Do I post photos of my girls on the other blog? Or here? Or both?

Check out a quick post with photos of Rowan and Piper on the photography blog here.

Most personal photos I will post here, but if there are some personal photos that might help market the photography business, where should I put them? For people that check both blogs (hi mom!)...I don't want to be redundant.

Big Photo Update Oct-Dec 2009

I have to figure out a way to keep up better with blogging the day-to-day. When I started this blog, we were embarking on an adventure and it was easy to have places or events to post about in a single blog post. I want to blog more about daily things, without it going 3 months without posting just the "everyday" photos. But I also don't want to bore anyone. Hmmm.




I've put some notes under photos on Flickr, and that will be my way of recording those things for now. If you watch the slideshow for each month, you can enable it to show the photo description while you do the slideshow...since some photos might need an explanation!

To see a set from October (Halloween!) click here.

To see a set from November (Thanksgiving!), click here.

To see a set from December (Piper's first birthday and Christmas!) click here.

Piper is ONE!

(To see a few more pictures of my girl at one, go to the photography blog here)

To Piper on Her First Birthday, 12-23-2009
Piper Jane,

You grew in my deepest space while we traveled like people without a home. Our first thoughts of you began in an RV in California, pulled by a truck running on veggie oil. Your little cells started to divide while we lived in a house with many athletes, all focused on a similar 2008 Olympic goal. My stomach turned in nausea, your heart beating deep within mine already (and still is), as those athletes cooked their various meats and healthy foods in our kitchen.

I couldn’t be in the same room as meat. As a being the size of a lima bean, you were already dictating a part of my life.

While your brain started to send synapses to your heart, telling it to pump blood, we moved from that house with all those athletes, back into our RV space. For weeks, we talked about what would be next. Where you would be born, where you would take your first steps. Your dad and I were not exactly on the same page. Sometimes I wonder if there is an effect on your psyche from the tension of those days of decision. Did you feel my stress, my uncertainty, my tears on many of those hours? We tried to shield Rowan from it, but we couldn‘t really wait until you went to sleep.

As your lungs formed to one day handle air, we moved to Michigan. First we lived with Grandma and Grandpa, then Nana and Papa, then we had our own place in a friend’s guest house for a month. Then we lived with the Heffners for several months. Then, you spent your last week in my womb, in my childhood home, with my mom and dad. And that is where you lived your first 3 months on the outside of my body.

Hours before the contractions that brought you forth began, I sat with your dad in my childhood family room. Maybe I had a premonition, because I spent the day organizing…and then, right before we turned in for the night, I said to your dad, “if I go into labor tonight, and we have a girl, what will we name her?” Our girl name had not been finalized yet (we thought we had time! Over a week until your due date!) He looked me directly in the eyes. “Piper Jane.” We still deliberated a bit after you were born, but I think it was mostly for show. I knew the night before that if you were a girl, you would be Piper.

And here we are now, you are turning one year old. In our own house. In a stuck house. In Grand Rapids. It is quite possible that you will live here, on these old wood floors, using that bathtub, for many of your early years. The circumstances of your conception and growth within me do not match the relative stability of most of your first year.

Ironically, it’s something your dad worries about for you. Not the crazy beginning--he worries about the lack of adventure in your present and near-future.

I had longed for you, child. Did you know that? How I wanted to be pregnant again, to feel those tumbles within. To experience giving birth again. To breastfeed, and smell that newborn smell. It’s fierce, that biological drive. Just ask your dad. I don’t think he knows how to contend with it at times.

But just so you know, you were wanted, in the deepest way possible.

I was prepared for the worst when adding you to our family. Sibling rivalry, sleepless nights. Crying, and lots of it. After all, I’d done this once before, and now I was going to do it WITH an older child. Some of my expectations were met (a year later, and we’re STILL not sleeping through the night!), others seem a distant and silly worry.

It’s nice to have a baby around, you know? Those chubby legs (oh, the legs!), the toothless grins (and now the 4-teeth grins, almost equally as cute, although the gap between your top 2 teeth is alarmingly wide!), the open-eyed wonder at just about anything (you giggled tonight in the tub when you figured out how to make sound come out of a flute-type thing--you almost couldn’t repeat it because you kept laughing so hard every time you began, so pleased with yourself in anticipation.)

Here are some snapshots of your first year:

-wrapped up like a burrito, tuft of hair sticking out all over, sleeping that deep newborn sleep in the crook of the couch.

-riding in and loving the Moby wrap, any way we wrapped it.

-your quick and business-like nursing.

-watching Rowan, watching Rowan, watching Rowan.

-trying anything--and I do mean anything---to figure out how you would sleep the best.

-getting diagnosed with pneumonia at 5 months and all those tests, pricks, and prods, too much for a baby.

-trying to figure out what to do with all your hair, finally settling on 2 ponytails, eventually taming down to be able to handle 2 barrette-like clips.

-your quick smile and hearty laugh.

-getting baptized with Rowan and your cousins Shae and Tayva--your great-grandpa Pekelder baptized you all, and I’ll never forget holding you in my arms…and your wide eyes as you watched his hand come over you, you smiled, almost laughed, at the surprise of the sprinkle.

-your assertive spirit. That’s a nice way of saying that you are strong-willed. Which is a nice way of saying that you are bossy. In the last few months you’ve especially revealed this trait---you’ve played around with throwing tantrums, you can whine with the best of them, and you absolutely scold anyone who crosses your will.

-the way you’ve made the sign for “nurse” your own. It’s supposed to look a bit like milking a cow, a fist opening and closing. You tried that for awhile, but have settled on a 2 handed version of the sign for “cash-money”, more like rubbing your thumbs over your other fingers. Give me the milk now, momma.

-the way you journeyed into solid foods with gusto---and the equal gusto with which you started showing preferences. You went very quickly from a varied, impressive diet that included all kinds of dark green vegetables and things as exotic as kale and artichoke….to literally scraping pureed food out of your mouth with your whole hand, and stubbornly refusing to try something suspicious by burying your chin into your neck. Did I mention the strong will?

-your negotiation skills. I’m pretty sure Rowan never tried a chip, a french fry, a cookie, ice cream, goldfish, a rice krispie treat, or sips of momma’s tea, before her first birthday. You, my love, have convinced us to let you taste all of those things, and more.

-the way you love to read books. You’re bringing them to us, now, and you get so excited when we first sit down with a book. You have some favorites. You ohh and ahh. In this photo, you've just spotted a bird in your book, and you're giving me your sign for bird. You are really that excited.
-your drunken walking. I adore the stage of early walking, if only for the way your butt waddles like an old lady.

I know you intimately, child. I could fill page upon page with the details I know about you, the quirks that I love, the many moments throughout a day that I want to smother you with kisses and wrap you up in my love.

Stay here awhile, will you? Just-turned one is a good age.

I love you, Piper Jane. And I always will.

Happy Birthday.

(Post-script: I wrote this on the eve of Piper’s birthday. Had a rough night for the 3rd night in a row, so called the DR this AM…and Piper got a fun first birthday present: a double ear infection. Wasn’t exactly in our plans for the day, but we’ll roll with it! She's miserable. And thankfully, presently sleeping.)

On haircuts and girlhood

I’ve been looking at Rowan with fresh eyes the last few days. She is a girl. Not a baby, not a toddler, not even a little girl anymore. She’s almost 5, and she’s a girl. I saw a photo of her the other day from just a few years ago. She had those chubby toddler cheeks. I look at her now and in my mind’s eye, I can see her at 13, maybe even at 22.

When I picked her up from pre-school yesterday, her teacher pulled me aside. Rowan had a tough day at school, she said. Some girls were unkind to her, one even said that she didn’t want to be Rowan’s friend anymore. Rowan told the teacher. Rowan cried while they talked about it. I’m so thankful for a teacher whose eyes well up with tears as she recounts a hurtful experience for one of her students. Rowan wasn’t mean back. But she was thrilled when, later in the day, one of the little girls decided to be nice to her again. A bit too quick to forgive and forget.

Oh, my heart. There are so many things I cannot protect her from. There are so many things I won’t be there for. I am shifting the way I look at her---she’s a girl, on her way to becoming a grown-up adult, completely separate from me, and she is capable. Sure, it’s my job to help equip her for what she might face. To listen, to offer advice if she wants it. To cry with her, hold her, reassure her.

But she will come across other mean people in her life, when I’m not there to protect her or tell her what to do, and she has to figure out how to deal with them.

I waited for Rowan to tell me about it, feeling thankful for the heads up from her teacher. Rowan told me kind of nonchalantly at first, clearly wanting to gauge my reaction. I dropped what I was doing (which was taking care of 5 children under the age of 4 :)), got down on my knees right by her…looked her square in the eye, and said that I was so sorry that happened and how much it must have hurt her feelings. I told her how terrible it made me feel. Great big tears sprung to her eyes. Out of hurt feelings, yes…but also out of relief from being heard, I think.

We talked about it on and off the rest of the day. She seemed so pleased that the girl was being nice to her by the end of the day, defensive almost---and I struggled to express to her that I wanted her to protect her heart, that she shouldn’t tolerated being treated poorly, that the little girl should apologize to make things right. That Rowan should tell her how much it hurt her feelings. But those are grown-up things, and in Rowan’s mind, all was well because the girl decided to be nice again. Maybe we should all be so quick to forgive. I just don’t want her heart to get trampled on. How do I help her find the balance?

We had our first huge snow a few weeks ago and school was canceled. All the neighbor kids were sledding on our front lawn by 9:00 AM. I got Piper and Rowan all bundled up, but Rowan was frustrated. It’s hard for all those layers to feel right to her. She was finally dressed, and went to the mirror to inspect herself. “I just don’t look good!” She declared. And so it begins. She cares about how things feel AND how things look. A girl.

Last week, Rowan was standing in front of that same full-length mirror in our closet, this time totally naked, brushing her hair. Joe passed through the closet to get something, and Rowan asked him “do I look beautiful when I’m naked?” Super star dad response, without skipping a beat or even having to think about it, Joe said “Rowan, you have a great body.” His response detracted from the beauty issue, and the nudity issue, and affirmed the goodness of her created physicality. She’s picking up all kinds of things already about what it means to be beautiful….and I can see in her little face how receptive she is right now to what her mommy and daddy think.

Joe was gone tonight and Piper went to bed early. Rowan has been wanting to take a bath with me, which we haven’t done for a long time….so we did. We talked about all kinds of things in the warm closeness of the tub. Why the woman at Meijer’s had her head covered with cloth. What day-dream means, and what we day-dream about. About Advent, and Jesus’ birthday party at school tomorrow. She washed my feet. I washed her hair, then blow dried it. A few weeks ago she wanted me to blow dry her already dry hair---“because it makes me feel warm and good all over!”

While I was blow-drying her hair, she asked if I would trim her hair. I’ve done that once before, and it didn’t really need it tonight, but I thought why not? She wanted me to do it a little shorter in front (not bangs, but kind of layers). Mind you, I have no idea how to cut hair. A straight trim across the back makes me nervous. But I figured I could give it a whirl and we could always go get a real haircut tomorrow.

Rowan is very particular, if you hadn’t noticed. And I am not one to be trusted with something as sacred as your hair. As I trimmed, our eyes caught in the mirror, and she grinned a little---her face one of complete love. Total trust. I thought to myself “Do you have ANY IDEA how horrible this haircut could turn out? Do you have ANY IDEA how little experience I have at this?” Oh yeah, and I smiled back.

And I thought….Truth. I don’t really know what I’m doing cutting hair, but I’ll give it a try for you, child. I’ll do my best. Your confidence in me only spurs me on. And aren’t a lot of things in life about confidence? About smiling and acting like you know what you’re doing?

Just like I’m not a hairstylist, there are some days I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing as a parent, like I am out of patience, tired, have other things to do, and am completely confused about this issue or that. But I’m doing the best I can for you, child. I’m doing the best I can.

As long as you look at me with those big, trusting eyes. And even when you don’t anymore, maybe even more so then, I will keep plugging on. Praying. Discussing things with your dad. Calling my girlfriends. Hoping. Hugging you.

Smiling at you in the mirror.

I am capable.

You are capable.

And your haircut isn’t half bad.

A new blog, just for my photography!

I have started a new blog, separate from this family blog, to begin recording my photo sessions and work with non-family members!

I have one post up there as of now (and alas, the initial photos are of my girls, already posted to THIS blog!)---but am planning on adding many more as the weeks progress. It'll be a way for clients to get a sneak-peek of their sessions, and also a way for any one who is interested to follow my current work. And a way for me to continue to grow as a photographer. Ill actually be going back and posting from some sessions over the last few months....and eventually catch up to be in real-time.

Check it out! Put it on your blog favorites or on google reader or however else all you blog-stalkers (you know who you are!) keep up on us! I'd love to see you over there!

The web address is:

www.lauracebulskiphotography.blogspot.com

I've also updated the website a bit (although I'm having some glitches and needed to take a breather from fighting with the system)...but there are some new photos on there. The main website is still:

www.cebulskiphotography.com

Thanks for all your support!

an old letter to Rowan, when she was 11 months old

So I was going through some old stuff on the computer this weekend and came across this thing I had written for Rowan when she happened to be 11 months old. Piper is 11 months old today---so it kind of struck me. I didn't have this blog back then, so I figured it was worth a posting....almost 4 years later! I think I had read this question in an Oprah magazine, of all things, and the following was my reply to Rowan.

What’s the most important piece of advice you can give your daughter about being beautiful, feeling beautiful?

You’re 11 months old today, and I don’t think you could be any more beautiful than you are right now. Last night, you ran your hands, covered in pizza sauce, through your hair and over your face—then looked to us in delight. You make these hilarious faces; we call one of them your “evil eye,” without self-consciousness, only to make us laugh. You strut around in your holy nakedness with pride and pleasure. You are pure. You don’t care what anyone thinks of your appearance. It’s hard to imagine you fretting over how a pair of jeans fits, or sneaking makeup to put on after you’ve left the house, or groaning “oh mother” when I don’t allow you to buy a shirt that looks “soooo cute” on you. But I know those times are coming. Eventually you will learn how interested this world is in beauty.

Always know that I thought you were most beautiful today—at 11 months, with broccoli in your hair, and that I will also think you are most beautiful at 11 years old, and 31, and 61.

When you think too much about beauty, when you worry about it obsessively, when you spend too much money on it, when you shed tears about it--as soon as you work too hard to be beautiful, you become less beautiful. The most beautiful women I know don’t spend that much time on it. One of the most beautiful women I know wears her hair the exact same way every single day, and has for over twenty years. The most beautiful women don’t really understand how beautiful they are…and if they did, they wouldn’t really care. Because they’re more concerned with the latest social injustice they learned about, their amazing children, or their rewarding careers. Be passionate. Love what you do. Beauty will be secondary, and automatic.

Take care of yourself. Floss. Get enough sleep. Wash behind your ears. Exercise. Wear clothes that fit. Take chances. Try new styles. Be pampered once in awhile.

Care less about yourself. When you focus on the people around you, you realize how unimportant it is to have the whitest teeth or the tannest skin. Be selfless, and you will be beautiful.

Don’t believe the smiling, overpaid celebrity you see touting the next miracle cream. Protect your heart. Protect your confidence. Tell yourself “they’re not real!” over and over again if you have to--about fake boobs, botoxed eyes, impossibly thin magazine cover images. They’re not real.

Don’t wear makeup every day.

Love your skin--the thick skin covering your elbows, the delicate skin between your toes, the vast desert of skin over your back, the ocean of skin dressing your stomach. Love it when it’s smooth and tight when you’re 15, love it when it’s stretched over a miraculous pregnant belly when you’re 28, love it when it bears the stretches and strains of that life-giving at 40. Love your skin when it deepens with wrinkles. Love it when it jiggles on the underside of your arm as you wave goodbye to your grandchildren. Tattoo it, if you can be that committed. Pierce it, if you can handle the pain. Don’t do either in a place that cannot heal or be covered up for an important interview. Celebrate your skin, celebrate you.

A guy likes a girl who can go from being sweaty playing basketball or hiking in the woods to looking acceptable…no, looking beautiful… for a symphony in under an hour. 30 minutes is even better. 15 will make you the most dateable girl around. Just ask your dad.

Don’t fight getting older. You’re not supposed to look like a 21 year old forever, and no one expects you to. Wear your gray hair proudly. Your dad thinks it’s sexy when an older woman wears her hair long and gray. Marry a man like your father.

Marry a guy who thinks supermodels are not real.

Marry a guy who understands that true beauty should not require hundreds of dollars of skin cream and makeup, and who doesn’t expect you to wake up in the morning looking like you’re ready for the prom. Marry a guy who thinks you’re beautiful in sweatpants, beautiful after giving birth, beautiful when you’re singing off-key in the car, beautiful when your nose is runny, beautiful when you’re 65.

Have I always followed this advice? Of course not. Has anyone? But I’ve tried, and I think I’ve done pretty well. I can get ready for a fancy event in no time. I don’t bother with makeup most days. I didn’t get a real haircut until I was an adult. I married your father. I thought my body was the most beautiful when I was 9 months pregnant with you. But sometimes I find myself fretting over a poorly timed pimple (yes, they still happen after adolescence), wishing that my hair was more this, my thighs more that, my skin more whatever. If I’m having a particularly self-conscious day, I see a stunning woman at the supermarket and I get a twinge of jealousy. Don’t beat yourself up. No one is perfect, not in beauty or in wisdom. If someone, someday, tells me that you are a beautiful person on the inside--it will be one of my best moments.

I have this friend. She lost 3 of her babies. Then she lost both breasts to cancer. Then she lost her hair. We’re the exact same age, 28, born a day apart. She knows more about beauty than I will ever know. She has the most radiant smile. She always did, really, but it took stripping away her luscious hair (she had the best hair), and flattening out her breasts, to really get a look at that smile.

It stops you in your tracks.

Want that kind of beauty.

i'm in love...

with these girls!





I'm trying out some new lighting techniques and also some new fabric backgrounds. These are from this morning. There are a few more shots on this set-up here.

Sigh. Are they really mine?

sisterly love

While Joe and I prepared dinner tonight, Rowan came downstairs and proudly displayed the sign she had just made for her door: NO PIPER, with a picture of Piper with an X over it. She did this all on her own initiative, and I especially like the rendering of Piper's hair.

Have I mentioned how particular Rowan is about her things? She loves having friends over, but struggles deeply with sharing her toys....and I know that for her, it's equally as much letting go of the organization she has in her room as it is letting someone play with her stuff. She really doesn't like her room to be messy. For a long time after we moved in, she absolutely did not want me to go in her room without her...for fear that I would move something or disrupt her idea of organization.

So you can imagine how she feels about (a now VERY mobile) Piper playing in her room. I've noticed that 10 month olds don't have much respect for order. And they tend to like their big sister's stuff.

It's the first time, honestly, that Rowan has really struggled with having a sister.

Later in the evening, when Rowan taped her sign to her door, she told me "This is really good news and really bad news. It's really bad news for Piper, but it's really good news for me."

If only a sign on the door could keep Piper at bay. I'd put one all over my door at 2:00 AM!

Piper is taking steps

She's officially taking steps....more than just a few at a time. The last few days, it's been 10, 12, 15 steps at once. Of course, there is still a lot of crawling going on...and a lot of falling....but you can tell in this photo how pleased she is with herself about the walking!



Like most babies, she is also obsessed with drawers, doors, cabinets, and making huge messes wherever she goes. She loves the dishwasher. She actually helped me put all the tupperware lids away yesterday! Starting to pull her own weight already!

love this girl

My lovely lady this morning. Don't you just want to kiss her cheeks?

And don't miss the two posts below this...both put up yesterday :)

Kitchen and Dining Room Completed!

BEFORE:

AFTER:


I'm finally getting around to posting some photos of our finished kitchen and dining room. You'll have to head over to the set on flickr to see all the pics and all the details....but I'll list some of the information here, too.

Oh my, where to start. Once again, Joe has done an amazingly detailed job on this space. I'll start with the kitchen. I did manage to convince Joe to purchase the cabinets rather than build them himself (it took a lot of convincing)....but he installed them all, including adding a few inches to everything but the island (for us tall folk). Then he designed and poured the concrete counter tops...which you'll have to check out all the pictures to see some of the details there. An integral drain board (seems simple...but how do you make a form for that, including the steel channels? a bit mind-bending), a built-in knife rack, a subtle indented "fruit bowl"...and what has earned him the moniker "lover-boy" by the neighbor guys: a really cool L + J design that Joe originally came up with for the cover of a gift he made while we were dating....and eventually showed up on our wedding ceremony, and evolved into the design that is on each of our wedding rings. Joe found a guy who cut the design into steel, then Joe put it into the counter top. Around the stove on the island, Joe made part of the counter out of oak....then added some stainless steel circles that serve as hot pads.

I'm sure I'm missing some details. Follow the link at the end of this post to see the photos and notes.

The dining room--Joe had the idea of using steel sheets as the background for wainscoting instead of something more traditional (wood or paint), then he trimmed it out with detailed wood-working including inlays of a darker wood.

The trim throughout the downstairs is white oak that Joe bought from a guy on Craigslist. This guy gets trees that are already coming down from utility companies and other construction jobs, then he mills it all locally, and sells it for a great price. Joe's dad has done all the window trim and helped out a lot with the other trim--incredibly detailed and beautiful work.

So now we have the second half of the downstairs left: the living room and back room (den?) and 1/2 bath in the back. These rooms are a lot less involved than the kitchen and dining room---and much of the ground work has already been laid (yes, he already took out another wall:) And the bathroom is all plumbed and the electrical is all done. He is taking a few days detour to re-do the flat roof on the backside of the house....but we're not far off now!

BEFORE:


AFTER:


Before you head over to flickr to see the rest of the photos of the kitchen, make sure to check the post directly below this, too, because I also added some photos of the girls there today!
To see more photos of the kitchen/dining room, click here.

Autumn Photos

Just a few photos of the girls from the past few weeks....enjoying fall in Michigan!
To see a few more photos from these days, click here.

The first 2 photos here were taken by my friend Jill....she also took the last dozen or so photos in the set on Flickr. Thanks Jill! It is always such a challenge to get my own kids photographed....I love the help (and thanks to Mom, too, for helping with a very fussy Piper in the first set of photos! where does my happy baby go when the camera comes out?)

Piper is taking a few steps---I love this first photo, it captures these fleeting weeks when steps are so tentative...how quickly they give way to full-confidence walking!