I called him hoping he'd be on his way, and lucky for us, he already was. I could hear the muffle of traffic in the background, attempting so hard to be the drown of the lengthy commute and distract me from the joy that is his arrival. As I shuffled on the floor with Luca, Adan pounces the idea of freedom in the air, as he reminds me that he is almost done with kindergarten. And just like that, my internal calm is awakened with the conflicting anxiety that lives dormant within me unless referencing the impending growth that is my children. I'm fine, I'll be fine...and just like that, Marcus walks into the house. He navigates the room with his eyes, and Luca takes off as if the last 9 hours we have spent together meant nothing. His arrival has ulterior motives, and shares those with our oldest as the invitation for a haircut is exchanged. So they take off, leaving behind the bean and I. As evening approaches, and bedtime arrives, I enter the kitchen from putting Luca down for the night. What I find is the lengthy torso of a young boy, the nape on a neck belonging to someone more mature than he, a stance that preteen children wish to accomplish and a hairline that has been groomed with tools that have my most inner soul shaken. We had a plan, I had a plan. You see, Adan isn't supposed to have clippers on his hair until he goes to 1st grade. That's always been my own weird hang up rule. Somehow that assertion in decision making keeps him in a coddled image in my head, and it allows me to hang on to an innocence that has probably never truly existed when referencing follicles. Attempting to gain control over something I truly never had, is tormenting me. Marcus let that woman cut his hair too short, and I cried. I cried at the sink, I cried over my dinner plate, I cried as I put him to bed and witnessed his eyes drift into sleep and I cried as I made the inevitable transition into maturity, because that is where I should have been all along. His growth, Luca's growth, our growth as parents isn't anything that can be paused. I'm fine, I'll be fine...and just like that, acceptance walked into the house.
Sometimes not having control is the best part. Who am I kidding? It is so hard to live, but so easy to write. Sometimes that lack of control can prove to be just what the lens ordered. I was asked to take a friends maternity pictures, and since we can't control the weather, forging on was an ambivalent notion, but one I think we all hoped would pick a side. There was a window of time where the rain had stopped and it looked like there might be just enough time to snap away. And boy was there ever. The overcast turned out to give way to just the right amount of lighting, making post production easy.
These are a few of my faves...Wells Maternity
Um, hi!
Cutest and sweetest couple EVER!
