Don't Panic!

If there’s anything I’ve learned over the last 18 months, it’s this: Don’t panic!

When I hear, “She fell down the stairs!” I ask if it was an entire flight of stairs or just the bottom step. No need to have a mini stroke before I know the whole story. I find that sensible parenting skill to be key to the shred of sanity I have left & no doubt it will serve me well when Haven is a teenager.
When I hear, “She’s eating dog food!” My response is: …And? Was the dog food part of a recall? If not, carry on.

I’ve watched my daughter crunch on ladybugs, Cheetos she found under the couch, & she has even used a plastic garden hand rake as a fork. Dog food at this point is not alarming. If she’d rather eat the dog food than the perfectly good hot dog I cut up into itty bitty pieces on her plastic Hello Kitty plate, I actually take a moment to wonder if it counts as a meal before prying the kibble from her fingers & baby wiping her hands profusely. (Side note: Speaking of baby wipes. They are awesome. They clean up everything. I could prep for surgery with those bad boys!) If I add up everything she eats (the items that are meant to be edible) it adds up to one full meal a day. I think that’s a victory with an 18 month old.

While we successfully sleep through the night now (and have for quite a while, thankfully!), there are new day time challenges.

1) Being serenaded by her high pitched “Mariah Carey cry” (the toddler wail that eventually hits a note so high only dogs can hear it) while I try to shower. I usually forget if I’ve even put conditioner in my hair. {Currently my three basic hairstyles are up, down, & homeless. HELP ME ERIN TOOMEY!!!} (That's my awesome friend & hairstylist y'all. She makes me feel beautiful & listens to all these crazy stories while she does my hair!)
2) Her food isn’t good enough. If I actually sit down to eat a meal, the only food she will eat is what’s on my plate. Even when both plates have the exact same food. This is where a clear understanding of reverse psychology helps!
3) Don’t turn your back. Not even for a second. Grow eyes in the back of your head. In the split second you turn away, she will climb the stairs, find a hammer (!!!!!!????!!!!), an unattended cup will be dumped on a couch or a rug, chaos ensues. Remember, I said don’t panic!

And let’s not forget The Witching Hour. This is the unholy time around 5-7PM when my child becomes a raving lunatic.
“FEED ME! YOU CAN’T PUT ME DOWN TO MAKE DINNER BUT I MUST BE FED IMMEDIATELY. CAN YOU TELL THAT I’M SPEAKING TO YOU IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS, MOTHER? I NEED YOU TO PUT A PLATE OF FOOD IN FRONT OF ME SO THAT I CAN EAT EXACTLY ONE BITE AND THEN CHEW UP AND SPIT OUT SEVERAL MORE BITES. IT WILL BE A SURPRISE WHERE I SPIT THEM OUT! YOU WON’T FIND IT FOR AT LEAST A DAY!”

In all seriousness, I have to remind myself often not to panic. I waited until I was 27 years old to have a baby so that I would be prepared. [Insert hysterical laughter here]
There was no way to prepare me for the love that washed over & almost consumed me. There was no preparation for the misery of sitting on a couch around the clock nursing, praying for sleep, praying for that feeling of fulfillment I’d been told I should feel.

And now that she sleeps through the night, I find myself awake late at night, letting my mind carry me into the not-so-distant future & I’m already trying to prepare what I’ll say to her when she has her heart broken for the first time, preparing words to explain what it means to be a woman - strong & brave & delicate all at the same time. Thinking about what I will do to encourage her to follow whatever wild dream she has when she’s young & free & hopeful.

I already think about the honesty I will give to her in explaining motherhood when she begins to wonder about it.
How sometimes I laugh to keep from crying, how sometimes the little things are really big things when you look back from a distance, how being her mother is a part of me but not all of me.

I almost lost myself in that first year, I panicked. A lot. Trying to figure out who I was consumed me because I was overwhelmed by the constant demands of feed me, change me, comfort me, let me poke you in the eye & send you to the doctor with a clean corneal abrasion. (Yeah, that was her first birthday gift to me. True story.)
Then there was the overwhelming guilt-- feeling selfish for thinking about myself, wishing for an afternoon alone, wanting someone to take care of me. I wondered hundreds of times if I was cut out for motherhood because I mourned the loss of all my free time.
I knew before I was pregnant that, as Juno so eloquently put it, babies are "quite the time suck", but you don't really understand the 24/7 thing until you're living it. Goodbye, spontaneous lunch date. Goodbye, sleeping in past 9AM on the weekend. Hello, checklist of items I need in this giant diaper bag before I can leave the house. Hello, I can't remember if I brushed my teeth this morning.

When Haven was about 10 months old, I was busy raking an entire shelf of Gerber Hawaiian Delight into my Target shopping cart because it was on sale with my Cartwheel app & it was the only thing she would eat that week. There was a woman in the aisle staring so hard at the rice cereal that I thought she may have fallen asleep with her eyes open. I knew that to be the trademark new mom look.
"How old was your little girl when you gave her rice cereal?" she asked, appearing embarrassed. I told her Haven was six months old when I gave it to her. The woman sighed a little & I asked what was wrong.
"Well, I have my mom telling me to give my 3 month old son rice cereal in his bottle to help keep him fuller longer & then I have other people telling me he can't have anything but milk until he's six months old. I'm really desperate to help him sleep longer through the night but I don't know if I should try the rice cereal."
I wanted to hug her. I remembered how little things like that felt like such a monumental decision & I didn't know if I was doing the right thing as a mother. "Whatever you decide for him will be just fine."
She looked so relieved when I said that I think she almost hugged me. As I was leaving the aisle, I turned around & said, "You're doing a great job."
I knew she needed to hear it & I meant it. I had loved ones tell me I was doing a great job (usually when I was bawling my eyes out & leaking from my boobs) but it isn't possible to hear it enough in those early months.

In those early months of motherhood, I had panicked over if Haven was nursing too much or not enough & if I was pumping enough at work & if her poop was supposed to be the color of guacamole. I panicked having to make decisions for another life. It felt much too overwhelming.
My first instinct is no longer panic, but there's something about putting her to bed -- after the witching hour, after her dinner of a sliver of hot dog with a side of Rachael Ray dog food -- that finds me awake still, even after I swore that I'd sleep every delicious second that she sleeps, wondering about how well I will handle the first time someone is mean to her & if I'll have the right words. I lie awake & pray to God that I will be strong enough to love her with all that I have & that I live a life she can look up to. I hope that sometimes she will choose to laugh & find the humor in a bleak situation rather than crying; that she will always choose hope.

All these things I hope for her, I am finally learning to choose for myself. Haven is always there, watching; waiting for my reaction to a situation.

While sleep deprivation // temporary insanity may be to blame for some choices I made in the first few months of her life, I chose to leave an office job to work full time in photography because I know that one day she'll have a dream of her own. And she'll try to tell herself that it's impossible or not meant to be, the way I always thought of being a full time photographer. Instead of asking why, I want my daughter to ask herself, why not? Her whole life is in front of her, ready to be filled & embraced. Praying that she chooses to embrace her life has led me to embrace mine.

I wonder when she's going to figure out that I really have no idea what I'm doing; that I'm just winging this whole parenting gig. This is where I still have to remind myself not to panic.

Photography, an investment.

I like to take photographs. I’ve had so many people ask me to take photographs for them that I decided to take my passion for photography from a hobby to a business. Once I started, inquiries flooded in, always with the question: “What do you charge?!” So I explained that I charge a $50 one-hour session fee and that disc and print packages start at $49.

“It must be nice to make $50 an hour.” was a response I received. It was not meant to be a snotty remark, just like the age old: “You take really good pictures. You must have a good camera!”

Real talk: I do not make $50 an hour. Here is the break down: I usually spend half an hour before the actual session discussing location details, specific requests, props, etc. Then, I’ll spend probably a half hour driving to the location for the session. It takes everyone a few minutes to “warm up” in front of the camera - that’s why I’ll take some test shots and we’ll talk while we all get relaxed. So, when I say one-hour session, you’re more than likely getting more because I want your photos to be the best that they can be, everyone relaxed and natural in the images! I spend another half hour driving home. Once I get home, I’m spending 3 more hours culling through the images, editing (adjusting levels, b&w conversions, etc), creating an online gallery for clients to preview the images, then placing print orders and/or creating discs/USBs.

That is roughly six hours of my time. That means I have made about $8 per hour. Who in the world starts a business to make $8 hour? I’m rethinking this whole thing as I type this!
From six hours of my time, I have a final product that I’ve created for you. You have tons of options when it comes to receiving the final product: a disc or USB of your images, prints, photo albums, view finders (if you were born in the 80’s you’ll definitely remember those!)

A question I was asked: “Why do digital files cost so much money? All I do is download it.”
That is exactly why digital files are priced higher than prints! Once you receive your disc of images, you will then pay another company to print the images for you so I will never again receive compensation for the photos that I created. You will share the images with friends/family and again, there is no additional income I receive. Years before digital, clients only had the choice of going to their photographer for prints, discs did not exist. A photographer was compensated every time their image was printed. In the digital age, that is no longer the case.

Another question: “Why are prints so expensive when I order from my photographer? I can go to my drug store and get prints made in an hour for a quarter of the price.”
Have you ever noticed how an image looks so much different on your computer screen versus the print you receive from a local store? Check out professional photographer Annie Manning’s comparisons here: http://paintthemoon.net/blog/2011/10/photoshop-actions-why-your-print-lab-is-so-important/
Where you print your photos matters. The difference in quality is evident! A photographer uses professional printing labs. This allows us to order custom sizes with custom options (ex: matte or metallic finish on photos) and know that the images you receive will look exactly like the image you see on your computer screen.

After you’ve received your final product, I then dutifully pay my taxes to the government. I put money aside for things like health insurance and an IRA. I then use remaining money to literally put food on the table for my family, just like you do when you go to work.
You spend an hour letting me take your picture. I spend six hours working to create beautiful final images for you. Like any business, I then have to sell you a product that you want. Those products come at a cost.

While large chains (think Portrait Innovations or Sears photo studios) can get huge discounts on products because companies know they’ll sell huge amounts bringing their profits up in turn, small business doesn’t have that luxury. I am offering completely custom items that are produced by professional print labs that specialize in one thing only: making photographs a piece of art.

For those that have read this far, if you are still shrugging and saying to yourself: ”Anyone can take a picture; a print is a print, the cheaper the better.” You don’t have to finish reading this, I’m not trying to change your mind, I'm laying down facts.
We all place value on products and services differently. Some of us love designer handbags and decide to save up $200+ because we value that item and can justify the price. Some of us have to have a $5 Starbucks coffee each morning because it makes us feel better about starting our day. Maybe you like to pay to get your nails done on a regular basis or for the men that may be reading this, you justify upgrades on your car or tools simply for the fact that you enjoy them. We all have those items or “extras” that we justify because we want them, they make us happy, we deserve them every now and again!
For those of you that see the art that exists in your every day, that value photographs and know that they have the potential to outlive you - I am writing this to you.

I want you to know that I have went out on a limb to take something I’m passionate about, that makes me feel creative and excited, and turn it into a business. I love not taking photographs but creating them.
In a digital age of smart phones and free photo apps, anyone can take a photo and “edit” it anytime, anywhere. We Instagram photos of our food. There is an overload of images on a daily basis. What images move you? What personal images do you want to keep? We are living, breathing stories. What part of your story do you want to remember most?
This is what I want:

I want you to trust me when I ask you to stand in my daughter’s kiddie pool that’s covered with a $5 sheet in my garage and take the picture from this:

To this:

I want you to trust me when I go to the store to grab this red lipstick because it will really make this photo in front of the red door pop.

I want you to trust that I will work with an idea that you have because I took this photo of fireflies one night

and decided the next day that I could take this picture

to create this:

I want to take the ordinary average/everyday and make it extraordinary.

I want to hear your ideas and if you say “…but I don’t know how that will look…”
I’ll say: “Let’s find out.”

If you read through the cold hard facts of why photographers aren’t “cheap” and can see that I’m trying to make an honest living supporting my family like you are - if you see that a photo session at a location of your choice goes beyond the hour that you’re there - if the idea of taking a fun/unique photo somewhere not in the mall against a plain backdrop excites you - we should talk. I can offer you custom creative portraits. I’ve invested so much of my time and money into camera gear, photography/business workshops, editing programs, business licenses, marketing (logos, website, etc) all because I love taking photographs and I know it’s possible to create a successful business out of that. To be a successful photographer, you have to invest in me.

A Letter to Haven (3)

Dear Haven,

Five months. We have survived five entire months!
There have been nights I have laid down in the bed & let out a sigh, thinking, "I did it, another day is done." What a strange feeling to feel triumphant just making it through a day & at the same time feeling sad at how quickly these days roll by in the grand scheme of things.
Your hair is growing like mad & your mile long legs are getting rolls that jiggle when I tickle you. You think Riley is the funniest thing you've ever seen! You sit in your walker & giggle endlessly while her paws click clack around you on the kitchen floor.

The month of February has been quite an eventful one for you. You've survived your first snow storm, ice storm & earthquake! We were without electricity for almost an entire day when the ice storm hit but we bundled you up & you snuggled in the bed with us that night. I don't think I slept much because I was worried to move around too much & also because my heart was so full, feeling your plump cheek nestled against my chest, your steady breath against my skin, those tiny hands tangled in my shirt. The next day we read The Story of Ferdinand by the window light & you laid on your tummy fascinated while daddy & I played Yahtzee & Scrabble.

Your hands are constantly moving! You love to feel new textures & scratch everything with your razor sharp nails. No matter how much daddy clips those nails, they grow like wildfire & you unfortunately enjoy using my skin to sharpen them.
At night, I can hear you scratching your crib bumper in your sleep because you like how soft the material is but the noise sounds very sinister over a baby monitor in the dark, like we're in a horror movie!

I find myself becoming more interested in photography each day because I love documenting your life. I really only have a handful of photos of me as a kid & exactly 2 "professional" family photos (one when I was 8 months, the other at my wedding!) so it's important to me to photograph your life as you grow up. I have to remind myself to step in front of the camera every now & then, too, so that you'll have photos of us together to hold on to throughout your life.
I feel like I'm slowly starting to remember who I was before you were born & learning how to live life with a baby. I still work in the office 3 days out of the week which gives you time to be spoiled by your memaw, I'm starting to do photo sessions & projects again, & you & I "talk" all the time. You're a great listener, sweet baby. Since you've found your voice, you've started experimenting with how loud you can make sounds. Lets just say you can get to a high pitch that only dogs & Mariah Carey can hear.

So, Haven, five months have passed & we're making it through this long winter day by day. You learn something new every day. I love you more every day. We're figuring this whole mother/daughter thing out. I love you, sweet pea.



Infinitely,
Mama

The Motherhood Project | Heather & Tanner

Heather | (in no particular order) tattooed daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother, book worm, photographer, fan of all things pop culture & odd.

Heather & Tanner

During our talk, I jotted down notes & quotes from our discussion. Heather mentioned that she has had a journal on her bed side for a long time, untouched. "I wrote all the time before Tanner was born. I'd love to start writing again."
As I started this blog post, it struck me that this would be a great opportunity for Heather to use this project as a creative outlet for herself as well. I asked if she'd like to write her own personal essay of sorts to go with her photos & she was happy to do so. Heather, I hope that you enjoyed writing this & I truly hope it may lead you to write more often in the future because your words are beautifully honest.

When Kyra asked me to be part of her motherhood project I was super excited, then I thought oh crap, what do I know about being a mom? Yes, I am the mom of a 9 year old, but more often than not I question everything I do as a mother.

Scott and I had been married exactly 8 weeks when I found out I was pregnant. A little unexpected, (we were going to try to wait 2 years before getting pregnant) but life had other ideas it seems. We were excited about it and set out getting ready for our new addition. But while getting ready for a baby, we were still learning how to be a married couple and then Tanner came along and now not only were we still learning about being married, we were learning how to be parents. It definitely wasn’t easy.

But Scott was my rock.

No matter what decisions I made about being a mom he supported me. When I decided I couldn’t breastfeed anymore he supported my decision. When I felt like a failure for not being able to breastfeed our son he made sure to tell me over and over I wasn’t. Not being able to breastfeed was a hard decision for me. I tried. I tried. I tried. I went to a lactation specialist, asked for help from the nurses at the hospital. But nothing worked. It took awhile for me to get over the guilt but Tanner was healthy and happy and that’s all that mattered in the end.

During the first year of Tanner’s life it was hard on Scott and I. Everything was about Tanner. Did he eat? Is it time for bed? Did we change his diaper? We both worked full time jobs, me first thing in the morning, and Scott later in the evening so Tanner wouldn’t have to go to daycare or a babysitter. So a lot of the time we saw each other in passing. It was not easy keeping it together. But we made it work. We found a way to make time for each other. Even if it was just laying in bed talking for a few minutes or while one of us was getting ready for work. And in that first year it was very important.

It was easy to let moments pass when we were so consumed with taking care of Tanner. But the little moments made things easier.

As the years go by, I’ve come to realize my house may never be clean again. I’ve realized that I have a knack for multitasking I never thought was possible ( I can watch TV, read a book, and answer Tanner’s hundreds of questions all at once). Things I use to worry about do not bother me as much.

I wanted to be the perfect mom and perfect wife. But I know for me that’s never going to happen. I am not a perfect person. What I am though is the perfect mom for Tanner and the perfect wife for Scott. In the end that’s all that really matters.

Kyra asked me what advice I have for other moms. I had to think about that. I mean I can offer tons of things I’ve learned but it probably the same things that have been heard over and over again. So this is what I’ve come up with.

Find who you are and remember that person. From the moment you say I do, you are someone’s wife, and from the moment you find out you’re pregnant you are someone’s mom. So it is easy to forget who you are.

It took me a long time to find who I am, to find my individuality. I still struggle with it. But here I am 37 years old, and I rock my black finger nail polish, band tees, and blue hair. I love to read and listen to loud music, and I want to start writing again. Something I quit doing when Tanner was born.

I have to remind myself that I am an individual and if I want Tanner to grow up and embrace his individuality, I have to lead by example, another piece of advice I’d offer, is to be patient. Be patient with yourself, things are never going to go exactly how you want them and that’s okay. Be patient with your spouse, they may not voice their fears or insecurities, but they go through the same things we do. Most importantly is being patient with your little one. They are growing up, and learning every single day. There are going to be days that they will drive you absolutely crazy, but when they hug your neck with their little arms, take a deep breath and remember those moments are what make it all worth it.

Kyra also asked me what I want Tanner to remember most about me and his childhood, and

the one thing I want him to remember is that he is loved.

We may not be able to take him on fancy trips or buy him $100.00 shoes, but no matter what Scott and I love him with all our hearts and that’s what matters most.

-Heather Flaugh

The Motherhood Project | Terra & Lyndon

Terra | (in no particular order) world traveler (I remember a story she told of rowing across a body of water in a canoe with a case of beer but I don't remember which continent this was on), daughter, Disney Princess (literally, she was employed as a Princess at Disney World), sister, college graduate, teacher & new mom.
She has the kindest, most innocent voice - perfect for soothing a child & it makes her jokes even funnier to hear them come out in such a sweet voice.

Terra & her high school sweetheart had reconnected long distance, seeing each other while she was finishing school for her teaching degree (& she'd just been accepted into a program to teach in Japan), when they received a major surprise: they were going to be parents. As much of a free spirit as Terra is, there is a traditional gal lurking in there & she was uncomfortable telling people she was pregnant & unmarried. "It wasn't noticeable for a while, but around 6 or 7 months I started to show."
One of her students, a little girl, told her in a hushed voice: "My mom says people can get chubby if they eat too many cookies. Don't eat too many, Miss Black."

"It was like pregnancy didn't really sink in for me. When I had Lyndon, I spent a long time staring at him & thinking, 'Wow, there really was a baby in there.'"
I asked Terra if she felt it didn't sink in because she didn't share the information with everyone right away. She nodded thoughtfully & I could tell from our talk that she worried about her pregnancy raising questions in her young students about marriage & babies coinciding. She tilted her head & with a slightly apologetic smile she said, "I worried about disappointing my parents." (No need for an apologetic smile, I am 27 years old & still worry about disappointing my parents sometimes!)

While teaching in Japan is on hold for now, Terra & her fiancee are raising Lyndon (named after her grandfather & affectionately nicknamed Lindy) close to family & she tends to share a lot of the same feelings I have about being a new mom.

"Forget your expectations," she says, "expectations for pregnancy, birth, people's reactions, motherhood, what you expect your baby to be like. Everything. Nothing is how you expect it to be. If you have no expectations it's easier to cope."

When asked her best piece of advice for new moms, she was quick to reply with: "Always smile at your baby. They will grow up thinking the world is a happy place with people who are glad to see them. Even if your day is terrible and you're ready to scream, still smile at your baby every time [they] look at you."

Terra wants her son to remember a childhood like the one she had: "I want Lindy to remember me as a carefree happy mom who is a total free spirit and full of surprises. My mom was like that. She picked my brother and I up from school one day and asked us if we could go anywhere in the world where would we go? Naturally, we chose Disney. And we went! Straight from the parking lot of school - it was awesome! I want his childhood to be magical and fun. I watched a mom at the grocery store once yelling at her son to hurry up [because] he was fascinated by the automatic doors. If that were my child, and it will be one day, I will take the time to stand with him and watch that door and explain how it works and foster the sense of wonder in him for the world around him."

The Motherhood Project | Kyra & Haven

Motherhood has inspired me to look at myself differently. I find myself struggling to keep an identity other than "Haven's mom" now.
I think women should be celebrated for all the roles that we play in our lives. I have started a personal photo project - photographing mamas in all walks of life (pregnant mamas all the way up to mamas promoted to grandma): The Motherhood Project.
They are simple, clean lifestyle portraits of women & children; in silhouette & against bare backdrops; stripped down images to celebrate our bodies after carrying our babies & to capture us as we are now (because I've learned we are all changing in the blink of an eye; especially our children). You'll never say you have "too many" photos of yourself & your children.

So now, I'm inviting mothers in all stages of life into my messy home for a relaxed, "take-your-shoes-off-step-over-that-pile-of-laundry-and-stay-a-while" lifestyle portrait session. We'll snap some pictures & then put our feet up & talk a while about our lives before babies, how our identities have changed, what we want our kids to remember most about their childhood & what we remember about our own.
Each session will be blogged with photos & snippets of our conversations. If you like to write, you can even write up your own essay/poem/story. This is meant to be a creative outlet not only for myself, but for all women who would like to participate.



Kyra & Haven (4 months)

I am a daughter, wife, mother ... an impostor: a girl, pretending to be a grown up.
I make a brilliant mix tape (...er, iPod playlist these days), I cannot iron any piece of clothing to save my life.
I am passionate about my family, photography & music.
This is what I remember of childhood: K-Mart jelly shoes, french toast for breakfast every morning, listening to Bad Company & AC/DC on cassette, fascination as I thumbed through my parents collection of vinyl records, the crickets & frogs singing in chorus out my window at night, my nose was always in a book & I loved writing. I could make the most mundane events into grand adventures.

When I gave birth to a newborn, I think I was a little shocked. It took me weeks to realize that when I'd imagined having a baby, I'd really envisioned a toddler. I'd let myself get caught up in imagining reading Fancy Nancy books, buying crayons & a Hello Kitty coloring book, & baking cookies with my daughter.
I loved my daughter before we met but it was a head-over-heels-love-at-first-sight moment when she was born. The problem with this was that we didn't know each other. It's the same concept as meeting anyone & feeling an immediate & intense passion - you have no idea why you feel that way but you want to find out more about them; you do so gradually & over a span of time. Imagine however, meeting someone & moving in with them the same day. It was like this with my daughter. We brought her home & then we spent the first month kind of giving sideways glances; sizing each other up to determine if we were a good match while still getting to know each other. She learned my flaws & short comings while tenderly torturing me with sleep deprivation & shrieking, followed by sweet cuddles & innocent heartwarming smiles. She was trying to break me with emotional POW tactics.
I was overwhelmed with these over-the-moon feelings of love & wonder, looking at this tiny human I had a hand in creating & carried in my womb for months. I was beside myself picturing her in pigtails when she gets older, randomly wondering if she'll be right or left handed, then distraught imagining someone breaking her heart & already planning out what advice I'll try to give her; some comforting, wise words that she'll hold on to & maybe give to her own child(ren) some day. The next minute I would be in tears, mourning "my old life". The enormity of the situation would over take me when I let it sink in that my thoughts would never be completely my own again. I spent a few days thinking of all the things I could no longer do & crying over how selfish it made me feel. I know now I had to mourn what I lost so that I could celebrate what I'd gained.
Four months in to motherhood, I believe I can speak for both Haven & myself that we have decided this mother/daughter relationship is going to work. We have a lot to work on but we have plenty of time to figure it all out. We're trying to cut each other some slack since she's still learning to be a baby & I'm learning how to be her mom.

I want Haven to remember her childhood in fleeting glimpses; a cozy messy home filled with a lot of love, a long tradition of dancing in the kitchen while cooking dinner, watching basketball games with her dad, catching fireflies in the summer, the freedom to be fascinated by anything & everything, the support & encouragement from her parents to create & pursue all that inspires her. I hope I am confident enough in my parenting to let Haven become her own person & allow her to make her own decisions without criticism from me when she becomes an adult. From my experience, parents who have done a good job will have kids who grow up to make a few bad decisions (we are, after all, learning) & learn from those mistakes. This early in motherhood, I forsee the inability to make the mistakes for her or prevent them from happening altogether as being the most heartbreaking. Whatever is to come, I want Haven to live a life she's proud of, to have the courage to make it her own & to be blessed with tons of infinite moments along the way.

Motherhood has taught me to be kind to myself. It is so easy to criticize as I fumble through figuring out what's best for Haven or allow myself to feel selfish when I need time for me. "Mom" is not a woman's only identity (as all-consuming as it becomes), never underestimate the importance of taking some time to yourself; however stolen & fleeting the time may seem.

You gotta lick a lot of spoons...

I was just 18 when my husband & I started dating. There were road trips to concerts, talking until the sun was up & then long distance phone calls & handwritten letters until he finally moved back to Georgia.
I'd decided at an early age that I would never marry. That didn't mean I was swearing off love, just marriage. In my short life I'd seen far too many people ruin a seemingly good thing by getting married & letting it change everything. It seemed I'd save myself a lot of time (Have you ever sat in the social security office? Time moves backward there!) & heartache by skipping the nuptials.

I was barely 19 years old when I accepted his proposal as a head-over heels, butt-crazy-in-love (didja catch my Clueless reference there?!) silly girl. After 3 years of engagement, the longest engagement in the history of ever according to some, we were married in front of family, both us 22 years old.

I have a photo of my dad walking me down the aisle that I still laugh at. I look like a deer in headlights. I look like a woman-child, unsure of what I'm getting myself into. I lost control of my facial muscles; they twitched as if I'd had a mini-stroke while I fought back tears. My dress seemed to weigh me down with each step as I clutched my dad's arm. And while I clutched at my dad's arm, I was thinking of a story I'd just been told in my dressing room. I don't remember who it was, but someone had come in to see me before the ceremony & told me this story about a husband & wife who wore their wedding attire each anniversary to see if they still fit. This sweet story then turned in to a sad tale of how the bride died in a head-on collision & she was found with her fingers still clutching the steering wheel. This was what I was still thinking about as my own fingers clutched at my dad before we rounded the corner & I saw my future husband. Luckily, I'm pretty sure I lost the deer caught in headlights look before too many people noticed & the sad tale of the dead woman was forgotten once I noticed Joe begin to cry. I still joke that I made it down the aisle by imagining the car accident & deciding that there were things worse than marriage. That is my dark sense of humor for you.

It is only after five years of marriage & being a little wiser that I can say with assurance that I was afraid of marriage because I thought it would somehow become my identity; that I'd lose myself. I grew up in an oddly traditional-but-not-really home where my mom worked in the home & raised me while my dad worked constantly outside the home to provide for us. By the time I was able to take care of myself for the most part, I feel my mom was more than a little lost & struggling to figure out who she was or could become at that point. After becoming a mom four short months ago, I realized that when I was a little girl, my mom sacrificed so much to focus entirely on raising me. I am forever grateful that she did that for me yet sad that it took all these years for me to understand the enormity of what she did, putting me before herself. I didn't understand how lonely it would be; sitting home alone with an infant who demands your full & constant attention.
Without realizing it at the time, marriage & motherhood went hand in hand & after what I witnessed growing up, I, at the time, subconsciously believed I'd lose myself becoming someone's wife & a mother.

At 22, I survived the social security office & name change, the new awesomely bad driver's license photo & settled in to living with a boy. I spent the first year rolling my eyes at Little Debbie snack cake wrappers strewn precariously around the house and a pile of dirty socks & wet towels tossed on the bathroom floor next to (not inside of) the hamper.
There were seldom arguments but the few we had were handled by licking every spoon we had in our utensil drawer & placing them back in with a smug look of satisfaction because Joe wouldn't eat off the same utensil until it'd been cleaned.
My sense of humor was mostly lost in translation with my husband. I remember saying something about the French language to him & someone how he thought that I spoke French. I playfully acted astonished that we'd been together so many years without this piece of knowledge coming to light. I began making sounds in a French accent (think of the episode of Friends where Phoebe tries to teach Joey for an audition) & before I knew it, Joe thought he was telling our dog Riley to sit in French. I promptly forgot about the entire thing until months later when Joe asked me how to say something else in French & I spent a while laughing before explaining I'd been joking.

The next couple of years, I think we began to get the hang of things. We learned to rely on one another, make decisions together & tell when the other was joking. Little Debbie wrappers began making it to the trash can & towels & socks found their way inside the hamper. I stopped licking the spoons because there was no longer reason to do so; we'd learned to talk about things. There was truly a sense of bliss as we realized we were as happy together as we'd hoped we'd be when we said our vows in 2008.
Mignon Mclaughlin wrote: "A successful marriage requires falling in love over & over again, always with the same person."
I've fallen in love with Joe several times as we've grown up & become many different people already in our lifetimes. He reminds me each day why I fell in love with him to begin with. There is no other man who would accept me as completely as Joe. He encourages me to do the things that inspire me & to be my own person; he is my biggest supporter, greatest defender. He looks at me in amazement after carrying his giant baby inside my body for 41 weeks & treats me as if I have super powers after giving birth & breastfeeding our daughter.

Every one deserves to feel the way my husband makes me feel.
It isn't always easy but these are the things I've learned in just five years of marriage:

Talk. About anything & everything. Bottling up things makes them fester & before you know it, you'll be licking spoons & whispering "Justice!" like that Flo woman on the insurance commercials.

Choose your battles wisely. Snack cake wrappers & dirty clothes should be the least of your concerns & not cause for marital discord.

Laugh. A lot. I still run in & wrap the shower curtain around Joe while he's showering. It keeps him on his toes. & there are always good days & bad days so laugh as much as you can. It gets you through the bad days.

Love wholeheartedly. You don't dip your toes into marriage testing the waters. You dive right in once you've decided to take your vows. Otherwise, what's the point?

Forgive. And when you forgive, really forgive. Don't say you did & then continue to bring it up.

Work at it, every day. Marriage is work. You invest your time, heart & effort. Of course you have to work to maintain your investment.

Remind yourself your marriage is your own. It is not your parent's marriage or anyone else's. Regardless of what you grew up believing marriage to be or how you watched it unfold for others, you don't have to follow what you saw or were taught. You get to decide together what you want it to be.

And last: It's okay if instead of having an idea of what you want your marriage to be you just know what you don't want it to be. 'Nough said.

The honest truth of the matter is that you go into marriage wide eyed & hopeful. You hope for the best, pray about it, work at it ...and lick a lot of spoons.