project 52: a new hope, weeks five and six.

This baby is sleeping peacefully right now, and I am about to have some chocolate milk and take my medicine before bed. But first, posterity time.

Last week was extremely difficult for both mother and baby. I was able to get some photos of her on the day of her five-week mark, thankfully. That in itself was a minor miracle. There were some moments when she was not fussing, and I took full advantage. I cannot get over her supreme cuteness.

This week has been slightly better than last week. On Monday, Hope was six weeks old. She has still been fussing quite a bit, but every now and then I get these five to ten-minute pockets of calm (sometimes even twenty minutes) where she just stares at me and smiles and does all manner of cooing and oohing and aah-ing. She is sweet as can be.

And these photos are truly craptastic. But my goal this week was just to get something, since time was not on my side. I want to remember her hands, her feet, her expressions, no matter how awful the photo comes out. I was able to get what I wanted to remember which was my only objective.

Moving feet.

Her gangsta hand. She has her hands in this position 50 percent of the time. The majority of the remaining 50 percent consists of her hand displaying the number four.

Pretty girl. With her little angel wings forming above her ears. And I don't know why I call them angel wings. I just do.

Heehee. This one looks like the photos I took of my teenage son when he was an infant. I miss film. Even disposable film.

My Hopey is the sweetest little flower.

on recovery, chapter four.

It is 11:11 p.m., and I am finally getting a few quiet moments to write.

Sigh.

Last week was horrific.

Not a day went by that I did not have a splitting headache at least some part of the day (but usually all day). And by splitting, I mean just that. I am not one who gets headaches on the regular, but I have always sympathized with people who get migraines. My oldest son used to get migraines often. I am convinced that some of the headaches I had last week had to have been migraines. I have a high pain threshold (or so I'm often told by my husband) and these bastards had me about in tears. And that was after waiting for the Motrin to kick in. It never did.

The only thing that would help was lying down. That is, if lying down weren't difficult. Not only was I miserable, but my sweet Hope was just as miserable. She cried and screamed. Every day. For the majority of the day. She did take a nap or two each day which was not the normal amount; she usually sleeps more than that since she is still in that newborn stage. Last week, she didn't. My husband and I gave her some of those gas drops. The first day that we gave them to her, they seemed to work quite well. The three of us got about an hour of relief. The other days were guessing games, however.

What made last week extra hard is the fact that my blood pressure medication makes me drowsy in the mornings. Drowsy to the point where I feel like I've pulled an all-nighter. So, in the mornings until between noon and one I would feel so sleepy and run down, but couldn't rest because I couldn't keep Hope calm. Not with nursing, rocking, sitting up, nothing. Then in the middle of the night for a few nights in a row, she was fussing up a storm. No sleep for us there.

And I have misplaced my stool softeners. Have yet to find them. So it's back to going to the bathroom with trepidation at best and terror at worst.

I did manage to get some snapshots of her last Monday. I have not missed a Monday. Getting time to blog (meaning, when she is not fussing or I am not busy with something else) has been an unsuccessful endeavor this past week. Even tonight, as I type this, her moment of calm is beginning to subside and I may spend the next hour trying to get her to sleep (and stay asleep... not wake up after ten minutes).

So, in the few fleeting moments I hope I have left, let me say that yesterday was the first day in a long week that I did NOT get a headache at any time during the day or night. Hope is still fussy, but at least yesterday (and today, I might add), I haven't had migraine-like pain to exacerbate an already stressful situation.

And yes, I am stressed. Sleep deprivation and a baby in pain will do that to you.

Friday night and Saturday night were a tad better, as there were a couple of hours of quiet, during which time I tried to rest as best I could. And Saturday afternoon I got a couple of hours to myself to run a couple of errands. My oldest went with me, but my husband stayed home with the baby. That was a sanity-saver.

I have been trying to keep up with milestones great and small on the Momento app on my phone. Last week was such a horrid week that my brain was just mush and whenever I thought to write something, I couldn't do it right away because I was either tending to her or to one of the kidlets or to myself, and by the time I had a quick minute, I had forgotten what I wanted to write. Frustrating.

At least I remember that my six-week postpartum check-up is this week. I'd hate to forget that. My husband would hate it too, and I would never hear the end of it. Haha.

Hope's hair is starting to curl a little bit on the sides. Little angel wings are beginning to appear (those little curls right above her ears. Natalie had them too.). She is also smiling at her siblings often, and also at my husband and me, when she isn't crying. Her feet and hands are no longer wrinkly at all, her skinny bow legs are now fatter bow legs, and she is on to the next size diaper. Sweet pea.

She is six weeks old today. I got a few craptastic pictures of her (nowadays I get more craptastic shots than gems) because I was photographing frantically hoping the ticking time bomb of gassy fuss would not detonate long enough for me to get three or four shots. I had about a two-minute time window, and I was nervous. Oh well. I guess they can't all be acceptable.

Nevertheless, I will share them (hopefully) tomorrow, along with last week's, Week Five. I say hopefully because I'll need another window like the one that is currently open, where she is calm and actually sleeping. God willing, she will be. And I won't have a headache.

project 52: a new hope, weeks three and four.

Well.

After a couple of harrowing nights, I am finally able to get this posted. Hope has been really fussy for most of the weekend as well as Monday and yesterday. Her fussiness was at full steam during the evenings, which is when I am normally most alert and able to carve out a few minutes to blog. Didn't happen Monday. Then it didn't happen yesterday. Today, her fussiness is a bit less, and I am so glad. Bless her wee heart. Her little stomach doesn't seem to be upsetting her quite as much, which is a good thing. And my husband was kind enough to let me have some time alone so I could do some work on my computer. I love him. He really can be the sweetest.

Ahhh, so now, this beautiful bundle of baby in all of her intense beautimousness.

First, last week. She was three weeks old. Here is what she looked like last Monday.

Her eyes are like these beautiful marbles.

Little baby feet. Not so wrinkly anymore. And her legs are getting fatter. Heart.

Caught her in mid-motion.

And now, Memorial Day.

This past Monday, Hope turned four weeks old. A full month. There were points in the day when I wanted to cry, because yet again, here I am with a wee one that is growing and changing a little too fast for me. But oh, the sweet changes. She studies me so intently, recognizes when her siblings are in the room, coos so softly, and, like all babies, looks like an angel when sleeping. And she loves snuggling with Mommy and cuddling with Daddy. 

This is what she looked like on Monday.

"Who is it? Who did it?"

Those marbles for eyes again.

My heart is all aflutter.

Luckily, she is still resting peacefully. 

Whoops. Spoke too soon. 

Luckily, I am done.

project 52: a new hope, week three. (darn technical difficulties!)

My daughter is three weeks old today. I have some photos that I took today that I was ready to share, but my Internet connection keeps going in and out and the photos won't load. Sigh.

I will include those photos of her and all her cuteness in next week's post, because I am done fooling with this tonight.

But I will say that earlier today, I noticed that she folds her legs up by her stomach a little less often, preferring to keep them stretched out. She's used to being out of the womb now, and in that regard, a little less newborn-ish.

And she stares at me, and I stare back at her. And so many times, she gets a little smile going. And we just love each other so much. Her wonderful sweetness fills my heart with incredible joy.


-natty posted this using BlogPress from her iPhone.

on recovery, chapter three.

In two more days, on Monday, my youngest daughter will be three weeks old.

She loves to stare up at me. She smiles often. Involuntarily, yes, but it is still nice to see.

She eats a lot. She sleeps a lot. And she recognizes and turns toward her daddy's voice. She also seems quite interested in her siblings' faces.

Earlier in the week, on Wednesday, I noticed that her legs and feet are slightly fuller now, and less newborn-wrinkly. Her thighs have a little more fat on them. Her precious little thighs.

Then yesterday (Friday, Postpartum Day 19), I took her out by myself for the first time. I had to go to my midwife/obgyn office at the hospital to have my blood pressure checked. That was... an ordeal. I am discovering that she definitely does not like being in her car seat. Talk about stressing out.

But my postpartum recovery period is getting better. I used the last of that knit underwear that they give you at the hospital. Finished that up yesterday. And there is a lot less bleeding. I am also less fearful of the bathroom now.

I also weigh less now than I did when I found out I was pregnant. I do wish I had a scale handy at home so that I could weigh the baby.

A considerable amount of weight loss in not quite three weeks (about 23 pounds) is good news. The not-so-good news is, I am now on blood pressure medication.

My blood pressure was still high when they checked it yesterday, so they put me on medication for it. I have to go again next week to have it checked. My hope is that in the coming weeks everything will level off and I will be able to come off of the medication. This is abnormal, according to my midwife, especially because up until 37 weeks my blood pressure was always normal or low. My game plan is to start exercising more regularly once I am fully recovered. That should help a great deal.

Meanwhile, I feel it is a small price to pay for such a treasure of a little girl. It's amazing how anything and everything seems worth it to come home with a sweet bundle of baby.

project 52: a new hope, week two.

Long couple of days. Enjoyable ones. I over-exerted myself a bit, I think. Went to church twice yesterday, and today was out and about for most of the day, so my lower end is really feeling it. It was worth it though, because the week has gotten off to a lovely start.

My sweet Hope is two weeks old today. She looks like this.

She is the sweetest thing.

Side note: She was two weeks old on Monday. It is now Tuesday. I was late getting this posted. 

on recovery, chapter two.

Getting back into the habit of blogging regularly is not as difficult as I thought it would be. Good thing.

It is now postpartum day eleven. In three more days, my youngest daughter will be two weeks old. Thinking about how quickly the days go by, it makes me want to record everything. But of course I really can't record everything, so for many situations I will have to rely on just my memories and nothing recorded for posterity. That is a hard pill to swallow, since after four children some of my memories are vague, foggy, and running together in such a way that I don't always know for sure which memory is associated with which child.

Yesterday, I noticed that my baby's hands seemed ever-so-slightly different. Her long, slender fingers seemed to have a little more fat on them, and her hands seemed a tiny bit less wrinkly. (Her feet are still wrinkly, thank goodness.) Earlier in the week, on day eight (Tuesday), her umbilical cord clamp finally detached. And she is spending much of her waking moments studying my face and her surroundings.

I am still in a good deal of pain, especially if I spend too much time out of bed. I still need rest most of the day. Motrin is still not having a whole lot of impact. And I am still terrified to go to the bathroom. Number One is no longer uncomfortable, but everything else is still horrifying, as is the prospect of everything else. Pregnant ladies out there, DON'T forget to take the stool softeners every day for a while after having your baby.

My legs are skinny again, and no more swelling in my feet. Yay.

But the heartburn is still there, though less severe. Boo.

BUT no more nausea! Yay! That makes me very happy, especially since I DID finally vomit, in the hospital, later on in the evening after I had the baby.

I suspect that it may be another month or so before I am done bleeding, aching, and fearing the toilet. But I am thankful for small victories... I think since I've been home I've only missed brushing my teeth two or three days. I also successfully tied my Moby Wrap yesterday, although next time I need to do it a little bit tighter since the baby is still very small. I didn't realize those Mobys were so long!

And, as I stated before, chocolate and sweets in general make me happy again. Yesterday it was homemade chocolate chip cookies (twice this week, actually). Today it was brownies. Thank God for wonderful friends who bring you food after you've come home with a newborn. It really helps.

a new project 52: a new hope, week one.

I did not do a "one little word" for this year, because I spent the last eight months away from my blog. Back in December, I'm not sure I would have known for certain what my word would be. I was in the midst of traveling back and forth (I'll share more about that later but there are a few photos in this post), overcome much of the time with nausea and feeling generally miserable. Blogging was the furthest thing from my mind.

Taking photos was also not the highest priority for me, due to the same reasons. So, although I had totally planned on starting a new photo project (either every day or every week) at the start of the year, it just didn't happen. I guess I just wasn't ready.

But now, here we are. The start of May. And many things are different. Of course, the biggest thing is my baby girl is here. She has inspired me to write again, to get back into a creative routine, and to take many, many photos. Of my family. And definitely of her in this, her first year.

This time goes by so freaking fast. I hate it. I mean, I love it. But I hate it. It just seems like everything is over or years have passed in the blink of an eye. So I am going to chronicle what I can in a new 52-week project. I'll watch her grow that way. It isn't like I haven't taken tons of pictures of my three other kids. I'm just going to be very deliberate about it with her.

Her name is Hope, and today she is a week old. I will share her birth story and photos from her first days very soon. But for now, here is what she looks like today.

In her car seat, she is so tiny.

The back of her tiny head, with her gorgeous hair.

Her tiny little toes.

Sweet face.

And the sweet peach fuzz on her ear.

Indeed, the Lord has given us a tremendous new Hope this year. One that is everlasting.

on recovery.

It's write-without-looking time! Here goes...

I had some very tasty chocolate cake for dessert tonight. A very kind friend brought it over with dinner yesterday. I am so thankful for help with food right now. I am also thankful for sweets. Especially chocolate. I had a mild aversion to sweets and chocolate on and off throughout my pregnancy, so being able to enjoy them again is great. Or... maybe it's not so great... the cake was great.

I can't find the one small pack of nursing pads that I have.

Speaking of nursing, I feel like I am learning everything all over again. Not just with nursing. With everything. This is my fourth child, but my third child is four years old. This all seems so new. And a tad unfamiliar. Again. Despite my experience with three other babies over the last fifteen years.

Chocolate helps me feel good. I need to feel good, since the baby blues are very real. They have nothing to do with my baby girl. I absolutely adore her and am completely over the moon about her. But dang these hormonal mood swings. I know it's perfectly normal, but thank God I've got some chocolate.

Still haven't dealt completely with the grief. The baby blues don't help. The brief episodes of depression during nursing don't help. Mother's Day coming up most definitely does not help. Darn Hallmark holiday.

It's still absolutely terrifying to have to go to the bathroom.

And yes, I am inclined to agree that the postpartum cramping gets progressively worse with each child. Motrin and even Percoset seemed to only work at their convenience. Not good.

But there is a lot of good on which to focus, like the fact that seven pounds and ten ounces feel like a watermelon-sized bowling ball in the womb, but out of the womb they are so light and feathery and freakishly fragile-feeling and delightfully squishy and soft.

That baby smell should be bottled and preserved.

As should all of that soft fuzz that covers her tiny body, and the sweet sound that her baby breath makes.

Her toes are so little.

And her eyes dance, and stare, and glisten. And she smiles. Even though it's involuntary, she still does it. Quite a bit. These are times that I never want to forget.

I'll share her birth story in the coming week, as well as start a new photo project. I finally decided what to do.

new life.

It has been eight months since my last post. So many things are welled up inside of me that I want to say, but even now, still, after eight long months, much of it is still a jumbled mess. I have been ready to blog again for the past three months. No writer's block. No real lack of motivation. Just... not knowing where to start. Or how to start. I still don't really know. So I will go back to diary mode and just write.

But first, I will share what I have been up to in the past eight months, which isn't much.

Spent a few months in Baltimore. Visited DC with the fam while there.

That's my husband and little boy in front of that guard.

Taken by my husband.

All of the other photos of me were taken by my son. This last one was taken yesterday. I am 39 weeks and 3 days, and thanks to high blood pressure, I am being induced later on today. Looks like my youngest kidlet's birthday will be 30 April 2012.

She is so loved, indeed.

Hard to believe she started out so tiny.

And she has a family that is beyond excited to meet her. It feels even better than Christmas Eve right now. 

So, the diary of scrambled pages of my jumbled up thoughts, emotions and quite possibly rants will start this week. Maybe once a week at first, since I'll be recovering with baby. Or maybe I will start a new photo project featuring her, since my previous photo project plans never took off for various reasons. No matter what, I do know that I have much to say and share, and I will slowly but surely figure out how to say and share it, and how to express myself eloquently again. 

no words.

A week ago today, my dear mother passed away.

A Saturday morning. On 20 August 2011.

I knew it was coming, but at the same time I was blindsided. Not expecting it. Thinking it would be a long time coming still. And I wish I had been correct.

My mind is still reeling.

I spent most of each day since then crying uncontrollably, until Thursday morning.

I do not know what happened Thursday morning, but it was different.

Wednesday night, I went through what had become my usual ordeal of inconsolable crying. I cried out to Jesus, imploring him to take the pain away. I just can't take it anymore.

And He heard my cry. I haven't cried inconsolably since that night. Thursday morning felt different. Thursday felt different. Thursday night felt different. The same goes for Friday. And now, Saturday. A week later.

Yes, I will cry again. And again after that. And again still. I know this. But the past few days, I know the Lord has shown me just how real and close his mercy and care are. The ache is still there, but the sting is not.

How long will it take the ache to heal? That I do not know. I told my son Sunday night, August 20 next year will most likely still hurt a lot. But I suspect that five years from now it won't hurt as much. Ten years from now it may hurt even less. And twenty years from now, August 20 may not cause me much heartache at all.

Of course, I am speculating. Hoping. But I know through this and past experiences that the Lord is all about removing stings. Healing aches. Binding wounds, and restoring broken hearts. It's his business.

He is the one I can count on always. When I feel like my photography sucks, or when there are times like these when I don't even care whether it sucks or not--I just don't want to touch my camera ever again.

Because it feels like photography, with all of its virtues and promise, brings to remembrance everything. Even the painful things.

But Jesus doesn't remember the painful things. If he removes our sins as far as the east is from the west and remembers them no more, that is a good indication to me that he wants my heart to be refreshed with the wonderful memories.

He is the one I on whom I can always depend. When the music fades, or when there are times like these when I feel like it isn't healing or soothing, but it is only turning the knife.

Jesus never turns the knife. Jesus only heals. Only soothes. Always. If he gives me a song at a time when I have no desire to write ever again, that is a good indication to me that he wants my spirit to be comforted with his words.

He did give me a song. Monday night.

you see my tears

one by one

slowly they fall into space

you catch them

in your hand

you hear my cry

sorrow inside

every stream on my face

you watch as they dry

and then you say, "my love...

nothing is in vain

your tears are not wasted...

I hold them here

one by one

although darkness to you

I turn them into light

ashes surround

final it seems

and in the blink of an eye

I turn it into joy

and give it all to you...

nothing is in vain

your tears are not wasted..."

As much as I love remembering (it is a motto of mine), all I have wanted to do is forget.

The Lord is gently reassuring me that it is okay to remember.

the ianisms.

Years ago, back in 2006 (oh my gosh that was FIVE years ago!), I wrote a post listing some of the funny things my oldest son had said. Take a moment if you have the time and read it (it's short). He always said hilarious things, and still does. I call them Bobbyisms.

Well, now my five-year old has been saying more and more funny things himself. I can't call them Bobbyisms, because his name isn't Bobby (haha). I call them, Ianisms.

My little Ian is a fairly precocious five-year old. Not any more precocious than the next kid, but precocious enough. He can (very carefully) read full sentences, add small numbers on his hands, and draw Transformers. He loves watching movies and playing video games. And the great Ianisms of 2011 that have come forth from his mouth have been nothing short of priceless. A sample:

"It's starting to rain, so now the zombies are going to come out." (I have NO idea. Haha)

"'Heck no' rhymes with 'techno!'" (Informing his big brother.)

"I want a turntable and some Deadmau5 records. And some Thor toys." (Announcing to his brother what he wants for Christmas.)

And, the other day, I was getting on to him about finding his socks. We were getting ready to leave the house, and he still hadn't found them (he tends to take them off and leave them in random places). This is an unfortunate routine that we have every day. He told me, in a very exasperated tone, "I can't find my socks! I've looked everywhere!" To which I replied, "Well, you obviously haven't looked everywhere because there's one of them right there on the floor in front of you!"

He looked down, saw the lone sock, and said, "Oh." Then, picking it up, he slowly backed out of my room, let out a nervous laugh and said, "Awkward."

I laughed. Out. Loud.

As I said in my post five years ago, a merry heart does good like a medicine, and my son's an excellent doctor.

Make that medicine double dosage, from two heart specialists.

an unlikely anniversary.

Somehow, whenever I take a break from blogging (whether planned or otherwise), I always manage to make it back on the anniversary of the very day that I started this journal in the first place.

Most of the time, I do think of this blog as a personal diary. That is not to say that I do not appreciate all of you, my tens of readers, because I really do. I am grateful that there are people out there that want to read what I have to say and converse with me, through comments or emails. You guys are blessings.

But sometimes, I don't have much to say.

Or I do, but I have no idea how to say it.

So, I wait.

And that is how this blog is very much like a personal diary for me. When I was a little girl, I had a diary. There were periods of time when I was writing in it daily, recording every little thing. And there were other periods of time when weeks would go by before I would open my little diary again, for whatever reason.

And so, I faced July with almost no desire to ever blog again. My desire to even take Niki out of her bag and shoot waned as well. As a result, there are some weeks of my Project 52 that I missed.

I was entrenched (joyfully) in weeks of rehearsals for a show that I performed in at the beginning of this month. Weekly rehearsals they were. Two, sometimes three times per week. And I am surely glad that I was involved in that show, because singing gives me such joy and always takes my mind off of everything.

What did I have my mind on? I can't really say, because I don't really know. What I do know is, for the better part of the summer, from July on, I was dealing with depression.

I haven't felt depressed like this in years, since college. Depression was something that I had overcome and been completely free from all this time, so when it reared its ugly head I was quite frustrated. There were a few outside factors I guess... health problems with different members of our family, but that was nothing new. Work was dry the whole month of July for my husband, which was trying and annoying to say the least. But again, that wasn't something we hadn't dealt with before. I usually love summers because I love having a break from all of my teaching work (except for homeschooling which we do year-round), and last summer was so glorious I was looking forward to another season of lazy days, long nights, and lots of photographs. But this year was inexplicably different.

I'm still not one hundred percent, but I am feeling better than I was. I've sat and questioned, then questioned again, then again still, how much I truly love singing, if I should continue to use my camera, if I am raising my kids right, if we're ever going to "move on up" so to speak, if I'll ever write another song, if I am reaching any of the kids that I teach, and a few other things. Silly questions, yes, but ones that I was considering quite seriously. The answers seemed to weigh heavily on the negative side, and even through the praying and worshiping and throwing myself into my singing, I couldn't seem to shake this heavy feeling of disappointment.

I still can't explain why this feeling appeared or why it is only now beginning to disappear. I also know that I haven't communicated any of this all that effectively. Up until now, my thoughts have been even more random and jumbled. I'm not doing the best job of getting things off my chest I guess.

I haven't quit my Project 52. I still have a few weeks worth that I hadn't shared yet, and will slowly get those posted and get back on the grind. If nothing else, I know that there will be a new opportunity to finish a complete project 52 next year! Ha.

project 52, week twenty-two.

Well, the minute I think I am getting back on track, it turns out it is sidetracked (yet again) that I am actually getting. 

I spent this past week and the week before getting my youngest son seen and scheduled for dentist appointments. (Week Twenty-Three will include pictures from a lovely summer afternoon that we spent at the lake, the day before his cheek swelled like a balloon.) Three days in a row of medical/dental visits, including x-rays and a week's worth of antibiotics and monitoring before another dental visit this past Friday, which got rescheduled so that he can actually have sedation instead of just laughing gas (he needs to have two extractions). So, the blogging again took a back seat. Photos, however, did not.

Self-portrait. Sort of. My three-year old daughter took this. She wanted to.

My son and I went to an art exhibition in the city.

The great weekend began with an outing at a lovely river and park. This covered bridge went over the river.

The iPhonearoid of the week is here.

And the Weekly Vlog is here. I actually posted it a day late, but that way I was able to get a little bit of footage from the rehearsal for a show that I am in.

project 52, week twenty-one.

Well, praise the Lord! I am finally getting around to putting up the photos from Week Twenty-One. Having that ordeal with the lack of space on my hard drive really set me back a couple of weeks ago. It took me over a week to get enough files deleted to free up more space! And once the space was finally free, I was not all that motivated to blog. But I've got to get back on the ball so I don't get overwhelmed with photos that I haven't posted yet.

Self-portrait.

Family.

Morning.

The iPhonearoid of the Week is here.

And the Weekly Vlog is here. I'm pretty proud of this one.

And now, to get weeks twenty-two and twenty-three posted...

the lazy days of summer. or, what i've been doing the past two weeks, since it clearly isn't blogging!

Does summer do this to you?

You wake up, planning to do all of these extra things in addition to your normal agenda/plans for the day, and at the times when you could get to those things, you just don't? Because hey let's go to the park? Or hey let's watch a movie? Or hey let's take a nap? Or hey let's sit and look out the window for a minute, then go outside and frolic and do nothing? Or hey let's go to the lake? Or hey let's take a nap?

Well, that has been my life the past couple of weeks. I have all photos and videos available for the last couple of weeks of my Project 52, yet I have been to darn lazy to actually post them. I have had little to no motivation to blog. Soooo different from last summer, when I was in the midst of all of these creative projects and blogging so much it seemed (a 365 project will do that).

So, my sincere apologies to you guys! These last couple of weeks have been busy, but a different kind of busy. A busyness of just living, making the most of my free time. How have I made the most of it? By schlepping my oldest son to all of these different parties/get-togethers/social activities three times a week the past two weeks, taking my kids to the beach, healing sunburns, rehearsing and leading worship a few times at my church, trying to catalogue quickly this bevy of creative ideas scrolling across my head, teaching voice students, and going to rehearsals twice a week for a show in which I am performing in August. (My weekly vlog for last week is actually a snippet of my music rehearsal for that, so you will hear me singing when I post it this weekend.)

And even dealing with an unfortunate tooth infection. (My five-year old son has to get some teeth removed next week.)

And yes, taking photos and videos all along the way.

I will spend the weekend getting the rest of my Project 52 posts up, then next week I hope to catch up on all of the lovely blogs that I love to read and follow. In the meantime, I am about to head back out the door with my family to a three-hour rehearsal in the city, while they will be across the street at a music and food festival.

I will definitely be getting back on my regular posting schedule soon, and catching up with you guys and finding out what you have been doing via your lovely blogs. I hope your summer is going swimmingly.

Much love.

project 52, week twenty.

Hallelujah! It looks like I'm in the clear to get these next couple of posts completed, because I've apparently FINALLY cleared enough space on my computer. So, although Week Twenty was two weeks ago, HERE IT IS!

Self-portrait.

My son, during two of his three performances.

And his turntables.

The iPhonearoid of the Week for Week Twenty is here.

And the Weekly Vlog is here.

Gonna take my tired butt to bed, and get Week Twenty-One on the blog tomorrow. Then I'll be all caught up.

project 52, week nineteen.

Week Nineteen.

After a harrowing week of what seemed to be endless deleting of files, I have finally cleared enough space to at least complete this one week. I actually enjoyed looking back and remembering what I did two weeks ago, since I had already forgotten!

Self-portrait.

Family.

The walls of Passion City Church.

My iPhonearoid of the Week for Week Nineteen can be found here.

And, the Weekly Vlog is in two parts.

Part One is here.

Part Two is here.

You don't want to miss this vlog. It's the best one I've done so far this year. Very emotional, but POSITIVE.

Off to do some more deleting, so that I can (hopefully) get Week Twenty posted tomorrow.

Night, folks.

basic space.

Ahhhh. My lovely tens of readers. How I've missed you.

What have I been up to, you ask? Well, a lot's been afoot the past couple of weeks. Not the least of which is my son graduating eighth grade and becoming a high schooler, officially. I am officially homeschooling a high schooler. Now I've got to think about transcripts and credits and accreditation and stuff for real. Oh lawd.

And the past two weeks have been rife with activity. Rife. With. Activity. Four end-of-year presentations, two graduation ceremonies (some of my students graduated this year), an awards ceremony, a homeschool-day outing, three last-days-of-school (with events), and parties. Sigh.

It's been great fun, but tiring.

And yes, I still took pictures. And videos.

Which brings me to a song that I like. A lot.

It's a song by The xx, called Basic Space. I've loved it for several months, along with several other songs by this group. But the title is quite a propos to this post, and my small blogging hiatus.

Squishy, my Macbook (her official name is Elaine. Long story...), has been sorely lacking in basic. space.

I literally worked on clearing space on her all of last week. And yes, I have an external hard drive, but I hadn't actually been about the business of deleting files off of my computer after I had backed things up. Soooo, I could not upload any videos or photos until I had done so. As it stands at the moment, I have done so enough to get ONLY Week Nineteen blogged this evening. Which means that I have some more deleting to do before I can blog Week Twenty. And I am actually ON Week Twenty-One. Gaaaahhh.

But I will be the most determined worker bee and get it done, and you will have Week Nineteen to read tonight. Yay.

In the meantime, I leave you with some other 'basic' things... basic goals of mine for this summer.

• make an art canvas with (or without) my son every one or two weeks
• get back to my regular art journaling that I was doing last summer
• make tons of great food utilizing as much of this magic sauce as I can
• walk off some pounds and get in better shape
• make music, then make more music
• read daily
• journal daily
• pray daily (though that is a perpetual goal/habit, not just for the summer)
• keep remembering. With Niki. Because as I've said before, I love remembering.

I hope all of you out there in Blogreaderland are gearing up for a splendiferous Memorial Day. Much love.

[Oh, and if you've never watched any of my weekly vlogs before, you won't want to miss Week Nineteen. It's in two parts, and it's the best one I have done so far. I talk about my wonderful Master's Academy students, and how God used them at the end of the year to bring healing to my heart. Trust me; it's good. Really good. Unless you don't like to see people cry, ever. In which case you shouldn't watch it.]