Remember

I'm a pacifist (who isn't?), but I think fighting and giving your life for something in which you believe is the biggest sacrifice of all. I can't imagine being so brave, but I'm glad for the men and women who are. Who were.

Heart Shaped Box

My rings haven't fit since Tommy was born. After Luke, they were too small, so I got them resized. And now, after Tommy? They're too big.
I haven't worn them since July. I miss them, and I swear I keep meaning to get them resized, but it just never happens.

So today at the farmer's market, I splurged on a heart tray to keep my rings in, so at least they're not shut in a cabinet. The older man making them sits and crafts all these beautiful wooden items while he sells and today, he let Luke touch the soft wood as he was carving.

After I bought this, I told him to have a good day. He smiled in such a way that his wrinkles made his face look so lovely and said, "If I don't, it's my own fault!"

The $20 that I spent on this beautiful dish already seemed so little, but his words to me? The way they were so needed? Those were the best gift of all.

Hey Moon, Please Forget To Fall Down

I basically failed at capturing photos of the sky this week, except for this one shot snapped with my phone.

I like it because even though it was taken at nine in the morning on a very sunny (and hot) day, the moon was still shining in the sky just barely above the trees. It's amazing the things you can notice if you just stop and look.

Freckled

I have two freckle memories that stand out to me.

1. My 2nd grader teacher told us that the freckles you had showed the number of times the angels kissed you in Heaven. Each freckle equaled one angel kiss. I loved them then, but

oh, kids tease and I hated them shortly after.

2. I told my grandma that I wished they made a special cream to remove freckles. My usually mild (but don't get me wrong, still spitfire) grandma was horrified and told me that they made me ME, that they were beautiful.

She's right. I love them. I love them so much.

They fade in the winter, but at the first kiss of summer sun, they return, a smattering across my cheeks and nose, just right from all those angel kisses.



I love this photo not just because the most awesome photographer in the world captured the most beautiful moment in the world, but also because she captured my freckles, telling the world that this was a summer whose mama received a whole lot of angel kisses (no freckles for him yet, but something tells me the angels kissed him a lot, too).

My freckles are my beauty this week. What's yours?

A Ball

I hope your weekend was a ball.

Mine was decidedly not, although it started out very promising with Friday night drinks with two of my best girls, it rapidly went downhill with a drastic weather change on Saturday. Whenever Indiana weather gets all psychotic and decides to go from January to July overnight, my brain explodes into a Migraine of Doom. 12,000 aspirin and a Vicodin later, the headache somehow got worse, and I was curled into a fetal position in my bedroom trying desperately to fight off waves of nausea (I didn't win that fight).

I spent all day Sunday feeling better but like someone had filled my entire body with sand, so in short, my house is still a mess, I'm still way behind on laundry, and oh, can I have another weekend? It's okay, though, because guess what? I have only NINE!SCHOOL!DAYS! left. And even though I'm actually going to miss some of my students and even though I'm sad that I won't be taking a 6+ month long vacation like I was embarking upon at this time last year, it's okay. Because summer is going to be so good, I just know it.

Depth?

Despite being an English teacher, I really abhor reading technical manuals. I also know nothing about photography (this is where you can be all Duh, we know. We see your photos.), so I'm not really sure if I did this whole depth of field thing correctly. So, I basically took some photos where the front was focused and the back was blurry and hoped for the best!



The light was coming through the trees and looked really pretty.



This dumb bug flew into my picture, but it actually turned it out kind of nice.

Beholden

This has been a hard week for me to love myself. I finally gained the five pounds I needed to put me at the right weight for my height, and yet, I'm grumpy about it. I feel like my stomach looks like I'm entering the second trimester and don't even get me started on my thighs.

This week, I love myself from the knees down. I like how my ankles and feet are slender. Even during pregnancy, they don't get bigger. I have a high instep. My feet are only a size 6.5. My calves are certainly not a runner's calves (and never will be), but they're still pretty.



What did you find beautiful in yourself today?

On Working Moms

Wake up. Desperately hope, wish, pray for a fog delay. Ice delay. Snow delay. Doesn't matter that it's May. Just hope. No such luck.

Nurse the baby. Watch the alarm clock, counting down the minutes--seconds--that you have left to spend in bed smelling his sweet head. Finally, resign yourself to the lack of ice in May and get out of bed. Slap on makeup. Pretend that your child is content playing on the floor and isn't really holding up his arms hoping you'll pick him up.

Stumble downstairs. Sigh in dismay when you realize that the cleaning fairies--yet again--did not visit your house overnight. Make a mental list of all that you have to do tonight, realizing that half of it won't get done. Try to sneak out of the house before the toddler wakes up, because as much as you want to see him, you know it's easier if you leave while they're asleep. Hear toddler. Happily hug him, knowing it makes it harder to leave. Give him jelly beans for breakfast because it's much easier to say yes than to start a temper tantrum before you have to leave. Those break your heart more than anything.

Drive away. Swallow the lump in your throat as both boys press themselves up against the door. Spend 50 minutes in a meeting. Think of all the cleaning you could be doing instead of sitting in a meeting. Wonder how your house is so messy when no one is in it all day long.

Work. Pump. Wonder how your pump can actually be louder than a jet engine. Work. Eat. Pump.
Drive as fast as you can to the sitter's. Pass the same guy in the black truck at the same spot you pass him every afternoon. Feel a little sad at the routine of your life. Try to beat the bus into the driveway, knowing that stopping for the bus delays you two precious minutes and time is short in the evenings. Beat the bus. Fist pump. Run inside. Smell toddler's head for a minute straight. Hate that you have to put toddler down because it makes him sad. You too. Finally convince toddler to get down and put on his shoes. Open arms to accept baby, who is now waylaid by the kids from the school bus who now wants to hug him. Consider pushing them out of the way because he is YOUR baby and you have missed him more. Grit teeth. Finally get baby in arms. Smell his head for a minute straight. Hate that both boys smell like the sitter's house.

Home. Nurse the baby. Wish he would nurse for longer instead of wanting to explore. Snacks for the toddler. Give in to him watching TV. Know that you'll spend the entire evening walking the balance between wanting to discipline and wanting to just let him do whatever because you miss him so damn much during the day. Play. Eat. Play. Baths. Nurse and rock the baby. Wish tomorrow was Saturday. Baby to bed, story time with toddler. Try not to rush it, but realize that it's almost 8 and you haven't showered yet. Shower. While showering, promise self that you'll clean the house. Get out. Give yourself ten minutes on the computer to try and unwind. Fall asleep sitting up. Give up. Look at the dirty house. Shrug. Go to bed.

Repeat.

And It Was All Yellow

Yellow is my second favorite color, so I loved capturing so much yellow this week.

Columbines are some of my favorite flowers. Did you know that those four little bulbs at the end are filled with a very sweet nectar? My apologies to all the flowers I destroyed as a child because they taste so very good.


Pink is my favorite color, especially paired with yellow. LOVE. My wedding colors were pink and yellow, and if I could go back in time, they'd still be pink and yellow... but this time around, it'd be straight up eye punches for every person obnoxious enough to say, "AREN'T THOSE EASTER COLORS!?"


I don't know what these are, but they were growing on a bush near my parents' garden (I need to blog about how my parents' house is basically the Garden of Eden in springtime), and I love how the white flowers seem to burst from little yellow buds.


I love peonies, and I love how the yellow is just tucked away amongst the folds of pink. I kind of want to make a pillow out of peonies.


Delicious hot pink and yellow.


And proving that I can take pictures of things that aren't flowers, my dad and Tommy. I am very thankful for how much they love each other, and I am also thankful that my dad was wearing a yellow sweatshirt, enabling me to share this.

The Beholder

Almost exactly one year ago, I felt more beautiful than I ever have. With a belly full of baby, the saggy skin from the first go round was stretched tight. The stretchmarks were faded. Most importantly, I FELT beautiful, and because I felt beautiful, I carried myself like I was.

I need to get back to that. I need to be my own beholder, to find beauty in my own eye. I know my husband finds me beautiful. I don't know if anyone else does, but that's okay. I need to know that I find myself beautiful, too.
Tonight I'm finding beauty in the imperfections. In the things that make me who I am.
The scar on the inside of my forearm, from when I burned myself pulling a tray of hot cookie out of the oven (mmm cookies). The scar on my thumb from my run in with the apple corer. And finally, the maybe possible scar on my forehead from the time I rammed my head into the car door because I was paying more attention to my cup of coffee and boldly attempting to get into the car without spilling a single, precious drop [I didn't].

My goal is to do this every week, to find some beauty in myself. I hope you'll comment or (better yet) blog about your own beauty. It's there. I promise.

On Mother's Day

My home is filled with flowers today.

Some of them gifts.


Some I bought for myself, because let's face it... you can never have enough flowers in your life.


I feel the same way about children. Can you ever really have enough?

Happy Mother's day, to the mamas of babies here on Earth, those in Heaven, those babies that are only wishes in the deepest corners of your heart, and yes, to those dog mamas too. Happy Mother's Day.

From The Ground Up

I have been a really lazy blogger this week, so I thought it would be best to get my You Capture photos up early...otherwise I might just forget that I have a blog all together! I took all of my pictures while lying on the ground, either on my stomach or back. Lucky for me the neighbors already think I'm crazy, so I have nothing to lose.

Spring is green grass juxtaposed with a stormy sky

Playing at the park while the 6 o'clock church bells play "Bringing in the Sheaves." {Sometimes I love living in a small town}

Bright bursts of yellow

Being too big for the baby swings, but also, just big enough to give your baby brother the best swing ride of his life.

Hair Raising

When Tommy was born, there were a few quiet moments in between his first cry and the first responder arriving where I had two thoughts. One was that he was smaller than Luke, the other was that he had much more hair than Luke. When Luke got a chance to look at Tommy without a hat, one of the first things he said was, "Baby needs a hair cut!"

(That's my bestie Leah. She drove 2 hours to meet Tommy the day he was born. Isn't she fabulous?)
With dark hair that curled over his ears and was so thick on his head, I couldn't blame Luke for wanting to send Tommy straight to the barber. And since I spent so much of his early days with him attached to me, I've also spent countless hours with my nose and mouth burrowed in his hair.

It should come as no surprise that I love his hair. This is what Tommy's hair looks like in its normal state. I don't do anything other than dry it. It has a personality of its own.

This is what Tommy's hair looks like when he first wakes up from a nap. I love bedhead Tommy.

And THIS is what Tommy's hair looks like when I grab some gel and give him a mohawk that would make any punk rocker kid jealous. At first, he's chagrined that I'd do such a thing to him...

But then, after taking a few moments to ponder it...

He realizes that his new hairstyle is sure to make a splash.


Oh, and this is what Tommy's hair looks like when Eden turns into a zombie baby and tries to eat his leg.


(p.s. This was the most painstaking post ever because I am still using Shane's laptop and it's so slow and not at all suited to doing anything with photos and also the monitor is awful, so this is why I'm really behind on my 365 photos which really, really bugs me. I'm taking them, I just cannot get them posted, so I hope you appreciate all of these photos of Tommy's hair. I mean, how could you not!? Oh, and every time I try to hit page down, I hit back space which has nothing to do with photos but is STUPID ANNOYING.)