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Wednesday, May 27, 2015

More Photos - Lynn

I did another photo shoot the other day. I love it. I love taking classes and learning more and more about photography and lighting. It's fun. I don't get a lot of practice because I don't promote myself (I'm shy!) but when I do I almost always have a lot of fun. This session was with little Lynn. I know her Mama so we had a blast. The same song was sung over and over. I had never heard of it, but it was hilarious to hear Mama sing it over and over while dancing behind me. The results are below! Enjoy.








Monday, May 25, 2015

Paint.

I love summer. It allows Milo to really let go of everything and have fun. I bought a bunch of finger painting supplies and ended up using every single one of them, it was too much fun to see him so alive and happy. When I snapped this photo he was at a point of complete peace. He has just been laying in the dirt and looked like he might fall asleep when I heard him mumble "happy". He sat up and I snapped this. I love this kid. 
He's awesome. 


This was Abbott watching Milo. It's weird having kids that are complete opposites. Abbott wouldn't go NEAR the table of paint. He was so grossed out!

Friday, May 15, 2015

Paste

I'm white. Very very white. 


I'm been told that I look:

Like A ghost
Like A Vampire (before they were cool)
Dead
Like Christina Ricci in Adams Family
Like A Goth
Tired
Pasty
Fair (from my mom trying to be nice about my whiteness)
Blinding
aaannnnndddd ...White. 



I have been tan once in my life. It was right before I was married 9 years ago. I worked at a landscaping company and was outside 8-10 hours a day. That's when I got engaged to Brett, so in a way I completely deceived him into thinking I have a glow at all times.

(Brett and me at his parents house when we were engaged)  

...boy was he wrong.

(5 years later when I had recently given birth to Milo. I'm with my sister and I'm the one on the right. This is in the dead of winter so that explains my sisters whiteness, but during the summer I usually look exactly the same, and my sister looks like...)
 

(THIS)


I'm not sure what it is about me that makes my skin turbo white and my sisters all nice and glow-like. I blame my dad. Take a guess at which one is my dad in the picture below...


No, you're not staring directly into the sun, that's my Dad on the right.

Don't I ever go outside? Yes, of course I do. I'm outside all summer with my kids, but you've got to remember that it took me working at a landscaping company, where I worked 10 hour days all week long to get to a glow tan or as my husband calls it "normal looking skin". My skin was just not made to look glow-like. 

Well, as part of my "getting myself together" I bought myself some tanning minutes so I can feel good and maybe stop hearing "MY EYES!" when I'm in a swim suit. I've been going for about a month and there's no change. Zip. My husband was laughing about it and suggested I start taking pictures of my progress here. 

I decided that was a fantastic idea.

I know I've already started, but I've only been about 8 times. I'll take a picture of my face, arms and legs. I'll post the results here at the end of the summer. 

I'll leave you with a picture of me riiiiiiiiiiiiiight....NOW:


Be nice. I just woke up!

Friday, May 8, 2015

He's Got My Back

You've heard the story a million times. Woman is trying on a new dress, is feeling self conscious, goes up to her husband and says the famous words "Does this dress make me look fat?". He's been told a million times what to do and without hesitation says "Whaaa??? No way! You look hot!" 

I'm TURBO self conscious. I know. It's annoying. I blame society. *shakes fist at society* Curse you society!

I always ask Brett if I look okay, which is ironic because I'm 95% of the time in my sweat pants with no make-up/smeared make-up and no bra. You'd think I'd stopped caring a long time ago. Curse you Society!! Brett always says I look good when I ask, maybe there's been an odd time where he's asked me if I've washed my hair recently, but he's usually right... it's been a while. The difference between the story at the top and my story is I believe my husband. I believe he thinks I'm the hottest thing on this earth, and even though I know I'm not (when Monica Bellucci still exists, I mean come on. That woman is ridiculous), he still makes me feel beautiful.

...and that's only one part of my life. Brett has my back in every situation. He kind of has this way of making people feel like idiots. If it's happened to you, I'm sorry, he has a gift. He oozes confidence when he goes into defensive mode and he doesn't care what people think of him. So he becomes really really good at it. Especially with people who are intentionally mean to me. He goes into mama bear mode... but husband bear...mode? For someone who is crippled with anxiety, to have someone make me feel at ease, to make me feel like I don't have to be afraid of anything, is amazing. I know that if I make some gigantic mistake he won't abandon me, he'll be beside me holding my hand.

After all this time he still looks at me with so much love in his eyes and says he's grateful he has ME! ME!? Have you met me?! He's got it all wrong, but I'm happy he's been deceived into thinking I'm a great catch. 

Did I mention we're also good friends who legit like each other? Just yesterday Brett quoted the Matrix and I responded with another Matrix quote. I started laughing because I couldn't believe we could be into the same things and be complete nerds together. Except he doesn't like Doctor Who... which doesn't make sense to me, but hey, we can't have everything we want.

He wants me to be happy. He wants to help me to get to a good place. He's so loving and kind. 
 
I'm grateful for him. I don't know how I nailed that down, but I did. 

I love you Brett. 

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Bea - 7 Month Old Session

I had a session with this adorable little peanut. I was able to finally use my lighting! It's soooo nice have studio lighting. I'm loving it!


Monday, May 4, 2015

Atheist Thoughts

Full disclosure... I consider myself an atheist. I don't believe there is a God and I don't believe there's an afterlife.There's no way I can really know these things for sure, no atheist can, but I'm leaning in that direction. 

It's very strange and sometimes scary to have this new mindset when I grew up in a devoutly religious family, and believed all of it for 29 years. It gives me this new array of emotions I didn't know I had. 

Today I had a moment of fear. Mother's Day is approaching, and with that day comes my memories of Oliver. With my new mindset I believe he died and I'm never going to know him. It's the scariest thing in the world to admit and it makes me sad if I think too hard about it. In a way I've had to re-mourn his death and say goodbye forever. It made me hold my kids a little tighter, knowing that this might be the only time I have with them. I decided to live and have joy with them right then. We had a water gun fight in the house, and then threw a Frisbee around outside for a while. I watched my kids closely. Trying to memorize their faces, each curve, each bump. Abbott was sitting on the grass with a water gun attempting to put a piece he had previously ripped off back on, dripping water all over his lap. He had such a determined look on his face. Milo was covered head to toe in dirt and he was counting to three signalling when Brett and I would throw the Frisbee to each other. He beamed every time and would laugh when we'd catch it. I allowed myself, in that moment, to soak all the joy in and feel pure happiness without fear of... anything, I guess. It was an intense feeling. I'm starting to fear death less and less, I'm not sure the fear will ever completely leave me, but when I keep having moments of complete happiness like I did today I know I'll live a fulfilling life, however long it is.

But what's the point of life, Jenny, if this is all there is?

That's a good question. The answer is different for many people. I want to better myself the best I can, help when I can, and raise my kids to be happy, good, and kind people. I'm choosing to live and live how I choose. I don't know all the things I'm going to do, and I know I'm going to make mistakes. To be honest I'm a total mess and I have a lot of learning and growth ahead of me. It's scary and exciting and I can't wait. 



Monday, April 27, 2015

I Hate Mr. Clean

Every time I smell Cleaning solution I want to barf. Lemon, Linen, Lilac, they all gross me out. They've all become a trigger for nausea, and when I use them I never feel clean. 

Why?...Poop. 

I have been cleaning up poop smeared rooms for years. Years. I couldn't even tell you how many times, I have no idea. Lately it's been very on and off, but when it's on, it's on twice a day, every day. 

What does "poop smear" even mean? Well... let me...PAINT a picture for you. This morning I woke up to Milo's poop smeared room, His big wall got it the worst with poop smeared all over it as high as Milo could reach and all the way to the floor. It looks like the wall is a beautiful shade of brown. Poo brown. But it's not just that one wall, he's left a smaller smear on every single wall in the room, don't leave anyone behind! Next is the floor, it's more difficult to see because the floor is already brown, but you can see it when the light catches it. Next is the window... it looks like chocolate ice cream has been splattered all over it, completely caked on the glass and all over the frame. I open his closet and see a few more drags. On his bed, he's rip, yet again, another plastic bed sheet and poo and pee stain his fabric mattress and dried poop is caked on the frame. Lastly, I turn to the door and see it all over the knob and light switch.

Sometimes I can clean and laugh. Sometimes it's not so bad. Today... it was bad, and I wasn't laughing. I was bawling. It took me an hour. First I take a paint scraper, and scrape off the bigger pieces, after I've done that to each wall, I sweep up all the pieces that fell on the floor. I take a bucket and fill it with water and cleaner and begin to scrub, scrub, scrub, that's the part that takes the longest and when I'm done my back is killing me. I then get some windex and start working on the window... it's my favorite one to do, and I can't believe it's possible for me to even say that, there's something satisfying about a clean window and I don't hate the smell of windex...yet. Next I soak the bed and scrub as hard as I can, I open the window to let the room begin to air out. I scrub the bed frame, the door knob, and the light switch, which I hate because poop gets suck in the small crevasses. Lastly I do the floor, which is my least favorite... first I take a paper towel and wipe away all of the big pieces. I get the mop and go over it a few times, I look over the floor to catch any pieces that are really stuck and wipe them up with a cloth. I then take any soiled sheets and rinse them in the tub and throw them in the laundry. By the end the smell of cleaner has seeped into my pours and no matter how many times I wash my hands it sticks to me. 

I need a vacation. A long one. Cleaning poo like this every day breaks your mind. It brings out the absolute worst in me and I become a monster to my kids. I don't even know why I'm writing about this. If someone told me that Milo would never poop smear again, but they would have to kill all the puppies in the world I wouldn't hesitate, I would say yes instantly. I would let every Dog on this planet die if I didn't have to clean another poo murdered room.

I need to be in Mexico lying on a beach for a week straight. 

Anyone want to clean poo for a week? 

No? 

Awesome.