Perspective :: Lexington, VA Children's Photographer

I see the unmade bed. The curtain-less window. The disassembled desk. The rolled up carpet. In short, I see a list of chores.

My daughter saw a playground on the unmade bed. She invited her playmate to join her. She reveled in his patient acceptance of her love. She basked in the light allowed in through the open windows.

It is all about perspective.

Tennis, Anyone?

iheartfaces, Week of June 27 :: A Touch of Whimsy

I confess. I had to look the word whimsical up in the dictionary. And I was still a bit befuddled. I know what whimsy is NOT. It is not me. (I am waiting for the uptight and rigid contest week. I will be ready for that one!) But I am pretty sure my littlest one is whimsical. Capricious. Sprite-like. Goofy.

So I stuck her on our new back porch behind our new house in our new state of residence. With our same old cat. And from her glee, you would never know anything was different in her little world.

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Phooey (or 8.5 Years at an End) :: Personal

Phooey. It is time to go. I have wished for this day and I have rued this day. But either way, it is here. I mean really here. The four packers are tearing through the house as I type. The sound of brown tape being peeled off rolls, followed by the crumple of packing paper...wow, does it bring back the memories.

All but six months of my life as Julie Rivera has been spent here in Central Texas. Both of my girls were born here. My husband and I bought our first and second homes here. This is where I am now from, I guess. Eight and a half years is the longest I have lived anywhere in my nearly 36 years of life. Eight and a half years of a nine year marriage. Eight and a half years, encompassing the end to my Naval career, the strange middle period where I was a stay at home wife, then a part time job in a Montessori school, then a bank employee, then a mom, then a photographer. Life took shape for me here in Texas.

And now we leave.

But I have two years of unknown to look forward to in Virginia. Right now, though, I can't see past the four day drive with two small children and a cat. We'll get there. One way or another, with songs, screaming, tons of road snacks and hopefully really long naps, we will get there. And it will turn out to be great.

Right now, I can only see what we are leaving. And that makes me say, "Phooey."

Sometimes what isn't is better :: Lexington, VA Children's Photographer

June arrived in a blaze of glory. And when I say blaze, I mean a burning inferno of nearly 100 degree days. Heat that can bleed the color right from the petals of the determined wildflowers that still bounce and sway in the winds. Day by day, I see them out my car window as I drive from this errand to that, caught up in the day's grind. And I tell myself I will get out and take pictures. When the sun is setting. I will. And I see the sun setting and I hear my daughter and I glance at my camera and I think, tomorrow.

She needs a bath.

It is bedtime.

I don't really want to get in the car right now.

I haven't even put on makeup.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow became today when I realized the real tomorrow calls for an I Heart Face's challenge entry taken from a distance. And I don't do distance. Typically, at least. So I buckled down, grabbed my camera, grabbed my daughter, grabbed the car keys, stole a woeful look at my makeup-less face and weird hair, and headed out so we could go the distance.

I found a deserted piece of countryside, parked the car, unleashed my daughter and asked her to walk a bit away from me.

"Is this far enough, Mama?" No, not really.

When I escorted her to an appointed spot, she stood there, smiling, and I snapped my shot from 20 feet away. And it was worthless. I asked her to stay so I could play with my camera settings, but she ran to me anyway. And stayed with me. Because we don't do motherhood in my house at a distance. It is close. Sometimes too close, too much. But it is what she needs. She doesn't need distance right now. She needs me to watch her explore, to see her smiles, to share my smiles with her.

And even though tonight didn't go according to my plan, it was so much better than I could have planned.