Keep Today

There are so many things to fit into a weekend. Today we did them all. Shopping, playing, hiking, napping, eating, cleaning, decorating... It was beautiful and warm for a change and I can't think of anything better than a Sunday filled with sunshine, baby laughs, tail wags, sweet smiles and memories.
I hope that the people who live in our house next wake up early enough on a Sunday to catch the way the light fills the den and invites you in for coffee and I hope that when the house is really quiet, they can almost hear the squeals of my baby's happy laugh as it filled our house today. I wish it was possible to wrap up pieces of your life and save them for another day. I want to keep today.

What is "Better" When Taking Photos?

I love taking pictures. Most of the time I think that I take a good shot but I really want to improve. My husband bought me a Canon EOS 60D for Christmas the year our son was born. That obviously made an improvement in the quality of my pictures and I find myself looking back on some of our travels wishing that I'd had it long ago. But hardware (or software) aside, I want to improve my skills composing shots and capturing moments on camera that will remind me years from now of the little things, like the way my baby wrinkled his nose when he was laughing. I'm not sure that can be taught. Some people may never master it or maybe it just improves with experience.

Exhibit A

 

I have not mastered using the self-timer. The above photo captured my frantic rush to pose for our annual "family in front of the tree" shot. I probably should have used it as our Christmas card. It does do a pretty good job of capturing our personalities. This was a few years ago but I'm still not great at using the timer and therefore most pictures of our baby are missing the parent behind the lens.

 

Exhibit B

 



I'm seeing a pattern here. Poorly posed in front of the tree shot. I mean, it's not easy to pose a baby and have them resist the urge to move or, in this case, try to tip out of the bumpo chair. How then, did I manage to capture the Blue Angels in the photo below as they roared by us? If you've ever been to a Blue Angels air show I'm sure you understand that isn't easy to do.

 

I know that there are many options for classes to improve your photo taking ability. I really do intend to take one. There is also the option that I take the time to really study the manual that I haven't made the time to look through. I don't want to look back on the baby pictures that I have and wish that I'd known some breakthrough tip that would have made them so much better. Is there such a tip?

Until I find time in my day for studying, it seems that trial and error will have to do. All I want are the memories and those should include funny mishaps, right? 

If I looked, I Might Never Leap

 It has been a week since I decided to join the NaBloPoMo March writing challenge on BlogHer. I hadn't been posting regularly and thought it would be a great way to motivate myself. It has been a lot of work! I've spent most of naptime each day writing and reflecting on the daily writing prompts focused on risk. Today's question is Do you always look before you leap?

I just got off the phone with our realtor and set up an appointment to meet about listing our house that I adore and do not have any desire to move from. I'm sure this is part of the reason that I've been feeling so sentimental lately. I've found myself going around the house and taking photos of the way the flowers on the table in the hall look in the afternoon with the sun streaming in on them, or the way that I can see the baby photos of my son on the stairway wall reflected in the kitchen mirror. I regret not having more photos like this of our previous houses and I'm determined not to forget these little details that make me smile. It doesn't seem like I should feel this way. We are a military family. If anything, shouldn't it be getting easier to leave each house? This brings me back to today's question. Is it just that I'm "looking" too much and that is making it hard to prepare for the big leap that I know I'm going to have to make?

I took this picture of my husband jumping off a cliff from the safety of shore. There is no similar picture of me flying through the air because instead of climbing up there and trying it, I let all of the what-if scenarios make me too afraid to. If I hadn't been worried about getting hurt with no access to medical care anywhere within the next several hours, maybe I would have gone for it. (I'm not saying I was wrong in this case as there really was no one or no way to help anyone that got hurt at the swimming spot we were at in this photo.) The point is, for me to take the plunge literally or figuratively, I have to stop overthinking and letting my own thoughts get in the way. As a military family facing yet another move, it becomes necessary to forget that homes have more than just walls and windows and move on to the next chapter without so much melodrama no matter how much my sentimental side wants to create it. We just don't have the luxury of crying over how much we'll miss things that most families probably don't even realize they love about their houses or their towns.

 How many experiences do we miss out on in our lifetimes by fretting over the possible outcomes? If I took the time to analyze just how many times I'd actually get together with my neighbors before we were packing up and moving, I might never bother to meet any of them. If I really reflected on how much changes in two years, I might be paralyzed with the fear of what could happen to my family while I no longer live nearby to help them. This type of thinking is what would cause me to fear change no matter how many fun times will come with it. When I see the pictures of our vizsla, Scout diving off the dock at the lake, it amazes me how he took the leap into the water after running from way down the dock after a toy we threw for him. Maybe it has to be chosen carefully but when the moment comes, we need to know it's time to fly through the air just for the fun of it and for the reward that is waiting when we land.



Our House in Yemen

Some would say that the riskiest thing I have ever done was spend a year living in Yemen. I'm not sure I can really catalogue my life choices in a way that one particular thing stands out as the riskiest but I'm not about to claim that living in Yemen was safe either.
We lived in the bottom two floors of the house pictured above. We had an enormous amount of space for just the two of us. It was crazy trying to clean it. For a time we had a local woman help us with housekeeping but it was too difficult for me to communicate with her and she did things like use my gallon Shout stain remover, that I'd meant to last me 2 years, in one week. (She cleaned our floors with it!) It was such a hard decision to let her go because we knew the poverty experienced by so many in Yemen. I then struggled for our remaining time there to clean a house full of marble, always covered in the thick dust that only someone that has lived there can comprehend.

I felt more at risk at some times than others. For the most part we worked during the day and watched satellite television shows at night. Our house was on a walled compound and we had two guards that stayed in a little house at our gate. I never had the courage to host any of our family members in our huge house. I guess I felt that the risk was worth the experience for me but wasn't willing to extend an invitation to take the same risk to my family.

 I wish I could have shared with them the view from our rooftop of local children playing soccer on a dusty, trash covered field at sunset. As the sun went down and they were backlit by it in a way that was blinding to look at, you could squint and forget for a minute where you were. The sounds of children playing are the same everywhere and their happy noise kicking a ball was calming to me especially after days that I was out and about in the noisy city, trying so hard not to draw too much attention to myself.
I took many pictures of children while we lived in Yemen. I look back on them every so often and can't help but wonder where they are and who they became.

 

As many photos as I have of children smiling and happy in a way only children can be like the photos of the boys above, I have photos with faces that haunt me as much today as they did 8 years ago. 

  

 It's difficult to consider that living in Yemen is the riskiest thing I have ever done when I try to imagine the path that some of these lives might have taken.

A Stone, A Leaf, A Circus Tent?

Thomas Wolfe's 1929 novel Look Homeward, Angel  begins, "... a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; of a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces." I've always thought it is one of the greatest first lines. I hadn't read the book until I decided to apply to Cornell in 1999.
There were a few choices of essay questions in the application packet. The one I chose was something along the lines of: A stone, a leaf, an unfound door.. What three items describe you? 

I didn't tell anyone that I was applying to Cornell. I was embarrassed that I had so much secret confidence. After all, I was 23 years old and finishing my two year degree at a community college after dropping out of THREE other schools and quitting too many jobs to count. I knew that I was ready and able but I guess I just didn't think other people saw me that way. (See admissions counselor below)
I decided to write my admissions essay in a way that most truly showed who I was. I wasn't a third generation Cornell family member, my family wasn't going to fund a new building on campus, and I was not my class valedictorian- seven years earlier when I graduated from high school. I was a good student, I wanted to learn from professors who wrote the textbook for their class and I wanted to experience life at one of the best schools in the country. The only thing I had to risk other than my application fee was my pride.

I wrote my essay in the format "Yesterday I was, Today I am, and Tomorrow I will be." The items that I used were pretty creative and I know that I stood out from the other "forgotten faces" when the admissions committee read my first line. It read simply, "Yesterday, I was a circus tent." I went on to describe how at any given moment you could find a lion, roaring with pride or a tightrope walker, being careful to plan each step carefully, afraid to make the wrong move. I somehow described that I was a microscope today seeing my life and path clearly and in detail and finally, I wrote that tomorrow I would be a landslide with nothing able to change my path. I very accurately described my past and present but of course I was naive about my future and just how many times my path would veer, be redirected, and at times even seem to be halted!

To this day I believe that my essay played a large part in my admission to Cornell. Surely, many other applicants had grades as high as mine, SAT or other scores to beat mine, or more to pad their resumes. I am certain that not a single other student used a circus tent to describe who they were. If they did I need to meet them. I'm so glad that I was honest about the real me at the risk of being rejected or even laughed at. My decision to write in my own way and not how I thought the Ivy League might want to hear me paid off in the best way.


Cornell- High above Cayuga's Waters

After being accepted, I visited the campus to meet in person with an admissions counselor in my specific school. She talked to me as if she had objected to my admission! It was a lot of, "People that come here from small towns tend to get overwhelmed," and "If I had accepted you I would have required another math before entry." I drove four hours home that April day wondering why there had been no congratulations, no advice for best classes, no secret handshake. I was packing up my life and moving there in a few months and now I felt like it had been some sort of mistake. My first experience at Cornell was one of the counselors basically telling me that there was no way I was going to make it there. I swear, every semester that I made the Dean's List I wanted to email her and I just may have stuck my tongue out at her as I processed past her in my cap and gown on the way to my graduation in the stadium two years later.

On the track at Schoellkopf Field at Cornell

The risk I took by putting myself out there to face rejection paid off in a way that changed my life forever. But, if someone were to ask me today, ...a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; what three items describe you? I'm thinking about it.....

If You're Lucky

What is the greatest reward that can come from risk? I'm sure the answer is different for each and every one of us. Is it life after facing death? Someone needing surgery might think so. Is it having a lot of money after making a financial decision? Ask a wise investor. Is it freedom and prosperity after fleeing a bad situation? Our country is full of people who would say yes. Or is it nothing more than the knowledge that a personal choice in life led to a greater life? For those who are fortunate and carefully weigh their options when taking a risk, there are rewards.

Of course there is also the possibility that great risk leads to misfortune, undesirable circumstances, or even tragedy and lives are cut short all too often from risky behaviors whether it's not wearing a seat belt, using drugs, eating a terrible diet, or smoking.
For me the choice to take a risk must be accompanied by the likelihood of a great reward of some type. Buying homes must promise a good chance of being able to sell it when the military tells us we have to move. Deciding what my family will do is always based on what will be best in what we like to think of as the long run. (Even if the longest "run" we have had anywhere is three years!)

My husband is a Marine. The life of someone in the military is so full of risk yet the rewards are often nothing more than pride in a mission completed. There are times when the reward after a long day's work is survival. It seems unfair sometimes for me to consider the day to day risks I choose to take in order to achieve or obtain something knowing how different the risks are for some.

Tour guides at Shahara, Yemen

One of the best hiking experiences we ever had when we lived in Yemen was a hike to Shahara Bridge. We climbed an enormous mountain with a group of American friends, Yemeni guides, and a group of armed Yemeni military guards. It was so remote, so incredibly rugged that it is difficult for me to believe I have been there. The danger facing hikers to the bridge is first and foremost falling to their death and I believe that in the photo above where I'm sitting on the edge of a canyon above the bridge, I have my arm braced on the rocks behind me as though I was aware of that then.

After reaching the bridge at Shahara, Yemen

There was also the distinct possibility that as Americans we might not have received a warm welcome by the locals. Terrible things could have happened to our group on that hike but fortunately nothing did. We had a great adventure that I'm sure none of us will ever forget. Did friends that stayed home feel the risk was too great to take the hike with us but then regret their decision, having missed such an experience? I don't blame anyone who believed the reward was not enough to risk taking the trip. We all exhausted ourselves with the climb and then slept on the floor in one room and shared a bathroom with a hole in the floor for a toilet. I'm grateful that my 2005 self felt that the reward was worth the risk because I don't think my 2013 self would.
Risk is as unique to each person as rewards are. Do I believe the saying that with great risks come great rewards? The only answer I can think of is, if you're lucky.

The Cake Looked like a Hamburger

Burger Patty Brownie Cake

How to Make a Hamburger Cake Without Trying:

This is not a post about a recipe that resulted in something as beautiful as it was delicious. It's not that I don't appreciate that kind of post. I really do. But on this particular occasion, the product of my delicious idea actually ended up looking like fast food.
I searched online for recipes for a cake that had a brownie layer. I found many but the brownie was either baked in as a batter, crumbled in pieces, or swirled through. I wanted to make a cake that was cake, brownie, cake, in that order. So using box cake mix and boxed brownie mix, that is what I did.
I simply cut out the pan of brownie to fit the cakes and stacked them. As you can see, it wasn't one of those beautiful Pinterest cakes that friends would be impressed with. To me, it looked like a hamburger. The yellow cakes looked like two golden buns and the brownie layer looked like a well cooked hamburger patty.
After frosting, it was a cute cake with an amazing chocolate brownie surprise that I would highly recommend adding to your next plain old cake. I used a homemade chocolate cream cheese frosting to essentially glue the burger/brownie in place as you would cheese, ketchup, or mayo. Someone more talented could really go all out and decorate the cake with burger toppings made of sweets like fondant lettuce and cheese. The bun could easily be frosted in a way that included sesame seed candies. You get the idea.
So, in case you were wondering, this is how to make a hamburger cake for your next kids' party, for the Jughead in your life, or just because it is kind of funny.

Party Planning 2.0: Why do Babies Have to Grow?

First Birthday Banner

We found out yesterday that we are moving to Atlanta in July. I'm happy to finally be able to focus my planning on an actual place since it seems like for months of knowing when but not where the military was going to move us, I've been imagining us living in what was a combination of many places at once. I know nothing about Atlanta. I need to find a new house, new doctors, dog parks, places to play and shop, and a million other things that I'm not thinking of right now.

Instead of planning a move, I just want to plan my son's birthday party. A year ago at this time, I had decided on details for his puppy dog tails themed first birthday. I began the banner pictured here of his monthly photos. I created a board on Pinterest to help pick colors and help design his cake. His birthday is in May so I was ahead of the game but still had a lot more to do. I don't have a banner or a party planned for this year. In fact, I don't even know if we will still live in this house. I have no regrets about either of those things. What I can't figure out is why I stopped taking the monthly photos?! I guess it was because the numbered onesie stickers ran out but as you can see I made labels for each month's photo so that couldn't be the only reason.

 It's not that I haven't taken thousands of photos of him this year and could easily arrange them by month. I could, but I'm not. I can only guess that I stopped cataloging his growth once I began to realize how insanely fast it is happening. Like every mom, I am finding myself wishing for the impossible. I want him to stay just the way he is every day. I just don't want to be reminded that the days are passing by!