C-O-O-R-D-I-N-A-T-E

one mom + late night movie* + early morning wake up + a gazillion interruptions while doing blog + I gotta get dinner on the table = an "I don't give a rip today" attitude so therefore I'm not going to go back to correct that word "cordinate".

(Even though it's killin' me.)

C-O-O-R-D-I-N-A-T-E

*Late night movie = The Aviator. It's a  movie based on the life of eccentric and OCD-plagued Howard Hughes. If you've ever seen it you'll remember: 

Q-U-A-R-A-N-T-I-N-E. 

Bear with me while I obsess on C-O-O-R-D-I-N-A-T-E  for a few days...

What we leave behind

Today I was out in my embarrassing weed-infested back yard (still not landscaped) with my camera, breathing in the autumn air, and letting my eye roam for something to "see". When I found myself stepping over the remnants of play toys, hard caked earth, and...weeds...my thoughts began to formulate into this...

As we journey, we are always leaving traces of ourselves. 

What we leave behind is telling.

(I have always known my husband has been in the kitchen when I find the popped off beer bottle cap lying on the counter, inches away from the trash can. Or I know that my son is home when I find his socks resting in the middle of the floor.)

Sometimes those traces are an insight to our imagination... 

Or an insight into what we find valuable...or not. (Apparently the hand-me-down rusted 5 iron from Great Grandpa is not.)

And then sometimes what we leave behind is a true piece of ourself...

Whether we have left it behind on purpose or not, sometimes those pieces are the most difficult to retrieve...should we even want them back. Yet, if we do, we might find that we have grown too much for that piece to have any real purpose in our life...it being no longer connected to our life in any living way.

Makes me wonder how much emotional energy I have wasted in grieving what I have left behind, what I think I want back. (Even over those things I willingly left.) Oh, if I could be like that bird who has left a piece of herself, knowing that it is pointless to retrieve it and attempt to connect it back into herself. Because what is done is done. I like to think that perhaps she knows that what she has left behind will bring beauty to someone else, a smile. As I pick up the feather and bring it to my daughter who will want it and love it. 

But even more so, as I journey forward, it makes me think seriously about what I am "leaving". Because when all is said and done I want those "traces" to matter.

What are you leaving behind?

Wear it proud Bean!

When the balloon man at Chili's came 'round our table the conversation went something like this:

Balloon Man: "Hi, do you want a special balloon?"

Michaela: "Yes please."

Balloon Man: "I can do a lady bug, butterfly, hat, fl..."

Michaela: "HAT!" (before he could spit out "flower")

She then proceeded to wear it through dinner, but could not wear it on the way home as she and the hat could not both fit in her car seat.

First thing she did when she got home today from school? Donned her hat.  

If there's any question about why I call her my McFruity Bean....

That first pic? Yep. Uber tired from a busy weekend. Can you say "early bedtime"?

Late afternoon photo time

I am always very humbled to be asked to take pictures of other's children. I love to do it and love the practice--love being caught up in capturing the light on their heads, the joy in their faces, or the catchlight in their eyes. Speaking of eyes...get a load of those eyelashes! (Ummm, Monica...seriously...do you give them extra broccoli? Milk? Uh-mazing.) 

Such a beautiful family...

Big Sis (with her bubble skills and beautiful eyes).

Lil' Sis...who brought her cowgirl hat. (Sooooo lovin' that!)

And Lil' Bro, who stopped and smiled every time I pointed my lens in his direction. 

I am off to edit the rest of the pictures. Might take me a little bit longer than usual as I stop and admire those smiles and eyelashes.  :)

Just for fun

There's a nifty little website called Rollip.com that lets you transform your photos into polaroid gems. Of course, if you are a polaroid purist, and only wish to achieve such effects by using an authentic Polaroid camera, then this sight is not for you.  So, for the rest of us that just want to do a little fun faux polaroid action, then roll on over to rollip.com and play!

You can even add some text for fun.

Happy Saturday!

The Girlz

A quick photo shoot after school-- a surprise for Daddy's 40th bday prezzie.

Can't get enough of her blue eyes!

Or hers...

And that smile. :)

I love these girlz!

Help, I need an intervention

Here's why I have a problem:

As I'm pulling out my quick boxed cake mix to whip up cupcakes for M's bday party my friend, Kelley, (who happens to have come over at the perfect time and who happens to be the Queen of the cupcake bakers) looks at me with "a look" and says...

"You're not going to just use that box mix for Michaela's cupcakes are you?"

"Ummmm...yes. Is that not okay?" 

"Oh no no no," she says, "You can't just do the box mix, it's not good enough. If you must (said with an air of disgust), then you have to tweak it."

"Please," I say, "just tell me what to do and I will obey. I bow to your cupcake skills."

To the box mix she has me add:

1 cup sour cream

3 eggs

1/2 cup oil

3/4 cup water

1 tsp vanilla

(she tells me to add chocolate chips but I decline because M has requested vanilla only)

Bake at 350 for twenty minutes.

When I ask her if it's okay that we are altering the water/egg/oil ratio and adding other stuff (because I'm afraid it will alter the chemistry of the ingredients or something horrible like that) she firmly defends her recipe. 

"I promise you. You will never make the simple box mix again."

Three days later I am still stuffing my face with the left over cupcakes.  As I make my way towards the kitchen I hear myself say, "This is the last one. After this one, no more." But yet, a day later (ok, sometimes hours later) I am back for "just one more".  

Seriously folks, this qualifies as an addiction right? I have a problem.

My name is Tracey and I am addicted to yummy cupcakes.

p.s. As I write this I realize that I've written about another cupcake. See, it's a pattern. I need some serious help.

Dahlia Love

My very first post was a dinner plate dahlia found on my mom's back deck. 

It was one the first photos of a flower that I actually took, and liked.

Since then, I've learned how to spell dahlia correctly,

and I keep coming back to them.

A true case of dahlia love.

1,2,3,4,5,6, now...SEVEN!

My sweet Bean.

She turned 7 today. I keep telling her to stop growing, to not get any bigger. There is something about her littleness that I love. I enjoy her so much--from the moment the nurses handed her to me and every day since. She is sweetness, light, joy, and love. She is one of a kind. She is clever and creative, extremely thoughtful, and still likes to hold my hand. Still crawls into my lap, snuggles with me in bed, and dishes out smooches freely. She loves harmony. Loves her family. And most of all, loves to be fruity. My McFruity Bean...

There are not enough words to express how much I love you, but I try everyday to say it in some sort of way...how very precious you are to me, to us.

Happy Birthday Bean.

(Now, no more birthdays! Stop getting bigger!)

Party time in the birthday photo booth!

We ended M's birthday party today with a little photo booth fun.  I hung up her bed sheet as a back drop, put out some crazy costume stuff and let the girls have at it. It was cool to see their little personalities shine.  Some were more...shall we say...uninhibited. (Like, I wanna be a rock star, shoot away!)  Others were a bit shy, then warmed up to it.  We even got Dad to join in (and one of the grandmas, but I will spare her from going public with her bunny ears).

I had to add some more here at the end. 

There were just too many fun ones that I just couldn't leave out!

I am thinking about hiring myself out for parties. It was too much fun.

Two Saturday Country Bumpkins

One in black and white...

And the other in color...

Happy Saturday. 

Waiting...

...until someone opens the screen door.

Waiting.

Then the lady with the camera finally cracks open the screen, 

just a smidge. Time to squeeze out and get to explorin'.

Got Sillies?

These two are quite the duo. Chatty Patty's. Goof Balls. 

I love this picture. Such a sweetness to it. Right?

Nope. Micheala wasn't being lovey-dovey. 

(Now I know what that smirk above was about.)

She had this in mind...

Which led to this...

 And then I lost them.

It was all one giggle-fest going right down the tube.

My visions of capturing them in a sweet pose? 

Totally not happening.

What are friends if you can't be silly with them, right?

My look-out

I was going to post another picture today but while cleaning up some files from the summer I found this one and realized I had just blown right over it in my first pass. I am sure I do that a lot when looking over pictures. Or, I am sure I do that with other things in life too that don't immediately capture my attention. (We miss so much.)

What made me pause a second time around is when I caught myself smiling at my son perched upon that dune. He is such a hard worker. In everything. There he is hauling my beach chair and boogie board. He offered to do it. Actually just took everything without me even having to ask. Just like the other day when he opened the back of the car and started carrying grocery bags in for me, 'till they were all brought in...without asking.

My helper. My strong kid, who loves me by serving me. 

I have said it before, but I do love him so.

Too many titles for this post it's killin' me

An afternoon flop on the big bed led to giggles, steamroller squishes, static-y hair, sweaty faces, and tumbles off the bed. (That would be my McBean sliding off the edge.)

I thought of so many cheesey titles to this post, all of which included some pun on the word sole/soul. 

I decided to leave it and just let you imagine the girlish giggles floating through the air as I tried to capture them with my camera. 

Swim Lesson

She taught her the strokes, and how to come up for air.

She even took her on an underwater lap around the pool,

then gave her a little break time to rest.

Such a good mommy.

Life on a Sunday...

Out on the trail, riding the quads, getting caked with sweat and dirt.

Gravitating towards the things with wheels, completely ignoring the shoe on the table.

Receiving smooches from your mom while everyone stands around and oogles over you,

trying to make you smile for the camera.

Preparing for a swim, working the suction on those goggles just right,

so you can join the other mermaids.

Waiting at pool side for someone to take you for a swim.

(More on her adventures tomorrow...)

Street Light

A random thought crossed my mind as I was attempting to situate the street light "just so" in my frame:

Huh. What a contrast between worlds--the heavenly clouds against the blue expanse of sky and the man made street light invented to illuminate our world. Man and Nature. And which is more magnificent or powerful? After remembering 911 yesterday, and re-watching old video of the Twin Towers crumbling, I painfully felt the weight of the power of man to change the course of history just by the choices he makes--to get into a plane and hijack it and steer it into a building all with the intent to take lives and make a statement. We are smart enough and powerful enough to make a change when we put our mind to it. Our choices, great or small, are powerfully important. They leave an eternal mark.

And then I remembered Hurricane Katrina and I remembered the powerful, indestructible force of nature that rendered man completely helpless for days, weeks, and still even years later. We fled in the face of her strength and knew our own strength could not match hers. I remembered the Tsunami several years ago that swept away thousands. We could not flee from it either--just left to painfully gather the pieces that remained.

Yes, we are like that seemingly tall street light: very small indeed against the force of something so grand and magnificent. Despite the power that I do possess, I am a fool to think otherwise.

 

Out on a limb

"Take chances, make mistakes. That's how you grow. 

Pain nourishes your courage. 

You have to fail in order to practice being brave."

Mary Tyler Moore

In the field after dinner...

...looking for "fairy poofs"

Caught in some hazy sun flare--my golden girl. 

(I love shooting into the sun.) 

Conversation while on the look out for the ice cream man...

Gracie: I brought six dollars with me to buy something from the ice cream man.

Michaela: What kind of ice cream are you going to buy? The Bugs Bunny one like last time?

Gracie: No. (pause) My mom says it's rude to eat animals.

Me interjecting: Really Gracie. I can't imagine your mom saying something like that?

Gracie: No, just kidding. I just can't eat a Bugs Bunny anymore because I can't eat the gum ball eyeballs...you know, because of my new retainer. And what's the point of eating a Bugs Bunny popsicle if you can't eat the eyeballs?

Michaela: Good point.

(Love listening to 7 year old girls converse.)

Fearfully and wonderfully made...

There's a verse in the Bible that says that we "are fearfully and wonderfully made." I am often drawn to it many times because, to me,  it screams of beauty: that so much energy and love was focused on creating me into life.

I was editing pictures of this little guy today and once again was reminded of how true those words are. His flaming hair and golden eyelashes. His heart that still beats after surgery. His ears that struggle to hear with aids. His eyes that smile and tear when he lights up with laughter. His legs that just recently strengthened up underneath him so that he can now walk. His beautiful babble of words that carry on conversations in eagerness with anyone who will listen. His pure, innocent, uninhibited love for life...

We come in all different shapes, sizes, colors. We are born into different cultures, traditions, faiths.

Yet we hold one thing that marks us the same: we were fearfully and wonderfully made...uniquely created, woven together, in our mother's wombs. 

When I think of how precious my life is, I wonder how differently it would look if I lived in the light of this truth everyday? I wonder if even my relationships would be different if I worked on treating those around me with this same perspective? If we all would get along much better if we all lived up to the value that was placed on us when we were created into being?

Amazing how one little picture of my carrot-topped friend could get me thinking about life and love... 

Double Digits

He turned 10 today. T-E-N! My Zach.

After he blew out his birthday candles he said, "Wow, it's been a long time since I had a birthday." 

Yes Zach, 356 long days ago.  :) 

But those days flew by for me and he is growing too fast...too fast.

It was ten years ago (seems like yesterday) I went into labor on Labor Day--three and a half weeks before his due date. My doctor assured me over the phone that I was not going into labor (this being my first baby, I certainly didn't know what I was experiencing, he assumed).  So I sat at my brother's house with all of the Labor Day BBQ guests, trying to get comfortable, in disbelief that I would have to feel this way for the next month. 

After the third call to my doctor during the wee hours of the night, he finally authorized a trip to the hospital for some drugs to help me sleep. The nurse examined me in a side room and quickly confirmed that I was dilated to 4cm and I, indeed, would be having a baby soon. (Get this girl into a room, call the doctor, and call in the preemie team.) I had not yet quit work, taken a birthing class, or even set up a nursery. Totally unprepared, I was. 

He was born during a freak lightening storm, totally healthy, ready for life. (To this day he still wakes up from a sleep bright eyed and cheery.) And that night I lay in my hospital bed crying while I watched fork lightening break out side my window. My husband was fast asleep in a roll out bed on one side of me, my son in his rolling hospital bassinet on the other side. I was completely awash with emotion.

Ten years later I am awash with emotion still...at the amazing kid I have. His love for life, his curious, smart, clever, and creative brain, his sense of humor, his sensitive heart, his love for his family...

I asked him what he wanted for his birthday breakfast: Cocoa Pebbles (a birthday treat--to pick out a sugared cereal)

I asked him what he wanted for his birthday dinner: left over spaghetti (bc it's better on the second day) and salad with a lot of ranch dressing.

I asked him what he wanted for dessert: berry cobbler (bc it's waaaaaay better than cake)

Is not he just the coolest kid? I love him so much.

Happy Birthday Zach!

For documentation sakes:

His two favorite gifts:

A brand new bike from Omi (no more riding his sister's purple Hannah Montana bike because his own bike was stolen months ago).

From us...an iPod Shuffle and iTunes gift card. All day he has been down loading tunes from Boston, Journey, The Scorpions, Guns and Roses, AC/DC, The Police, Aerosmith. (Thanks to Rock Band and Guitar Hero and his 80's rocker Dad.) 

Sunday evening light

They were running around in the light of the setting sun.

My favorite kind of light.

I love love love this picture of Annamarie.

Here they are discussing how they are going to deal with big brother Zach,

who has thrown a wrench into their joy of running up and down the dirt ramp.

(He's brought over M's pink scooter and is attempting to ride their ramp.)

I love Annamarie's little look. After this she was ready to walk right over to 

Zach and give him a piece of her mind.

Michaela...she wears attitude with the sassy Tinkerbell shirt.

Love these kinds of moments, when the sun has dipped 

below the horizon and there's just that leftover light 

bouncing around and kinda making everything glow.

Gotta catch it when you can!