Friday, August 21, 2015

// ZIMMERMAN SHOES //

We received the sweetest package from Zimmerman Shoes the other day.  The boys ran with delight when they saw the delivery man shouting, "our shoes! our new shoes!"  I told them that they would be coming soon and they did not forget.  They felt so special to be receiving such wonderful shoes and I felt the same!

They asked to try them on immediately and I had to let them.  (Shoes are hard for me.  When I see perfectly clean, brand new shoes I want to keep them that way!  I have to let go a little.)  When I opened the package I saw three, instead of two.  Two boxes were larger, perfect to fit my boy's shoes, but the other was smaller, lighter.  I opened up the tiny box first, filled with curiosity.  Inside I saw two, tiny baby shoes.  Beautifully made and so deliciously little.  I could just imagine the little toes on the little feet.  I'm so thankful to be thought of so kindly and it helped remind me how excited I am to be pregnant.  I AM excited, but morning sickness has been such an obstacle to my new joy.  It was so nice to have a reminder.

The boys have begged to wear the shoes everyday.  They proudly bring them to me and ask, "new shoes?"  and then they open the tiny shoes and proudly remind me, "for baby.  These are baby's shoes."  Zimmerman shoes are very well made; sturdy and still so incredibly stylish.  My boys are rough and love to run, and tell me the shoes are "very comfy, mommy."  :)


















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Thursday, July 9, 2015

// Light + Love //



Last night we decided to play with the light; revel in the light.  We let it wash over us with it's hazy touch and it illuminated the very hairs on our head.  We saw light as it was leaving, yet the sun sets only to rise and every new day is light again.  

As a photographers, my husband and I understand all the different kinds of light.  We've learned how to be friends with each stage of the day.  We've found our eyes in the mid day sun, unafraid to embrace the fierce strength of the afternoon.  I cannot help but compare this to the light that has been recently shown to us.  We have found ourselves in the most difficult of situations, but we are not in darkness.  There is light coming at us from every angle and it feels as if we are living an endless day.  

Some have shared our posts, while some have given money.  Others have hosted an auction for us (thank you Michelle ! <3) It's all so beautiful and when I see the light I'm reminded of every one of you.  Thank you for seeing our vulnerability and not judging it.  

You see, I have barely scratched the surface when I've mentioned our struggles.  I've shared, but I value positivity and protecting my family.  Plus life has been heartbreakingly difficult, but it's also been overwhelmingly sweet.  I can chose to focus on the sweet, while being unafraid to share the more bitter parts as well.  I don't mean to sound defensive here, because I'm not.  But I would love to help create an environment where our positivity doesn't hide our struggles.  So many of you have revealed your own struggles when reading ours and all I could think is "we need to be helping each other!"  Right?  

(If you haven't seen, we started a GoFundMe to help raise funds for a new car.  We are without one and are in desperate need of a reliable one.  You can find the link here )

















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Thursday, June 18, 2015

// Responsibilities //

“I've seen women insist on cleaning everything in the house before they could sit down to write... and you know it's a funny thing about housecleaning... it never comes to an end. Perfect way to stop a woman. A woman must be careful to not allow over-responsibility (or over-respectabilty) to steal her necessary creative rests, riffs, and raptures. She simply must put her foot down and say no to half of what she believes she "should" be doing. Art is not meant to be created in stolen moments only.” 
― Clarissa Pinkola Est├ęsWomen Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype


A cloud visited our yard the other night; after a few days of rain and miserable humidity.  It creeped down our rock-mountain, over the vines and fallen trees and settled on the grass; on our yard.  I watched it arrive from our window.  I was washing dishes and glanced behind me and saw it,  I had to use the bathroom and I peered out and window and there it was and I knew it was only a visitor.  It was the slowly arriving house-guest.  The days were sticky.

I had so many things to do.  When people say their houses are dirty and show me a few toys on their clean carpets or papers piled on their shiny counter-tops I laugh.  I feel as if I am always cleaning, tidying, walking after my kids with stretched-thin arms cleaning, cleaning, reminding.  Yet, everything seems dirty and not the sort of dirty I'd post on instagram and say "look at my messy house."  It's really messy and I'm left wondering how a writer is supposed to write?  How is a woman supposed to feel?

But a cloud visited the other night and the fog was thick in our yard.  Our yard is a bit wild, but the mist was jungle-like; I was wild woman- queen on top a fallen tree trunk because I dropped the dishes, threw the broom, left my laundry piles and remembered that clouds don't visit often.

If our responsibilities are blocking our creativity it means that there are a few responsibilities that can wait.  It means that there will always be cleaning, as long as we are living there will be rooms to tidy, clothes to wash.  I've gotten consumed with the cleaning and less with the creating lately; I'm happy that cloud reminded me to live a little more.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

// saturday //

I made fresh bread this morning and I think that's what started out the day right.  Fresh bread, fresh day: it's all the same.  We took a long hike soon after and then dropped Jimmy off at work.  The boys cried a lot, saying "no, daddy go! no!"  Which broke me heart and even more so when Asher kept saying "just one hug.  just one kiss."  Those "just one's" can turn into quite a few and it's his genius way of stalling because of course, we love all the affection!  He's smart, that one.

I painted the boy's face so they could be kittys and they "meowed" all over the place.  Then, I decided dinner should be served on a blanket in our backyard.  The boys were thrilled and quickly plopped their butts down.  Literally, they plopped- they jumped up in the air and landed.  As they were eating, we realized we were sitting by a chipmunk's hole and he kept peering out of the tall grass, looking around cautiously and then running for dear life as they boys yelled "look, mommy!  chipmunk!"  Poor guy!  I'm sure he got home after the boys moved on to their next activity.  Asher asked, "Hold him?"  I had to explain, yet again, that they don't like to be held.

Random activities brought us to sun down and night, night time.
I'd like to make bread again, I think.

















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Thursday, June 4, 2015

// Where We Wander: Ferns //

I used to post a "Where We Wander" weekly and it's so lovely to be able to bring our little adventures back to the blog.  We made it a priority to get out during winter, but that usually involved our backyard.  There wasn't a lot of wandering.  It was a bit chilly this morning, but we still decided to go for a short walk.  This hike is one that we did frequently last summer.  It's near our house and unbelievably beautiful.  At the start of the path there are hundreds of ferns and I've been dying to photograph them.  Asher found a nice, flat rock and sat on it saying, "Oh, mommy! it's so comfy!"  Jimmy and I smiled at his idea of comfort.  I mean, it's a rock! hehe.  He also told Elliot, "Maybe the ground is wet because it's been raining a lot."  He's at the age where he's not just repeating sayings, but forming these wonderful ideas and explanations for things.  It's absolutely awe-inspiring.  I'm absolutely in love with these two little wild ones.  













                                                            






My dress is from the Fabrik Store and can be found here <3
The boys are wearing a few items from EGG by Susan Lazar

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