's the only way that I can protect myself. I have vowed to only give away what I can afford to be without, with my friends and now recently, with my family. But what do you do when that conflicts terribly with your instinct to do the opposite? That is not who I am. I am not a partial lover. I love fulltime, all the time and to hold back for the sake of restructuring my insides, feels not natural. I need to find the means of architectural bliss and mesh that with what will not only build a killer frame, but also embellish my esthetics with flare that can only be adorned by those that claim to love me back. As I write this, I'm embarrassed to claim insecurity knowing that love is given and received in so many ways, and to seek it out in only the forms that I give it, is not only immature but wishful thinking for anyone who wants to sustain any type of relationship with me. I am very sensitive, overly emotional but carry with me the exterior of a bull fighter. That can be mistaken for many things. At times, eventhough I am a walking contradiction, knowing that this transparency can get me absolutely no where is much harder than acknowledging that where I am in this very moment is a result of my own actions. I will not make any excuses for the outcomes that were my past ventures. Not only do I believe that every woman has the power to navigate their own love life, but we also have the power to navigate the rest. We have no one to blame but ourselves for the predicaments we lie in. I am responsible, and now this new found admittance will guide my new found framing and allow only those willing to assist in keeping it strong to walk along my side.

On another note, I got the best form of confirmation the other day. It was marvelous, it was bliss, it was mentally orgasmic. And I could not have scripted it better myself. Except that I did. In my mind, I willed it...and to fruition it came. That is all, how's that for vague?

evolution at it's worst...

2014-09-01T18:21:00.000-05:00

I have never felt more validated in my life, passively validated, but validated nonetheless. I will take it and run so far up the alley of redemption that neon lights will be my footprints...and for days, miles even, "I TOLD YOU SO" will live as residue all over those that opposed the evidence and didn't heed advice when it was presented in the obvious form.

Adan started kindergarten, Luca got himself born and we are officially a family of four. I am no expert here, but it appears that my plate is full, and as much as I wanted to be busy in this fair form, having two children is much heavier than having just one. I will brag a minute and say that Marcus and I taught Adan to be as independent as possible before Luca came so that we wouldn't be stretched too thin and we have been very successful in this attempt. Yea us!

The struggle with girlfriends has made itself scarce lately, and I have felt so loved recently it makes me feel a bit unbelievable. True friendships have migrated my way and my new family has been the reaper of such great gifts. Since Luca has been born, we have had an uncountable number of people visit, bring gifts, feed us and love us, it has made me cry, literally. I have never had friends like this before, and the overwhelming surge of love has given me whiplash. It has shown up, jolted my core and allowed me to see my worth as a person and to accept the love in the abundance it's been given.

I have been saying no to God lately, or deferring a response only worthy of a yes for an infinite time later. I am ashamed at the thought of saying no to Him because what He can do when you respond with yes is life changing, world changing even. Matthew West sings this song called, Do Something, and it answers the argument people have with God about how unfair this world is. Like if God really existed, then why isn't He fixing all the problems we have in this world? Truth is, I didn't need Matthew West to tell me otherwise, my bible has educated me on the simple response needed when contributing to the ailment of our world. But sometimes as I have mentioned before, music can give me a song jump only worthy of making it a reality. And this song in particular shows up at His opportune time, not mine, and the time has come for me to say yes.

It will start here.

In the meantime, for ~~your~~ my viewing pleasure of course, please enjoy these.

Luca's Baby Room. Black and White was my official palette, but other accents made their way in and this was the bones. There are things in his room now, not pictured that have polished it off completely. All in all, we love it and so does he.

You remember that commercial, "show me what's in your wallet", well this is sorta the same thing, except it is Luca's diaper bag. I got this Louis as a push present when we had Adan, and used it as his diaper bag, officially it's called the Neverfull GM, and it truly is...NEVER FULL. However with Adan, I just jam packed it with anything and everything without any true organization, and this time I was on the hunt for something that I could compartmentalize and pull out in it's entirety when I needed in. Number one requirement for me was something that I could separate and organize, and viola.

My BOYS.