A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.
I was editing some photos the other night, after the boys went to bed, and I had an epiphany. Epiphanies, for me, aren’t anything life changing; rather, they’re little zaps of “ah-ha’s” that serve to remind me that I’m on the right track.
So I was editing this image and I thought this: you can never look at one of your own photos and separate yourself from the emotions you felt while taking the image. And whatever that emotion may be will have complete control over your opinion of the image.
And it’s because of that emotion present, or not present, at the time the picture is taken that every image tells a story.
I’m typically drawn to images with people in them because I can understand humanity better than I can architecture, or plants, or landscapes. But I paused at this particular photo because I realized that it, too, tells a story.
I think a lot about the memories I’ll take with me as my boys grow up. You can take all the photos in the world along the way, but the reality is that only certain memories will stick. So often, the mundane – the really beautiful mundane – slips away and lives only in form of a picture of a memory forgotten.
But this photo? It’s one I’d ordinarily skip right over, right off as nothing special; “because it’s boring… there’s nobody in it” says that voice in my head.
And I’m documenting it here, because this is a seemingly mundane memory that I don’t want to forget; of my boys sitting in the backseat of their grandpa’s pickup truck, no seat belts, standing on the floorboard watching in amazement as we pass cow after cow only to drive up to the haystacks, where my father-in-law knows all the birds hang out, and watch what seemed to be thousands of birds fly into the oblivion like some sort of mass exodus; my boys’ mouths open, eyes wide.
And then I thought, “ya know, I love this image”. Even if there’s no one in it.
It’s hard to decide whether to frolic in what feels like summer weather as if it actually were summer or to swear off the warm weather and beg for the crisp autumn air that makes you long for – and eventually appreciate summer all the more – to come back. For now, we frolic.
I’ve gotten more comfortable calling myself a photographer. In fact, I’m kinda beating myself up for not having the confidence to own the title sooner; but that’s neither here nor there. What I’m less likely to refer to myself as these days is a writer because, well, I’m not a writer.
But these feelings come over me and practically nag me to be put on paper. My fingers beg to be connected to the keyboard. And thoughts torment me until they get written in post format. I’ve been asked how I manage to blog on such a regular basis and the truth is, I need to.
But it’s hard to write you have children. We might as well make the word “write” in the previous sentence a fill-in-the-blank, because whatever it is you like to do, chances are that it’s harder when you have children. Life is constantly interrupted. My train of thought, always broken. I have draft after draft of half-written posts I’m no longer inspired to finish. The moment passes and, with it, so does the urge.
Sometimes I feel guilty turning on a cartoon so I can have a moment to write. Sometimes I feel like my children are the biggest distraction and then I give myself a hard time for referring to my children as a distraction. Living in the moment is a difficult thing when you so badly want to be reflecting on a moment that has already passed.
I’ve learned to adapt. I’ve learned that sometimes you need to live in the moment. I’ve learned that if the spark doesn’t stay lit, it wasn’t that important anyway. And thus, I’ve learned to let go; to embrace motherhood. To get up and make Hooper a snack or go outside and chase Van around when he comes up to me while I’m typing. And if I can come back to my half-written sentence and finish it off, then it was meant to be. If not, I click on that little trash can and call it a day.
Life, with children, is always going to be interrupted. But, like everything, perspective is key. Maybe it’s my thoughts that are interrupting my time with my children. There’s always two tales to every story, isn’t there?
What sacrifices do you make on a daily basis? Sometimes I need a moment to myself to just write and reflect. What do you use your alone time to do?
There’s so much I want my boys to take away from their childhood. I guess that’s why I document it so thoroughly. Not only do I want to remember, but I don’t want them to forget. Sure there will be epic trips to Disneyland or magic-filled Christmas mornings, but the days I really want them to remember are the simple ones; the ones that included walks on gravel filled roads and picking and eating oranges from the neighbor’s tree. Tractor rides and trips to the local dairy. Cold, foggy mornings spent in bed watching a cartoon on the phone and the discovery of a spider in the corner. Time not spent, per say, but shared with family. And so, I snap away in hopes that I will remember and they won’t forget these moments in time.
The other day, as I was cleaning up the house, I thought about just how useful the two bolga baskets we have are. I use them constantly for numerous things; so-much-so that I the thought occurred to me the other day that I ought to write a post about it. Because perhaps what’s useful to me may be useful for you, too.
Bolga baskets are like vinegar – there has to be a least 101 uses. Here’s what I use mine for, on a daily basis:
-Cleaning. Because we live in a multi-level home, I dedicate one basket to the boys room and one basket to our room when I’m cleaning downstairs. They get filled quickly with things like shoes and books and lotions. When each basket is full, I carry them upstairs and unload them. I then put things in the basket from upstairs that belong downstairs. It’s like my very own levy system. I also use them to clean out the car.
-Beach. I throw everything we need for the beach into one of the baskets; a blanket, snacks, sunscreen, etc. Best part is that when we return, the sand shakes out with a few simple slaps to the bottom of the basket.
-School. Every time Hooper has a school event and I need to bring something (i.e., holiday cookies, marshmallows for gingerbread houses, apples for a Thanksgiving feast) I use one of the baskets. It worked out awesome over Christmas when I brought it full of cookies to hand out and left with it filled with all of Hooper’s Christmas artwork and other goodies.
-Grandma’s house. Whenever my parents watch the boys, I load the basket with their blankets (in hopes they will nap), a change of clothes, shoes, and a jacket.
-Traveling. It’s true; If we’re going somewhere just for a couple days, I just throw a few outfits into the basket.
-Blanket holder. When we’re not shoveling shit between homes or different levels of our home, I use them to hold stuff by the front door; blankets, mostly, but also umbrellas, the dog leash, and that sorta stuff.
-Toys. I also use whichever one is empty to store toys or books in. The toys or books get taken out and strewn about rather quickly, so it’s never a permanent home, but when I’m done cleaning up, I will use one for storage.
As I write this, I’m thinking “Ashley, this is a dumb post” because really a paper bag from the grocery store could theoretically do the same thing. But every time I use the baskets, I’m always having a conversation in my head about how useful they are. I love that they are round and deep; you can see everything you put into it so it’s easy to pull stuff out and know where everything is (not like a bag where you have to go fishing to find what you’re looking for). They’re also so well constructed; I’m fairly certain I could run the thing over with my car and it’d still bounce right back to it’s usual shape. They can withstand water and sand; total pluses when you live by the beach.
We bought ours at the Long Beach Flea Market for something like $25, I think. I did a quick etsy search and found this shop that’s based in Ghana (I love this basket and this u-shaped one as well) . When I read more about the shop, I kinda beat myself over the head for not ordering one from here first. Such a great way to support the local craft workers in Ghana.
Now I should probably get off my butt and start picking up all the crap that’s made it’s way to the floor, right?
Van asks to help a lot. And by “help”, what he normally means is that he wants to make my job a thousand times harder and longer than it would be if I simply did it by myself. I feel like a punk every time I tell him “no”. And so, I’ve started giving him his own chores to do while I do mine in an effort to keep his little hands busy. And, by golly, it’s actually been – dare I say – helpful.
Typically, when I empty the dishwasher, he wants to press all of the buttons and make the spinner under the rack go around in circles. It drives me insane. So now, while I put away the bigger stuff – plates and cups – I give him the silverware. You know that I rock feeling you get when you know you’re doing something right as a mother? Well, every time I watch him put the silverware away, I get that feeling. He learned instantly how to differentiate between the sharp knives and the dull ones, the long forks versus the short ones, and when one utensil falls into the wrong section, he always fixes it. It’s pretty special to watch those little wheels spin and he’s pretty stoked with himself when he’s all finished. And hey, it’s one less thing for me to do. I don’t even care that every time I open the silverware drawer it looks like someone threw each piece in from twenty feet away. The disheveled appearance doesn’t bother me one bit.
He also helps me clean the counters. He loves spraying the spray bottle, so I show him where to spray and then I wipe it clean. Teamwork for the win.
The other day, he helped me pot some plants. It was something I was going to wait to do until both of them were sleeping, but I had lots of other things to do with that precious nap time so I decided to involve him instead. Hooper was at preschool. His job was to fill his plastic cup with potting soil and bring it over to where I was and fill the empty pots. My back, and knees, thanked him for not having to get up and down a thousand times myself. And, again, he enjoyed it.
Both of my boys fight over the vacuum. Now there’s a fight I don’t break up.
What kinds of chores do you give your kids to do around the house? It’s one of my New Years resolutions to continue doing this sort of thing. Too often it becomes easier to just do it myself, but I know the lessons embedded in the tasks are more important.
You know those moments in motherhood where you feel like time is wasted? Where simply sitting and watching your kid play feels more like laziness than being present? Me too. But, then Pink Floyd’s “Us & Them” came on the radio (yes, we own a radio — I know, I know) and time slowed and I realized that all motherhood needs is a soundtrack.
What tunes would you put on your motherhood soundtrack?
I’m moderating the Childhood Unplugged feed this week on instagram and will be featuring some images of littles playing music. If you have any shots and would like the chance to be featured, use hashtag #childhoodunplugged_music.
Valentine’s Day Sale over on The Bee & The Fox. Enter code BEMINE at checkout for a 20% discount off your entire order. And for all y’all mamas out there with older kiddos, please remember that Free As A Bird and Keep On Truckin’ come in sizes 2 all the way up to 12. I also restocked the Mama Bird tee’s and added size XL (please size up, they run small). Tell yo’ friends. Today and tomorrow only.
The times that Willy is gone on business trips is always hard. I get thrown back into the survival mode of forcing myself to nap when they nap and go to bed when they go to bed (they wear me the f* out), even though I have a thousand things that I intend to finish… or start, for that matter. And as if they’re little mind readers, these boys pick right up on it; suddenly, they become more rambunctious and more volatile. I’ve learned that I need to stay calm for them to stay calm because in true motherhood fashion, I assume that any bad behavior on their part is somehow reflective of my own anxieties that seem to suddenly rise when solo parenting. And so, I try my best to get out of the house as much as possible. Little trips to the beach to catch sunset give each of us the room we need to breath. I don’t know how single moms or dads do it, I really don’t.
I swore, after the last time, that we’d never join Willy on one of his business trips out in the desert again. I mean I resorted to letting the boys play with the bidet, for goodness sakes.
But, lo and behold, we tagged along and, lo and behold, we had a good time. Jimmie behaved, which was a large part of the battle last time. We splashed around in the pool, made it out to Joshua Tree despite the on again off again rain, met up with some friends who were also out there for dinner and drinks, and visited the dinosaurs on the way home (Hooper’s been obsessed with dinosaurs as of late).
All in all, a great trip. We’ll be out in the desert again this weekend; this time I’ll be working. While I’m thinking of it, if anyone wants to book a Saturday session, that could work out. Email me if you’re interested, I love shooting in the desert: ashley @ thestorkandthebeanstalk.com.
I’ll never be one to deny the inherent difficulties that come with being a mother. By the same token, I’ll never be one to deny the love I have for my children. And it’s because of the latter that the aforementioned difficulties matter less. But sometimes, the Gods throw you a bone. Sometimes, shit goes right.
The other day was one of those days. Only it didn’t start out that way.
Willy left for a business trip, which always causes anxiety to both of us; him because he has to leave us and me because I’m about to have to handle it on my own. And by “it”, I mean the household; the boys, the dishes, the meals, the dog, the potty training routine, the bed time routine… you know the deal. It was 10:35am and I was taking Jimmy out to pee when I realized that it was Tuesday and that I should have dropped Hooper off at preschool two and a half hours ago. I shrugged it off, got the boys dressed, made them a lunch to go, and headed to a nearby wilderness park that we have gone many times before but never this time of year.
We parked at the end of the park and hiked around. The boys climbed up fallen trees, collected sticks, chased one another, played with the water spicket, listened to the birds, and enjoyed the overcast sky that left dew on the long strands of grass. And when I sensed they had had enough, we made the short drive down the road to the park where they built a bird’s nest out of sticks they found on the ground, dug for dinosaur bones in the sand, went down the biggest slide I’ve seen them go down, jumped off rocks that were a little too high for my liking but I tend to take a blind eye to that kinda thing anyway, swung on swings, had sword fights (not of the urinating variety) and learned to use the teeter tauter and tire swing together.
They ate their lunches in separate places but waved as if to say to one another, “you cool?”.
Knowing that he not always understands what I say, I told Hooper, “please remember days like today when you look back on your childhood” and as if he actually understood what I meant, he glanced back in my direction and sincerely said, “I love you”. I can’t make this stuff up. Shortly thereafter, Van came running toward me crying and holding his hand to his head. Midway over, he stopped in his tracks, looked at me, took his hand off his head, changed his look completely, and said, “Mama, I’m okay” and turned around and went back to playing. Miracles, I tell you, miracles.
Something heavenly possessed my children on this day.
Perhaps more important than what there was, was what there was not; not an excessive amount of tears, no fights, slim to none whining (you can sound your party horns now), no injuries, and zero stress. And for that alone, a good day — one of the best I can remember in sometime. Now that’s something for the books. But a post will do.
I met Shella, from Sweet Threads, and Tori, from Sitting in a Tree, down at Moose’s Ice Cream shop in San Diego to shoot their Lucca Valentine for Paush line. It was a blast. And if you have a little girl, you should check out their vintage-inspired line. It’s adorable.
Inspired by Tori’s daughter’s, Lucca Valentine, and her wardrobe and style, the limited edition line is a collection of timeless silhouettes, frothy fabrics, and playful prints. It really doesn’t get any cuter.
The first release of styles perfect for Valentine’s Day, will be Saturday, February, 7th 9am PST (online) and 11am PST (in-store).
Interested in hiring me for a similar shoot? Email me: ashley@thestorkandthebeanstalk.com.
Some blocks, some tunes, some fighting. Am I the only one that finds unplugging the hardest to do while at home? It’s like we’re all comfortable with our in-home routine; some cartoons, some scrolling through things on my phone, etc. But it’s nice to shake that up every now and again and join my boys in an activity. I’ve been trying to do more of this lately; I suppose we all are. It hit home when a reader of my blog mentioned feeling like a ghost in her own home because I can totally relate. In this New Year, I hope to unplug with my boys even more and even more so within our own home. How have you been unplugging as of late?
Please join me in supporting the other photographers participating in the Childhood Unplugged movement by clicking here to see all our submissions. You can also follow us on instagram (@childhoodunplugged) and be sure to use #childhoodunplugged for a chance to be featured on our Instagram feed.
