Christmas Eve
That night Van boogied to the tunes on the juke box, the men sipped on whiskey and the women on wine, and Hooper ruined (we let him) a game of cut-throat.
I’ll be back tomorrow with some photos from our Christmas day. If you have links to your own holiday posts, please leave them in the comment section below!
52/52
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
I didn’t stop loving my husband when my children were born, but love – in general – became redefined. My love for my children was all-consuming and nothing in the world seemed to measure up to the love I had for them. I’m speaking in past tense, but my love for them today is the same.
I payed less attention to my marriage in those early days as my new motherly instinct took over. I didn’t love Willy any less, per say. Rather, I had one little man whose life literally depended on me and one real man who was more or less capable of caring for himself. And so my attention went to my son.
And then, before we knew it, there were two. Everyone says your love multiplies and while I agree with a few astrics attached, I’d argue further that your attention gets divided. And suddenly, Willy fell further from the front of my mind. I didn’t nurture our relationship like I once did. In fact, at times I’d say I even resented what seemed to be an uneven amount of “shared” responsibility. I had envisioned entering motherhood as a team and the reality of it was that I somehow had more responsibilities; my life felt more heavily impacted.
As a side note, our marriage didn’t suffer. I can’t say that this was a hard time for us or that we fought a lot; Rather, there was a lot of adjusting and sorting and trying to keep our heads above water and life continued on and eventually we got our bearings as new parents. A lot of what I’m saying now are things that I’ve recognized in hindsight.
And so, at the start of 2013 when I thought about joining Jodi’s 52 week project, I thought of my husband.
You see, having a second kid has a way of knocking you over the head. When Van came along, our world became chaotic. Not necessarily all at once, but gradually. I mean two kids so close together in age is hard. And at some point in the shuffle I remember looking over at Willy and feeling overcome with gratitude. He is my partner. I get to navigate my way through this chaos with him, my best friend.
It’s funny… You spend your young adult years dating and searching for the “one” and, if you’re lucky, you find him and chose him to be your husband. Then, a few years later – if you’re lucky again – you give birth to a child that granted you don’t really know at all. And suddenly you forget all about the one you’ve chosen and become all consumed with a complete stranger.
In any event, I was called to shoot my husband for this 52 week project for reasons I didn’t fully understand in the beginning. But now, 52 weeks later, the reason for the calling is clear: A reminder, perhpas, that I chose him. And I’m oh-so-glad I did.
I love you, Willy. Thanks for letting me put my camera in your face or behind your back or over your head. You’re a real trooper.
Not sure what I’m going to shoot for next year’s project. I gather I have a week to think about it.
You can check out the complete series by clicking here.
It was a Merry one, indeed.
This Christmas was more low-key than any thus far. We stayed close to home since I’m still recovering and quite limited. Every time I go out, I feel like I can practically see the gas in the tank running out.
But I’ll tell ya, nothing pushes your limits more than a best friend.
Janet and I met up a few days before Christmas to take the kids to see Santa at the local animal shelter (Sarah got
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to go too). Carla and Van weren’t having it and if you could see the amount of make-up Santa had on, you’d probably want off his lap too. The next night we grabbed a bite to eat and took the kids to the candy cane lane in Moorpark. And then, on Christmas Eve, we hosted a little brunch.
I have loads more pictures from Christmas day to upload, so I’ll share those next week. Happy Friday, y’all!
Christmas 2013
Van pretending to be Santa | Finally got around to making Christmas cookies this year, thanks to my lovely sister | We’ve had lots of Christmas art projects. They last about 10 seconds and are, um, not quite showroom ready | We went to visit Santa, twice. The first time we waited in line until my back could stand it no longer, so we never quite made it. When we did, Santa got a good laugh out of Hooper’s note. Both boys were stoked on their candy canes. I’m not a fan of not being able to take your own photos with Santa. That’s dumb. For $20… I mean… (We actually saw Santa a third time at the animal shelter but I have yet to upload those shots, so TBC…) | We’ve been playing a game we call “mailman”. Because of my recovery and a husband that is clueless about Christmas shopping, I’ve done everything online this year. Needless to say, a lot of packages have
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arrived. A little someone likes to open the door and accept the package over and over again. It’s a game that entails a lot of doorbell ringing.
Oh ya, and Hooper has been picking his nose. A lot.
Feeling grateful to be feeling a bit better just in time for this cherished time with family and friends. Merry Christmas Eve. Hope everyone has a Merry and bright one tomorrow.
The Tree
Shopping for
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a Christmas Tree in Southern California is always a little under-whelming, in my opinion. I mean, if walking down aisle after aisle of Christmas trees in your mall’s parking lot in 80 degree weather is your thing, then please forgive me. Something about the fake snow blown on to the trees made me yearn for some real cold weather; they kind where you need some hot cocoa to warm your hands just as bad as you need it to warm your belly. I’m longing to see my own breath in front of me and it’s just not happening this year.
What is happening is picking our nose and eating it. So, there’s always that.
51/52
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
‘Twas the week before Christmas…
You can check out other posts in the series here.
A day with my best friend, part II
It surprises me every year when we find ourselves at the beach in the “dead” of winter. This day was particularly beautiful; a warm 70 degrees and no wind. Sometimes the elements just come together when your soul sister is in town. After the beach, we grabbed a bite to eat at my of our favorite local joints. It was a day for the memory bank for sure; all of them, with her, are.
You can click here to see a little video Janet put together of our time at the beach. It definitely brought me through some dark days of recovery.
A day with my best friend, part I
They don’t come often enough, I’ll tell ya. Anyone who has suffered from having a best friend in another state knows my pain. It’s that struggle between feeling overwhelmingly grateful that you have them and simultaneously down-right angry that you don’t have them close by.
A Maternity Session
Now booking sessions for 2014. Email me: ashley {at} thestorkandthebeanstalk {dot} com
Hooper & Recovery
I knew I’d be relying on a lot of people post operatively. And none have disappointed. My husband, my parents, my in-laws, my grandma, my sister, and a handful of friends have been making this merry-go-round go round. I’ve been filled with more gratitude than pain, more love than weakness.
I didn’t expect any help, in any way, from either of my boys.
There was an evening, before my surgery, that I explained all that was going on to Hooper. Nervous and anxious, I cried as I told him his Mama was going to have a big owie on her back. To my surprise, he got down off the sofa, kissed my back, and instructed me to see his pediatrician.
Following my return home from rehab, I had several breakdowns. I had no idea how emotional recovery would be. I sat there at the dinner table, nauseous with my stomach in knots, crying over a plate of food I could not eat but knew my bony frame needed to eat. And it was Hooper who was first to climb down from his chair and wrap his arms around his fragile Mama proclaiming, “I make Mama allllllll better”. He was a bit perplexed when his sweet gesture made me cry harder; eyes as big as I’ve ever seen filled with concern, worry, and love for his Mama.
When the physical therapist (aka my mom) comes to the house to do ultrasound on my neck, it’s Hooper who pulls up a chair next to me and insists on watching as his Nina (grandma) makes Mama “allllll better”. And when I wake up in the morning and dangle at the edge of the bed, it’s Hooper who will stop anything he’s doing to help me with my brace. And when he goes for a bike ride or a walk outside, he always returns with a bouquet of dandelions he picked for none other than his Mama.
It warms my heart.
It’s so interesting to watch how your children adapt to new circumstances; how their character grows and expands. His tender touch, his helping spirit, his genuine concern… These past few months I have been so proud to call him my son.
Wishing his kindness would transfer over to his relationship with his brother. That’s a whole other story…
The Long Way Home
Srinagar, Very Northern India, 2006
Tonight, the truth came to me and it came through the hospitality of a local. Sharing time with another family, in another country, of another religion. They changed the entire vibe surrounding Srinagar. They accepted us, fed us, and proved that indeed, you must get into a book before you draw any conclusions after only reading the introduction. And thus, we decided not to leave Srinagar just yet.
50/52
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
Trying not to be jealous of the fact this guy is at a Merle Haggard show in Vegas right now.
You can check out other posts in the series here.
My Everyday
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do
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that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”