carey pace

The Freedom to Create Waste

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Mon, 02 Feb 2015 16:02:00 +0000

(I wrote this piece for The Creative mama in November and I wanted to share it here as well)

Art is Expensive.

The creation of art is expensive.

The process of learning to make art is expensive.

And it is a luxury that so many are never afforded the opportunity to experience.

I didn't grow up having a lot of things. There wasn't much in the way of art supplies. When I did get to experience using them, it was when I went to Grandma's house. But her things were... expensive. Fragile. To be revered. To be careful with. To make perfect finished projects with. Used with supervision. You did not waste.

I believe some of that was due to her having grown up on mountain farmland in the years following The Great Depression. You were frugal. It wasn't a choice or a decision - it was what you did, who you were. You didn't waste. Anything. Period.

This was passed to me probably both as a philosophy and out of necessity. If you didn't get a lot of supplies then you were very careful with what you did have, and you saved scraps. All scraps. You used both sides of things. As an adult today, to throw something away because I don't have an immediate use for it feels like I'm defying a natural law of the universe.

It is wise to be frugal, except for when you consider art. The freedom to create, use, experiment, manipulate, and play with artistic mediums without the fear of repercussions for generating mistakes or waste is a luxury that many in this world don't ever hope to experience. I was struck by this several weeks ago while watching my daughter happily create with abandon at her art table. How many children would be just as wildly creative as she if they only had free access to the materials? For those of us who do have this luxury, are we denying our children the opportunity and the creative breakthrough that comes with the access and freedom to waste?

We converted our formal living room into a large office a couple years ago. For my daughter's fifth birthday, we added two inexpensive Ikea tabletops butted up against each other and my existing computer desk. We placed the entire large work surface into the middle of the room. All the art and craft supplies were placed in pretty containers she could access herself without my intervention. White Paper. Glue. Markers. Crayons. Colored Pencils. Stickers. Fancy scissors. Craft Foam. Beads. Colored paper. Pipe cleaners. Popsicle sticks. Pompoms. Paper punches. Paints and quality paint brushes. Oil Pastels. You name it. We now call it The Art Room.

As I wrote in my piece about allowing my daughter to choose how she dresses each day, I'm learning a lot about control in my life. I vividly remember watching the toddler-her draw scribbles on one small part of a sheet of paper. Declaring her masterpiece finished, she flung it aside to begin another. Internally I felt immense tension.

WASTE! Look at all the rest of that paper she hasn't used!!! And there's the whole back side of the sheet! You can't let her WASTE paper like that! You're teaching her that wasting is acceptable!!!! You must stop her! You must control this! You are being an irresponsible mother if you allow this!

Yet, if I spoke to that wastefulness....

You'd be stifling her creativity! You are communicating to her that the art she's created isn't beautiful and of value to you, the way she wanted it to be seen. You are taking the joy out of the free play by enacting demands and requirements on how art should be created. You are stepping in and controlling something that isn't yours to control.

That day I decided I'd indulge the waste. I would not step in and make her use the full page for her scribbles. I would not enact the both sides of the sheet rule. I would allow her to make her own art her own way. I would let go of that control and accept the waste that comes with learning to create beautiful things.

I still feel the waste-monster rise up inside when they request 27 acrylic paint colors for the palette that I know won't get fully used. I force myself to let her glue a whole package of pompoms to one poster, knowing I now need to replenish the supply for a piece of art I likely won't save. I stifle the urge to rush in and save her from making mistakes and learning the dos and don'ts of different mediums on her own.

At six years old, she is so creative and innovative with amazing ideas. I cannot help but believe that the permission to waste has played a role in that. She has taught me that we learn to make better art with the freedom to fail.

It may feel like you are throwing money down the drain to allow unlimited access to art supplies, but you are not. You are making an investment in the artist she will become in the future.

January 2nd - ordinary life

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sat, 03 Jan 2015 16:07:00 +0000

2 of 365 : early morning art table

I shot these with my Nikon D800 , Sigma 35mm f1.4 , Nikon 85mm f1.8, Nikon 50mm 1.4D

January 1, 2015 - our ordinary, everyday life

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Fri, 02 Jan 2015 11:00:00 +0000

I am attempting a Project 365. We shall see how it goes. I enjoyed the 100 days of Summer so much, but I was kind of 'over it' by the end. I hope I can keep up this motivation for the entire year. I also hope to use this as an opportunity to practice new techniques while simultaneously documenting our family's life.

Here was our New Year's Day, the first image being 1 of 365.

She went downstairs without us and wrote thank you notes to EVERYONE who gave her gifts over Christmas. It was ADORABLE.

I shot these with my Nikon D800 , Sigma 35mm f1.4

of rice bags and remnants and real - on The Creative Mama

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Mon, 22 Dec 2014 13:23:00 +0000

I shared my third piece today on The Creative Mama blog. I'd love for you to read it and share with me your thoughts.

It was exactly ten years ago. A Friday in late December 2004. At a mere 25, I worked my very last day in Corporate America. The tension of trying to maintain a perfect home, be a good wife, all while struggling (and failing) to be a successful chemical engineer finally broke me. I passed on all my project paperwork, removed all my personal items from the desk, and turned in my employee pass. I was no longer a career woman. I was now a rare and unusual thing: a stay at home wife, neither ready to begin a family nor desiring to rise up the corporate ladder.

That Christmas, a mentor/friend gifted all the volunteers at our church with hand made rice bags. They were soft flannel and denim pouches filled with rice, ready to be heated in the microwave. I loved mine and wanted to make them for all my family. My mentor/friend insisted they were easy to make. But I didn't sew. She extended the invitation for me to come over to her home so she could teach me. I was sure she didn't have time for that, being a stay at home mom. Yet she insisted; was quite persistent. She suggested Monday morning -- that first real day of my unemployment. December 20, 2004.

I descended upon her door that cold morning and she welcomed me in, already busy with the tasks of stay at home motherhood of a five and eight year old. The dining room table still held the remnants of their breakfast, and she had to clear that away before we could begin our work there. The children were still in warm and cozy pajamas and she never asked them to dress for the day. I remember feeling a sense of bewilderment at the lack of preparation for my arrival.

As I stood and waited for things to get to the place where my friend could begin to show me what I'd come to learn, my meticulous, perfectionistic, judgmental self couldn't help but notice the lack of perfection in this home. Those breakfast remnants on the table. Old crumbs on the floor. Last night's dinner dishes in the kitchen sink. Piles of books and papers here and there. Dried toothpaste in the bathroom. Her home wasn't "company ready" by any stretch of the imagination. Yet here I was, as invited. I'd never been in someone else's home in a state like this. It wasn't sterile. It was real and lived in.

I remember feeling a little bit embarrassed for my friend, that for whatever reason, she'd not managed to get things in ship shape before I came. I remember feeling that I couldn't imagine having someone over to my home without having swept, vacuumed, mopped, dusted, and sterilized. And I remember feeling this strange disconcertment about her motherhood.

My limited exposure to motherhood at this time was with moms who were controlled, perfectionistic, diligent, dedicated to routine and structure. Everything was just so at all times. Finishing all tasks came first. Here in my friend's home it was the antithesis. It was not perfect, not controlled, not structured, not any of those things. People came first. She had welcomed me in -- welcomed me in to the unique comings and goings of their day as if I belonged there just as much as they did.

She fixed me a warm cup of tea. She quickly taught me how to use the sewing machine. Then she left me to try it on my own while she went about the business of being a mom to two young children at Christmastime. She wasn't going to coddle me or do it all for me. She believed in me, that I could do it. And all the while, the children were about us. They were so happy and thriving, engaged in our conversations, having "tea" and cookies with me, being part of the atmosphere of home, rather than cast away to play by themselves in a playroom. It was chaotic and messy, but so full of love and warmth and joy.

What do I remember most about that day?
I remember not wanting to leave.

I came thinking I would learn how to operate a sewing machine. I left with a heart cracked open. I left with my entire understanding of what it meant to open one's home to another soul ripped to shreds. I left with my concept of how the world worked, how we relate to each other, how we choose and don't choose to be vulnerable, what motherhood meant, turned up on its head.

All those homes I'd visited over my life time that were the magazine picture of perfection... felt cold, and empty, and reserved. Yet this home I'd been invited into, that I'd initially believed wasn't "ready" for my arrival, felt warm, soothing, and a haven I had to pry myself away from. I wanted nothing more than to stay and revel in its love. My enjoyment had absolutely nothing to do with how spic and span the house was.

It's been a decade since that day that changed me forever.

I recently confessed all this to my mentor/friend, and she shared that she had intentionally let me in on a 'bad day', a real day. Of her two grandmothers, one was perfectly neat and the other was more relaxed. What she learned from her relaxed grandmother was to welcome others, even when things weren't perfect. The best choice is to focus on people and their needs, instead of on shame.

It was embarrassing for her to allow me to see the mess, but she knew that the perfectionist, controlling me needed to be freed from that expectation. She knew that walking into a home that was focused on me and bringing me into their family would be a balm to my careful, meticulous soul. Five days before her only Christmas when her children were 5 and 8, she put my needs ahead of her own and sacrificed her pride. She gave me a taste of what home should feel like, while demonstrating that motherhood isn't about denying your own interests in order to have a clean home and perfectly behaved children.

How grateful I am that I tasted a cup of hot tea at her dining room table that cold December day.

I shot these with my Nikon D800 , Sigma 35mm f1.4 , Nikon 85mm f1.8, Nikon 50mm 1.4D

Photos are powerful memory keepers

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Wed, 17 Dec 2014 14:39:00 +0000

December is always such a hectic time, it seems, no matter what precautions I put in place to prevent it. It has seemed like life is always a blur from Buddy's birthday at the end of October all the way to New Years. I make notes in my planner about how to start things earlier the next year - little reminders of how to ease it when it comes this time next year. Despite the effort, it never feels much less hectic.

In this last year I have made a very concerted effort to use the word "no". Strange how difficult that can be. Strange how hard it is to tell someone else that no, you won't do this little thing for them. Even knowing that saying no to one thing is saying yes to something else that you feel, deep down in your heart, is more important. Even knowing that after you say that 'no', that it really does feel so good to not have yet another burden lying on your to do list, owing someone something else. It's hard. And despite so carefully trying to pare down my obligations and commitments, it feels as busy as ever, if not more so.

December is half over already. It's going so swiftly.

Basketball season has resumed. I confess that although I adored every moment of spring and fall baseball, I really enjoyed a down time break during our week days. The return of several evenings a week obligated out is both annoying and welcome. Buddy LOVES basketball and is in heaven. But it throws a wrench in our normal and makes things seem more rushed.

I hate rushing. Rushing makes me a ugly person.

That is not really true. It doesn't make me an ugly person. It merely reveals the ugly person that comes out when I'm pushed beyond ease. That ugly person is always there, only masked behind a more pleasant facade. Rushing is an opportunity to grow, change, improve, and allow the Holy Spirit to dwell in my heart and guide my actions, responses, and attitudes.

As I said, December is half gone. Being without my camera for a month really taught me how much life is documented when I have it. I know that some of it is due to the lack of light in the short days of December, and some of it is due to the downright dreary weather we've had most of this 12th month which left me uninspired, but I've just not photographed much life these last 17 days.

It's a short window. Christmas the year that they are 6 and 8. I won't get it back. They are at the cusp of remembrance. They'll remember this Christmas. They'll remember the decorations unique to our family. They'll remember where things were placed. They'll remember the way the light reflected here or there. How this sweet treat or hot cocoa tasted. They'll remember how I woke them for school singing carols at the top of my lungs. They'll remember whether I wrapped the packages with elaborate ribbons or just threw plain boxes under the tree. They'll remember whether I stopped what I was doing to enjoy something Christmasy with them.

For various reasons, I've had to enter the recesses of older photo folders several times of late. And it has been fascinating to me how things that seemed so wholly forgotten come rushing back with the mere glimpse of a photo. Everything about the moment floods me. How I felt. How the sun felt. How it smelled. The texture. All of it. Something completely forgotten moments prior is now just as clear as if it had just occurred.

Photos are powerful memory keepers.

Perhaps my mid thirties is bringing me to an acceptance of the escaping of time and I'm grasping for any way to halt it. My children are growing up and a season of our life is over. My photos at least let me return to a time I cannot re live. They give me back the feeling, which is really want we want to experience again. We want to FEEL what it felt like just one more time.

I want to do a better job with these remaining December days of 2014. Photograph what life in our family is during the time we celebrate Christmas. Both for me and the days I'll want to immerse myself in in the attempt to remember, and for them -- to have photos to go with their own memories and mental images. To have something to look at to remember just how wonderful it was to have Christmas at home.

I shot these with my Nikon D800 , Sigma 35mm f1.4 , Nikon 85mm f1.8, Nikon 50mm 1.4D

how great a forest is set aflame by such a small fire

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sun, 14 Dec 2014 11:00:00 +0000

Hot tears streamed down my face in a torrent.

It was March of 2010. Almost five years ago now. I sat in an enormous auditorium, alone yet surrounded by thousands of strangers, listening to Nichole Johnson perform her piece “Playing with Fire.”

She shouted. She yelled. She screamed with narrowed eyes and hatred in her voice. She said the same things in the same tones I’d heard all my growing up life. The echoes of that former time were eerie in that she, too, knew what I'd heard behind closed doors. But worse, I heard myself. I heard myself, not quite two years in to parenting my more challenging second child, on the verge of emotional collapse, relying not on what I knew to be right but what came out on instinct from years of being shouted, yelled, and screamed at myself.

"I … am…. an…. arsonist" she slowly said.

"I have set fires in my own home. I’ve been as careless with my words as others have been with cigarette butts that they just flick away in a dry forest."

Pierced. My heart was pierced right through and the pain was nearly overwhelming. Not being a public cryer, I couldn’t have been more thankful to be at that conference alone so that I could indulge those tears. Allow them to fall, streaming one right after the other as if they were releasing, and forgiving, every harsh and thoughtless word I’d allowed to erupt in selfish fury.

I knew in my core that God had made all this possible. It had all led to here. God had woven a tapestry, as He so often does if we only look.

He’d orchestrated the family that spent a short period of time at our church before moving on to somewhere else.
He’d orchestrated her hosting a moms get together in her home one day in 2007.
He’d orchestrated that I was brave enough to go, just the once, and ventured out with my 3 month old first born son.
He’d orchestrated that she’d mention a book to me, Professionalizing Motherhood, that I’d balk at because of the title. Having loathed the corporate world, I wanted nothing to do with “professionalizing" anything.
He would orchestrate that title continued to pop up in my mind over time until I ordered it in September of 2009.
He orchestrated that I’d discover the Hearts at Home organization through that book.
And He orchestrated me being able to attend the national conference in Illinois - many many many hours from Tennessee - the following March.

In the months leading up to the conference, anger was the theme I kept bumping into. It was everywhere I turned. Something about anger in the mom and how it affected the kids was unavoidable on every blog I read, every commercial I saw, every radio blip I heard. And then this performance. The culmination. I was broken.

Nichole Johnson’s piece on anger CHANGED me forever. I got home hoping so badly to find it on youtube to link and share with others. I couldn’t find it. I had hoped to watch it again, every year, to remind me how powerful our words and our anger are. The inspiration for the piece was James 3.

"Now if we put the bits into the horses’ mouths so that they will obey us, we direct their entire body as well. Look at the ships also, though they are so great and are driven by strong winds, are still directed by a very small rudder wherever the inclination of the pilot desires. So also the tongue is a small part of the body, and yet it boasts of great things. See how great a forest is set aflame by such a small fire!”

I promised myself I wouldn’t be the angry mom. I promised myself I’d break the cycle. I tried. Real hard. But I was trying in my own power, and our own power is never, ever enough.

Last March, I was reminded of Nichole Johnson’s piece and went to search again. I found it was available to purchase and download. I watched it then and was reminded of the POWER of our words, and our anger. Yet time took its toll, and now that December is upon us, my patience has worn thin. I’ve stepped back from THE source of power and started to rely, albeit unintentionally, on my own power to control my words, my tones, my body language — all the methods of communication — that can either give life or indicate anger. My own power will always, always fail. And anger and frustration have been saturating my communication with my children.

The first step is always to return to THE source of power, God’s Spirit inside of us, that can help us. The second step is to apologize to my children for my mistakes and ask for their forgiveness as I try with God’s help to do this better, daily.

I believe this isn’t something I can be healed from. This instinctual defense of anger will always be a thorn in my side. I can either humble myself before the Lord and allow Him to help me, I can try (and fail) to change it on my own, or I can give in to the temptation to spew hatred and fury when things don’t go my way. I will always need to choose to let God speak inside of me. It will be a daily choice.

I am thankful for God’s tapestry that brought me to this place. I am thankful for the opportunity to break the cycle. And I am thankful that despite my many, many mistakes in anger, these children forgive with loving hearts that give big and genuine smiles like these.

I shot these with my Nikon D800 , Sigma 35mm f1.4 , Nikon 85mm f1.8, Nikon 50mm 1.4D

Elfing all the way!

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sat, 13 Dec 2014 16:27:00 +0000

I love the Elf on the Shelf. I absolutely adore this tradition. Christmas 2014 marks our SIXTH year doing it. It has become more and more fun each year as my children have aged. Their excitement this year is incredible. If you need elf ideas, you've come to the right place!

When the Buddy was around 12 months old, we attended a church league basketball game of my husband's. A family for the other team sat near us and was enchanted with one year old Buddy. They told us all about a tradition they'd had in their family that totally trumped Santa, and succeeded in taking the emphasis off Santa and his gifts. They were elves that made fun mischief each night and found themselves in different places daily. This family told us how much fun their kids had with it and how excited they were each morning to look for their elf. I made a mental note to investigate.

I remembered later in December 2008 and googled. What this family had told me about in 2007 wasn't the currently marketed Elf on the Shelf, but that is what I came across first in my search. I can't remember now what that other family's elf tradition was called. But the EotS website said that a few stores in my small town actually carried them, and I was on the trek to find them! Unfortunately, all the local stores were sold out that December. So I ordered online and saved the special box for a year until December 2009. We never looked back.

I love that a mom did this with her children as they grew up. I love that those grown up children thought so much of this tradition that it could be brought to other homes and set out to make that possible. It's a wonderful American Dream success story. And now my own children have benefitted and will likely continue on with the tradition when they have children of their own.

I don't understand all the elf hate - though I shouldn't be surprised. Our society seems to be motivated by judging others and verbalizing their attitudes. Why should the elf be any different than to fall prey to society's judgment at large? Why should people be upset at the success of the original family? I wish we could just encourage each other, however we see fit to celebrate in our individual families.

This year I shared Jolly's adventures in a six part series on Peanut Blossom. Jolly has a little different look than the currently available elf, and I really like his face better than what you can buy now. I hope you'll take a visit and see what Jolly got into last December. Here's a preview of my favorite images of 2013.

I shot these with my Nikon D800 , Sigma 35mm f1.4 , Nikon 85mm f1.8, Nikon 50mm 1.4D

the margin to play

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Wed, 03 Dec 2014 14:14:00 +0000

Back in October, before the horrible month of waiting for Nikon to return my broken camera to me, we enjoyed an afternoon in the backyard. It is tempting to fill our days with scheduled activities. Over thanksgiving I was asked when my kids would start piano lessons... and YES, this has been on my heart for six months. I feel that music lessons are incredibly important for a multitude of reasons. However, so far, we've indulged in more athletic endeavors... and that leaves less time... and TIME is the most important thing....

No matter what, we must retain margin so that we CAN spend a beautiful afternoon out playing. JUST playing.

I fear that too many of us are swept away in the tide of activity... soccer, baseball, basketball, swimming, running club, gymnastics, piano lessons, voice lessons, guitar lessons, church groups, art lessons, the list runs on and on. All of these are such wonderful things. And yet, being involved in too much... stretched too thin... are we teaching our children that life is meant to be a constant blur of scheduled activity? Constant stimulation?

Where do we leave room for the simple enjoyment of each other?

I shot these with my Nikon D800, Sigma 35mm f1.4, Nikon 85mm f1.8, Nikon 50mm 1.4D

completely by accident

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Wed, 29 Oct 2014 10:22:00 +0000

I discovered, completely by accident, an amazingly quick and easy way to use up all those thousands and thousands of images I tend to take. Here is a stop motion of the first half of our October. I just love it. Setting things to music makes them something else altogether, for me.

(make sure you hit the HD button on the bottom right!)

our october 2014 from Carey Pace on Vimeo.
The Pace family in October 2014, Music is "Mantis and the Moon" by Son of Laughter, Chris Slaten

Last weekend, we traveled to South Carolina for Shawn to compete in his first Spartan Race. It was really fun and we both preferred it to the Tough Mudder he had completed in April. My camera had what I believe to be a shutter failure right as he crossed the finish line... so that is where the video ends... but I'm thankful it waited until he was done to fail. Now I'll be sending it in to Nikon and hopefully receive it back quickly!

(make sure you hit the HD button on the bottom right!)

Shawn Spartan Race October 2014 from Carey Pace on Vimeo.
This video shows Shawn's first Spartan Race October 2014, Music is "Wake of the Martyrs" by Secession Studios

Tell me your thoughts? Do you enjoy watching this, or does it go by too quickly? This week I shared a Tutorial for how I created these videos over at The Bloom Forum. You'll have to check it out.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

the creature project

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Mon, 13 Oct 2014 17:03:00 +0000

One of the things I love about photography is how it lets me show others what _I_ see. It lets you inside my eye to see the world through my own unique 'lens', pardon the pun. I see such beauty around me all the time. I have always noticed the details and photographed them. I look for them. I appreciate them. I seek them. One of my hopes with sharing my work online for the world to see is that hopefully one person is affected and motivated to see the beauty and details of their world.

But creatures... I notice details about people and about places. But I don't necessarily notice creatures. Something the Buddy has taught me is that if I only but look, and notice, the creatures are all around us. So often we just hurry and trudge through life, our landscape, and never notice all the untamed wild life coexisting with us.

We spent the last week in my favorite place -- Topsail Island, North Carolina. The weather was glorious - absolutely glorious. But not a day went by that the Buddy didn't find creatures. I would have said they flock to him - and yes, no matter WHERE we go, public or remote, we find them. But I really think that just as my eye is irretrievably set to see beauty and details, his eye is irretrievably set to notice the life that goes on around him.

We find this, because we seek it.

I believe I will start a new little personal project for him - The Creature Project.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

The Creative Mama blog - my first post

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sun, 05 Oct 2014 02:06:00 +0000

I am very excited to share that I am now a contributor to The Creative Mama blog. I've read this blog for years and it has always felt like a match for me. You can imagine my joy at actually being part of the team!

I wrote my first piece on a subject very, very near to my heart: allowing the Little Lady to select her own outfits. This conclusion was a very hard won one in my life and parenting journey. God had so much to teach me through parenting my little challenging girl. I was so battle weary during that time -- but the riches that have come out of those trials. I wouldn't trade anything for them. I really learned about control and the cost it has on our lives.

---

Hello, my name is Carey, and I'm a perfectionist.

More accurately, I'm a recovering first born-type A-controller-authoritarian-perfectionist. I'm learning how my tendency to micro-manage negatively affects all aspects of my life. It affects my homemaking, my photography, and even my parenting. Control always comes at a cost. Is it worth it?

When practically every single component of young children’s lives is controlled externally, it is natural for that tension to result in frustrated, defiant children. When my children were tiny, I sought opportunities to give them age appropriate control. As toddlers, that meant they could choose between two options for a snack, or decide if they wanted to play a game or go outside first. Not necessarily all the time for every thing, but often enough. As they grew, this broadened. But I needed them to obey me on issues of safety and issues of their heart. I discovered that they are far less likely to resist me on the real issues if they feel they have control of some aspects of their life.

Today my daughter is six years old, and she is the most delightful little girl with a beautifully strong spirit. She was much more challenging in her early years than her older brother, however. Her strong willed spirit presented my equally strong willed spirit with a degree of challenge that I had yet to encounter in life. It was over the course of these battles of her youngest years that I came to recognize just how much I was still trying to unnecessarily control. The war for her heart granted me a different perspective and the wisdom to discern which issues were truly battles to fight.

I have become much more selective about which hills are ones I'm willing to die on. Now I consider issues through these three filters:

A: is this an issue of safety?
B: is this a character issue?
C: does this affect others negatively?

If the answer to those questions is 'no,' then the issue is something I don’t need to control. Things may not be done my way, but it is hers to choose. She is her own person and not an extension of me. What really matters are issues of character -- issues of her heart. The clothes she chooses to wear are of no consequence in the grand scheme of life and my ultimate goal of parenting her to adulthood with a good character. How she wishes to fix her hair doesn't matter. How she wants to decorate her own room is her choice - it is her room and she is the one to live in it. If she wants to play with a toy in a strange or unconventional way, who cares?

My daughter was two when she began to show her preferences for clothing choices, and I let her. Was it embarrassing to go out in public with her wearing nine different hair bows, mismatched clothes, and two different shoes? ABSOLUTELY. At first. Because I still had my own pride intertwined a little bit. I felt that her outward appearance somehow reflected on me: as a person, as a woman, as a mother. That is PRIDE, but not the good kind. It isn’t okay for her to suffer for my selfish pride.

Did I want her to look cute and matched because that was important to her, or because it gave others an impression of me that I wished to portray?

Was I communicating to her that she was only beautiful when her outer appearance met certain guidelines, instead of teaching her that her beauty comes from the inside and her unique way of putting things together to reflect herself?

I realize now that her seemingly eclectic appearance actually does reflect on me in a wonderful way. I believe that when others see my six-year-old little princess dressed in her amazingly interesting combinations, she is endeared to them. They see a mom who has embraced the unique gift of a person she's been given to raise. They see a mom who knows what's truly important.

My daughter dresses to the beat of her own drum. I absolutely adore it. And I believe that she, and I, are the better for it.

Do you Instagram? Make sure you tag your images of your own Eclectic Dresser with #tcmEclecticDressing so that we can see!

This article was written by Carey Pace.

just an ordinary evening in the backyard

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Fri, 26 Sep 2014 20:18:00 +0000

I've always felt like my photos work best together in series to tell my stories. There are amazing artists out there who tell a whole story through a single image. I'm not there yet. Perhaps my verbose nature with words crosses over into my image life and I have to include lots of images to tell my stories, too.

I love golden hour backlight. It inspires me. But lately, I've really been enjoying the "golden hour" of our backyard. We don't get golden hour there because all of the trees surrounding us block it. But I get this hour of even light. It's different than all the other times of day. For most places, you only get a few minutes of this before the sun goes down. But I feel like our trees at least give me a little more of this time since they take away that golden hour glow.

I notice my kids' eyes most during this light. They seem to just pop. But the other night, I just observed them playing. I love their little relationship so much.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

ordinary September

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Tue, 23 Sep 2014 20:21:00 +0000

This morning I realized that I'd lost my opportunity.

The sun has barely risen now when I turn out of the driveway to take the kids to school. All of August, and now most of September, I had the opportunity to photography our real mornings. And I squandered it. I didn't photograph once. Not once. Not because mornings are hectic. Not because we aren't morning people. Not because there wasn't anything to photograph.

Because I just didn't think about it.

I wasn't purposeful.

And now that the sun doesn't rise until they are gone, I remember.

Next year I must remedy that. Next year I must remember. Next year I must document the start of a new school year's morning routine much better. I want to always remember these days in our family's life. I had been thinking about the change in seasons and how I'll be photographing indoors more... Recalling the wonderful lessons I learned in Ginger Unzeuta's Everyday Beauty workshop at The Bloom Forum. And it hit me. I should have photographed this... and now I can't, because the light has yet to rise.

However, I have been photographing this September. It's so hard to find the time to process the images I take. I wish I could find a balance. For now here are a handful that I've managed to squeeze a few moments to edit.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

coach pitch baseball

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sat, 20 Sep 2014 00:36:00 +0000

I bring a lot of things to the parenting table, but sports knowledge certainly isn't one of them. I'm learning how to play these sports right along with my kids. I can truthfully say that the Buddy's athletic ability at age 7 now far surpasses mine. I'm not one to just stand off to the side doing nothing, however. So if I can offer up photographing the sporting activity, you better believe I'm going to! I tried to photograph most games this past spring season, which seemed a great win-win for me. The fellow parents get photos of their kids playing baseball, and I have something to contribute to the team!

These were all the images I took of my [not so Little] Buddy.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

100 days of Summer 2014

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sun, 07 Sep 2014 14:31:00 +0000

A day or two before Memorial Day, my friend Tiffany from Peanut Blossom suggested I join her in the Instagram 100 Days of Summer project. Someone somewhere noticed that there were exactly 100 days between Memorial Day and Labor Day this calendar year, and thus, the project was born. I've never done a DAILY photo project before. I've always been intimidated at the drudgery of the task - could I really fit that in to my DAILY life, with how much time it takes? And let's just be honest. Perfectionism has stopped me in my tracks in the past. I knew that I couldn't take a rock star amazing image DAILY, which meant, I'd fail. In my eyes. I'd come onto the other side of the project and not be proud of my work. So I've never done it.

Which is kind of [read: exactly] the opposite of what I've been coaching my two perfectionistic children...

You destine yourself to fail if you never even pick up and TRY.

You never change your patterns of behavior if you always do the same old expected thing.

So I decided I'd TRY and I'd do something different than my norm. I'd do this project. With a few 'freeing' restrictions.

1 - It would all be on my iPhone. To make participating stream lined and easy. Shoot, quick edit, post, DONE!

2 - It would be our real life. Whatever was really happening that day, significant or not. So if real life was in yucky lighting conditions, that was OKAY. I wasn't setting out to create an amazing piece of art. I was setting out to document our real. No pressure. No expectations.

Once Labor Day came and went, I was able to put all of the images together into our official 100 Days set. Let me tell you - this was SO MUCH FUN. The whole family got into it. Seeing this visual glimpse of the summer when the kids were 7 and newly 6 is priceless to me. I am so thankful Tiffany suggested it to me, and I'm thankful I got over myself and went for it! There were days I was uninspired, or it felt a little bit of a burden toward the end (I think 100 days is a really good length, particularly for someone starting on a daily project). But I believe it was good for me as an artist to experience that, and to have the responsibility of pushing through it.

Be on the lookout! I'll be sharing on the Peanut Blossom blog soon about some of the lessons I learned in doing a successful one of these daily projects.

She walks in beauty, like the night

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sat, 21 Jun 2014 14:47:00 +0000

I have learned about myself that I become weary of doing the same things over and over and over again. Some people don't mind this, but my personality loathes it. I can do it for a while and then I suddenly snap. It is the same in 'regular' life and in my creative life. The same yard with the same lighting and the same children doing the same things... it becomes boring. I've done that. I have that image. There's no need to continue photographing, because it's already there. It doesn't give me the artistic endorphin rush I crave.

I always read that the key to photography was light. I always felt a little 'well duh' inside at that. It took some years for me to really understand that. I didn't always see the light. I saw my subject. Now I see that I'm photographing what the light does to my subject. Light is everything. Absolutely everything.

And light opens up the creative doors. Every day there are a million different lighting scenarios everywhere I go. I cannot get bored with this - there are always new situations, new backgrounds, new plays with light. I think that is why I love photography so much. I see endless opportunity. I will never 'arrive'. There will always, always be something new to learn and new to try.

Several years ago I put my camera away, safely in its bag, once the sun went below the tree line. I thought my moments of opportunity for that day were done. A year and a half ago, I would have done the same, because my D90 just couldn't hack the ISO I'd need to shoot after sundown. Now, I savor this time! Now I look forward to this unique moment of light that is so unlike any other all day long when the sun remains overhead.

She is the perfect girl to me. She has never been interested in princesses or fairy tales. She likes to play in the dirt with her brother. She loves pink and dresses and hair adornments. It's simply the perfection combination for me. In the last few months she has embraced dresses. Every time we go out to eat, she simply MUST wear a dress. Sometimes, quite frankly, that is incredibly inconvenient. But I, myself, am embracing it, too. While she is young and carefree and her sweet self, let's let her don a dress and feel like a princess. Her kind of princess. Not a disney princess. Not one who needs a prince. Just a beautiful maiden in beautiful garments.

It was Daddy's birthday this night. I believe she felt that deserved a little more dressy a dress than usual, and she chose the fairy tale dress she wore in the wedding last October. She wore it for the wedding, and she wore it at the beach shortly thereafter. She's not worn it since. I had it cleaned and it's hung in the closet. I even took it to the beach two weeks ago, but I didn't put her back in it. I regret that now.

She came downstairs wearing it, needing help to zip up the back. I gasped inside. She is magnificent in this dress. Simply magnificent. It was made for her, and I hope we can eek out a little longer in it.

After our meal out, the sun had dipped below our little valley and treeline but wasn't quite near the real sunset in Tennessee. We had some time. The light felt magical to me. I had tried to photograph her earlier in the day for an assignment and she was significantly less than cooperative. I begged her to please let me do a few special images in her beautiful dress. I tried really hard to let her do her thing and capture it, not directing too terribly much.

I would never have attempted these with my D90, and that makes me so beyond thankful that I have the D800 to use these days. It is such a treasure to me. A tool that allows me to express my creativity while documenting this fleeting time I'll never have again. I am loving who they are right now. We are enjoying them so much. And yet, I see childhood slipping through my fingers as the sands of an hourglass and feel saddened that I'll never have their toddler and preschooler hood again.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

combating perfectionism in him

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 11:51:00 +0000

"I’m so proud of you, Buddy."

He gives his goofy grin that he does when he’s simultaneously embarrassed and happy and pleased with what we’ve said.

"Are you proud of yourself? Does it feel good?"

"I don’t know."

"What do you mean you don’t know? You played really well. Are you proud of that?"

"I don’t know.”

I realize he’s using ‘I don’t know’ to combat the contradictory feelings inside, hearing praise while feeling a failure. But I don’t know what he feels a failure about. I'm confused.

"Do you think you didn’t do well?"

"I don’t know."

"Buddy, what do you think you could have done better? What wasn’t good enough?"

"I didn’t catch those balls.”

It took me a minute. Then, oh. That.

Sigh. I know this pain: the pain of the perfectionist. Because even excellent isn’t good enough.

He played shortstop last night. He made some awesome plays. The crowd cheered for him by name. He struck out once, but hit his other times at bat. He played great! There were a few hard hit balls right at him that he tried to stop, even came in contact with, but got past him. It happened to other kids on the field, too. It’s the end of the season, and just as my friend Dana predicted, the kids have figured it out and can really clobber the balls now when they bat.

I’m no athlete. We never played sports at all growing up. I don’t know the rules and I don’t know the skills. I also don't know the mentality. I’m learning alongside him. But what I do know is that this is part of sports. You try your best but sometimes the ball gets by. Sometimes you miss. Sometimes you strike out. Most times you don’t. But sometimes you do. And that’s okay.

But it’s not okay. To him. And I understand.

It doesn’t matter that he made some awesome hits at bat. It doesn’t matter that he got several people out by his moves on defense as short stop. It doesn’t matter that he made snap decisions and threw the ball to the right spot at the right time and it got there. It doesn’t even matter that he’s getting to play short stop, when this is his first time to play baseball ever. All that matters is that he let some balls get by. He messed up. And those few mess ups completely negate all the things he DID do right.

My mother heart aches at this. How can he not see what he did well? How can he be displeased at himself? Especially when we are so happy with him? How can I rejoice as he rejoices when he does play well, but not feed into the philosophy that he only counts when he achieves? How can I make our words that it doesn’t matter how well he does ring true, when we go bananas when things go right, and we emphasize that it takes a lot of practice to do things well? How can I make it make sense to a seven year old perfectionist that we really, truly ARE just as proud of him if he plays well as if he strikes out every time, doesn’t catch a ball, and make true errors of judgement? Because what counts to us is that he goes out and gives it his all every time, no matter what. But how do I make our words and actions align to prove that to him?

While my mother heart aches, my perfectionist heart resonates. I know just how he feels, for I feel the same thing every single day. It’s hard to enjoy a meal I prepared, knowing the mistakes I made or things I COULD have done better. It’s hard to walk through a house that isn’t perfect, knowing that if I tried a little harder, maybe just maybe, I could make it neater. It’s hard to photograph, feeling that even if I like an image there are twenty things I could do better. I often don’t see the joy or the beauty - I see the mistakes. I see the places where the composition is weak, or I chopped body parts, or I didn’t nail focus, or most often, just isn’t the vision I saw in my head when I set out to capture the image.

I’ve heard it said that expectations are premeditated disappointments. How TRUE.

Disappointment is a few fine grains of sand away from a loss of hope. And the loss of hope is a very, very dangerous place. Hope is essential. Vital. But the continuous build up of disappointments always sends me down this path of losing hope. I cling to the walls, hoping not to submerge and succumb to it.

I learned that it was easier, less potential for a feeling of hopelessness, to simply hedge off the disappointment by not allowing myself to have expectations. If I didn’t set an expectation, allow for the hope of success, then I wouldn’t feel the disappointment at the lack of success, and couldn’t lose hope. You can’t lose what you don’t have. So I felt that expectations were bad things. Evil things. To be avoided. Eliminated from my life. In all aspects and facets.

What I didn’t realize was that in taking away the potential for disappointment, I thus by default also took away the potential for pleasure. Brene Brown wisely says "“We cannot selectively numb emotions, when we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive emotions.” Removing the expectation of success meant I also never get to feel the joy of succeeding. I thought that if I just removed the expectations, I could feel surprised joy when I did well. But what I found was, the joy wasn’t the same joy that existed when I allowed myself to feel the full gamut of human emotion.

So, how do I apply this realization to my parenting, to guiding and raising my mini-mi perfectionist 7 year old son? Telling him not to focus on the faults is ridiculous. It’s as effective as telling a two year old who’s been stung not to be afraid of a bee. You can’t just TELL a child something and expect that to change the behavior or mentality. You can’t just tell them to get over it. This is temperament, personality, birth order. It is who they are. We cannot be slaves to it. We cannot use it as an excuse. But we need to face it head on with honesty.

We can accept the places we erred, we can use that to fuel our practice, motivate us to do better in the future. But we cannot let it paralyze it, and usurp the place of joy in our lives.

“Buddy, do you feel like you can tell me anything?”

He nods.

“Buddy, Momma is a safe place. You can always, always tell me anything. Any of your thoughts, your feelings, your frustrations. You always share those with me, okay, Buddy?”

That’s all I know to do for now. To tell him that I’m sorry he missed those balls. I know he’s disappointed in himself. That I know I would be disappointed, too. Affirm his feelings, so he’s not double dipping in that pool of self condemnation for being a failure and then for FEELING that way in the first place, that something is wrong with him for feeling what he does. Tell him that I know he was trying as hard as he could, and that’s all we ever ask of him. And that I’m so pleased with the things he did do well. So much so, I didn’t even remember those balls that got by.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 35mm f1.4

Topsail Topsail

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Thu, 12 Jun 2014 15:22:00 +0000

We spent June 1st through 8th at one of our favorite places on earth: Topsail Island, North Carolina. I would probably say that my favorite place to photography in this entire world is at the ocean. The light and reflections at the seaside are just.... sigh. They are just so beautiful. I love the new challenges of somewhere outside of my norm with such spectacular beauty surrounding me.

I took 3,376 photos. That is not a typo. Three thousand, three hundred and seventy six. WOW! I am absolutely dying to process them. Believe it or not, I've never gone back and processed the photos from our beach visit to Topsail two years ago! Alas. I have a little girls birthday party to execute, and finances that I'm behind on to do, as well as twenty other around the house projects to do before I can allow myself to DO this set of photos.... but I DID allow myself to edit a handful from our first hour out on our favorite stretch of beach.

Nearly everyone loves the beach, but I find that people's reasons are so varied. It's so fascinating. Some love the ocean waters -- the sights, the sounds, the smells, the feel of the salty spray. Some love to walk along the water's edge, feeling the teasing waters lap along their ankles. Some love to be tossed by the waves, have a glimpse of the awesome power of water and the sea, that unparalleled weightless feeling of being lifted up by an oncoming wave and then suddenly dropped low again. Some love the sand, whether just to wiggle your toes in it or to build mighty sand creations only to be destroyed by the next high tide. Some love searching for treasure with the patience of saints as they seek to find a rare shark's tooth or shell. Some love to explore and find the amazing creatures that make their home at the transition from land to sea, whether on foot or via kayak or larger boat. Some love the intensity of the sun, and it's so amazing how much stronger those rays feel with all of the reflection from the sand and water. Some love a beach rife with tidal pools hiding living treasures of all kinds, while others love a steep beach without much land. Some love to fish, whether from the pier or the surf. Others love just getting away from the distractions at home. Some love enjoying the seashore with others, perhaps a large group from home or perhaps even just meeting new folks staying nearby. Some love a beach so secluded that perhaps you don't see another soul all day long. Some find healing, both physical and emotional, by merely the presence of the seashore where the power of the water and wind are so strongly evident. Some love the creative challenge of photographing in a new place with new scenery and new lighting scenarios (I wouldn't know that person). Some like a rocky beach, while others prefer huge expanses of white sand. There are the Outer Banks beaches with their dark and churning intensity that are so different from Myrtle, which is so different from the hard packed wide expanses at Hilton Head, or any of the other South Carolina Island beaches like Pawley's, or Kiawah, or Folly or Edisto. There are the Atlantic Florida beaches, and then there is the whole other side of Gulf Coast beaches with their completely different scenery of soft white sand and crystal clear aqua water. Even more, all of the Northeast beaches I've never set eyes upon. And yet some, too, enjoy other things about going to the beach that really have nothing to do with the ocean like shopping at boutiques or outlet malls, the tradition of much too expensive but often quite elaborately decorated putt-putt golf, ice cream parlors dressed up in a time long since past, eating seafood at new restaurants, and I suppose there is a party scene or nightlife at some beaches as well.

When I see someone ask "where should we go to the beach this year?" or simply "what's your favorite beach", my heart gives pause. You cannot answer that question without qualifiers. For, my reasons to love a place may be the reasons you loathe it. My expectations for a beach vacation may make you shudder because they vary so much from your own. "Going to the beach" is about so much more that simply visiting a place where the ocean meets land. Particularly to an artist heart.

A few years ago I saw a video of the awed reaction of a group of teenage girls who had never been to the ocean before. It breaks my heart that in this day and age where folks travel around the world in a day, give no thought to how far away something is, there are still people who have never been to the seashore. This place on the earth so teaming with power and awe and beauty and might, where God's presence and influence reverberate, where even grown ups turn into kids again some times... everyone should have that at least once.

We've been visiting the southern tip of Topsail Island, NC for the last few years and adore it. It is the perfect answer for our particular family's preferences. It is an introvert's expanse, a nature and creature lover's dream, a fishing wonder, tide pools and waves and smooth sound waters and dunes and soft sand and shallow waters, shells and beach glass, sunsets and sunrises, meals with each other.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 14-24 f2.8
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 35mm f1.4

burden and levity

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Mon, 05 May 2014 17:38:00 +0000

Even now, acknowledging how much the feeling of being overwhelmed and unable to accomplish it all affects me.... I don't believe I even have a full grasp on it.

Friday, I woke at 530-600 like normal and had my 'me time' before getting the kids up to get ready for school.
I took them at eight,
came straight home and showered,
went to Warrior's at 9am for the kindergarten field trip til 12 or so,
ran an errand,
went back to the school to help in (not so little) Buddy's class with a building creativity project (that was so wonderful and fun),
took the van to get gas,
came back to the school and picked (not so little) Buddy up,
came back home and parked in the garage,
we never went inside. They went straight to the backyard to play.

And I joined them.

And it felt SO wonderful.

It's not like I never play with them outside, enjoying their imaginations and creativity and this new stage of life now that they are 7 and almost 6. This stage IS so very much FUN. I cannot form coherent words around how wonderful it feels just to observe them interacting, seeing their own personalities, quirks, and attempts at learning how to relationally navigate the world. It's like I understand that look that came over older people's eyes when they'd gaze at you while younger - I know what they felt now.

So it isn't that I never do that, at all. I do. I may not enjoy or be very good at imaginary play... but I AM there with them. I will absolutely be midway through washing dishes, and throw them down and say, forget it! They will never be this age again and I"m going outside! Now, granted, I DO (albeit reluctantly as a good Anxiety Girl should) send them out to play, just them, without me there. I think that is important as well. But all of this to say, it isn't like I've never sat in the backyard while they played.

But yesterday was different. DIFFERENT.

Yesterday at 315pm, I hadn't been inside my home all day long.
I hadn't started any projects.
I hadn't half written any emails.
I hadn't started editing any photos.
I wasn't immersed in one of many loads of laundry.
I wasn't involved in an internet conversation with a hurting friend I was trying to counsel and encourage.
I wasn't halfway through cleaning a room.
I wasn't trying to get them started on homework.
I wasn't trying to get dinner prepared.
I wasn't trying to unload the dishwasher.
I wasn't trying to scramble to keep the house in a semi straightened order so it doesn't feel like clutteropolis when Shawn gets home.

None of that.

Because I was not here, at home, all day long, I could not begin anything. And hence, I felt no OBLIGATION to continue. No obligation to complete what I had begun. No echoes of the compulsion to FINISH what you had started, because that's what you are supposed to do.

And gracious, that felt so. very. good.

I could walk into the backyard, sit next to the swing set, and engage in their half decade old chatter, wholly.

How often does the weight that sits on my shoulders show in my face, to them?

I was reminded of how glorious it felt last October when we went to Hilton Head for a few days for Fall Break. I didn't anticipate it going in, at all. But we were away. There were no obligations placed on me. I couldn't do the many things piled up on my to do list, for we weren't at home where I even COULD attempt to accomplish them. So there was nothing to do but be free and enjoy the sand, the ocean, and my family. It was wonderful, and _I_ felt wonderful. That was the first time I really understood the weight that all these burdens was placing on me every moment of every day, at home.

I have learned about myself that when I feel that I have not completed a task, something I "owe", it eats at me. It continually chips away at my outlook, and I am weakened. It chips away at my mentality and replaces it with burden. Burden Burden Burden.

That is how I always feel: burdened.

And Burdened sucks my joy, and everything that makes me ME. A silent lurking leech, ever present, not so noticeable, but destructive all the same.

I got behind on managing the finances. So I would put it off til I had some more time. But then I was more behind... and then it would take more time... and then I had to wait til I had big chunks of time.... and then it was longer and would take even more time... until, I was ONE YEAR behind. I am so not kidding. ONE YEAR behind in my quicken work.

For ONE YEAR that sucked joy from my soul.

Now, granted, that is a personal flaw. I am not good at time management. I am most assuredly a paralyzed discouraged perfectionist that can find things to do in 20 or 30 minute chunks instead of accomplishing what I SHOULD be doing. Acknowledgement is the first step in recovery, right? I'm working on making better choices.

But the point of all this, if you've even made it this far, is that I am coming into awareness of how much these "tasks" of life, that this phase of life do not always lend themselves to providing COMPLETION, suck joy from me.

If I do not get the laundry done, I feel burdened.
If I do not get the dishwasher unloaded, I feel like I have a tally mark against me.
If I did not get a floor vacuumed, swept or mopped, I have failed.
If I didn't get these photos that I shot for free edited, I have failed.
I didn't get this done today....
This task took so much longer than I expected.....

I feel as if the stamp FAILURE FAILURE FAILURE is placed in red on my forehead, and everyone, everywhere I go, can see it.

Day after day after day is marked failure. For there are not enough hours to do all the things I want to do. all the things I need to do. all the things I've committed to do. I don't have enough hours to please me, to please the kids, to please Shawn, to please my role as manager of the house (what on EARTH do you even CALL that?), to please all the places outside of my home that I've committed my services. And I walk around feeling not enough.

A few months ago, I started pulling back on commitments. It felt awful and wonderful simultaneously. It felt like a quitter to say "I can't work on this anymore". I'm NOT a quitter. I know in my head that I'm choosing yes to my family (and my sanity), but in my heart it feels like QUITTER. It's HARD to say no to people. It's really, really hard.

Our family functions as a team. As the children have aged and grown in abilities, they now have things they are responsible for that lessen the load on me as mother and homemaker. Shawn is an extraordinary helper with initiative. I don't have to ask him to help - he sees what's left to do and dives in head first. It's not at all that some oppressive amount is placed on me. That isn't the point at all. Even with pulling back from commitments, even with help from my family, I still feel overwhelmed. Too much to do, and every day just heaps more onto the burden pile and I feel like I will never, ever shovel my way out.

There is something in me that expects too much, and beats myself up for the lack of achievement. Every day.

I don't know what the answer is. I don't know WHY I chose to write this all down and share it here. Perhaps God is wanting to whisper to your hearts, as He is mine, that I will never be enough, and that is okay. That He is enough, and that is all I need. That this inner stamp of FAILURE, that I do believe is Satan's whispers, can drive me to seek Him more... instead of feel more and more discouraged.

Managing the home and caring for them HAS to happen and that is MY job. I don't get to drive away to work and leave it there. My job constantly surrounds me and echoes of things left unfinished reverberate into me, assaulting my perfectionism, whispering I am not enough. Sometimes I long for that sense of leaving, having a place to accomplish tasks, and then leave there to return home. That's how yesterday felt. I came home, to my HAVEN, and there were no pressures placed on my soul. I was free to sit and enjoy, sans guilt. Perhaps it is just a mere shift in my attitude. Perhaps it is more of a saying no to all other commitments. Perhaps is is ever more of a dependency on God to work through my weak, weak self. Am I striving still? Perhaps it is more self discipline to overcome the flaws of my personality that make it difficult to start tasks I know I cannot finish at that time.

But I've tasted the levity of the unburdened life... and I want to feel it more.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

valentine's day snow

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sun, 16 Mar 2014 20:15:00 +0000

The kids were most fortunate to experience the most snow that we've ever seen in their lifetimes over the Valentine's Day weekend. It was so, so much fun.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

the february warmth after the snow

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sun, 16 Mar 2014 18:16:00 +0000

After spending the weekend of Valentine's Day buried in snow, we were surprised to find ourselves swathed in warmth on Monday afternoon. It was just too tempting to stay inside. My lady is obsessed with the zip line and the disc swing. Buddy is obsessed with Bear Grylls, survival, and starting a fire using a flint.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

make that a snow week

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Mon, 10 Feb 2014 11:00:00 +0000

It was an amazing and unexpected week that the three of us were able to spend together. Snow days Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Every day I feel like I cannot love and enjoy them more, and every day it grows.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

snow day - jan 28th

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sun, 09 Feb 2014 11:00:00 +0000

We were blessed with unexpected snow days, which afforded me the opportunity to document them playing like mad.

I adore this image of her, in her own little world, creating.

They created a world of food for the world of their stuffed animals.

More creating for her.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

ordinary january 25, 26, 27

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Sat, 08 Feb 2014 11:00:00 +0000

Ordinary life in January. I love them so much.

I french braided her hair for basketball that morning, and for a gymnastics birthday party (that was cancelled due to snow) that afternoon. It was so cute.

She decided that she MUST make a crown with hearts and diamonds. It was really quite remarkable. She's something else.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

survival and the world of masculinity, Jan 19th

noreply@blogger.com (Carey) — Fri, 07 Feb 2014 11:00:00 +0000

(Little) Buddy has always loved being outdoors, but the fascination has taken a bit of a turn. It started when we found _Man Woman Wild_ on Netflix and watched every episode, learning about survival. Then we discovered _Man Vs. Wild_ with Bear Grylls. Six seasons, full of episodes, about surviving in every climate, every country, all over the world. It's a boy's dream. He is absolutely obsessed with it right now. And I confess, I really enjoy it, too. (and realize if I'm ever in a survival situation, I'll most certainly die)

We struggled a bit with what to get the Buddy for Christmas this year. His birthday is only two months earlier, which makes it more challenging. As they've aged, finding a "toy" is harder. There just wasn't a clear "he is gonna LOVE this" item. At the last minute before Christmas Shawn was at Dick's Sporting Goods and saw a cheap hatchet and a flint striker. He picked them up and we gave them to him a few days later.

I cannot tell you how many hours he's spent playing with them. That last minute $10 or so dollars was the BEST gift he's ever received. He's a little lackadaisical about the hatchet -- Shawn feels like it'll only take one time for him to really learn the lesson. I'm kind of fond of his fingers and wish him not to lose one at 7 because he didn't fully understand the ramifications of a carelessly laid hand in the path of a well swung hatchet. I'm trying, really hard, to let him be a boy, and let his dad take hold of this. One more rung down on the ladder of the hold that momma has on her little boy -- letting him step ever closer to that world of masculinity. Golly, that is hard to do. I did ask for him not to get a knife just yet. I don't think he's ready, and I know I'm certainly not.

At the same time, however, it's beautiful to watch. It's beautiful to watch him watch Shawn, and try to emulate him. It's beautiful to watch him run face first, head strong, toward the world of men.

Just the other night his sister had long since fallen asleep and was laid in her bed. He was snuggled up next to me in our bed, and we were about to start an episode of Man vs. Wild for his "last show". Just a few moments before, he'd taken off his pajama pants so that he was in just his underwear. He gets hot and tends to prefer just the briefs to sleep. Shawn finally came up and headed toward the bed. He was shirtless and wearing sweat pants. Little Buddy jumped up like something had bitten him, and grabbed those pants back, scrambling to put them on quickly. When I asked what on earth he was doing - for he'd just taken them off - he replied "I want to be like Daddy, wearing just pants."

My heart melted. Literally melted and oozed down onto the floor.

All he wants to do is start fires. He's tireless in the efforts. If you've ever used a flint striker, it's a lot harder than it looks. At least, this one used with the hatcher sure is. The one Bear uses on tv seems to work much quicker. Perhaps that's just tv.

I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4