In my flesh...

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

Our yearn...

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

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

Where it falls...

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

Where the process began.

Cupcakes with little sombrero's

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

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

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

Just in case you got lost along the way.

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

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

...as evidenced in this picture.

His Mercado bag was full of everything NOBODY should eat.

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

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

His. Smile. Is. Everything.

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

of the essence...

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

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

London

aka Londy

Jude

aka (still working on it)

Chelsea, London and Jude

Love has no end!

the fade...

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

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

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

Um, hi! 

Cutest and sweetest couple EVER!

Seeds...

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

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

#newbyginnings Maternity FAVES

Age is becoming, no?

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

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