Say cheese!

On August Break.

Lily's 2nd Birthday

Donuts, mimosas, baby dolls, lip gloss, splashing, napping, pizza, running through the park. It was a very good day.

On Compromise

Too often I ask myself, why am I trying so hard? I get stressed out over things that are not mine to worry about. I take on too much. I end up with knots in my stomach, unable to rest. These are not good things. These are not things I'm proud of.

Recently we've been attending a church that's working through Revelation. The sermons have been amazing. One Sunday I wrote myself a note: Whose acceptance am I looking for? Are my habits in life dictated by a desire to please God or to be held in esteem by people? The sermon was on compromise.

And I ask myself, why am I trying so hard? And to what end? I want to use my talents and abilities. I love to write, to teach, to take photographs. I love being a mom and showing my daughter the world. I love reading everything I can get my hands on. But what of these things are most important? If I'm using my talents to write but I'm stressed out fitting deadlines around mothering my child, is it worth it? If what I'm reading is stirring up guilt about the choices I make, should I be reading these things?

A few weeks ago, a good friend encouraged me to keep fighting the good fight. Often I remind myself of just that. 

Lily is all worked up before bed. She can't settle down. I go into her room, scoop her up from her bed, and hold her in my arms. She lays her head on my shoulder and I rub her back. She sucks her thumb, I hum softly. When she's ready, she lifts her head, plants a smooch on my lips, and I place her back in bed and don't hear another peep until morning. That is when I know what is important in my life.

Chasing Bubbles and Kicking Balls

 

Today was surprisingly cool. The last few weeks have steadily gotten warmer and more humid. We spent most of our day at the zoo sweating, and frankly it just seems too early. When the rains came through yesterday, it brought a cold front and today the temps never broke 70. It was awesome.

So Lily and I spent the late afternoon blowing bubbles. But what really happened is that I spent a half hour trying to simultaneously blow bubbles and snap photos of them as they blew all over the yard. It's not as easy as it sounds. Eventually I looked over at Lily. She had stopped chasing bubbles and sat down to eat a snack, which meant, "Mommy, this is getting old."

 

I admit that it was. Sometimes I pick up my camera and get so involved in what I'm doing that I forget what I should be doing. I stopped shooting the bubbles and started shooting Lily. She got up and grabbed a ball, and I finally put the camera down and we kicked it around the yard. Together.

A Little Bit of Lily

Lily will be two in thirty-four days, which isn't many days away. I can see her two year-old self already emerging, and if I was inclined to believe in the terrible two's, I'd say we are well on our way. She is in constant flux between being her sweet little self and exerting her will, and there's no telling when a meltdown is on its way. Thankfully, this is only a phase.

But it's not all bad, just different. She wants more interaction from me, so we color or sing or play together. Often her playtime used to be my time to read or sit quietly, but I've all but given up on that. When I'm with Lily, I'm simply with Lily. 

I will admit that she is cute and smart and talkative, all things about her I love. And where she used to constantly ask me to sing "This Little Light of Mine," she now asks me to sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" at least twenty times a day. I secretly think it's fun, but don't tell her.

For Lily's Birthday

I know what I want to get Lily for her birthday: a baby doll and a toy camera. 

I'm not sure why she doesn't have a baby doll, but I suppose every little girl should have one. Right now she has a beloved stuffed animal we call Buddy, who is the unnamed character from Dr. Suess's The Foot Book. He looks nothing like a baby, but he functions just as well. She carries him around, pushes him in the shopping cart, naps with him. 

The other morning when I picked Lily up from the nursery at the gym, she was playing alone. She had a baby doll in the swing, which she had covered with a blanket. The girl working there said she already gave the baby a bottle. It was adorable and I had a rush of guilt that she didn't have a doll of her own. No matter the gender stereotypes. This girl needs a baby doll.

She also needs a camera, which was obvious today when I got my big camera out and she dug out the little point and shoot. Then she flipped it on and started taking videos. This is what the kid of a photography nut does, I suppose. I took the little camera away and pointed it at her, and realized she should have a camera of her own.

Friday Happiness

From my journal today:
There is very little more to be grateful for than to find Lily sitting on the back step in the perfect late afternoon light. After running across the house to grab my camera, I snap her photograph and all that has not been well in this day suddenly is. I try to hold every moment with her in my mind, knowing I will never remember it all. The camera helps and for that I am grateful. I admire my almost two year-old. She is spunky and sweet. She loves dresses and getting dirty. She loves books and I secretly pine for the day I can buy her a camera and we can shoot pictures together. There is so much ahead of us. So much.

Lily at the Playground

Our adventure with the geese the other morning led us to the neighboring playground where Lily played and played until she couldn't stand it anymore. She actually figured out how to climb up a slide, which was pretty amazing. More amazing that we can take her to the playground and she can keep herself entertained without us constantly being by her side. I like that part.

 

Just as were about to wrap things up, Adam took the camera (something he rarely does) and snapped a few photos of me and my girl.

It was a beautiful day. I am a lucky lady.

Happy weekend, folks!

Photoshop, Not All That Bad

I like to think of myself as a photography purist. Take a photo as "correctly" as possible and let it stand. Simple as that. But there are the occasional photos that need a little boost, or a little lightening, or a little this or a little that. In truth, a lot of my digital photos have a gray tinge to them (I still have a lot to learn), so I sometimes go back and clear them up.

I used to feel like it was cheating because, at the heart of it all, I think getting the best photo you can in the camera is worth more than any amount of Photoshopping or other digital manipulation. Knowing how to take a great photograph is an invaluable skill that can't be matched by throwing your photos into Photoshop, or Picnik or Pixlr. Ultimately, taking a great photograph will save time "fixing" it on the computer.

However. Photoshop is wicked cool. I downloaded some actions sets from the Pioneer Woman and started playing around. It's pretty addictive. So this photo, which makes my skin look really pink, became . . .
. . . this, the headshot I sent in to a new magazine I'm writing for. Better? I think so. It's got a bit of an old, film-y quality, no?
At any rate, I took a bunch of photos of Lily that otherwise would have turned out badly. I used the overhead light in the living room, which casts an unflattering, yellow light, then threw them in Photoshop, and added the black and white action and -- ta da! -- amazing photos.
Do I still think it's cheating to use Photoshop? Yes, a bit. These were not stellar photos to begin with, but now they look pretty darned good. I remember from my college photography class the ways you can manipulate a photograph in the darkroom. Using Photoshop or other programs is no different. There is no physical dodging of the edges by holding a piece of cardboard over parts of the exposure you want darkened, but there is a way to dodge a photo in Photoshop (see how the edges of these black and whites are just a bit darker?).

If I was really a photography purist, I would probably have my own darkroom. Photoshop seems like a reasonable alternative. I gather from all of this that average photos can certainly benefit from Photoshop, especially when it's as easy as clicking an "action" and letting the program do all the work.

So, go get some action sets and have some fun!

Little Girl Lily

Um, where did Lily disappear to? She's barely appeared in a post on this blog since Christmas. I've talked about beer, spinning class, books, and lots of photography, but no Lily. So, what's going on with Lily? Glad you asked:

:: She pooped on the potty for the first time last night. Really. We bought her a potty for Christmas and occasionally I'll ask her if she wants to sit on it. Last night, though, she was obviously getting ready to do number two and I asked her if she wanted to sit on the potty. She ran into the bathroom, I ran after her, pulled off her diaper, and ta-da! I was stunned. Adam was stunned. She's 20 months old, and I don't feel ready for this. But she is and I am and oh-my-gosh I need to figure out how to potty train a toddler.

:: She also said "I love you" to Adam last night. (See video below.) She's repeated it before, but hadn't said it on her own until last night when I had the camera rolling. A miracle, I say.

:: She is talking up a storm. I made a list of all the discernible words she says and they total around forty. And every day she's adding more to her vocabulary. That doesn't even touch what she understands, which sometimes is unfathomable, though I've stopped underestimating her ability to understand what I say and assume she understands everything.

:: She can also say her name. Lily. It comes out "a-lee-lee," but it is the cutest thing in the history of the world. Of course I'm her mom, so . . .

:: She is very orderly. Everything has its place, and if it's out of place she is more than happy to put it back exactly where it belongs. She might find a professional career in home organization.

And that's the gist of my little daughter, my baby who is transforming into a girl, who is growing and changing and always making me glad that I'm a mom.

December 1

This morning I finished a canister of coffee. In all my psychic and motherly ways, I thought it might be a good idea to keep the plastic coffee canister on the floor by the fridge, rather than placing it in the recycling bin. It could make a great plaything. And I was right. Place Mardi Gras beads in the canister, dump them out, and repeat four hundred-thousand times. Throw in some stacking cups and a few remotes, and this was how Lily spent her afternoon.

As she played I flipped threw books and drew sketches of what our Christmas should look like. We listened to music that played from the computer and Lily didn't touch the computer. That itself is a Christmas miracle. I looked at a photo of a friend's baby and Lily said, "Bay-bee", which made my heart melt a little bit. So I pulled her onto my lap and pulled up photos and videos of her on Flickr. And I clicked on this one, which was taken one year ago today.

We've come a long way in a year. I mean, just look at that hair! So after I peeled Lily's clothes off and she ran around the house, peed next to my bed, and then slipped and fell onto her back, I threw her in the bathtub and took these videos. Because a year ago we had to make her dance and this year she's talking and dancing and dumping Mardi Gras beads into canisters and it's all the most amazing thing to see.

Caveat: We rent our house, and we have scrubbed the living heck out of that caulk but it won't come clean. So please don't think we're dirty or neglectful. It's not our shower and we've done all we can.

18 Months

Yesterday, Lily was 18 months. At this point, half birthdays have surpassed month-day celebrations, so this was a milestone. Here's the scoop on Lily at one-and-a-half.

--Not just walking, but walking fast. Uphill is good. Downhill or small inclines, not so good.

--Can identify a flurry of body parts including, but not limited to, piggies, buns, teeth, and hair.

--Says mama, dada, uh-oh, bye-bye, teeth, bath, shoes, and several other words including what animals say. See?

--Wants to read a million books a day. Sleeps well but wakes up around 5 every morning screaming. Eats carbs like it's going out of style. Can manipulate a spoon and occasionally stack blocks or cups. Likes to chase Penny around the house, squealing.

All in all, the coolest 18 month-old I've ever known.

Lily and Books

A long time ago I had a dream of a child who loved books. It was before Lily got here, before we knew she was Lily. And now I have one. A child who loves books, that is. Most of a day together at home is spent passing books to each other, or from her to me and her jumping in front of me signaling that I put her in my lap so we can read the aforementioned book. It goes on and on. The little bookworm.

At times it can be exhausting. But a lot of times I am sitting in the chair in the living room with a book perched in front of my nose. Why wouldn't she think that reading is normal and what we do all the time? Because, in all honesty, it sort of is.

Of course we watch TV, too. Lily doesn't per se, but even yesterday while I was wallowing in sinus headache hell, I pulled her onto the bed to watch Julie & Julia on Netflix. She laid back and sucked her thumb for a total of three minutes before finding something else to do. We don't, however, flip on cartoons and expect her to watch. She's far too busy for that.

But books. Right now it's all about the books. We read a lot of Dr. Seuss and Do Unto Otters. Some Sandra Boynton and Olivia. And I reminded of how much I wanted a little bookworm. At one-and-a-half, she is quite that.

A Toddler Morning

The day begins early and quietly. We eat breakfast, get dressed, and hurry to the backyard to play while it's still cool. I bring a cup of coffee, a notebook and pen, and my camera. Lily wanders around then plops herself down to play. This lasts for a total of three minutes.
She comes over to me, eyes my pen and grabs for it. I take it from her and she screams. I settle her down. She climbs the deck stairs, sees my coffee mug, and places a dirt-laced play shovel into it. I dump my coffee in the grass.

She spots my camera. "Lily," I say. "Don't touch." And she doesn't, but she gets dangerously close to it. She really wants to touch it. I pick up the camera and point it at her. At first she half-smiles, then reaches her dirty little hands up toward the lens. I'm determined to get a nice photo of her (what on earth am I thinking?), so we end up bobbing and weaving and she's screaming again.

So we go inside and have a snack, and once again everything is right in the world.

Bathtime Quiz

Every night's bath accompanies a quiz:

Lily, where are your eyes? Lily blinks her eyes. Very good!

Where is your nose? Finger goes up her nostril. And digs around a bit. Very good!

Where are your belly button, piggies (toes), teeth, hair, ears? A prompt response to each (mostly).

After careful consideration, I decided to show her: Lily, where are your buns?

Now, when she stands up in the tub, I ask her, where are your buns? And she sits on them and scratches her butt.

Good girl!

Splash, Walk, Magic

It really is a magical thing to see your kid get up and walk around. When it's somebody else's kid, it's no big deal. Babies learn to walk. It's one of those things they do. But when it's your own, it is delightful.

All summer Adam and I wanted to take Lily to the splash pad at the mall. But because we didn't want her to burn a hole in her bathing suit bottom by scooching, we held off. Until today, that is. Little Miss I've-only-been-walking-for-three-days splashed and played and had the time of her life while mama watched, still amazed that we're finally here.

The Toddler Toddles

In the middle of a long, long weekend, during which I only saw my husband for four hours of a 60-hour time span, our 16 month-old daughter decided it was high time to start walking. It's about time, but I still am feeling that twinge that she's not a little baby anymore. When Adam walked in the door this morning, Lily toddled over to him, squealing with excitement. And it was the sweetest thing.

Warning: suggestive lyrics ahead. Don't be offended. It's meant to be funny.

Lily Love List

This is the little face I love. Today she's 14.5 months old, which only means something if you are her mother (and maybe her grandma). But every day we have together is a day to celebrate.

I love Lily at 14.5 months because:

:: when she tries to stand on her own, it's like a gymnastic event of Olympic proportions

:: she makes me walk with her around the house at least 400 times a day, which has proven to be good for my glutes and thighs

:: she knows the answer to questions like, "Are you hungry?", which prompts to her to scoot to her high chair if she is, and "Are you ready for your bath?", which causes her to flail around in excitement

:: she gets equally excited for a ride in her stroller as she does for a bath

:: her hair is long enough for a ponytail

:: she still takes two naps a day (!!!)

:: we giggle and tickle and bounce around and it never, ever gets old

:: there is nothing in this world I would rather do than stay up all night holding her to my chest and listening to her breathe when she's sick

:: she still scoots, and it's still awesome

Motion

A photograph where this kid is motionless is hard to come by these days. Often I look at her smiling up at me, when the light hits her just right, and wonder where in the world my camera is. By the time I find it, the moment is over and she's buzzing about.

Lily gets around pretty quickly these days, even occasionally forsaking her beloved scooch for crawling. She pulls up easily on everything, including us. And yesterday, after crawling all over the library, Adam and I were reading to her and she stood up and let go. She stood up on her own, and then she clapped. I had to choke back tears. She is changing every day, and I get to see it unfold. Every minute. And I'm so grateful.

My pastor handed off to me The Mission of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson, and I've had my nose in it ever since.

The hard, daily, repetitive work of making a home a haven, providing healthy meals, correcting and training little ones, and constantly cleaning up messes is perceived as menial labor instead of the stuff from which godliness is built. -p.35

Instead of pursuing a career with mothering tucked around the edges, [we should choose] to focus first on the mission of motherhood. -p.44

We need to commit to living as mothers with undivided hearts -- dedicating ourselves fully to the task of building a home and nurturing our children. -p.49

As glad as I am to be teaching again part time in the fall, I am glad to get a little perspective here. Being a mom is priority one, not something I give my leftovers to after the "real" work is done. I know that it's going to be hard, but I'm hoping to get all my teaching-related tasks done away from our home while I'm on campus. Lily will be in Mom's Day Out, and though that may not be ideal, a few hours away from home interacting with other kids can't be bad.

Motherhood is not easy so far, and from what I hear it doesn't get easier, but I want to be joyful in each moment I have with Lily and with Adam. In the struggles and the pain and the wonder of it all, we have each other, and no other job -- not writing or teaching or anything else -- could be more significant.

And most important now: rest, which Clarkson blogged about this week (timely, no?).

Less Like a Baby

The other day after putting Lily's hair up in the best we can do for pigtails so far -- two barrettes on the side of her head to catch her curls -- I snapped this photo. It's a bit blurry, and at first I wasn't sure about it. But the more I looked at it the more it occurred to me that here she looks less like a baby and more like a kid, pigtails and all.

Since Lily turned one almost a month ago, we've been in what I've been calling infant-toddler purgatory. She is getting ready to walk and is babbling nonstop but she's not quite there. And it's hard on us all. Add in a few screaming fits and our days can be quite interesting. More interesting, though, when we giggle together (which is often) or chase each other around the house or dump out all her blocks only to put them back (and dump them out again).

I've often been referring back to an email from a mom to the baby whisperer:

One way that we were able to deal with the "terrible two's," as they have so ineptly been labeled, is to call them "the terrific two's." I thought of my son as having PMS round the clock for a year and was able to identify with his tantrums, meltdowns, and "poor" behavior. I thought of myself during PMS and how helpless I feel, how hormonal I am, and how my emotions are up one minute and down the next. Just think, being two years old and having no idea why you feel the way you do and all these people getting mad or frustrated with you and you can't explain how you feel or what you really want because you have no stinking idea how to feel better! I'm 32 and know what I'm going through, and still feel as though I can't handle it. I cannot even begin to imagine how a toddler feels. So we would just pray and love our son through it all. We had given him a lot of nurturing beforehand and so to love him through the frustrations, to redirect him when he was in danger, to reason with him as best we could, and to support each other through it all was just another simple progression.

She may not be in the terrible two's yet, but parenting her is more challenging as she changes. But it's so much more challenging for her, and that's important to keep in mind.