Shine.

As I write this, I wonder, how to start? Should I write something clever, something witty, humorous, or sentimental?  I'm not sure.  I have a tendency to over-share (something I am working on). Inevitably, I may say the wrong thing (most assuredly). I am not perfect, only human.  I am ordinary, not extraordinary (though I admit, I do have those surreal moments with my children where I feel my life is in fact extraordinary).  I find others, more often, are able to put more eloquently into words, my very own thoughts and feelings than myself.  Which brings us to the pressing question at hand: Why should Santa leave a Christmas gift under my tree?   That much being said...every year, I still search the tree in the hopes of finding a present that no one can attest to, that may have been left by the magic creature himself.  That is just a reflection of the person that I am: Hopeful.  This sprinkled with my resistance to not stop believing in the magic that surrounds the holiday of Christmas. Maybe it makes me a little naive as well; a little like a child, which I embrace all too often.

Too be quite honest, if you are referring to the gift of the incredible camera lenses that are being gifted December 23rd, I cannot think of a reason that I, myself, would be more deserving of them than any of the other hopeful photographers that are all wishing for the same thing as I this day.  We are all here because of our love for photography and the artistic outlet that it allows us to create for just a moment in time.  I have no story to tell.   Just me and my little dream; that feels like an all encompassing, raging inferno inside. Just my little dream to create; to quiet and feed and free the ideas flooding, and bursting inside my small body.  All I have is a dream.  A dream that began small, and has grown into the all encompassing journey that has become my life's dream.  A dream that surrounds me every minute of the day, as I breathe it in and out.  It is the last thing I think about before I fall into slumber, and the first hopeful thought of the day that comes rushing over me in full force.  Every day I wake up hopeful that today is the day all my dreams might come true.  Each day is a new opportunity to becoming that much closer to my dream.  A stream of endless possibilities that awaits me behind the lens.

I do have a story, one that is unique to me on my struggle to complete this dream.  On my path I have come upon endless trials and tribulations; challenges on my path towards pursuing my dream, and bringing my dream to fruition. Everyday, I feel like another day has gone by. But I have told this story all too often. My husband keeps asking me why, I repeatedly enter these giveaways and contests. I put so much of myself into each one, expose so much of myself for all to bear witness.  And my response to him is always the same: I simply have to. I have to keep trying. I cannot give up hope.  I have to keep dreaming. I am not quite sure what would happen to me if I gave up.  So much of myself is wrapped up in this dream, I am unable to separate myself from it.  Which is why, evidently, when I envision a photograph in my mind, I have to recreate in, as soon as possible, or I feel I might burst inside.  The same reason why when I pass a yard sale, that I have to slam on the brakes, and pull over (amid causing a collision) to snag that piece that I have been searching for to complete a photograph.  It is the same reason that when I happen upon an open field that I have envisioned in a daydream, that I have to immediately turn around, take the kids home to change, grab  my camera, and bring them back to complete the shot.  It is what consumes me body and soul.  I see something play out before me, children playing, and I see it frozen as a shot.  I see an antique, and instantly envision it as a prop in a photograph.  I drive past a field, and the scene before becomes a photo shoot I have to conquer immediately. I feel like I breathe photography.

Someday, I may be in the position to be able to make my own dreams come true, but I know if I don't try in the meantime, if I don't work towards doing everything to bring this dream to fruition that I could never forgive myself.  I had pictures of these exact lenses and a camera body upgrade hanging on my cubicle wall at work for a very long time.  A constant inspiration to me, a reminder, a talisman of sorts.  I know the possibilities that lay beyond these lenses. I have seen the finished art that is created with lenses like these. Oh, the possibilities.  Just within reach. The beauty. The art.  That is what photography is to me.  It is my art, my dance, my song, my exclamation of self.  My inner self shouting to be heard and  seen: see the beauty I can create, witness my design, the life that breathes here.  And, I feel like I can create something beautiful. I can show others the beauty that is inherent within them. There are times,  I admit, I have been afraid of my ability to succeed and be successful, as ridiculous as that seems. I know it will be hard work.  I know there will be challenges that await me once I have opened that door.  There are so many photographers, so many artists, what makes me different than them? What sets me apart?  But, I realize they are no different than I.  They are just trying to let go of those ideas, these visions, that flood their mind keeping them up at night, the same as I.  Those creations they envision that they have to release before they burst. They are just trying to release themselves; to free themselves.

I could go on forever, I really could. I delayed posting this, because I felt there was no amount of words that I could place on paper, or rather on keys, that could encompass my passion and screaming desire to be so much more than I have been able to be up to this point. But, the truth is, I have to get something out there, now, before its too late. I don't know that I deserve this gift more than anyone else hoping for the same thing, but I do know that my stomach turns in knots, keeping me awake into the early morning hours, sick at the thought that maybe, just maybe, I could have a chance to be great. To be free to express my self, to free myself, through an even greater avenue possible than has been available to me up to this point. I feel like my soul will not rest until it has been given the opportunity to soar in this way. And, I have never felt so alive and so thankful for my little dream.

I recently sat on Santa's lap and wished for this. The REAL Santa at Macy's. And I won't ever stop believing. I never did. There is a little star inside of me shining so bright at this moment, and wishing that everyone could see it. I feel like my whole life has led to this point. I have been a little star all along, and when I first held that camera in my hands, I felt something inside of me change, and grow. That little star. And each time I capture that moment, or share a photograph, I can feel that little star shine a little brighter. I would love for that jolly elf, to fill his stomach with my mother's sugar cookies on Christmas Eve, and leave that gift under my tree, so that my little star might shine so bright that all the world could see. (heart)

Hold.

While celebrating the Super Bowl with family tonight, Nik laughed and played, screamed and shouted, jumped and danced, giggled and whispered secrets. As I watched her run off down the hallway with one of her cousins, I heard her little sweet, sing songy toddler voice say, "Come on, let's hold hands," and reach out for her cousins hand to place in hers. And, I realized that I never wanted to forget her like this: so sweet, so pure, so innocent, so uninhibited;so unaffected by the world.

And, I just hope that she remains that way. Heaven help the person that trys to take that from her. I just pray that I don't ever do anything myself to take any of that glistening hope And innocence away from her. Some days she pushes me to my limits, and I am the first to admit, I am not a patient person. I wish I was. I feel as though God gave me children so that I may learn patience, but it is not an easy task for me. Very often, I find myself silently, and aloud sometimes, "God, grant me patience." I want so much to be that guiding strength for her, to be her Rock.

Having children has taught me so much about the kind of mother I want to be to my children, and the kind of mother I know I don't want to be. Everyday I am ever aware of how my words and actions are affecting her and shaping her life. You catch yourself, and wonder what is the right way to approach this situation, what are the right words, the proper explanation; what is the lesson to be learned? Children are walking reflections of our words and actions. Some days I feel like a puppeteer. I hold the strings, and which way I pull them, inexplicably, I know that I determine the course of action and sequence. It's a terrifying realization that we hold so much power. There are some days, I'm terrified that I do. And there are days, I wish I had pulled them in a different direction.

But, I know that each day brings a new opportunity to start fresh, and I am grateful for each day that I have with them. I feel as though, with each new day, I have a little more patience, a little more insight, a little more love to give. And, I know each day I love a little more, each day I carve out a little more time, that there are that many more giggles, that many more cuddles, that many more snuggles, and that many more, "I love you, moms'." And those are the moments that make it up a life.

me.

It has been so long since I posted, I'm pretty sure there is no one out there, and shamefully, I don't know that I deserve your time even if you were. Ever since our computer went kaput, well, to be honest, I got down on myself and gave up on myself and you, sadly.

My husband and I were having a conversation the other day, that led well, to a small disagreement/argument, and it made me want to put something on paper, if not for myself, than at least for every other mother and woman I have had the pleasure of meeting, and for those I may never meet.

The details of the discussion are not important, but the main point that my husband touched upon was something that I wanted to get off my head, per say. Essentially what was expressed to me was that in choosing to be a stay at home mom, that I "gave up the option" to be well, me. That I gave up the option to pursue something I was passionate about, or I should say, things that I was passionate about. That I had other responsibilities as a SAHM, and for lack of better words, that who I was (as a seperate entitiy than what fell under the title'mother'). My dreams, or who I needed to be, to grow as a person was no longer an option for me. Even as I write these words, it stings, and tears well in my eyes. The hurt is still fresh. And, even as I write these words, I am aware that I probably will not get the time to finish them, and yes, I'm aware that they are other 'motherly, wifely, things' I should be tending to.

Being a SAHM was my choice, and there are days that it is the hardest job on earth. And there are days if I wonder if I'm doing the right thing by my family and my children. And there are days that I fear that I'm going to turn my daughter into myself, and that scares me to death! To know that I am responsible for shaping these little people, and that each moment I may be saying or doing something that I can't, well, undo, terrifies me.

When Nik was born, I knew that who I was, as a seperate person, was not nearly as grand as the life that lay in my hands. She was so innocent, so pure, so alive, a living, breathing, creature that I was responsible for, and she was perfect. I put my wants, my desires, my dreams and goals aside and gave everything I could to her, to be the best possible mother I could be to her. And I strove to still be a good wife, and home maker, and provider for our family. I did not want to go back to work and hand my 12 week old newborn miracle to a someone I barely knew. But, I had no choice, staying at home was not an option for us, and I cried myself to sleep every night, every morning and throughout the day, almost always when I expressed milk for our daughter for 14 months.

I am the first person to say that I wanted to put her first, whether, that is the right thing to do and whether that makes me a 'better mother,' I can't be sure, I just know, I thought it did. But does it make you a better mother, to loose yourself. Now, I'm not so sure. And i know, I'm not the first mother to fall into this niche. After my husband and I's discussion, I lay awake thinking about and pondering the words we had spoken.

Does giving up yourself entirely, and succumbing to the title:'the mom' make you a better mom, and therefore, does it make you a better person to parent your children? Shouldn't your children watch you be your own person? Shouldn't your children watch you have goals and dreams, and passions? After all, what are we without passion? Mere animals, I think one person said once. There is more to me than, 'the wife,' or 'the mother'. I am and was a person before I married and had children, was I not. Why does having children mean that I become a lifeless entity who has no dimension, no sense of self, or worth outside of the title, 'mom' and our home? After all, being a wife and a mother, while it can define me, doesn't encompass all that I am as an individual. I don't think that it should, which is what led me here, to you, or well rather, to myself as well.

I believe I am a better, more well rounded person to my children, and to my partner, if I am happy, and well adjusted, and have a strong sense of self, id, and self-worth. I know I feel like I am, and I can see it in the way that I parent; in the patience that I have, in the words that run through my mind and inevitably out of my mouth, in the way that I 'play,' in the snuggles and cuddles, and in the spaces in between. I don't want to end up one of those mothers who one day snaps, and the whole neighborhood is oblivious, because I seemed like such a June Cleaver, Martha Stewart, person who has it all put together; suburban, PTA, soccer mom, house wife. I am not perfect, I'm the first one to admit it. There are days I wish I was. Yes, I had in my mind, a picture of myself as a SAHM, and that picture seemed a lot more glossy and shimmering, and seemingly wrapped in a precisely cut and perfectly knotted sparkling, iridescent, pink, polka dot heart bow.

But, I can't help but think that by pushing every desire, every dream, every passion, every aspiration, every part of what makes me, me aside for 'later'. By pushing every part of myself as a distinct, individual, person down deep into the darkest corners of my being;and keeping it there for a time when one day, I MAY have more time to let it blossom. I can't help but think, that if I were to do that, that not only would it be the wrong thing to do, for myself, and for my family, but that I would be cheating myself and my family out of ever really finding out who I am as a person. And what if I am never at a point in my life, when it's MY time, or what if it's too late. Then what will my children know about me, about who I was as an individual, a distinct person other than, 'mom'? When, I know, for certain, that I am so much more than that, no matter how deserving that title alone is to me, and to so many others out there. I know, there is more to me, and I want everyone to know. And just in time, I think I hear the little one calling.

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I've had a lot of time these days to think about my life, and all the different ways I could have changed things.
So much of my life, I've spent afraid, hiding the real me.
Pretending to be someone or something I wasn't, hoping no one could see.
But, I grew tired of the stage and the part I had to play.

This came to me last night..part of a poem I wrote years ago. It came to me after a discussion with my husband I plan to post on later.