One more photo link

Look at me!

Click here to see some photos of our annual week at Lake Michigan with the Hoeksema family in late June. There are some delicious photos of my sister Jenny and her son Kai, my brother Adam and his kids....and also a few shots of a visit from Jenny's birth mother and her daughter. It was the first time they all met, and we all got to be a part of it! Pretty special.

There, now if that didn't sell you to look at them, I don't know what will :)

July/August photos

Here I go!

Click here for photos from July/August 2010.

I'm practically all caught up!

More Photos!

I'm slowly getting there:

Here is a big ole photo update from May/June 2010:

Click here.

I'll be back later for July/August--then I'll be almost caught up!

Photo Update

Can it be? A new blog post?

I've been a bit distant lately from this family blog. So I am way behind in doing much of anything with personal photos.

I went through and put some on Flickr....going all the way back to January, ay caramba!

So here's a link to a flickr set from January and February:
click HERE.

Yes, Rowan turned 5 in February, and this set includes some birthday photos. Better late than never, right?

And here's a link to a set from March and April:
click HERE.

It's a bunch of random, every day photos...mixed in with a trip to FL that the girls and I took with some friends, little trips to the beach, and every day moments. They are all there. And hopefully they are mostly self-explanatory, because there is no way I can go back and fill in the gaps with actual posts. The pictures will have to do!

Rowan is 5!

(to see more photos of Rowan at 5, go to the photography blog here)

(This post is over a month late. Better late than never! I wanted to share parts of a letter I wrote to Rowan this year. It was kind of a long one this year, and I think she's old enough now that some of it I will leave personal.)


Rowan Joy, 2-21-2010

You are 5 today! I think about all the birthday letters I have written, and how I look forward to each one--they are like love letters, giving me a time to reflect on all of the things about you that I adore, and all the things in the last year that I see in you---growing you, changing you, forming your little heart.

I probably say this in every birthday letter, but it’s only because I feel it so strongly: I cannot believe I have a 5 year old! 5! That’s half way to 10, a quarter of the way to 20. It’s a big one. Like becoming a teenager, turning 21, entering your 30s. 5 fits in there. You are my oldest, my first. So I will always go through these milestones with you for the first time. There is something really special about that, child.

5 is far from being a baby or even a toddler. 5 is a girl. Not even a little girl. A girl. And I love the girl that you are.

You are very different from me. There have been a few times in the last weeks that you’ve exclaimed “mom, you just don’t understand me!” And I’ve thought….are we really starting this already? But I also smile, because you are right. I don’t always understand you. Sometimes I get impatient with you. Sometimes I don’t get your sensitivities, your deliberateness, your pickiness about clothes or food.

I might not always understand you, child, but I know you fully. And I love you fully. I couldn’t love you more, truly. When you smile at me, touch my face tenderly, tell me that you love me….it swells my heart to the point of bursting.

Rowan, you know what you want. You pick out your clothes each morning with certainty--and our only scuffles now come when you insist on wearing leggings with holes in the knees (because they have been worn so lovingly)…and I think that wherever we are going, requires un-holey clothing. We can usually figure it out.

You also know what you want to eat, and request things with specificity. Lunchables are your new answer to prayer: each item separated from each other in a divided plate, with a wrapped treat for dessert. It’s your heaven.

I love that you are sure of yourself in those ways. I admire your stubbornness, even when it irritates me. I look to your future and pray that you will stay a strong person, a strong woman. It will serve you well when life gets messy.

You have caught the love of words this year. I’ve decided not to push you on reading, but rather follow your lead and make sure you want to do it. You’ve figured out how to sound out so many words and letter combinations, and are writing several words on your own, too. I can’t wait to see you unlock the rest of the puzzle of reading and writing--you’re going to love it!

You have blossomed in your friendships this year. Last year, you mostly clung to my legs in new social settings…and even on our street, where you should have been getting comfortable with the kids and parents, you still seemed to hang back and not engage with the other kids. You’ve come out of your shell a bit---confidently crossing the street for playdates with Katie or Eden, staying outside by yourself to play with the neighborhood kids---it’s awesome to watch you make your way, interact, enjoy friendships. The people who you choose to surround yourself with are so important---I love watching you make decisions about who to hang around with, who you want to be close to.

You are curious about how things work--the earth, the stars, the human body. You ask good questions, and get excited about learning something new. You tell me, in a serious voice “I am very interested in how the human body works.” You have several kid encyclopedias (space, horses, sharks, insects)….and they are often your choice to read at bedtime. I’m not sure what I would do without google (probably just go to the library more often, which might be a good thing)…because it seems like almost daily, I have to google something to figure out how to answer one of your questions.

You care about how you look. This morning you dissolved in tears because your hair wasn’t laying just right. You check yourself out in the mirror. I’m trying to help you have a healthy perspective on beauty. You are beautiful and you always will be. I pray that you don’t hold it in too high esteem, that you don’t care about it too much.

I’m eager to watch your relationship with Piper this year. You told me recently that you wished she was still a newborn…I think you said this as she was getting into some of your toys in your room. Right now she isn’t much of a playmate…mostly just a threat, because she is very interested in all your toys, and she doesn’t have great judgment nor is she very careful. But I can already see her looking up to you, and I see the way you smile at her with tenderness, and enjoy her, and I overhear you telling her you love her….and I pray that you two will be good to each other, and maybe even eventually become good friends. The sound of you two laughing together…well, I honestly cannot think of a sound that brings me more pleasure.

I am proud of you, child. Proud of the girl you are and the girl you are becoming. I love you so much it hurts.

Happy 5th Birthday!

Mom

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?