moosh in indy.

Go figure that the biggest event of the year, and I have no words.

I was going to post my favorite photos of Vivi.

Problem is I could only narrow it down to 103, that was after narrowing it down from 430.

I don’t care how much you like me or my baby, no one wants to wait for 103 photos to load.

So I put them into a video. You’re welcome, for Vivi’s birthday you get to wait for a video to load instead.

Cant’ see the video? Click here.

You guys? My baby is one.

Holy crap.

Here’s a few posts about Vivi’s first month, it’s been hard, but it’s been so worth it.

Here’s Vivi’s introduction to the world.

The one about my heart nearly exploding.

The one where a tiny miracle outdoes the biggest plans.

*psst!* Come close…I have a confession. (Also, did you catch the horrible pun in the title?)

But first you have to promise you won’t roll your eyes at me, we all have our things and this is mine.

Promise?

Good.

*deep breath* Here goes.

I don’t like having my picture taken, in fact, I kind of hate it. (HEY! You said you wouldn’t roll your eyes.)

(by Addie)

Oh, I know what you’re thinking “Join the club, lots of people don’t like having their picture taken.”

I know, I know. But I’m different!

I don’t trust anyone else to take my picture (except for her and sometimes her.) It’s not that I don’t think I’m lovely, yet it gives me heaps and gobs of anxiety when someone else takes my picture when I have no control over what happens next. I don’t like the idea of someone zoomed in on my face furiously trying to erase my rash. My face is uneven, my right eye is nicknamed my ‘squinky eye’ because it closes more than my left and it develops a big wrinkly puff under it when I do smile. I also have mottled teeth because of hyperflourosis, they’re straight as can be but boy are they spotty.

I’ve been burned – four different people have taken my picture and Photoshopped me to within an inch of my life. It really hurt my feelings all four times.

I know I’m not perfect, please don’t try and paint me that way.

Perhaps the reason I like photographing other people so much is because I want to show them how pretty they are even when they don’t believe it. I know how to make them feel comfortable (or at least I hope I do) and I know what humans are supposed to look like, and it’s not dolls.

This is the reason a majority of the photos you see of me are by me. It’s also the reason I don’t have a single family picture with all four of us in the same frame. I don’t trust anyone else. It’s sad really, here I am always claiming that any photo is better than none, but I know my family and I know what we’re like, if another photographer who didn’t know us took our photo and missed the complete essence of us? I’d be devastated.

(Hey Casey! YOU HAVE TRUST ISSUES!)

It’s really hard to pay someone else a lot of money to take your picture when you know what you’re doing. I wonder if that’s how dentists feel when they have to go in for an exam.

Oddly enough, this is one of my favorite pictures, everything about it says exactly what I was feeling when I took it. Pictures tell stories, and oh is there a story to this one.

There’s a lot more to photographing humans than owning a nice camera and knowing how to use it. It takes someone who understands people, which is why some photographers are SPECTACULAR at taking pictures of things, but blow at taking pictures of people. It’s also why I can’t take a decent landscape to save my life. Landscapes don’t laugh.

So there you go.

I don’t like having my picture taken.

But I do it anyway.

Because I want these little people to remember me always, no matter what I looked like.

Nothing makes me happier than seeing a photo I took of someone as a profile photo or avatar. I means I did something somebody liked, that I captured them. (I took hers, hers, hers, hers, hers, hers and hers just to name a few.)

I spent today with my shoulders jammed up into my ears and my jaw clenched.

Now that the sun has set and the two little bodies are tucked warm and safe in their beds I’m realizing just how sore I am from being tied up in a knot all day.

The last few minutes of sunlight were spent locked in the car in my garage on the phone with her, thankfully she was locked in her bedroom at the exact same moment so she completely understood what I meant when I told her where I was.

Today parenting got the best of me and turned me to my worst.

Today my house was not a home, it was a place of survival and laying down the law.

We talked about how we both feel so much better when people we admire admit to struggling on occasion with this parenting gig. We both agreed there’s a middle ground between constant complaining and putting on a face of false joy for the world.

All my parts are tired, but thankful for a fresh start come morning.

On Babble: Not Better, Not Worse.

For my birthday Cody and I spent the night at a swanky hotel where we didn’t have to worry about stepping on Legos on our way to the bathroom or shiny trails of baby snot being slimed down our pants.

We had a grownup dinner in a grownup restaurant, we even sat in the bar because that’s where grownups sit even if they only order water with a lemon and Coke. We ate grownup food at our own pace and we didn’t have to cut anyone else’s food into manageable pieces or worry about smashed peas being spit launched into our faces. We stayed up late, went to bed when we wanted to and woke up when we were both ready. No one came into the bathroom while I was showering demanding a snack and I spent 19 hours not having to deal with anyone’s crap, literally.

All in all, it was a wonderful night.

We went out to breakfast where we both ate embarrassing amounts of delicious food that we didn’t have to share and when we came home? We launched right back into real life, which included lots of balloons and a little less snot.

We talked about grownup things. About how 6 years ago today we first came to Indianapolis from Pittsburgh to look at law schools. About how 8 years ago today I found out I was pregnant with Addie. About how we’ve lived in Indiana for half of our married life and how we can’t believe we’ve been here for so long. I honestly couldn’t tell you if it was cold or not today because I spent so much of it next to Cody who puts out a warmth that calms me to my core. My favorite place in the world is right next to him.

Being this in love with someone is both exhilarating and dangerous, I am wholly confident in who I am because of him but at the same time the thought of ever having to be without him causes an ache deep within my chest. He’s loved me since I was 18, through my 20′s and right into 30. I’ve spent so much of my life hating myself. Hating my big nose, hating my thighs, knees and hips, I’ve hated my brain for not working right and I’ve hated myself for not doing more, whatever more is.

This morning I looked and the mirror and realized this body has been with me for 30 years. It’s gained and lost weight, carried two healthy babies and has hugged the people I love through really horrible times. It as danced for me, cooked for me, wrapped itself around my husband and loved him from the moment he became mine.

I came to peace with it.

I apologized for hating it so much and told it that it was doing a pretty bangin’ job of doing what a body is supposed to do.

I read a book once that said women’s’ bodies are like sand dunes. That they are supposed to curve and bend and that over the years they become more and more sculpted by life thus making every dip and arch more beautiful.

As I stared at myself in the mirror today I was finally able to admit out loud I am lovely, and that I have Cody to thank for taking such good care of me through everything.

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” -Lao Tzu

After a marvelous evening filled with friends, cupcakes and dancing…I feel more like myself and less like a slug.

I’m looking forward to thirty even though I still feel like I’m only 22.

It’s tradition around here that you wonderful people come out of hiding and make me a comment cake, telling me about the wonderful things going on in your life. Even if it’s just a nap or a really good sandwich last week. But if I may be a little selfish this year, since it’s kind of a big year, tell me something good, and then if you’ve been around for awhile (or just a little while), could you also tell me what your favorite post or photo of mine is?

I mean, I know what I like…but I’ve always been curious what you like, I’ve just been too bashful to ask.

I look forward to reading your lovely, it’s been a highlight of my birthday for the last five years.

xo

• Well hello. I’M IMPRESSIVE. (Also known as 10 things I can do that impress the pants off of my kid.)

• My ‘Before Addie Moves Out’ Bucket List. (#6 – Teach her to drive a stick.)

• 10 things we’ve successfully done from Pinterest. (Most of them involve butter.)

• Some parts of parenting stink, literally and figuratively. Here’s 10 specific things I don’t particularly enjoy about my job as a mom.

• What I learned from Addie and her fancy yellow dress. (I certainly wasn’t expecting it.)

• This one time, Addie took a horse by the balls, literally.

I’m in uncharted territory here.

I have so many obligations yet I have so much hanging heavy on my heart.

I’m having to put my head down and plow through all of my responsibilities, one by one, feeling the slightest bit of reprieve with every ‘to-do’ that is checked off of my list.

Many of you have asked what happened, if I know what triggered this latest struggle and I’m sorry to say that I don’t. I think I was doing most everything right, taking my medication, sleeping well, loving fiercely and enjoying the sunshine when all of a sudden I was thumped upside the head with a lump in my throat and a tingling in my hands. Cody has stepped in where I fell off and has picked up all the pieces I left behind on my way to curl up and cry on the couch. To all of you who have thanked me for my honesty and truth, I ask you to please thank Cody. He’s the one that fights on the front lines, loves me fiercely and carries me until I’m me again.

I’m having to write through this little slump like I’ve never had to write before. I have other people depending on my words and unfortunately I can’t turn in a dozen articles about how I had to leave the dinner table twice last night so Addie didn’t see me cry or about how I spent the afternoon crying in a parking lot yesterday because a bakery went out of business (there was more to the story than that, but the stupid bakery started it.)

Friends have stepped in. Friends from high school, friends from law school and friends from every odd little corner of life have bubbled up to give me words of support, confident that if anyone can beat whatever this is, it’s me.

Marta left me my new favorite comment:

“You are so great. Exactly as you are. You don’t need to keep a 100 plates in the air, or even 50. You can let them down, or they can even fall and shatter, and either way you will make magic of what you have left. Keep fighting, keep going. Breathe. Rest. Fight again.”

That’s exactly what I’m doing. Breathe, rest, fight again.

I wrote her back and told her I now had an insatiable desire to photograph shattered plates, even if they are metaphorical.

**************

I have two very dear friends out there in the world who have no idea what’s coming. Very soon they will be showered with love, praise, affection, adoration and support by those who know them best (and perhaps some who know them hardly at all.) There is something magical about going to your mailbox, pulling out a hand written card and knowing that at some point in the last few days someone was focused only on you. From the moment they picked out the card, the time they spent writing in it, the time they spent addressing it down to the stamp they picked as well as the walk to the mailbox, you were in their heart and on their mind.

Emily pulled off the most grand baby shower I could have ever imagined. For weeks, cards and notes poured in from friends near, dear, far, and away. The organization that went into makes my head spin and the thought behind so many people being so willing to play along, my heart, it swells. Three years ago as I sat around a giant conference table in Kansas City at Hallmark, a service was discussed where a bunch of people from all over the world could all get in on one giant ‘GOOD WISHES!’ for a friend. I’d like to say it was me who came up with the suggestion and therefore take all the credit, but it probably wasn’t.

Hallmark now offers a free Card Shower service which is currently making the world a happier place, one postage stamp at a time. I’ve already participated in two and there’s more to come (surprises!) You can email an invitation to your friends and then they have the option to either put a card in the mail themselves or go online to Hallmark.com and purchase a card to be mailed for them with their own personal message. You can pick the date for the cards to arrive as well as where the cards should go (to you? to the recipient?) It’s a simple little way to get people rallied around each other in a way that is more personal than email and more proactive than a facebook message.

Writing out a card today for my friend and walking it to the mailbox set alight a tiny little spark inside me. In a few days she’s going to open a card from me. One I picked out with her in mind. She’s going to know that I thought about her and for a moment she’s going to smile. I did that for her. It’s a good feeling. One that lifts me above all my own miseries, even if only for a moment.

**********

I’m so grateful to partner with Hallmark in 2012 on their “Life is a Special Occasion” campaign again and I thank them tremendously for their patience with me, supporting me in all that I do and for sponsoring this post.

• I learned to tap a keg at 17. I learned to say no at 29. As my 30th birthday creeps closer, here’s 20 things I learned in my 20′s.(#2? I learned how to hug.)

• 5 songs that are kind of about motherhood that make me weepy. (Turns out they make you weepy too.)

• Vivi has been holding me together this last week, so I wrote about loving a baby when you’re falling apart.

• I’m an EXPERT at decoding sad babies. (Seriously, expert.)

• Vivi and a Scottish Terrier. Who’s cuter? (Pfft, like that’s really a question.)

• In the mood for some funny Vivi photos? How about her chubby face smashed against some glass? You’re welcome.