“It’s a boy!” the sonographer exclaimed as I lay on a table with globs of cold, clear jelly on my expanding belly.  My husband was relieved.  I was heartbroken.  I already had one boy so I was hoping for that magical equation where baby number two was a girl.  Sure, I lied to everyone who asked and said I would love either.  I’m like everyone else and just assumed the odds would be in my favor for that perfect set of children.  My husband would have our first child to go to races and play video games with; I would have a girl to craft and shop with. By the time my due date came (and went… my second son was 10 days past his due date…. boys) I had come to terms with the gender.  I loved him of course!  He was my baby.  Still, a part of me wasn’t as connected to him during my pregnancy as I had been to Fletcher.  I worried that I would never be able to love him as much as I loved Fletcher.  How could I?  I loved Fletcher an overwhelming amount, I would cry sometimes just thinking about how much I loved him.  I didn’t think I had any more love than that to give.  I wasn’t anxious for him to come, in fact, I enjoyed his tardiness because the later he was the longer I had with my beloved Fletcher.  We cuddled for weeks before my due date because I knew life was changing in a big way. Everett entered the world peacefully in the comfort of my bedroom after a quick 4 hours, 45 minutes of labor.  I fell in love all over again and he was instantly as much a part of my family as I or my husband or Fletcher. What everyone said about your heart expanding and your love growing with each child was right.  I didn’t love Fletcher any less than before his brother was born but I loved his new brother just as much.  I had no reason to worry at all!

These days I find myself grateful that life dealt us two boys.  Each day I watch their bond grow stronger and see them both growing into little boys with distinct personalities.  Fletcher is my goofball, my comedian, my social butterfly, my cuddle obsessed young man.  Everett is the “baby,” he is brave and fearless, a little mini-me of his brother, and a sensitive soul.  He also sucks at sharing.  Before Everett came into our lives I knew already that Fletcher was meant to be an older brother- he needed someone as a playmate and partner and he was a nurturing little boy.  It is clear that I was right.  He thrives as a big brother.  Since Everett is no longer a baby he has taken to accosting babies in public to coddle and I catch him helping them in public play areas.  It make my mommy heart proud.   The older the boys get the closer they become.  I tell my boys that “having a brother is like having a built in best friend for life.” and often remind them to stick together.  I want their friendship to last a lifetime. Lately I’ve noticed that they choose to spend time together, that they miss one another when one is gone, and that they are teaming up to create elaborate games and adventures.  Everett asks when “bro bro” will be home from school.  Fletcher translates his brother’s fragmented words and gestures for us “Mom he SAID he wants a SANDWICH!”   They are concocting obstacle courses from pillows and will hang out in a fort for long stretches of time just laughing about who knows what or playing Angry Birds. Each time I witness them offer up affection unprovoked I can’t help but be in awe of their relationship and kick myself for ever being disappointed in having a second son.   Who decides what makes up a perfect family?  I’m ashamed to admit that I bought into the tripe being fed to me by family and even passing strangers about the baby yet to be born.  Having two boys is the most fun, most amazing, most perfect family I could have.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So to anyone reading this right now who might have those same feelings of disappointment over gender, or the fear that you can’t love your second baby as much as you love your first I’m here to tell you that those feelings will pass.   It is magical and powerful and indescribable how much you fall in love all over again when a new baby is born.  It saddens me how often I’ve heard strangers and family push their gender expectations onto pregnant women- if you have done it, even innocently, think again before you say “Oh I just know this baby has to be a boy, you already have two girls!”  It might not sound malicious but you are fueling the hopes a mother might be having, you are putting an expectation on them that is in no way something that have control over, and if that mother ends up with a third girl, you are part of the voice in their head that makes them wonder what is wrong with them?  Why weren’t the odds in their favor?  Every mother deserves to be overjoyed about their pregnancy.  Families are dynamic and not a recipe with the ingredients of “One Mom, One Dad, One Baby Boy, One Baby Girl.”  There is no such thing as a one size fits all perfect family.  There can be your perfect family and that is all that matters.  

Oh, and don’t get me started on the “Are you gonna try for a girl” question…. 

I have a pretty amazing life, a beautiful home, two incredible kids, and a handsome husband who has worked hard to move up in life and provide his family with everything we have.  I don’t have anyone to thank except him, and myself.  We made this happen.  While, in our lives, I’m sure events transpired that were “lucky” or “fortuitous” that helped us get here but we are the result of hard work.  Our lives exist because of that work.

Since there have been a few remarks about how fortunate I am, and how “out of touch” I am with those I am reaching out to help with the Flats and Handwashing Challenge, I thought today was a good day for a back story.

Kim today is pretty different from the Kim of 20+ years ago.  I didn’t live in a house until I moved in with my boyfriend (current husband) during college.  No home I’ve ever inhabited had stairs, and it was never permanently anchored to the ground.  I was a trailer park kid.  I’ve lived in plenty in my lifetime, some pretty sad looking, and some that are the “cadillacs” of mobile home parks, with paved roads (NOT DIRT!), and back again.  I recall using a rusted mattress on our front porch, that was basically only rusted and sharp coils,  as a trampoline when I was 5.  We were poor, and a little white trashy too.  We were never rich, but it was only towards my adolescence that things got worse.

About 5-6 years old

Thanks to a string of bad luck our family was thrust into a period of Hell that I’ve tried to block out.  In fact, most of my life between the years of 10-18 are a blur.  A haze of misery and disappointment, rage, pain, and depression.  My mother re-married a very nice man when I was in sixth grade.  We loved him.  But he had recently started suffering from a severe form of Epilepsy that disabled him to the point of not being able to work, and for years, he could hardly function due to the severity and frequency of his seizures.  The Epilepsy was triggered by a head injury from a fight (over my mother) while they were dating.  To this day he still suffers from it but over the years he has gotten better at recognizing his aura and doesn’t drop like a fish in public places (my chorus concert, Wal-Mart, etc) and injure himself as often, or as severely.  He can reach a safe place in time.

We were poor.  My Mother had a hard time keeping a job because she was also trying to care for my step-father, who was very ill, and would lose each job she had.  We didn’t have insurance or income.  Diseases are expensive and paying for the medications my step-father needed took everything and more that we had.  We relied on food banks a lot to eat, and were often on either Welfare or other public assistance programs.  Sometimes we had medicaid (which is the only reason I had braces- a real life changer), but often we didn’t.  And yes, I’ve eaten welfare cheese.

I won’t go into a lot of detail, but things got way worse.  Both of my parents became addicted to prescription and street drugs.  I was essentially raising myself during these years.  My grandmothers made sure we had food in our cupboards in the worst of times but neither really knew how bad things were.  I would wake up for school and see my mother and step-father and other random people already awake, looking quite cheery.  The smell of burnt metal and acrid smoke would still be in the air, needles and paraphernalia were poorly and hastily hidden when I entered the room.

The only reason I didn’t lack certain things was because my mother and step-father were, how do you say, helping themselves at department stores.  It took a while before I realized how my mother came to posses such nice things.  At that point I began refusing her gifts.

Eventually their lifestyles caught up with them.  My mother overdosed in the middle of the night, my step-father and I followed the ambulance (I didn’t have a license but had learned to drive a stick in case I ever had to take over when my step-father started to seize) and we learned that she was in a coma.  She died, but was brought back.  I went to school the next day because I was a lawyer in a mock trial I had been preparing for for weeks.  It was my time to shine, and I did amazing.  Later that day I was called to the office because my mother woke up, and was picked up by family members and taken to the hospital.

We were eventually kicked out of our home… there was a raid… other illegal activities had happened that resulted in a long investigation and arrests, though no charges stuck and my step-father didn’t do time.  I was “homeless” and shuffled around from family member to family member, trying to stay in my district because I didn’t want to lose my friends.  I settled in with my grandparents and credit that time with them for saving me from a dark place of hatred and resentment.  I was seething and of course, blaming my parents for making my life abnormal.  Every teenager craves to be normal and accepted.  I kept a good front going in school and no one knew except the closest friends, what really went on.  Even then I didn’t like for people to see where I lived, the car my family drove (when we had one), and what my life was really like.  I was poor…

I’ve lived without power, without air conditioning during the blistering heat of North Carolina summers in, what is essentially, a heated tin can.  I’ve slept under many blankets and relied on kerosene heat when we hadn’t paid the power bill and it was winter.  I’ve had to heat water on a kerosene heater and had to flush toilets with a bucket, and pee using a lighter in a dark, windowless bathroom.  I’ve lived with roaches (lots of them).  I’ve gone hungry because of pride… I didn’t want people to know I qualified for free lunches so I didn’t eat lunch.  I would read a book in the hallway or nap in the library.  Eventually, I was able to pay for my own lunch when I got a job at 15 years old, working late nights washing dishes and stocking a salad bar.  I got a loan from my grandmother that enabled me to afford a (really, really shitty) car, I paid my insurance and cell phone bill, started buying my own food, clothes, and music.  I worked illegally, got paid under the table, and therefore “laws” didn’t apply and so I could do late shifts on school nights and work more hours than allowed for my age.  I wouldn’t change it for a thing because it is how I earned my money and survived.  In fact, I was “adopted” by the people I worked with and the patrons.  I lived to work and I have the best memories of my “work family” who came to replace my real one.  It was my home.  Eventually I started working two jobs, and between them I logged a lot of hours and started providing myself with very nice things, because I could.

My second job was at Outback in High School

I graduated high school and counted the days until I would live on campus.  I graduated college, while working full time in retail and had worked up to a supervisor position, married my husband, moved to NY with him, and we started our family.  I was fortunate enough to quit my job there and stay at home with my first son, then my second, and that afforded me the time to start this website.  Now we live in Florida in a home we bought (all credit really goes to my husband) and a home I’ve worked my butt off renovating.

So you see, I have no idea how “the other half lives.”  And that is right, I don’t know how the homeless, truly impoverished, hungry, cold, desperate live.  We were never THAT bad.  We came close, but we had a safety net in the government, disability, and family.  And I’ve never been poor while having children and can’t imagine the stress of trying to provide for my kids when there is no money.  But the majority of Americans are like me, like I was, with enough to scrape by most of the time.  We never had a baby in the family (I’m the youngest of my mother’s, my step-father had 4 other children but none were babies when they married) and I don’t know what we would have done in our hardest times.  I do know that we had the tools, and the time, to have made handwashing work.  Funny thing though, we were poor and had a washer and dryer.  I suspect a lot of other poor families do because poverty is diverse and includes a wide range of families from the poorest, to the almost poor.  We weren’t having such hard times when my mother re-married, but it got that way.  Things happen in life, situations change, and sometimes you do what you have to do.

I’ve come a really long way from my former life.  Sometimes it feels like it never happened and that I started to exist in college.  As much as I distance myself from the past I’ve been shaped by it and want to help others who are having a tough financial time.  I am not forcing anyone to try this but it is an option.  It works, it helps, and I am thankful I don’t have to do it myself and won’t be ashamed of the fact that I don’t have to.

There really isn’t a great way to write a post about your 2.5 year old son being admitted to the hospital and it is even harder to title.  It all started last Sunday (7 days ago) when Everett started screaming in pain at about 1 am.  He was awake most of the night crying out and I spent all night trying to comfort him.  All day Sunday it was the same thing and my husband and I took turns walking him around to keep him happy.  While we first thought it was teething pain related we decided to take him to urgent care since he was grabbing at his ears to rule out an ear infection.

Instead we got the news that he had strep, double ear infections, and lymph node infections.  He spent the next week in misery.  He didn’t walk at all except on a handful of occasions.  Most of the time he was in the BobaAir or in our arms.  His pain and misery were so bad that even just cuddling on the couch to watch TV wasn’t enough to keep him happy.  To stay sane all week I went out as much as possible to just find a reason to babywear him and walk around shops.  This was my daytime coping mechanism.  At night it was nursing, singing, and cursing under my breath because I was exhausted and getting no sleep.  I won’t lie- I was feeling very sorry for myself.  I didn’t want to, but I was the parent he wanted and clung to 24 hours a day.  My husband could rarely hold him and definitely couldn’t comfort him at night.  As sick as he was I knew he was hurting but I was a little resentful that I was the “chosen one” and hadn’t had a break in a very long time.

We went to the doctor’s 5 times, each time either for a shot for his treatment or because he was still miserable and we needed answers.  By Thursday, after a fluke morning of normalcy (I mean, he looked cured and I announced so to the world!) he was miserable again after his nap.   We felt he should have been better so we took him to the doctor again.  They said he still had strep and needed a new type of medicine.  At least we thought we knew why he was still so sick.

Friday afternoon Everett was still as upset as ever.  It has been hard trying to be fair to Fletcher who is the picture of health.  We went out back to put our feet in the pool and Ev sat unhappily in my lap, but Fletcher was thrilled.  I took Ev’s socks off to have him put his feet in and noticed something really odd- the place where the elastic on the sock had been was bright red and raised up.  It looked very painful.  He screamed at me taking off his sock so we went inside.  When I went to remove his shorts soon after to change his diaper I saw that his legs and feet were covered in tiny bright red spots.  I assumed they were ant bites at first which didn’t make sense because he hadn’t walked outside at all and wouldn’t have been exposed to any ants, especially that long to get covered in bites.

A few hours later it was obvious that the feet and legs were swollen and that even the slightest touch to that area resulted in screams.  Welp, time to go to a doctor again.  The urgent care doctor immediately diagnosed him with HSP.

The fact that he has been fighting a losing battle to various infections for a week probably lead to the HSP.  The doctor informed me that “It will only get worse before it gets better” and to look forward to his pain and the rash/swelling increasing over the next 3-4 days, and it lasting 1-2 weeks.  There is no treatment except steroids to relieve the joint pain and swelling, but I was informed this was only for the worst cases.  We were sent home with a prescription for yet another type of antibiotic just because, and nothing to help the HSP.

Even with that scary diagnosis Saturday wasn’t looking too bad.  The symptoms from the top half of his body had eased away and, if he were sitting still, Ev was pretty happy.  He went for his nap easily and I was looking forward to a semi-normal Mother’s Day that didn’t involve my son being in misery.  After his nap he woke up miserable once again and I noticed that his left lymph node in his neck had grown to a golf ball size.  Why?  WHY?  WHY was this still happening?

We decided, after speaking with our doctor on the phone, that it would be best to take him to the Children’s ER and skip Urgent Care.  It was a relief to see doctors looking at a possible reason for all of his symptoms to rule out anything much more serious.  He was once again in a lot of pain, and new pain was seen in his lower back.  We feared it was internal.  An IV was hooked up to hydrate him and a little pain relief was given.  He perked right up and became a new boy on the pain relievers and I was crying happy tears to see him feeling something other than pain for the second time this week.  It was decided that he should stay overnight.

Staying in the hospital with my 2.5 year old wasn’t how I envisioned my Mother’s Day.  I was looking forward to a much deserved morning of sleeping in (I haven’t slept all week, I’m a full time pacifier all night because it is the only thing that gives him comfort and helps him sleep) and a home cooked breakfast. Instead I was woken at 7 am (and every 2 hours all night for vital checks on Ev) to have more of his blood drawn.  Then he had an ultrasound and chest X-Ray all before 10 am.  I didn’t even get breakfast!  No one offered us any food at the hospital and by the time my husband got there I was starving.  He came with gifts at least!

Everett has gone up and down in spirits.  For a few hours he seems pain free, then suddenly he will be in terrible pain from the HSP.  It spread to swelling in his head yesterday which caused a bad headache.  By the end of the night he was feeling much better though, and by this morning he woke up happy.  Overnight he got a good amount of rest, so did I.  I woke at about 4 am to a male nurse leaning over us checking Ev’s IV and my boob was casually out of my shirt because at some point Everett had released it from his mouth.  I was half asleep so luckily the shame didn’t register and I tucked it in and zoned back out.  This morning he is playing with 2 rubber duckies and a jet and as happy as can be!

Once again I repeat how grateful I am to still be nursing.  He has had maybe a full meal combined if you add up the amount of food he has eaten in the last 7 days.  He would always nurse but getting food in him has been a challenge.  I also owe my sanity to the BobaAir.  If it weren’t for babywearing I couldn’t have kept his screaming to a minimum all week.

I’m hoping they send us home today, but as of now there is no confirmed diagnosis for his lymph node swelling and the best guess is Cat Scratch Fever.  They won’t treat the HSP with steroids until the lymph node problem is solved because that would make diagnosing it impossible.  I’m looking forward to seeing Ev make a full recovery soon.  Thanks for the many well wishes and positive thoughts you have all been sending since I started posting updates on my facebook page and twitter.

I still have an eye mask on the top of my forehead that is acting like a headband.  My 2 year old is just now acting semi-normal after spending the past 4 hours either crying ,screaming, nursing, whining, kicking legs, directing me to walk him in circles, or telling me he needs candy.  Apparently candy is the only cure for teething pain… I didn’t get that memo.

Last week all of my boys, husband included, passed around a wicked stomach virus.  This week Everett is in a lot of pain and can’t be soothed unless he has a boob in his mouth.  Even then it isn’t a sure thing. Me?  Well… I’m exhausted, annoyed, miserable, hallucinating, and neglecting all other responsibilities in the home and online.  My diet of late has been whatever I can graze or a simple and quick food.

Touched out is an understatement.  One on hand I’m glad that we are still nursing because I know it is giving him some relief.  On the other hand… I want this kid OFF OF MY BOOBS.  It is perfectly normal to have both of those feelings.  Oh child, please stop asking for “milk milk” because my boobs and my sanity can’t take being on 24/7.

Ev has texture issues so none of the pain relief options we have tried, even just some ice, haven’t worked.  I would be more than happy to dose him with some Tylenol but he gags it up and pukes.  I’ve tried almost everything but it seems like we are just going to have to ride out this storm.

I’m looking forward to having my son back, the one who I can just tuck in at night and who will sleep until 4 am until needing to cuddle.  The kid who plays happily with his Transformers and brother.  I’ll be even happier when I don’t have a tiny dictator demanding my boobs.

2 year molars… you can suck my big toe.

I don’t enjoy painting my own nails. So I don’t. I typically go to a nail salon for pedicures and I don’t paint my fingernails because I don’t have any. Lately though, in an effort to save money and because I don’t have enough time to go out, I’ve been doing my nail painting at home. One day my 4 year old saw me doing this and innocently asked me to “put colors on his toes.” My initial, knee jerk reaction was a “no.” I mean… he is a HE and nail polish is for girls. He asked me again, so sweetly, and all he cared about was that he would have colorful nails just like mom. My 4 year old didn’t connect nail polish to women, or gender roles, or anything else beyond just “pretty.”   To him it looked fun!  He likes drawing, coloring, painting, why wouldn’t he think painting toe nails is an activity all people could do?

So… I informed him of the side effects (having to sit still and not touch his nails for a while) and he was more than happy to sit while I made his toenails “beautiful like mommy’s.” If you had been there to see his face and hear his genuine excitement, even the pride he displayed showing his father, you would have done it too.

Next thing you know my 2 year old sees the fun, and in his wordless way, asks for the same. He was just as thrilled with his new colorful toes and squealed with delight.

My intentions weren’t political or meant to prove that boys can do anything girls can do (which they can) or vice versa. I did it because it made my boys happy!!! It does fit in with how I want to raise my kids but that was just a bonus.  Do I worry about what others think?  Nope.  I’ve already been asked by about 1.5 million people, family included, about why I would paint their nails.  My answer?  “Because they asked and because they like it.”  For those who pry deeper with questions about “making them gay” my answer isn’t as short and isn’t as nice.  Nail polish doesn’t make anyone gay… sooooo….

All I can say is that the 5 minutes it takes to paint my boys’ nails are some of my favorite minutes we’ve had. The polish wears off quickly (especially considering the playing my boys do in dirt, sand, and water) but I’m hoping they might remember our nail painting sessions fondly.  I hope that because I’m raising them to be open minded little boys that, with a little luck, will turn into open minded men and fathers someday.  

To the curious- I purchased Piggy Paint* to use because it is non-toxic. It wears off pretty darn quickly on hands, less so on toes, but I like it because I know the kids have their hands in their mouths often.  *affiliate link

My dream finally came true a few days ago.  No, I didn’t win the lottery or get a full night of sleep.  My husband put up a tire swing for me the kids. There is just something about a tire swing that personifies childhood; judging by the fun my boys had there is a good reason that that. Tire Swinging from Kim Rosas on Vimeo. I kinda want to frame every one of these photos.

I may have lied in the title.  As far as I know sibling bed sharing isn’t a trend.  It is however trending in the Rosas household and I’m getting excited about what this new bedtime tactic has afforded us: drama free bed time!

It all started last week.  My youngest son Everett decided that he no longer wanted to sleep in his own bed.  He got out of bed one night to find me and explained in his own way that he was afraid of the dark and of monsters.  It went something like this: “Rawr Rawr” he said as he pointed to a pirate ship coat hook on his wall and shook as if afraid.  Toddler charades are so fun, right?  Next he took off towards my room and pointed to tell me he wanted to sleep in my room with us.  I told him no.  We worked very hard to end his dependency on nursing and laying with me to go to sleep so I wasn’t about to back track.  I’m still working on night weaning him and having him sleep through the night…

Then it hit me!  What if he slept in the room with his brother for the night?  I had tried to have them sleep together before hoping Ev would learn to fall asleep on his own that way but it never worked.  This time Ev has learned to fall asleep independent of me so I thought it would be worth a shot.  Fletcher’s room lacked th “spooky” pirate ship also.

  “Everett, would you like to sleep with your brother in his room?”

  “YEAH!” he yelled excitedly and scurried off to his room.  

I directed him to be quiet and we snuck into the room, then I picked him up and put him in his brother’s twin sized bed.  Fletcher had already fallen asleep like the angel he is.  At first I thought I would get away with sneaking another person into his bed but Everett started talking to his brother.  I love the look on a child’s face when they wake from a deep sleep.  It is like they have no earthly idea where they are; they are so wide eyed and dreamy.  I’m sure he was dreaming about Transformers and saving the world from Decepticons.  I explained that his brother was afraid of the dark and thought he saw a monster in his room so he would like to sleep with his big brother.

“Your job is to keep him safe and in bed.” I told him.  He was more than up to the task.  I felt pretty good about my decision and left the two boys, wide awake, in bed together.

I didn’t have a monitor in Fletcher’s room and really wanted to know what was being said.  I overheard Fletcher tell his little brother that there was no such thing as monsters but that was it.  I walked away and held my breath.  

I continued to hear talking for a few minutes and then it was silent.  I marched in with my camera because of course… I had to get photographic evidence.  There were my boys sound asleep in the tiny twin bed.  It had worked!

Each night since then I have let the boys sleep together except I switched their rooms.  Everett isn’t afraid of his room as long as Fletcher or someone is with him.  Everett has a queen size bed so it makes more sense to have them share a bed there.  I’m pretty amazed at how well this is working.  Both boys really enjoy sharing a bed as far as I can tell.  When asked if he would rather sleep alone in his bed or room in with his brother Fletcher always wants to sleep with Everett.

The other bonus to them sleeping in Everett’s room is that I have a video monitor in there.  Last night Everett put up a fight because he was overtired.  It took a while for him to stop crying after I stopped nursing him.  He knew I would leave and he didn’t like the idea.  Fletcher meanwhile left the bed to get a late night snack.  When Everett calmed I left him, alone, just to see how it went.  No crying.  Fletcher went back to the room, Everett’s room, on his own accord and crawled in bed.  I just sat back and listened.

After about ten minutes of chatting about Transformers, monsters, and some wrestling I intervened.  I used the two-way function on the monitor. “Boys, it is time to go to sleep.  Put your heads on the pillow and go to bed.  Love you!”  Fletcher replied “How many minutes until you come in here?  10 minutes?  100 minutes?  2,500 minutes?  When?”  ”No minutes… you can go to sleep now.  I’ll see you both in the morning.”  I heard Fletcher tell me goodnight and instruct his brother to go to sleep.  Then silence.

Some of you might be thinking that I am passing my parenting duties on to Fletcher.  To this I reply- Hell yeah I am!  I’ve been in charge of getting Everett to sleep by bouncing, rocking, nursing, patting, shhhing, singing, for over 2 years.  With the rare exception when his father was able to get him to bed it has been me.  Sometimes for over an hour each night.  When he started refusing to go to bed my first thought was “Oh crap.  I’m not ready to do this anymore.  I’m done.”  It was a fluke that the brother thing panned out.  I’ll be honest and say I have no other intentions with this bed sharing thing other than making my life easier.  I’m not all “I want my kids to sleep together because it will make them have a closer bond.” or whatever.  I was in survival mode.

I have no grand design in mind.  Will this be happening next week?  Next month?  In a year?  I know that I used to sleep in the bed with my sister (and yes, we cuddled) for what is probably an embarrassingly long amount of time.  Especially for my older sister!  She would help me to the bathroom when I was terrified of the dark in the middle of the night.  She took on a parenting role overnight and I relied on her for comfort, warmth, and as a level headed older sibling when I was afraid to put my feet on the ground next to the bed in the dark for fear of a monster grabbing them.  I can remember many nights of waking from a nightmare and having her calm me down.  I know firsthand how comforting having an older sibling to sleep with can be.  Lucky for me my Fletcher is an outstanding big brother (who can sleep through anything, including Everett crying multiple times a night) and enjoys looking after his little brother.  For now.

Last night during a pre-bedtime snuggle fest my 4 year old came out with an unexpected question and I wasn’t sure exactly what to say.  The following is how our conversation went.  I think I need to start prepping answers for these kinds of questions before I am caught off guard again.

“What happens when our story ends?”  At first I didn’t know what he meant so I had to ask more questions.

“What do you mean?  ’When our story ends?’”

“OUR story…”

At this point I was afraid my son was getting unusually deep with his questions.  Could he really be asking about our own mortaility?  What happens when our story ends and we no longer exist?  The concept of death is not something my son is experienced with.  I was afraid to lead him into the question but at the same time I felt he deserved it answered if this was really what he wanted to know.  And judging by how he asked it and that it came from nowhere he was probably thinking about it for a while before asking.

“Do you mean what happens when we are no longer here?  In our world?”  (He often talks about the planet and our “world”, meaning our little life and circle of family/friends/activities)

“Yeah.  What happens?”

Deep.  Breath.  How in the world do I explain death to my 4 year old who has never lost anyone?  He knows things “die” from reading books and watching movies.  When it comes to our own deaths though, this requires a little more of an explanation.  And sadly, it is my responsibility to explain it to him the way our family believes it and not the way most of the world thinks of death.  It was then that I almost wished we were religious because telling a child death means going to a magical place full of angels and music and light is much better than what I told him.

“Nothing.  When our story ends it is over.  We get a certain amount of time here and then we are done.”

“How much time!?”

“Some people get a lot of time and live to be 60 or 80 or even 100!”

“Or zero” and he made a 0 with his little innocent hands.

“Yes, and sometimes 0.  Sometimes it ends sooner.  But sometimes we get to live a very long time and see and do a lot of things.”

“What about 5,500?”

“No… we can’t live to be 5,500.  If we are really lucky we can live to 100.  Maybe even a little longer, but that is it.”

“Awww…. I want to be REALLY old and be 5,500.”

That was it.  A short conversation with my 4 year old about life.  And death.  And not living to be 5,500 years old.  I am completely comfortable telling my son that there is a Santa Claus but I won’t be sharing about Heaven and Jesus.  Not yet, and not until he can understand that it is something others believe.  If he chooses to believe one day then he can, and I’ll support that.  I just want it to be his choice and not forced upon him.  For now we are happy to live religion free and to raise sons who are good for goodness sake.  It may not be the popular choice but it is our choice to make.  It is crazy to me that I have a little person capable of asking questions of this nature.  He is no longer a baby.  I’m sure there will be many more “deep” conversation to come, which is both a scary and exciting thought.

You are welcome to comment but please consider that saying “You need Jesus” and “You are a terrible parent, shame on you for depriving your children of the love of God” will only make you feel better but it won’t change my mind and therefore it is pointless.  I would be interested to hear how other secular families approach this subject however.  

It was almost a year ago that I decided to learn how to use my DSLR in Manual mode.  Manual shooting requires that you set all of your own settings like the ISO, Aperture, and Shutter Speed.  You can also get more in depth and change your white balance.  Even after a year I am so far from being an expert but I would say I have grown a few muscles in photography compared to where I started (which was at 0 and just using Auto and a bounce flash.)

Before I share some of my more recent favorite photographs I want to express to anyone reading how life changing it can be to switch your dial to M.  I used to longingly gaze at friends’ professional looking photos and wish I could make something that amazing come out of my camera but would quickly dismiss learning how to use my camera as far too complicated.  Plus, I wasn’t trying to be a professional photographer so I should really leave it up to the experts.  I believe it was seeing fellow blogger Jill from Baby Rabies take her photography to the next level and a Black Friday sale on a membership to Clickin’ Moms that gave me the push I needed.  Seeing real visible progress by a real person made so much sense to me and proved that anyone can learn a new skill, including basic photography.

If you are starting out from scratch here are a few of the resources I have visited time and again.  The first was a blog post that finally clicked how the triangle of ISO, Aperture (f. stop), and Shutter Speed work together to properly expose an image.  This is very important and without knowing this you are going to be clicking dials and doing all kinds of crazy things.  You can find this information on Kevin and Amanda.  There is also a handy chart you can reference in that regard as well.  After understanding proper exposure it was time to understand how to “find the light” that you will hear people on photography forums say over and over.  Light is SO important and it really makes a photo.  Anyone who has seen those amazing eyes that sparkle and pop has seen exactly how a photo should be lit.  It’s all in the eyes!  I’ve learned several tricks, one from the forums on Clickin’ Moms on how to find the light using the shadows and your fist and the other is using a marble.  I re-read this post from Paint the Moon to understand lighting and it has served me well.

I’ve already posted about the earliest days of my journey and you can see those images in the post Learning to Love My Manual DSLR- The Why and How which was published in April 2012.  I’ll pick up from there with a few of my favorite images and you can see how my photography has improved.

April 2012

Self Shot Nursing Ev 18 months old- ISO 200 35 mm 4/4.0 1/60

When Everett was 18 months old and a day I wanted to capture a nursing shot. I actually just held the camera out and barely got us in the frame.  I love so much about this photo but especially how his eye really POPS and his chubby fingers. It is one I will truly treasure and wouldn’t have without learning how to use my wireless remote.

May 2012

Oma in the Weeds- ISO 160 35 mm f/ 3.2 1/640

The reason I love this photo is because it is the first image I ever captured of my mother-in-law genuinely smiling. Up to now any photos of her were very forced if she smiled, but in general she just wouldn’t at all. I had her schlep with me to the abandoned development were I saw potential to do family photos. Location scouting…. We were in very high weeds and she was my test subject during “golden hour” when the sun is almost setting and the light is pure golden goodness and perfect for photos. I snapped this as she was moving the weeds back and forth in front of her face. I framed it. Also that day we found what I suspected to be a human femur bone and ran the F out of there never to return.

June 2012

Denny Hall- ISO 1600 16 mm f/ 2.8 1/60

This was an experimental photo in a lot of ways. I normally just shoot pictures of my children but as a gift for my husband and I’s 5 year wedding anniversary I rented a very wide angle lens and took a photo of the exact spot we met. I brought a tripod knowing I would need to have a slow shutter speed indoors with no natural light to avoid a super high ISO and lots of grain. The lens was unfamiliar to me and I could have done much better but with some editing in Lightroom the result was good enough for framing and it hangs above our bed now.

July 2012

The month photography took a back seat to unpacking. We moved to Florida and all of my photos from July are virtually iPhone pics. It was a busy month and for good reason I wasn’t breaking out the DSLR!

August 2012

Freedom Tower- ISO 100 18mm f/5.6 1/1250

I took a business trip for a conference to NYC and brought the Nikon with me. I used it less than I had hoped but I did bring it when we toured Ground Zero and in the BLAZING sun took this image. Notice how low the ISO is and how fast the shutter speed was to avoid over exposing, although there is a spot where it is completely overexposed. I also edited using Lightroom and added a preset that helps with defining clouds. As a novice editor I still use presets in LR and tweak them to my liking most of the time.

September 2012

Everett, PLEASE look at the light. ISO 800 35 mm f/5.6 1/160

After neglecting my camera for a few months I wanted to get a great photo of my boys in the waning sun outside of our new home. I chased them both begging them to tilt their heads up enough to catch the light and look towards the setting sun. We were both frustrated but I managed to take a few photos that didn’t completely suck.  You can tell he isn’t feeling it and has basically decided to only cheese.  Kids…

October 2012

FIL and Helen- ISO 1000 35mm f/ 2.2 1/200

At my Sister-in-Law’s wedding I brought along my camera despite the fact that there would be professionals there. I’m glad I did because while the bridal party was getting photos taken after the wedding the family was hanging around in amazing light! At the gazebo I took several really good photos of the family and even got one of my husband and I in our garb. This one of my Father-in-Law with Helen, an exchange student they hosted last year who flew back from Germany for the wedding, was my favorite. The rest I posted on the blog for the curious. Oh and this was taken with my new Nikon D90, a small step up from the Nikon D80 I used for the previous photos.

November 2012

A rare smile- ISO 1250 35mm f/5.6 1/800

Lets just say I am super proud of this photo where technical skills met a photogenic boy in perfect lighting.  I got this super bokeh (the blurred background thanks to a wider aperture so the focus is JUST on the subject) and his skin tone is super creamy and even in the light.  I took the photo in open shade to avoid harsh shadows.  Fletcher rarely gives real smiles and most of my photos of him are goofy. Here I caught something special and genuine and he is smiling with his whole face, even SMIZING for Tyra fans. You better believe I framed the shiz out of this thing after taking it.

December 2012

Candid Xmas-ISO 2000 35mm f/1.8 1/100

Technically this isn’t something amazing. We were battling poor indoor lighting and the Christmas light glow for the Christmas Card photo, which turned out OK. In this photo I was trying to get the kids to stay still while Steven checked on the camera. He just happened to hit the shutter and this photo was born. We both set up the settings on the camera, my husband also enjoys dabbling in photography, but I’m using this one for December anyhow. I like the composition.

January 2013

Evening Ritual- ISO3200 35mm f/2.2 1/125

For the new year I decided to challenge myself and grow in my photography by taking part in a 52 week “challenge.” Each week is a new theme and the first was to photograph an evening ritual. I chose bath time and captured this moment after Fletcher stuck his head under the running water and looked up, droplets still running down his hair and face. The ISO is cranked up to 3200 and there is certainly a lot of grain but I am trying very hard to listen to the experts when they say “embrace the grain.”

Cuddles- ISO 1000 35mm f/3.2 1/125

Yesterday I saw amazing light pouring into my newly remodeled bedroom and being diffused through my new sheer white curtains. I grabbed my camera, set it on top of my dresser and propped it to angle down using a pair of underwear under the back portion. Next I set it to use my wireless remote. I asked Fletcher to come sit on the bed with me and we had fun taking a few photos. I even let him use the remote and he got good at hiding it in the 3 seconds after pressing. This was one of the shots we made that I really love.

Sweet Imperfection- ISO 1000 35mm f/3.2 1/125

Same day, just a photo I took with both boys. Technically I goofed and the focus is perfect on Fletcher but with a wider aperture Ev and I are not as clear, though not super blurry either. Also Fletcher took the photo with the remote and you CAN SEE IT, yet I happen to like this fact. It was fun to mess around and photograph our crazy life and the imperfections sort of add to the photo. I tell myself this because those little things bug me.

There are a few things you can tell now that you have gone through my favorite images.  One is that I have a favorite lens.  I primarily use the 35mm, which on my Nikon D90 is about the same view as what you would see with the naked eye.  I sometimes use the zoom 18-105mm but the 35mm takes crisper images because it is what they call a prime lens.  I’ve started playing with my 50mm to see what all the fuss is about but due to my style of camera the photos are more zoomed than what you see so to get your subject in the frame you need to back away quite a bit.  The other thing you will notice is that I like to try and take self shots every once in a while of my boys and I.  It is sad to look in my iPhoto library and see how many sweet and candid images I have of my husband and the boys and realize how few of the images I am in with them.  With my husband at work most of the day sometimes I just have to bring the camera out and make photos happen with the wireless remote.  No, they aren’t as special as something another person would take but in a way they are better because I am calling the shots in the settings department and I know a little more than the average person.  They say once you go Manual you never go back and this is very true.  After seeing how photos can really look once you are in control and not the camera you will never switch to Auto again.  When my husband takes over and goes to Auto I lecture him because he knows better!

I’m re-energized about photography after a long break during our move and I’m looking forward to flexing my muscles and spreading my wings as I try to learn more using Clickin’ Moms and a lot of Pinterest finds on new tips and tricks.  For now the camera I have is plenty although I have full-frame camera envy after learning/seeing what it can do.  If you are in possession of a fancy camera and are waiting to take the next step I’m telling you to start looking up guides to the settings on your camera then start practicing.  Just goofing off with a digital camera never hurt anyone!  You can never run out of film and the delete button is mighty handy…

One of my traditions is to make a video of our Christmas together. I love looking back at these and as always these videos are my way of preserving the memories for my children who will hopefully cherish these mementos. Our 2011 video is also viewable on YouTube.

I hope by sharing my person videos that it can inspire others to take a stab at making their own. Last year I posted a tutorial on how to make a “Kick Butt” home movie for anyone wishing to start their own family tradition of video making.