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 shared some words over on The Ma Books. You can read them here. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again… I really enjoy everything The Ma Books stands for. Such a great and supportive space.
I’ve updated my website, which is something I feel like I’m doing every few months. I’ve added some featured sessions and moved around a few things. Many thanks to Janet for her help and expertise.
Willy has been on Lexapro now for a few months. When we were in Joshua Tree, he shared that he’s the happiest he’s been in ten years. He hasn’t had any severe anxiety issues in a while. It feels good, for both of us.
I happened to stumble upon this video for Gucci. I’m by no means a designer kinda gal, but the video is just stunning. I’ve watched it several times.
I’m working with Janet on some new designs for The Bee & The Fox. Hoping to have them out within the next month. I’ll also be selling at the Mermade Market here in Dana Point in May. If you’re in the area, you should check it out.
I saw a psychic. She swears there’s a little girl on the horizon. She also said she’s going to be a spitfire. I’m not sure I believe in psychics, but I am sure that if we were to have a girl she would be a spitfire.
This lady was on Oprah and says she understands baby language. Supposedly they say five different words. She’s pretty convincing and makes all of who have mothered children and dug deep into the grab bag of tricks to soothe a crying baby look like fumbling idiots.
How did you fall into motherhood? Was it something you longed for since a little girl, something you fell into, or something that you didn’t think you’d love but turns out you do? I found this article, “Opting Out of Motherhood” interesting. I was that little girl who was always playing house.
I was over on Mozi Magazine’s blog as a featured photographer and shared some tips on family photography and shared some images of one of my favorite families to photograph. You can check it out by clicking here.
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. Have you read it? It’s brilliant.
Hooper participated in a jog-a-thon at school. In the days leading up to it, he told me he did not want to run. I told him he didn’t have to. When it started, however, he scrunched up his nose and furrowed his eyebrows (mad face in full effect) and off he went. He didn’t stop despite limping part of the way because he said his leg hurt.
Have you heard about the dog in Seattle who rides the bus, by herself, to the dog park? Her owner describes her as an “urbanized dog”.
I met Tish, who was all kinds of sweet. She captured some images of our family that I know I will treasure forever. I will be sharing them here shortly. If you haven’t checked out her work, you should. I was blown away. So much talent.
I love learning about new and different things other photographers are doing. Like this guy.
Seriously in love with the ‘We Are All Uncool’ campaign. I shared several ‘uncool’ facts about myself on instagram.
Claudia Rose, a wonderfully talented photographer from the UK, reached out to me and shared an interview with me on her blog. You can read it here. I am such a fan of her work, if you aren’t familiar with her yet, you should check her out. Such an honor that she even notices anything I do.
Some of the images I shot for Sweet Threads and Tori Hendrix were featured over on Mini Style Blog. You can see the post by clicking here.
I’ve come to learn that evenings spent with Tara are evenings where time is well spent. She radiates beauty and there is so much love in her relationship with her kiddos. When connections are felt so immediately and so deeply, I trust them and feel gratitude wash over me. Feeling grateful for this one. And my boys are pretty head over heels with the “big kids”. Some sweet connections going on right there. Now who wants to watch said children so that Tara and I can have an adult beverage together?
Whether I need to add anymore clothes in my closet may be debatable but the fact I feel like I hit jackpot while thrifting in Arizona and in Utah is not debatable. And we’re heading out to Arizona again and rumor has it that a new thrift store just opened up. Ugh. Can’t stop, won’t stop. Pictured are just a few of my favorite finds. I suppose it’s a good thing that I rarely get the opportunity to hit the thrifts when I’m home because the cycle I’m in of donating – buying – donating – buying is getting ridiculous.
And one more new-to-me item, for the home, not thrifted, from this talented artist. I bought two and I love them both.
When I was younger, I remember my parents taking me out to the grapevine to visit an art installation by Christo & Jeanne-Claude of yellow umbrellas. My parents weren’t really the artist-types, but I do remember trips of this nature often. You could see the umbrellas from far away, the little specks of yellow growing larger and larger the closer we got. I remember reading about one of the umbrellas killing someone. I think a gust of wind caused one to come out of the ground. I suppose that’s beside the point.
In the 60’s, artists began a movement away from the museums and galleries and started creating art in the landscape itself. Spiral Jetty was created by Robert Smithson 1970, using over six thousand tons of black basalt rocks and earth from the site to form the coil that is 15,000 feet long and 15 feet wide. “Created at a time when water levels were particularly low, the artwork was submerged from 1972 onward, and was only known through documentation. However, regional droughts thirty years later caused the lake to recede such that by 2002, a salt-encrusted Spiral Jetty reappeared for the first prolonged period in its history. Smithson often asserted that by responding to the landscape, rather than imposing itself upon it, Spiral Jetty is a site to actively walk on rather than a sculpture to behold.” I love the idea of not imposing oneself upon it; I like to think of myself as a photographer in the same sense — not imposing, but rather using what is real and before me. Makes it more indestructible, I suppose. I find that really beautiful.
I hope my boys care about art and have enough interest in the matter to search things like this out. And, at the same time, I don’t want them to be anyone other than who they are. But, at the same same time, I hope the things I expose them to leave some sort of impression on them. Much love to my girl Janet for the introduction. And with that, my images from Utah are complete. But if you wanna take a moment to discuss Van’s oversized mittens, I’m game.
We were on our way to one thing, short on time, with two cars filled with kiddos that had been promised things we realized we’d no longer had enough time to give them. The side of the road in a beautiful majestic canyon served as a fair substitute. Complaints of cold hands quickly dissipated as those numb little hands discovered rocks to throw into the stream, sticks to collect, and tree stumps to climb. And those little babies faired pretty darn well; arguably better than others. We stopped at a diner on the way home, got the big kids chocolate milk, and unthawed in the car on the way home.
We had intended to venture out to Antelope Island last time I was in Utah and ultimately decided we didn’t have enough time and ended up at the Great Salt Lake instead. I suppose that’s the thing about Utah, you can’t really go wrong. You can argue a lot of things about Utah but denying it’s beauty is just not debatable.
We came across two different herds of Bison, both of which tolerated us at a relatively close proximity. Van was more interested in staying in the car, in the drivers seat, and pretending to steer the wheel. Hooper braved the cold with me and came out to get a closer look. It was all pretty amazing. Growing up in Southern California, I feel like the zoo is the closest we get to seeing animals in their natural habitats.
I think Antelope Island will stay on my must-see list for any and all future visits. And I won’t complain revisiting in the summer when it doesn’t feel like the wind chill is going to cause any moisture in my eyeball to freeze. Who knows, Van may even be more turned on by bison than by the car’s steering wheel by then.
I flew to Utah with both boys on my own which isn’t as gutsy as it sounds. For the most part, they’re good travelers. Sure, the guy sitting in front of Hooper may have stories about a particular tray table that kept going up and down and the flight attendant may have had to talk to Van about keeping his seat belt fastened, but all in all it was trouble free. Perspective is everything, right? Van’s insistence with pushing the suitcase actually paid off because when you add up the number of car seats, suit cases, and carry-on bags and compare that number to the number of willing and able hands, I’m clearly outnumbered. Janet (pronounced Jeanette) met us at the airport and helped out from there.
The weather was cold, much colder than it had been in the weeks prior. I would have whined more, but Hooper and Van did enough whining for all of us. Determined, we refused to let any whining or cold weather or hungry babies or nap times slow us down. We had a list of things we wanted to do and we damn near did them all. As for our time spent in the home though? Well, in looking at these pictures now, it’s painfully clear that the majority of our time at home was spent feeding people. Namely babies. But the bigger kids, too.
More from Utah to come in the days to follow… lots of adventures were had.
My mom and I took the boys whale watching over at Dana Point Harbor the other week. My mom had been before and warned me that it can get cold out at sea, so we bundled up. The trip reminded me that you have to live life a bit before you can determine what’s a special treat and what’s an everyday occurrence. I tried my best to point out the breaching whales but it might as well have been a bird landing on a fence. Both boys showed a bit more interest when we we were surrounded by literally hundreds upon hundreds of dolphins. You could see them rising in and out of the water and the water was clear enough to see them swimming underneath, just to the side of the boat. I went with my purpose being for the boys to have fun and experience something different, but I walked away talking non-stop about them dolphins (said with a southern accent). By far one of the coolest things I’ve seen. I didn’t bring any snacks and tantrums hit full swing when I brought Van down to the snack shack only to learn that they don’t take credit cards. I thought the guy would hand over the damn chex mix out of pure sympathy, but – lo and behold – he did not. We’ll definitely go again; not so much for them, but for me. And I’ll bring snacks. And maybe a couple extra bucks for a beer.
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.
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 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.
It’s hard when your best friend of 15 years lives in another state. I probably sound like a broken record. But you better believe we make the best of our time together.
Janet and her crew were here for two weeks over Christmas. We went to the Renegade Craft Fair, thrifting, the Natural History Museum, the MOCA, the beach, had lunch and went shopping in Silverlake, as well as enjoyed Christmas Eve brunch together and many other meals at home. You’d think having twins would slow her down, but I swear that girl is supermom, even if she convincingly tells you she doesn’t feel like supermom. With as much as I got to see her and with as much as we got to do together, I kinda wish it were Christmas every month.
I’m considering a trip out to Utah to visit soon, I just don’t know about all the stuff I’d need to bring along for the snow. I can’t fathom buying all the snow gear for the few days it would be used. Hoping to borrow from friends what I can and book that flight soon because I miss her.
Ten years ago, I never would have thought that I’d have a blog and be active in social media or put something ridiculously called an “instameet” together. I would have poked some fun at my future self in the same way I currently make fun of people who “vape”. Now watch, I’ll probably be vaping in a few years. Ha. I guess that’s part of the reason people tell you not to talk shit, because you never know what path life is going to take you.
Lo and behold, I really enjoy meeting new people. Several I have met through my blog and instagram have become real life friends; friends that I would have never met otherwise. I try to remind myself of this when I get all nervous and shy and awkward about the idea of arranging one of these meet-ups. Lucky for me, my girl Cindy is always down and hanging with her is always natural, easy, and a damn good time.
And this meet-up was nothing short of a good time. There was rain in the forecast and as I got in my car at the end, a single drop landed on my head; a reminder that sometimes mother nature is on our side. The kids all got on great. Everyone meshed well. There was even a dad that joined along. Some of us spotted a coyote. We shared snacks. We stopped for occasional photos. It all felt easy, carefree, and natural. It’s a group I would love to hang out with again.
It just dawned on me that I didn’t mention the meet-up here. If we have another and you’d like to come, pop over to my instagram every now and again to see if there’s another in the works. I’m sure we’ll do one again. This one was at the El Dorado Nature Center in Long Beach, which I highly recommend if you have never been before. Absolutely beautiful.
Do things like this make you nervous? I get the feeling a lot of people skip out because meeting new people is intimidating. I can totally relate to that…
We’ve been to Disneyland twice with the boys despite swearing that we would never take our kids to Disneyland before they were old enough to ask. That was before we had kids, when we made all sorts of declarations that were based on no experience.
Our neighbors dog got loose the other day and was missing for two days. They were out of town and had hired a dog watcher to watch them. You can imagine the stress this poor girl was under when she came home to only one of the two dogs. To make a long story short, Willy and I ended up locating the dog and to repay us, she asked if we’d like to go to Disneyland (she works there). Because we know the value of the many bucks it costs to get into that joint, we figured it’d be dumb to turn it down. So we went.
We got there early in the morning and before we even made it on the tram, Van biffed it on the stroller and fell face first onto the concrete. It was a fall that made us cringe and elicited that silent cry that transitioned into a full blown try-and-catch-your-breath kinda cry. In that moment, we felt we were doomed for the rest of the day.
But alas, we weren’t. We rode Mr. Toads Wild Ride, the carousel, Pirates in the Caribbean, The Haunted House, and the Jungle Cruise before sitting down for lunch. We didn’t wait more than 10 minutes in any of those lines, which was awesome. The line for the Jungle Cruise was a bit longer and getting Van to move with traffic was like moving a limp sack of potatoes up a hill. We hit up Toon Town after lunch and felt like we just about met our max. We inquired about where we could buy some beer, were told Disneyland is “the happiest place on earth”, and decided we would start heading toward the exit.
That’s when we learned that California Adventure does in fact sell alcohol and much to our surprise, our tickets were good for both parks. So we crossed over, filled our tanks, and lasted – with new found patience – all the way through the light parade.
All in all, a successful trip. And I even managed to put a little video together, which was no easy feat in the midst of switching over computers and all the technological bulls#$! that goes along with that.
A couple shots of Carla, I miss her already // Gotta make use as much as we can of dem rain boots before they grow out of them // Christmas morning and Christmas day // A rare family pic where both of the boys have their eyes closed // Baby Leo at the Andy Warhol exhibit at the MOCA // My grandma’s 85th birthday // Various snapshots of Hoop // The way Willy works in a mid-day nap for himself // A few more of each of the boys // And the sweetest Van I ever did see.
Van and Carla are seven days apart, which is really kinda crazy when I think about all Janet and I have experienced together; it only seems fitting that pregnancy be on that list. It goes without saying that we’ve had plans for these two… lots of “I can’t wait for this” and “I can’t wait for that” conversations. Our dreams were somewhat shattered when we got the kiddos together in July because there was a lot of bickering and toy stealing and whining and tears between the two of these rugrats. But this last visit, all of that was behind them and they were – dare I say – buds. You know what they say about beginnings… they’re messy.
One was star struck and the other could have been sitting on anyone’s lap, even Edward Scissors hand’s, and I’ll bet would have remained just as apathetic.
Wishing everyone a smooth night of last minute wrapping and a very happy holiday. xo
It’s never exactly how I envision it to be. I have delusions of grandeur; of us trekking out into the woods and actually finding and cutting down a tree — much like the Griswold’s. Then I’m reminded, immediately, upon entering the lot that we live in California; where we wear t-shirts in December and deck our trees out in some fake white shit we desperately try to pass off as snow.
Nonetheless, the wood chips under our feet, the complimentary popcorn and hot chocolate, and the smiles from all the kind workers made – more or less – for a festive and successful outing. And with that, I’ve added “vacuuming pine needles” to my daily weekly to-do list.
