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“Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something- and it is only such love that can know freedom.” -J. Krishnamurti
A little something off my beaten path, a wedding post. For Independence Day, I thought this quote was especially fitting. Congratulations, Pete and Anne. Your day could not have been more full of love and laughter.
Recently, I was talking to a potential client. She was telling me, as people often do, that she has been wanting to get professional photos taken of her family for a long time, but that between their busy schedules and energetic kids, she just never seemed to get around to it. I nodded my understanding. She leaned in, touched my arm, and said gravely, “You would have to be very patient. VERY patient.” I smiled confidently, “I am.”
Funny how I had to remind myself of this last night. I’d been wanting to have a quick photo session with my girls for the last couple of weeks, but there was always a reason not to. On this night I decided it was now or never. For many reasons, I knew that if I didn’t put my foot down, it may be months before I was willing to try to again. Yes, I love to capture images of my family going about the ordinary chaos of our lives; but sometimes I want some dedicated photography time. For me, this means a tiny window where the task at hand is clear: get some good photos of the family. No guilt about why do I have a camera in my face when I should be on the floor playing, or starting dinner, or making sure the baby doesn’t endanger herself while I’m looking through the viewfinder.
The key terms in the last paragraphs are patient and tiny window. The patience came in when T came home later than expected and thoroughly distracted by a crazy day at work. Meanwhile, the oldest child insisted on matching her sister’s outfit. (This is not my favorite choice, and I could expound, but I wonder if anyone is still reading at this point anyway.) I had not even thought about dinner, and then the middle child launched into one of her epic and uncontrollable fits of madness.
When I thought all was lost, I remembered that if this were someone else’s family, I would step back and wait it out. I give my clients a short guide before our sessions; where I tell them that I’ve seen it all, that tired cranky kids (and dads) don’t phase me, and that if we need to take a break, for whatever reason, we will. I stress flexibility.
What is it about doctors making the worst patients? For a moment, I was the mom whose rigid expectations were going to be the ultimate downfall of this photo session. I needed my own medicine. I took a breath. I let the oldest put on her outfit but took a change of clothes with us, T took some calls that allowed him to tie up some loose ends at work (at least for a little while), and meanwhile the tantrum burned itself out and my three year old was herself again.
Here is where the tiny window comes in. By the time we’d settled down, dinner time was looming. My husband often says that it is playing with fire to let the Mendoza girls get hungry. There were potentially more tantrums coming if we did not eat very soon. We packed up the van to get some dinner, and on the way stopped in a green space a couple blocks from our house. I checked the time stamps on my images, and I literally spent one second shy of 20 minutes getting the images you see here, and then some; with cars zooming by, bugs everywhere, a wardrobe change, and a random kitty who decided to join us.
All this is to remind myself: Don’t sweat it. Don’t think you have to be the perfect family on the perfect day or else it is hopeless. In art and in life, what I tell my clients is true. Flexibility is key. You can’t know exactly how it will go, or exactly what you will get from it, but often that is when the results will delight you the most.
Like this one.
Above, straining to see her sisters who she can hear playing outside.
CA is a few weeks north of her first birthday. She is talking, eating, signing, dancing, and doing a lot of cruising (for the uninitiated, that’s standing up and moving around on her feet, but always holding on to something or someone for support). This time last year, I had to hide my frustration every time someone made a “how tiny” comment about my big 10+ pounder. But now, she is half my height (granted, I’m only 5’2″), and I struggle to get her to hold still and cuddle for more than 0.5 seconds. I long for the sweet little bundle that would curl up on my chest and happily nap there for hours.
First steps are just around the corner. Exciting and heartbreaking all at once.
Below, blowing kisses.
in·ge·nu·i·ty [in-juh-noo-i-tee] noun, the quality of being cleverly inventive or resourceful
When I was a little girl, I thought that my mom could do anything. She could sew, she cooked from scratch while still in her business suit, she danced, she made halloween costumes, and she volunteered in her community. And then, sadly, there came the day when I was sure that my mom did not know anything about anything. Lucky for us both, I have now lived long enough, or been challenged by parenthood enough to come back around full circle. From my grown up perspective, I see my mother’s imperfections, and rather than frustrate and embarrass me, they shine a brighter light on her gifts. VC, who is three years old, was recently admiring the curtains that Mom made for our nursery and sighed, “Lola is a genius!” I know exactly how she feels; but what I really admire is that even when there is something she may not strictly “know” how to do, she just figures it out. Incidentally, this is one of the qualities I love most in my husband, but that’s for another day.
Mom used to love the show MacGyver. If you’re too young to remember, the title character was always evading danger by creating devices out of whatever unlikely ingredients were on hand. I realize only now that that was probably because there is a bit of MacGyver in her.
I’m grateful that my mom is teaching my girls her skills in the garden, with thread, and in the kitchen; but more importantly, I hope they will inherit from her the confidence and creativity she has to make something beautiful and useful out of seemingly nothing. I’m pretty sure CM has it. After her first sewing machine lesson, she took it upon herself to upholster the fairy sofa she had recently made from bark and twigs.