me and mine | 5 of 12

"The history of our grandparents is remembered not with rose petals but in the laughter and tears of their children and their children's children. It is into us that the lives of grandparents have gone. It is in us that their history becomes a future."   ~Charles and Ann Morse

My children are fortunate to know my grandparents, their great grandparents.  They live two hours away from us and we usually go to see them.  But they made the drive up to see us on Monday, to visit here in Kingsport.  The kids enjoyed showing them all of their special places outside to play, and I enjoyed getting to visit with my grandparents.  I spent so much time with them when I was growing up.  It is just crazy to think that I'm now midway through my thirties, a grown-up myself, with children of my own to share with them, who gave me so many fond memories in my childhood.   Shawn attempted to capture a shot of all five of us -- Little Buddy and Little Lady aren't much into posing.  This one photo, however, was my favorite.  I love how my grandparents are looking at us in the middle with beautiful, happy, genuine smiles on their faces.





This is a group creative project that I participate in with fellow photographers.  Please take a few moments to spin around our circle and see how they each creatively captured an image of ME and MINE.  Next up is Hope Toliver.



I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 50mm 1.4D

stop calling me supermom

I sat on my bed, wrapped in my cocoon of down comforter and pillows, relishing the feeling of the soft satiny sheets against my skin.  I watched him ready for the end of the long, long day as we talked.  Lamplight illuminated the crisp white of the duvet, highlighting his rugged and familiar features.  It is our routine.  My comfortable.  The pattern.  I was sharing my frustrations with the day.  Frustrations with the kids.  The myriad disappointments in myself and my failure to handle it all properly, just that day.

"Stephanie said it yesterday.  Ginger said it.  April said it.  They are right."
Utter confusion.  "Said what?"
"That you're supermom.  You are.  You need to stop giving yourself such a hard time."

I hate that, you know.  I hate it when people say that to me.   I know they mean well, intend it as a compliment.  But that isn't how I take it.  It causes fiery rage to build up inside my chest, swirling inside my shoulders with no where to go.  Then the burn dissolves into a feeling of defeat.  That is the last thing I want people to think of me.  The last feeling I want to invoke in others when I'm around them.  My reaction probably seems disproportionate to you, without the backstory.

It's all such an illusion.  Oh, how Satan uses that ugly comparison to rob us of joy, to rob us of companionship, to rob us of energy.   I'm not a supermom.  I'm just like everyone else, with success and failure.  every single day.

I've tried to dissuade the illusion, in my case, before when I wrote "What I Choose Not to Do".  But a year and a half later, it feels that nothing has changed.  The same echoes follow me.  Rather than inspiring and encouraging others to live fully, joyfully, excitedly, while richly enjoying the world God has gifted us... I've discouraged.  I've made others feel less than.  Inferior.  Not good enough.  Not a good enough mom.  Not a good enough wife.  Not a good enough cook.  Not a good enough homemaker.  Not a good enough photographer.  Not a good enough "fill in the blank".

I value authenticity so much.  I choose to be vulnerable.  I choose to bare my soul.  I try really hard to share both  my failures as well as my successes, with anyone I encounter.  I pray that God uses me to shine His love and Jesus through me.

But sometimes I just feel defeated.  Perhaps that is only Satan's whispers, to discourage me in this mission of inspiring others to live LIFE and not run down the hamster wheel of drudgery.  I try, and yet each step feels like trying to walk up a hill of sand, with each step moved by such effort but making no forward progress.

You view from the outside and call me supermom.  You don't see my failures.

In college, I learned about the impostor syndrome.  Our phenomenal "Intro to Chemical Engineering Principles" professor told us about it, and we all sat there stupefied.  The private workings of our inner selves was just laid bare before every else, and yet, apparently every single one of us also felt the very same way.  I believe it is quite common for those who pursue advanced degrees in any field.  Impostor Syndrome is where you feel like the things you've accomplished, and are able to accomplish, are not because of your own ability but just sheer luck or coincidence.  You operate at the verge of fear, wondering at which point the bubble will burst and everyone will see you for the lack that you are.  You are an impostor, a fraud, and others think much more highly of you than you warrant.  Dr. Richard Felder introduced the concept to me, and its impact was huge on my heart.  But I always associated it with engineering.  Academia.  Never  motherhood... homemaking... life in general.

After college, life went on.  I was an Engineer, and I failed at that.  Miserably.  There was no pretending I felt a fraud.  I was a fraud!  I had made it through college, quite successfully, only to find I made a horrible engineer.  It was public and known.  It was embarrassing.  Eventually, I resigned from the corporate life and thought I'd left the Impostor Syndrome behind.  I continued to live, being a wife, then a mom, all while pursuing other things that interested my creative soul.  I love to live life in community, and share the things I find that bring me joy.  I do.  I just love to share.  And I have, and I do, often.

It is only recently that I made the connection of the Impostor Syndrome to my thirsty-something life as a  wife, mother, homemaker, artist.  The Impostor Syndrome is rampant!  Comparison is rampant.  Jealousy is rampant.  It is driving wedges between people, destroying friendships and companionships, and generating hoards of women who are isolated and lonely.  It must stop!

You call me supermom, but you don't see my failures.  Not because I hide them, but by the sheer fact that you aren't there.  You aren't present for the mistakes in the moments of everyday life.  Just like you, I am tempted to feel like I'm not enough, waiting until someone figures that out.

You didn't see how I yelled at them and lost my cool when they made a mistake.  You didn't see how I didn't feel like cleaning up and left the cutting board with watermelon juice and rinds on the counter, along with the remnants of lunch, and awoke to an army of ants having a field day in the kitchen.  You didn't see how I didn't do the laundry for a week and how my husband had to wear the crummy, worn out underwear from the bottom of the drawer (and never said one word to me about it).  You didn't see how the pile of undone household paperwork now surpasses my own height.  You didn't see how I let them go to bed having just brushed their own teeth themselves, rather than me going behind to make sure, because I just didn't feel like doing it that night.  You don't see my impatience at their own 4 and 6 year old lack of perfection.  You didn't see how I've let them watch way too much tv so I could have some time to myself.  You didn't see the cobwebs that adorn every corner on my home because I've not dusted in... well, ever.  You didn't see the tears I cry way more often that I care to confess, over ten million and one things that aren't like I expected.  You didn't see how I've not come under-budget in our Grocery/Household budget EVER in the last 12 years of our marriage.  You didn't see that my house never looks neat and clean, but rather like a tornado has come through.  You didn't see the point where my sanity snapped because my house is always a cluttered mess and that makes me crazy.  You didn't see how I lost my temper.  You didn't see my poor, selfish attitude in my heart even when I do the 'right' things.  You don't see my exasperation at not being able to do everything I feel pressured to do.  You don't see the ugliness in my heart.

Last Tuesday was an incredibly frustrating day for me.  The drama that came out of the Little Lady was just too much for me to handle.  I failed, horribly.  I tried, so hard, but oh how mightily I failed.  I grew up in a home where emotions were not tolerated.  Drama was tamped down upon eruption, period.  Crying over something not going your way was unacceptable.  I never, ever wanted to do that to my children.  Their emotions were to be theirs, right or wrong.  I do believe emotions can be wrong, but that doesn't negate the impact of their feeling.  My plan was to let them have their irrational emotions.  Not to bend or sway to them, but to allow them to feel the injustice from their point of view.  God has surely given me much practice in this philosophy with the Little Lady.  Oh my, how much drama has taken place in her nearly five short years.

The torrent of tears generated by completely ridiculous things was fierce last Tuesday.  After spending nearly two whole weeks with another person for 24 hours a day, my introvert self was operating on a live wire.  The reserve from which I draw to deal with these situations was tapped dry.  Bone dry.  At some point, I snapped, and she saw it.  Which only makes it way, way worse for her... and me.  We endured the remainder of the day some how, with many, many failings on my part.  At the close of the day, she sat on her bed ready for me to approach to read the bedtime story.  Her big eyes become misty and she looks up at me.  She says,

"Momma, I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble today."

Nearly seven days later and my eyes still prick with tears when I think of this.  I failed her.  Lord God, forgive me.  I failed her.

She did - cause me trouble that day. She was an emotional basket-case and I just couldn't handle it.  I was short, hateful, rude, selfish, intolerant.... everything I'd not want her to be.  Everything.  There was no grace. The next morning, I came across this quote and literally felt my heart pierced in two.


"The attitude you have as a parent is what your kids will learn from, more than what you tell them. They don't remember what you try to teach them.  They remember what you are."
- Jim Henson

What have I taught them, with my own attitudes and impatience and shortcomings?  I can tell them about how I want their character to be, but what have I taught them with how I handle frustrations and adversity?  I've taught them everything I don't want to teach them.

I share all this because I don't want you to see me as Supermom.  I'm not.  I'm so not.  I do like to do things, and I like to share them with others.  I love photography and I love to share that with others.  I love life and I want my kids to have an amazing childhood, and I want to share that with others - inspire others to BE and PLAY with their family more.  The time we have with them is so, so short, though it feels so long in the moment.  I want to inspire others to be more intentional with their time.  I want to inspire people to be real and authentic and parent their children in the ways of character, rather than appearance.

But I never, ever want to make others feel that what they already are is not enough.

Stop comparing.  Stop gazing at someone else's green grass.  You don't know.  You don't know their struggles.  You can't know their heart.  We are all on equal ground.  We all have the same amount of time as everyone else.  We've all been given different talents and abilities.  Let's share and encourage each other with that, not shame and isolate.  I suffer from the same fears as you.  The Impostor Syndrome calls my name and silently whispers doubt into my heart daily.  Let's fight that pesky dude together.  Let's work together to find the true Source that collects all our failure and triumphs through it.   This ache, this void, the places where we fail?  They all point to something.  Do you know what that is?




I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

kindred spirits

I think I'm an unusual twist of a person.  I feel I'm a big bundle of paradoxes.  Perhaps that's just the wonder of the me that God created... perhaps it's my burden to overcome.  I'm not sure yet.  I often feel I don't fit in.   In so many ways I'm just too much for those I know.

I'm logical, methodical, scientifically minded, mathematically geared, insanely and always curious, with an engineering "let's make this work better" approach to the things I encounter in life.  Yet I have this artistic component that screams inside of me if I try to deny it.  The artist doesn't reconcile with the scientist.  I feel so incredibly deeply and seem to be so sensitive to the emotions and feelings of others, almost as if I absorb them myself.  I am always thinking.  Thinking thinking thinking.  I was musical (I miss that).  Making and Creating with my hands, whether it be art or crafts or photography or cooking, makes me so blissfully happy.  I cannot process how I feel about anything without writing about it.  Ever.  There are times when things come into my brain and I cannot function in any other arena of life until I sit down and let those words get out and down on "paper".  It is as if those words bouncing around in my subconscious are alive themselves, fighting with the normal processes of life.  They engage in battle, relentlessly, until they win and dominate my attention enough to find their exit, with the definitive and satisfying black and white of true prose.  (There is such relief when I submit to the need.  When I sit down, write, let it out, and it is finished.  Such sweet relief)

When I'm making friends, I yearn for deep, deep soul connection.  I seek someone who understands the depths of my inner world, and exists on a plane that is so much more than surface shallowness.  Who understands the drive to create, compose, and feel, all within the paradoxical confines of science, math, order, and perfectionism.  I need someone who can relate to this paradoxical pull of scientist and artist.  I need someone who is authentic, genuine, honest and pure, and doesn't engage in loathsome smalltalk.

The internet world of photography is quite interesting.  There is a whole network of folks who have connected online.  You learn together.  You share.  You grow together.  You have similarities.  Common interests.  Common goals.  You discuss.  You encourage.  It all exists within the confines of words.  The back and forth dialogue of words - what I love.  It feels like a perfect fit for me.  Yet, that act of sharing of your art... that you have carefully created and nurtured... it is such a risk.  You are so vulnerable.  The rejection of something that is so close to your soul can wound your heart fiercely.  That vulnerability generates a sense of camaraderie, I believe, at least for those who create out of their hearts.  I love it.

However, it is still online.  Virtual.  There is a wall you cannot breach, for you are not in the same place.  You don't hear the inflection in their words.  You cannot infer from their facial expressions and body language.  You never really know for sure if it is all real.  I've been immersed in the online photography land long enough to see the claws come out, once someone has stepped on a land mine.  Niceties and masks are put aside with real character bared.  I've been victim of false friendships myself- when they use you until they've pulled from you what they need and then drop you.  Falsehood and deception and ugly jealousy.  It is really quite fascinating how very much "high school" it can all feel.  Apparently we never really leave that behind.  My interactions in the online photography world are always tempered with the uncertainty of if it is all genuine.  The threat is always lurking.

I "met" this photographer friend, Ginger, a year ago, when I took the Finding the Light Workshop.  It really surprises me that we didn't cross paths sooner in our photography journeys.  Our passions are so similar.  Motherhood.  Homemaking.  Documenting Childhood in beautiful ways.  Cherishing the real moments.  Instilling in their hearts a sincere love of Jesus.  And both of us approach it all coming from a non-artistic background.

We just "clicked" in the workshop and thanks to the wonders of technology and the internet, we've continued to grow our friendship.  We've encouraged each other in our photography journeys,  we've encouraged each other in our motherhood, we've encouraged each other in our Faith in and walk with God.  It has been a blessed year for me in getting to know her.  She oozes authenticity.  And that is something I value so highly in my friends.  When the threat of insincerity is always lurking in online photography land, she has been a beacon of pure light for me.  I am so thankful to call her friend.

We had planned our annual vacation this year as our first family trip to Disney World in Florida.  When I realized just how close this friend lives to Disney, there was no way we could pass up the opportunity to meet her.  I'm proud of Shawn for being willing to take our whole family there.  He has been more leery of online dealings than I ever have, but he trusted me, for I trusted her.  When you've seen the day by day images of life with someone, over a long time, you just know.  She wasn't some creepy old man in his mother's attic, typing away on his computer, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and dirty magazines.  She was real, and safe.

It was amazing.  Simply amazing.  She looked just like her photos.  Her children were real life versions of the beautiful images I've viewed for a year, and they were just like the photos.  Their sweet spirits just shined through.  Kindred spirits, we all were.  The two of us just click.  We get it.  We are on that same plane.  The kids all clicked like crazy.  It was just too cool.  But the biggest surprise and bonus for me was that the husbands clicked, too.  I adore this family.  Absolutely adore them, and I just hate that they live so very far from us.  I know Shawn had dreaded having to spend an evening and day with a family he knew absolutely nothing about, but it ended up being just fantastic.  We all enjoyed it so much.

I am so thankful we were given the opportunity to meet in person and further forge our friendship.  I love how God uses technology and the internet for His ways.  He brought us, and now our families, together.  I am excited to see where that path will go.

Now I need to find a way to make it all the way across the country to San Francisco to visit my other fellow scientist artist kindred spirit Jayme Franklin and her children. I'd bet my morning coffee our meeting would turn out just the same!










I shot these with my Nikon D800
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4D
Sigma 30mm f1.4

Letters to my Children | to them Both | 5 of 12

One of my creative projects for 2013 is Letters to my Children.  A monthly commitment to write a letter to one or both of them.  This has been something I've meant to do their entire lives and I'm grateful that this project has given me the activation energy to go ahead and do it!  Here is May's letter, and here you can find the past letters.



May 15, 2013

Dear Little Buddy and Sweet Pea,

It wasn't our intention to have you both so close together.  In fact, if I'd had it my way, you wouldn't have been.  Yet here is another grand example of how God's ways and timing supersedes the illusion of wisdom on our part.  He knew what you both would need and He acted, and oh, how I am grateful for that.  With the trouble my body had while trying to conceive Little Buddy, we were advised to begin trying to conceive the Little Lady as soon as possible.  We did.  So very much to our surprise, Sweet Pea, you were conceived instantly.  And thus, you'd both be twenty months apart.

We were so excited that we were expecting a new little life again (and without the long struggle this time!), but we were quite anxious about the age difference.  Little Buddy, you were very much still a baby when the Little Lady was born.  You were still four whole months from two!  In the land of toddlers, four months is a whole lot of time for change and development.  You weren't even speaking more than a handful of words when she arrived!

Those who had experienced the blessing of having children very close together would encourage us when they would see us out with our baby and see me obviously pregnant.  We heard them, but I don't think we truly believed them, or perhaps this is another case where you just can't understand it until you've experienced it first hand.  They warned us that the first few years when both were really babies would be hard.  Real hard.  But then, the reward would come.  The two of you would be so close.  Would be each other's best friends and just truly enjoy each other.



They were right, of course.  So many times during the trials of two babies (I really cannot fathom twins!), I wanted to scream and cry out to these latent encouragers.  "You said it would be get easier!!!!  You said this would end up good!!!  Where is the good!?"  Don't misunderstand.  You were both always wonderful and perfect.  But let's just say that I'd call both of you high needs babies.  Neither of you ever just sat and chilled out, like so many of the babies and toddlers I see when we go out.  Ever.  Both were always on the move.  Always curious. Never napping!!! Always demanding.  And always very loud about whatever wasn't happening the instant you wanted it to happen.  Perhaps I just have a very low tolerance for crying.  Who knows.  But those first few years when you were both still so young, were truly quite challenging for us.

I anxiously awaited that day when the two of you would start to interact and enjoy each other.  I remember, vividly, one of the first times that I realized you two adored each other - and I mean, adored!!! -  and we may be over that difficult hump.  Little Buddy tromped around the playset in the playroom while Little Lady crawled after and giggled - no.  Giggle isn't the right word.  Full on belly laughed -  her head off.  It was one of the first glimmers of hope that all the struggle would be worth it.  Oh, how it has been!  (here's that video. I dare you to watch it and not giggle with her!)

You two are so very much each other's best friend.  You absolutely love each other.  You want to share everything together.  You like the same things and the same activities.  When something awesome happens, you can't wait to share it with the other.  The love you feel toward each other, today, nearly five years later, makes every single moment of struggle and despair worth it.  That you two have each other - oh, it just makes my heart swell with joy.










Sweet Pea misses her big brother like cuhrazeeee when he is at school.  On her non-preschool days, she asks non stop if it is time to go get him.  She is lonely without him.  Any activity she gets to do, she wants Little Buddy to come, too.  Any gift or treat, she wants to share, to.  She loves him.  And he loves her.  Little Buddy loves to teach her things.  Show her things.  Boss her around a little bit.  : )

That is not to say there is never conflict.  You two can bicker like the best of them!  Oh, how we are weary of the bickering!!!  For two kids who love each other so much, you sure can get on each other's nerves!







I had hoped to capture a few of those moments when I took the two of you out this afternoon for these photos, to capture your relationship.  And they were there, most certainly.  Sweet Pea, you retreat to isolation when you are upset.  So I got your back as you stomped away for a few moments until you decided you were over it.  I never managed to capture your incredibly expressive face in your anger and disappointment.  One bonus to your feminine emotionality, however, is that you are preparing your big brother to be a good and patient husband one day.  Sometimes our feminine emotions don't make sense and we need our men to just go with it.  Little Buddy is certainly having lots of practice.







Words are inadequate to describe how much I love the two of you.  And words are also inadequate to describe how powerful I feel about your relationship.  How thankful I am that God has blessed us with both of you, and blessed you with each other.  I couldn't possibly ask for more.  You two bless my soul each and every day.







I love you.  No! I love YOU more!

love, Momma



The eloquent Amy Grace of A Beautiful Life Photo is up next in our group creative project.  Visit her!

ordinary everyday

The absense of my 10-on-10 creative project, and the addition of the iPhone to my life,  have worked together to create a neglect of 'real' real-life photos in my world.  When we were coloring the other day, and the light was so wonderful, and she was so pretty, I grabbed my phone and clicked away...

I love Instagram. No, I mean I LOOOOooooooOOOOOoove instagram.  I love the challenge of beautifully sharing our everyday, real moments, and getting that interaction and connection with those I care about.

However... I realized the other day when this happened, that we were home.  We had no where else to be.  There was NO REASON I shouldn't be shooting those images with my real camera, and not just the iPhone.  So away I ran to my beloved camera, and away I shot.

I love her.  I love her beauty and the way the light captures that.  I love how she loves art.  I love her focus.  I lover everything about these.