The imagination of a child seems to swell at Christmas time.  As if their sugar cookie's sprinkles are each a fleeting idea of laughter and love.  Like snow flakes, each one different from the next.  I could sit and play for hours telling Christmas stories of fairies and elves just watching their eyes twinkle.  

With secrets in their eyes, the blue winged 

hours 

rustle through the meadow 

dropping shadow  

Yawning among red flowers 

the moon child with her golden hoop 

and a pink star drifting after, 

leans to me where i droop 

I hear her delicate soft laughter

-Winifred Welles

Eylie and I met at Ballet class.  Her smile lit up the room even then.  Her imagination and joy of life is beautiful, a true artist in the making.  She loves nature and learning and her Mommy and Papa.
Here are some pictures of her and her lovely family, dear friends of mine.

6 going on 16.

Alluring

Delightful.

Silly

Heather made this quilt herself, it is timeless, unique, and exquisite just like their relationships.

I love the body language here.  Beautiful.  Just Divine.

May we be ever grateful for each child's bold individuality and free spirit.  Enjoy the eye candy.

You must have a silver penny to get into Fairyland.  

Whitney surely took me in.
Into her sugar sweet world of tiptoes and giggles.
All smiles with wings on her tiny heels.
She is the lovely face in your mind's eye when you read the famous story of sugar plum fairies
dancing in a little girls head. 
She is delightful and fun with a velvet soft smile.

 Being a Butler Alumna myself, I loved taking these photos for a fellow grad.  Future Bulldog?

 

Pretty in Pink and shimmering wings

These are a few of her favorite things

She gave me a grin and sang me a song

then she threw her ball and ran along

*Love how they look at each other*

Sugar plum fairy

Like a hummingbird, her still moments are fleeting and precious.

Thank you for sharing your day with me, Meg.  It was JOY*FULL seeing you and meeting your fairy princess.  Reader, I am sending you all a magical day.   

Believe.

Snow

I woke up to snow yesterday morning.  I whispered into Ruby's ear "look outside".  Commence joyful giggles, yelling for her sister screaming to my KISA. 

"It's snowing!  It's snowing!  

Mysterious white dusting across the suburban houses that surround our circus big top.  Gracefully painting our small town into a Thomas Kincaid winter painting.  By noon we had bundled up and stripped down three times, had three hot cocoas and three ginormous marshmallows.  All with pink cheeks and toothy grins.  The first snow of the year did something magical to my children.  Enchanted them, they didn't argue the whole day.  They were spellbound into happiness.  Holding hands and making snow pies then eating them with cold silver spoons, shivering.   Our house is a glow with newly placed holiday decorations and feels especially cozy with the blanket of the season viewed out the windows. 

Then this morning I drove away from my early morning school drop offs, passing the small town's phone pole decor of trees, candles, and snowmen.  Writer's almanac was on the radio when something struck me.  Like a soft touch on my shoulder, like a winter fairy's lullaby. 

I am content.  

I sit quietly now in front of the computer with a full Starbucks cup and feel it still.  Here I am, with my palms up to the world.  Ready to accept whatever is meant for me.

Content.  

Look at me.  Look how happy I am.  I should call my KISA.

Books

Have you ever read SARK's books?  I recently rediscovered them on my shelf and fell in love all over again. 

"You are living Juicy!  Ride into your life on a creative cycle full of juice, abundance and ecstatic wonderment.  You are a star!"

"Joy is the natural result of enjoying.  There is so much to enjoy!"

"We need more magic."

"Living Juicy is: jumping for joy on the inside!  In the midst of our daily lives, we must find the juice to nourish our creative souls.  if we rush around never look closely or practice self denial we will begin to feel dry and cracked, for the lack of sweet, wild moments that elevate us, and those around us.  the name for this is living juicy. 


It makes me happy and inspired.  Check her out.  You will be delighted and filled with creativity.  I will continue to quote her here. 

Love, me

P.S. Thanks for reading, you made my day.

Funny how confidence seems to come in waves.  I have been all pumped up about following my passion and making my creative dreams real when POOF.  I read on a photographer's blog (one I REALLY respect) that taking photographs that people like on Facebook doesn't make you a photographer.  She went on to say charging people doesn't either.  Having a DSLR camera doesn't mean you can call yourself a photographer.  (Which leads the question, what does make you a photographer, but that's another post entirely.)

This made me contemplate my own decisions and well, my creative existence. 

Way back when, before I had kids, I was a mental health therapist.  (I hesitate to type the word was, as it is still such a big part of my identity.) I remember after graduate school I would refer to myself as a therapist and feel like I was lying or exaggerating.  It said that on my business card, why did I doubt it?

I have a confidence issue.  It wears off on others.  What I mean is that when one doesn't believe in themselves, no one else does.  Even after five years of work as a pediatric and family mental health therapist, many of my family and friends didn't understand what I did for a living, or respect it.  I always seem to give myself too much or, more often, not enough credit. 

So I am trying not to allow that to happen again.

I am a photographer.  

I am still learning.   I would never compare myself to a seasoned professional because I am neither seasoned nor professional.  But I AM a photographer.  I just decided.  And I can make it so.  Create your own destiny, right? 
As a therapist I might have recommended that one should set high yet achievable goals.  I can and will refer to myself as a photographer. 

And if you think I'm not, please don't say it out loud, I am working up some confidence here.

This Circus Life

I used to frequently compare having a baby to college life.  You eat leftover pizza, stay up insanely late, never clean, or get out of your pajamas.  You might read lots of books.  You have no idea what you're doing. 

Now that I have three children, a circus seems a more likely comparison. 

Our home is a vintage red big top.  The magical type (no carnies here)
We have a mighty ring leader who's loud and powerful voice helps control the crowd and get the attention of the performers.  Thank goodness for him or the whole show might go to hell.

I have a graceful trapeze artist, singing and dancing and reading you poetry.  There is a little monkey too.  Always gripping to his mama's hip laughing at the other circus animals.  And a tiger, powerful and fierce.  Beautiful really.  Just don't put your fingers in her cage. 
Sometimes I am the clown, sometimes I walk the high wire, sometimes I fly magically through air, meeting demands with out touching my feet to the floor.  More often I am the juggler,  carrying too much and doing 10 things at once.  
During Thanksgiving dinner, we even had magicians.  Ruby and Lucy were asking, "which hand has the broccoli?  Neither, it's in my belly!"  Too cute. (and healthy for once)

It is always loud at our house.  Always someone joking, someone squealing, someone crying, leaping on furniture, someone jumping from the top of the fridge.  I catch myself wanting to yell.  SILENCE! 

But then what if it was quiet.  Silent.  Empty.  Lonely.  Lifeless.

The noise and chaos of my life IS my life.  

I embrace it.  The crazy, motorcycle in a cage, head spinning moments, and all.  (A clown on a unicycle just rode by.)  This circus life is shockingly entertaining.  It is more than I'd ever hoped for.  

Circus life is sweet.   

But it can be exhausting.

Get your tickets now... they only cost a silver penny.

When they say "cry it out" do they mean me? 

As I write this Finley is screaming in his crib as I am "teaching" him to go to sleep without the comfort of my bosom.  So if my post reads disjointed, scrambled, or generally insane, it is because your own baby's cries have a link to your brain that makes you crazy. 

This week was a roller coaster of good and bad.  I am going to focus on the good, because while you might relate to my misery, who wants to read about that!!!  No Debbie Downer here.

Picture this:

Three kids packed like sardines in the back of a compact SUV each with pink  fingers, sticky, shiny, pink  faces, each with their sleeping heads bobbing up and down rolling in different directions.  Necks crooked, sweet faces.   

               Peace.
                                                             Quiet. 

The smell of cotton candy takes over your senses.  Lucy is even dressed like cotton candy in her pink  princess costume dress.  The mental Polaroid of them riding giraffes on the carousel is dancing my my head. 

LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE

 

 

I successfully entertained them into exhaustion.  I love our children's museum.  We are so lucky to have such a wonderful one here in Indy.  And the Barbie exhibit...don't get me started. . .

That is my good mommy moment for the week.  We are going to try to forget that the other moments even happened.  (Like Lucy taking off her seat belt and pulling my hair all the way to school while screaming like a maniac then refusing to get out of the car for school, peeing in her car seat...again, oh and it took us 3 hours of arguing and 7 wardrobe changes to get Lucy to the car to go to the museum in the first place...) But we will focus on the rose and not the thorn...cue Bret Michaels. 

By the way, I got Finley up three paragraphs ago and he is now nursing on my lap.  One hour of crying and my head is spinning.  WHO DOES THIS   "CRY IT OUT"  THING SUCCESSFULLY?  Don't tell me if it's you. 

~Evan James Lange~

LOVE, B

Country Life

 

Just like a bird upon the wing, 

It flies away all fancy free

And lights upon a house or tree;

It flies across the farthest air,

And builds a safe nest anywhere.

                                ~Annette Wynne

I wish  I could read their little minds.  Children are so fascinating, don't you think?  The way they see the world through new eyes and marvel at everything.  I want to capture that joy and wonder in a glass jar and sprinkle it like pixie dust on my oatmeal each morning.  

The Grimes Brothers 

Sounds like a whimsically illustrated storybook doesn't it?  Well, they are certainly characters.  I had such fun exploring their Aunt and Uncle's country house last week.  Here are some highlights. 

                                                     

The boys' cousin

I hope your wish comes true today.  Maybe you'll find a Silver Penny.  Until Tomorrow...