This funny thing happened as soon as I started my business. I stopped taking photographs of my own life.
People warned me this would happen. And frankly? I didn’t believe them.
While I’ve fallen in love with the business of telling the everyday stories of families, I don’t want it to eclipse the stories of my own.
So I’m embracing the reason I picked up a camera in the first place and starting a new personal project. I’m calling it “Stories of Family.” It’s a weekly documentary frame paired with words of something happening in the life of my family.
It’s just for me. And my family. But I’ll share it here, too (so you can kick me in the butt if I stop posting!).
Without further ado, here’s September:
Celebrating the end of summer with a broken arm, some yoga, and a treadmill workout. You know, the usual. It blows my mind that Robo was using the treadmill to escape “Mr. Grabby Hands” at beginning of the summer and now Peanut is scaling everything in sight.
This kid. I have no words for the joy he bring into our house everyday. He throws himself into every new task with fearless abandon, never seeming to heed caution, physical limitations, or his brother’s loud (and sometimes physical) admonishments. He shares his smiles and laugh freely, and he makes our house so much brighter. Happy birthday, sweet peanut.
Our first night of backyard camping was a success. Although Robo declared he didn’t like the “poke” from the fire, s’mores were a hit. As usual, Peanut was ever fascinated by his big brother. The lesson of the night? Refusing to sleep in a sleeping bag during a Minnesota summer is not a good idea. Peanut and I came down to breakfast in the morning to find Robo bundled in his winter jacket over his bowl of cereal.
On Friday, Robo loaded into the car to head home for lunch. As we pulled out of the parking lot he said, “Mama, can we make a train picture after naptime?” “Sure bud,” I said. “What gave you that idea?” A story came tumbling out about how an older child had drawn a train picture for another child but hadn’t made one for him. Perhaps it was the protective parent in me, but he seemed a little bummed. The idea got lost in the shuffle on Friday, but on Saturday we set out to draw our train. As we were drawing and coloring together, Robo insisted that he wanted to give the drawing to the other child. I wrote the note he dictated. “Dear Will, Whoa-win wuvs Will. Have a good day! Wuv Whoa-win.” He lovingly placed the drawing in his backpack and then talked about how excited he was to deliver it to Will on Monday. If I could bottle up just an ounce of his thoughtfulness and empathy the world would be a much better place.
I had the privilege of taking photographs for Robo’s school the other day. I’ve heard so many stories about his days and friends and shenanigans, and it was so much fun to watch him in action. Food work, not surprisingly, is a favorite and it clears up our exchange over breakfast the other morning: “Mama, I don’t need to finish breks-pix because I can eat at kool.” Robo was conscientious and concentrated doing “banana work,” blowing me kisses across the classroom. The only hiccup? The little guy burst into tears when I left.