Enjoying the Small Things

Enjoying the Small Things

Thank You…and some Photo Answers

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Just a quick ‘thank you.’ I can’t quite grasp the love from ‘strangers’ we have received…with comments and e-mails continually pouring in from around the world. I never thought this would happen when I hit ‘publish’ late that night after I tearfully finished the birth story. But it did. And we’ve been blown away by the response. I have a new found belief in goodness in the human race. I wish I could reply to every one of you because you all have played such a role in our ‘glass is half full.’ I like to play the cool and confident role from time to time, but let’s face it…no one is too cool or confident to not be affected in this extremely motivating and beautiful-self-worth way by the incredible things you have given to us in your words. So thank you. And, Hell Yes, I’m writing a book. I don’t care if no one reads it. But it’s gunna be about Life. Not Down Syndrome. Not Motherhood. Just Life.

The daddy called last night and said he had to stay one more week…and that just sucks. I’ll say it. I cried the embarrassing ugly cry, had a beer and considered watching The Hangover for the fifth time. So, if it’s of any consolation…see…I’m not just unicorns and rainbows. In fact, my “Enjoying the @#!*ing Small Things” cape has a gaping hole in it. That’s okay…my mom sews.

In the meantime, we patch it up (and my dad is coming down to stay with us, so yay).

I’ve received several e-mails and comments regarding my camera and editing. So, I’m going to climb up on my homemade soap box for one second and proclaim my love for something I think changed my life.

Taking Pictures and Documenting the Beauty of Life.

I think everyone should do it. I take my camera everywhere. And, when I look through that viewfinder, I see so much more. The clouds are bluer, the sun is brighter, the trees speak. I notice every little strand of Lainey’s blonde heap, the mess of lashes she’s blessed to possess, and the tiny swirls that make up the cowlick of Nella’s wispy brown hair. I photograph something in our life every single day. And because of it, I don’t need a therapist. And, from time to time, I’ll spend a good hour or so going back and reliving it, reminding myself just how blessed we are, where we’ve been, and how far we’ve come. Like today when I revisited our summer road trip and Lainey’s birthday and remembered just how special that was.

And yes, I get paid to take pictures for people, but for me…it’s more of a spiritual experience. I simply love the challenge of capturing little things not everybody notices that make life beautiful whether it’s in our own lives or the ones I’ve been blessed to capture.

So…to answer your questions.

I have a Canon 50D.
I mainly use three lenses, all Canon: 50 mm f/1.4, 24-105 f/4 and 16-35, f/2.8 but I borrow my f.i.l.’s 85 mm f/1.2 from time to time.
I use Lightroom for all my editing and hardly use presets anymore, but I’ve found a few good ones, despite the fact they make me feel like I’m ‘cheating’ when I use them.

For our ‘scrapbook’ pages, I use an old program, Microsoft Digital Image Suite, because it’s fast and easy.

I am fortunate to have a very talented photographer father-in-law and even more blessed that my in-laws gave me the very best (non-human…ha) gift I think I’ve ever been given…the camera I love.

So there. Hope that answers questions. And if I had any say in it, I would change the proverb “Speak softly and carry a big stick” to “Buy a good camera and photograph your life.”

And speaking of photos…it ain’t a post without a few.

So, today’s deliciousness:

Now Go Live.

Week 1,619

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I began to title this post “Week 3,” as in our-third-week-into-this or three-weeks-since-the-big-day, but I am beginning to see this differently and, as this is simply one step on the grander scheme of life, I am rather officically 1,619 Weeks into it. Life, that is. That’s 31 years, give or take a few weeks.

Last night, a friend sent me a passage she had underlined in her copy of Maya Angelou’s Wouldn’t Take Nothing From My Journey Now, and I smiled reading it.

“Life is pure adventure, and the sooner we realize that, the quicker we will be able to treat life as art; to bring all our energies to each encounter, to remain flexible enough to notice and admit when what we expected to happen did not happen. We need to remember that we are created creative and can invent new scenarios as frequently as they are needed.”

And oh, how true that is…and our real-life has exemplified a new understanding of that these past weeks.

Life as Art.

I have consciously been able to control my sadness and coming-to-terms with all of this quite well, but the past few days, that subconscious sadness–the part that can’t be controlled with self-talks and good quotes–that cloud of can-this-be-happening? that seems to follow and shadow me no matter how many times I watch The Hangover (four, in a row, to be exact) to mask the seriousness of it…well, it was beginning to get to me.

I hate “The Bus.” I tried to lapse on payments so the repo truck would come and drag it away, but it lingered, not so much running over me like a few weeks ago or even hitting me, for that matter. I still have the grill marks on my face from the last hit, so that was nice of the bus; however, it’s the threat of a hit…the unknown…the smell of the exhaust or perhaps the memory of the pain of the last hit. And, I’ve been known to take a good analogy and fly it to the moon with exaggeration, so I’ll chill on the bus thing before you’re left scratching your head, but I’ll have you know I once likened one of my sister’s bad days to cows in pasture eating grass or somethin’ or other and, by the end, the cows had run out of the fence, the grass had been eaten, I think there was manure, and my sister and I were left laughing hysterically by the end of the analogy because we had no idea what we were even talking about anymore. I am often asked, in the middle of an elaborate analogy, “Where are you going with this?” And the answer, I tell you, is…to the moon.

Back to the bus. The thing is, I hate being sad. I hate being negative. And while I may be teased on my over-positivity or need to find a cape emblazoned with “Enjoying the @#!*-ing Small Things,” I too wallow in a bad mood from time to time. However, I’ve found I am quite healed by the Fake It Till You Make It Strategy–searching for the good (and there’s lots to find), writing about the good, taking pictures of the good, talking about the good–basically bathing in the many little things that bring joy to our life until I am no longer faking it, I believe it completely and have allowed the good to rise above the bad in that ever present glass of “Half Full.” Unrealistic? Perhaps, but I don’t think so. Regardless, I’d much rather live life as an unrealistic optimist than a realistic miserable pessimist. It’s so much more fun.

So, we’ve continued to do that…and it’s not just this whole thing that has challenged us. We’ve been doing it for years.

And if we had a gallery, we would exhibit pieces of our life this week. Slices of wonderfulness.


Life as Art: An Exhibit of our Week…

The Art of an Afternoon Cup of Coffee.

…enhanced by the accompaniment of a snuggled baby.

The Art of an Evening Picnic at the Lake with Cousin Joann.

The Art of a Dog Pondering Life in the Eastern Sunlight

and A Little Dog Protecting a Little Baby

The Art of Two Little Friends

(and I have to say, my girl’s friendships have meant so much to me these past weeks…I just want her to be happy. I want her to be unaffected by the emotions, the change. And seeing her in total bliss, skipping around with her little gap-toothed grin and wayward pigtails…well, that makes it all seem better).

The Art of New Baby Feet
(which, in my opinion, may just be the most delicious form of art there is)

The Art of Watching the Littles Entertain the New Baby
(and her little eyes taking it all in. Yes, she is loved…and that is how she will learn to be just as fabulous as she will be…which is very, very fabulous.)

The Art of a New Space
It’s been awhile since I did something new to the house…and it always makes me so happy to “feather our nest.” A friend stopped by a couple weeks ago when we brought Nella home and completely surprised me with two beautiful chairs for my girls from the furniture store she works at…and I fell in love hard and heavy with their quilted fabulousness and have been waiting to highlight them deservingly. Finally, yesterday, with a small handful of Craiglist earned cash, I walked into Homegoods and found a clearanced slightly damaged trunk, a lamp, an old suitcase and a few picture frames…all for less than that handful of cash. Then rushed home to set it up and hence improve the quality of my day a trillionfold.
So, out with the big clunky couch and in with the…

Superfun Play/Workroom

(p.s. Trunk double duties as storage…all my photography props fit inside, and the suitcase stores my printer paper.)

…and our gallery continues to grow.

…bringing all our energies to each encounter. …and we don’t have to fake that to make that. It’s real, and it’s beautiful.

1,619. That’s a really good number.

…and it’s only gunna get better and better.

The daddy comes home tonight…and we are anticipating his arrival like a soldier’s welcome home.

Life as Art…painting it beautifully. ~k

Music & Humor

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I found a new anthem. Or twelve.
I’ve always been moved by music and it is in times like these, I run to find solace in compositions that deeply move me, rhythms that inspire me, grooves that rock me to the core. And we dance. Like we did way back when…and it healed then too.
I wrote a paper on music in college and how it drives us. Like that time in college I blew $150 at Forever 21 because U2 was blaring in the store and it tricked me into thinking I had the $150 to spend or that I looked hot in cheap, stretchy cotton.
So, I’ve been listening to this huge playlist of soul-healing tunes. And, I admit, The Black Eyed Peas have strangely brought peace. Because “Tonight’s Gunna Be a Good Night” makes me think it is gunna be a good night. And we dance and laugh and tell ourselves that our life is simply fabulous. Because it is.

And when we’re not dancing, we are laughing. Because humor is equally healing. I am beginning to remember all the funny things that happened at the hospital that helped bring comic relief when it was so needed. Like the fact that I used the frozen pads the nurses gave me for my stitches for my eyes instead…because they were so swollen and sore from crying. So, every time the nursing aide came to interrupt my sleep to take my temp, she was met with a forlorn mother, sleeping with her face covered in maxi pads.

So it is, with moving melodies and maxi pad memories, we are plunking along…and all the things I had looked forward to have been waiting. Until now.

I made Valentine cookies with my girls today. My two girls. And we had So. Much. Fun.

The littlest Valentine, swaddled in pink, slept soundly on the table while my bigger Valentine tediously rolled and floured and frosted.

My cousin-slash-soul-sister, Joann, is here from Michigan. It’s been wonderful having family down here and each has served their purpose. My sister providing initial scrape-her-off-the-floor duty, my mom and dad home-after-the-battle support and Joann coming later for “aftershock.” But, the aftershock has instead been this incredibly enjoyable time of holding babies and reading books and drinking coffee and making fires and watching movies…exactly what we should be doing after a baby comes home. Because it is a very happy time indeed.

I am not kidding when I say this baby has not been put down since she’s been home from the hospital. We hold her at every moment…squish her cheeks, nuzzle her neck, kiss her feet…and at night, I am sandwiched between my two girls in our big, beautiful family bed. Smothered Love…just how we like it.

Joann brought Lainey a new shirt…so completely appropriate for our puppy-lovin’ girl.

Nella never cries but for a tiny squawk here and there, but there is definitely a significant pouty lip when she gets cold.

It’s funny…even as I write this, I realize how perfectly wonderful and normal our life still is now. I am learning to stop fast-forwarding. To turn off “sad” when it comes. To shift my paradigm and direct my mind where it needs to go. To listen to music and laugh and pour myself into what makes me happy…being with my girls and taking pictures and writing about the little things of life that piece together this greater picture of beauty. I will allow myself my fears and sadness later as they reoccur. But, for now…I need beauty.

(Nella’s first sunset tonight)

I suppose it’s cliche to say “life is what you make it,” but it truly is. And here, tonight, I am inspired to continue to do what we know best…to suck the marrow out of life.

Bad days will come. Laundry will multiply. Frozen maxi pads may certainly find their way back to my sad and swollen eyes. But tonight…life is beautiful.